The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter, but the shouting outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning back to their work. One of them approached with the gin bottle. Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no at¬ tention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or cheering any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love, with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in the public dock, confessing everything, implicating every¬ body. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at his back. The long-hoped-for bullet was entering his brain.
He gazed up at the enormous face, forty years it had tak- en him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. 0 cruel, needless misunderstanding! O stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin- scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished. He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.
THE END
00
Показать больше
Редактировать комментарий
Super Chat Donation
The maximum you can super chat is . To super chat more, add more funds to your wallet. Donate $10 or more and get Freemium for a month!
Log in to comment
I found there there are several versions of the audio book that have deliberately altered ending in them.
https://archive.org/details/19....84pdf_202003/page/37
The voice from the telescreen was still pouring forth its
tale of prisoners and booty and slaughter, but the shouting
outside had died down a little. The waiters were turning
back to their work. One of them approached with the gin
bottle. Winston, sitting in a blissful dream, paid no at¬
tention as his glass was filled up. He was not running or
cheering any longer. He was back in the Ministry of Love,
with everything forgiven, his soul white as snow. He was in
the public dock, confessing everything, implicating every¬
body. He was walking down the white-tiled corridor, with
the feeling of walking in sunlight, and an armed guard at
his back. The long-hoped-for bullet was entering his brain.
He gazed up at the enormous face, forty years it had tak-
en him to learn what kind of smile was hidden beneath the
dark moustache. 0 cruel, needless misunderstanding! O
stubborn, self-willed exile from the loving breast! Two gin-
scented tears trickled down the sides of his nose. But it was
all right, everything was all right, the struggle was finished.
He had won the victory over himself. He loved Big Brother.
THE END