in
great gleaming motor-cars or horse carriages with glass sides. There was no
knowing how much of this legend was true and how much invented. Winston
could not even remember at what date the Party itself had come into
existence. He did not believe he had ever heard the word Ingsoc before
1960, but it was possible that in its Oldspeak form -- 'English Socialism',
that is to say -- it had been current earlier. Everything melted into mist.
Sometimes, indeed, you could put your finger on a definite lie. It was not
true, for example, as was claimed in the Party history books, that the
Party had invented aeroplanes. He remembered aeroplanes since his earliest
childhood. But you could prove nothing. There was never any evidence. Just
once in his whole life he had held in his hands unmistakable documentary
proof of the falsification of an historical fact. And on that occasion--
'Smith!' screamed the shrewish voice from the telescreen. '6079 Smith
W.! Yes, you! Bend lower, please! You can do better than that. You're not
trying. Lower, please! That's better, comrade. Now stand at ease, the whole
squad, and watch me.'
A sudden hot sweat had broken out all over Winston's body. His face
remained completely inscrutable. Never show dismay! Never show resentment!
A single flicker of the eyes could give you away. He stood watching while
the instructress raised her arms above her head and -- one could not say
gracefully, but with remarkable neatness and efficiency -- bent over and
tucked the first joint of her fingers under her toes.
'There, comrades! That's how I want to see you doing it. Watch me
again. I'm thirty-nine and I've had four children. Now look.' She bent over
again. 'You see my knees aren't bent. You can all do it if you want to,'
she added as she straightened herself up.