It was he who
set the guards on to Winston and who prevented them from killing him. It
was he who decided when Winston should scream with pain, when he should
have a respite, when he should be fed, when he should sleep, when the drugs
should be pumped into his arm. It was he who asked the questions and
suggested the answers. He was the tormentor, he was the protector, he was
the inquisitor, he was the friend. And once -- Winston could not remember
whether it was in drugged sleep, or in normal sleep, or even in a moment of
wakefulness -- a voice murmured in his ear: 'Don't worry, Winston; you are
in my keeping. For seven years I have watched over you. Now the turning-
point has come. I shall save you, I shall make you perfect.' He was not
sure whether it was O'Brien's voice; but it was the same voice that had
said to him, 'We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness,' in
that other dream, seven years ago.
He did not remember any ending to his interrogation. There was a
period of blackness and then the cell, or room, in which h
.
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