Occasionally, perhaps twice a week, Winston went to a dusty, forgotten-looking office in the Ministry of Truth and did a little work, or what was called work.
He had been appointed to a sub-committee of a sub-committee which was occupied with the compilation of the Eleventh Edition of the Newspeak Dictionary.
What his job entailed was producing something an Interim Report, but what it was that they were reporting on he had never definitely found out.
It was something to do with the question of whether commas should be placed inside brackets, or outside.
There were four others on the committee, all of them persons similar to himself.
There were days when they assembled and then promptly dispersed again, frankly admitting to one another that there was not really anything to be done.
Winston has no real job, but is paid better than he was previously. He has nothing to think about, nothing to do. His life is a shadow.