Winston asked himself what was the most horrible, sickening thing of all? He thought of Big Brother.
In his mind he saw the enormous face (because of constantly seeing it on posters), with its heavy black moustache and the eyes that followed you to and fro.
What were his true feelings towards Big Brother?
Winston heard the heavy tramp of boots in the passage. The steel door swung open with a clang. O’Brien walked into the cell. Behind him were the waxen-faced officer and the black-uniformed guards.
‘Get up,’ said O’Brien. ‘Come here.’
Winston stood opposite him. O’Brien took Winston’s shoulders between his strong hands and looked at him closely.
‘You have had thoughts of deceiving me,’ he said. ‘That was stupid. Stand up straighter. Look me in the face.’
He paused, and went on in a gentler tone:
‘You are improving. Intellectually there is very little wrong with you. It is only emotionally that you have failed to make progress. Tell me, Winston — and remember, no lies: you know that I am always able to detect a lie — tell me, what are your true feelings towards Big Brother?’
‘I hate him.’
‘You hate him. Good. Then the time has come for you to take the last step. You must love Big Brother. It is not enough to obey him: you must love him.’
He released Winston with a little push towards the guards.
‘Room 101,’ he said.