the Revolution than
it is now?' would have ceased once and for all to be answerable. But in
effect it was unanswerable even now, since the few scattered survivors from
the ancient world were incapable of comparing one age with another. They
remembered a million useless things, a quarrel with a workmate, a hunt for
a lost bicycle pump, the expression on a long-dead sister's face, the
swirls of dust on a windy morning seventy years ago: but all the relevant
facts were outside the range of their vision. They were like the ant, which
can see small objects but not large ones. And when memory failed and
written records were falsified -- when that happened, the claim of the
Party to have improved the conditions of human life had got to be accepted,
because there did not exist, and never again could exist, any standard
against which it could be tested.
At this moment his train of thought stopped abruptly. He halted and
looked up. He was in a narrow street, with a few dark little shops,
interspersed among dwelling-houses. Immediately above his head there hung
three discoloured metal balls which looked as if they had once been gilded.
He seemed to know the place. Of course! He was standing outside the junk-
shop where he had bought the diary.
A twinge of fear went through him. It had been a sufficiently rash