controls the past,"' said O'Brien, nodding
his head with slow approval. 'Is it your opinion, Winston, that the past
has real existence?'
Again the feeling of helplessness descended upon Winston. His eyes
flitted towards the dial. He not only did not know whether 'yes' or 'no'
was the answer that would save him from pain; he did not even know which
answer he believed to be the true one.
O'Brien smiled faintly. 'You are no metaphysician, Winston,' he said.
'Until this moment you had never considered what is meant by existence. I
will put it more precisely. Does the past exist concretely, in space? Is
there somewhere or other a place, a world of solid objects, where the past
is still happening?'
'No.'
'Then where does the past exist, if at all?'
'In records. It is written down.'
'In records. And--?'
'In the mind. In human memories.'
'In memory. Very well, then. We, the Party, control all records, and
we control all memories. Then we control the past, do we not?'
'But how can you stop people remembering things?' cried Winston again
momentarily forgetting the dial. 'It is involuntary. It is outside oneself.
How can you control memory? You have not controlled mine!'
O'Brien's manner grew stern again. He laid his hand on the dial.
'On the cont