Book One

They cannot see me. I sit here writing thought crime and yet, they cannot see me. Not the Thought Police or the Police Patrol who snoop into other's windows by helicopter. No. Now one can see me. Not the telescreen, r the spies,- hah!not even Big Brother can see me writing the evils of this dictatorship on fine paper in ink.
No one can stop it. So I cannot stop writing. Writing about the Ministry of Truth with it lies, or the Ministry of Peace with is wars. About the Ministry of Plenty with its rations and the Ministry of Love with its hate and cruelty. Yes, it must be all written down. All of it, Big Brother, Ingsoc, doublethink, even Newspeak. All of it must be written because you must know. You must know that:

War is Peace
Freedom is Slavery
Ignorance is Strength

Thoughtcrime never causes death but instead, is death. I write to you as a dead man.

I write to you. Those who must read it and bear its burden of knowledge. I write to the future; to the unborn. To those whose lives are like my own and will not listen. To those of a better era and will read. I write to the listeners and the speakers alike. I write to... O'Brien and the Brotherhood. O'Brien. The man in my dream. I realize the significance of it now.
I was walking down a brightly lit corridor, not unlike the interior of the Ministry of Truth, and then passed through a dark room. There was a man sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. He was silent and still as a statue. It was only when I passed him that he uttered the fateful words. "We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness." But I had walked past him, with no interest. Only now do I realize that the voice belonged to O'Brien. And only later, did I know the meaning of those words. This dream happened seven years ago.

The Brotherhood will bring the end. The Brotherhood and Goldstein. Goldstein: the man who was once a great power, one of Big Brother's own. The man who denounces the dictatorship, demands immediate conclusion of peace, advocates freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, freedom of thought. The man seen in the Two Minutes Hate. The constant object of hatred for every member of the Party. The only real threat to Big Brother.

What was it like before the revolution? Was it better or worse? I try so hard to remember but it comes up murky and unclear like the water that drowns my mother and sister in my dreams. I wave asked an old man. A man of the proles; old enough to remember a time before the revolution. I was wandering through the streets of the proles. A place only slightly dangerous to dwell in. I saw the man at a pub. Seeing his age and exciting potential, I had bought the man a few liters of beer. Whenever I attempted to question the ancient about the past- he would utter gibberish. It has seemed as though the man has drunken away his brain, and in time, his very existence.

Hate. Hate is the very power which fuels the Party. It keeps every member in allegiance with the government. Hate rallies the love and devotion to Big Brother and his cruel ways. Everyone allows the injustices and removal of their rights because of their fear and hate. But, though the hate is focused on Emanuel Goldstien and which ever country we war against- the source from which this passionate emotion is a response to the Party and Big Brother. Control is key for Big Brother and various members of the Inner Party to remain in power. Control keeps Oceania together. The fear and hate persuades all members of the Party to believe in the superiority of this wretched country. These passions create the feeling of living in the best place in the world and preventing the revolution of any kind. Everyday, the rations are poorer in both quantity and quality. Everyday, rumors are spread and a lie becomes the truth. I see the past erased, smudged out into a state of nonexistence. I see the empty voids and pockets of history being filled with lies.

Who controls the past, controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.
The only persons not provoked or bothered with by the Thought Police and government are the Proles. The mass of the the Proles remain virtually untouched by the hate and misfortune created by Big Brother and his agents of justice. They are uneducated and therefore do not know their potential to fight and overthrow the long reign of Big Brother. They are a bomb, slowly ticking away. And I will watch and wait until the bomb explodes- leaving a scar in history that will change the world as we know it. Hope lies with the Proles.

DOUBLETHINK:
To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies, knowing them to be contradictory and believing in both of them, to use logic against logic, to repudiate morality while laying claim to it, to believe that democracy was impossible and that the Party was the guardian of democracy, to forget whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory against the moment when it was needed, and then promptly to forget it again, and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself- that was the ultimate subtlety: consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed. Even to understand the our "doublethink" involved the use of doublethink.

Soon, I will be vaporized. Mrs. Parsons from across the hall will be vaporized. In about two years, her children will turn her into the Thought Police and that will be the end of her. Syme will be vaporized for his intelligence. Though the man is loyal and will never turn against the Party, he will be vaporized. He is only too smart. Even O'Brien will be vaporized, despite his high ranking as an Inner Party member. Him and the Brotherhood will all be vaporized for their thoughts not so much their actions. When I look around, I can see the ones who will not survive within the next decade. Slowly, each of us will disappear into nonexistence. Any photograph will be burned. Every mention of our name will be smudged. Every engraving scratched out, no record of any of us can be found. Slowly, we will be forgotten by those who now drift around us. It will be as if we had never exist. Syme, Mrs. Parsons, and I will be vaporized from the face of the Earth.
yes, we will all be vaporized and only the fittest shall survive. Those like Parsons and the eyeless creature of a man with a quacking voice who was preaching the Party's ideas to anyone who will listen in the canteen. Him, Parsons, the little beetle- like men who scurry everywhere like the foul cockroaches they are, and the girl... The girl with the dark hair from the Fiction Department will never be vaporized. The mindless never will be vaporized.

Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus tow make four. if that is granted, all else follows.