writing by hand.Apart from very short notes,it was usu- al to dictate everything into the speak-write which was of course impossible for his present purpose.He dipped the pen into the ink and then faltered for just a second.A trem- or had gone through his bowels.To mark the paper was the decisive act.In small clumsy letters he wrote: April 4th,1984. He sat back.A sense of complete helplessness had de- scended upon him.To begin with,he did not know with any certainty that this was 1984.It must be round about that date,since he was fairly sure that his age was thirty-nine, and he believed that he had been born in 1944 or 1945;but it was never possible nowadays to pin down any date within a year or two. For whom,it suddenly occurred to him to wonder,was he writing this diary?For the future,for the unborn.His mind hovered for a moment round the doubtful date on the page, and then fetched up with a bump against the Newspeak word DOUBLETHINK.For the first time the magnitude of what he had undertaken came home to him.How could you communicate with the future?It was of its nature impossi- ble.Either the future would resemble the present,in which case it would not listen to him:or it would be different from it,and his predicament would be meaningless. For some time he sat gazing stupidly at the paper.The telescreen had changed over to strident military music.It was curious that he seemed not merely to have lost the pow- 198410 1984 writing by hand. Apart from very short notes, it was usu￾al to dictate everything into the speak-write which was of course impossible for his present purpose. He dipped the pen into the ink and then faltered for just a second. A trem￾or had gone through his bowels. To mark the paper was the decisive act. In small clumsy letters he wrote: April 4th, 1984. He sat back. A sense of complete helplessness had de￾scended upon him. To begin with, he did not know with any certainty that this was 1984. It must be round about that date, since he was fairly sure that his age was thirty-nine, and he believed that he had been born in 1944 or 1945; but it was never possible nowadays to pin down any date within a year or two. For whom, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder, was he writing this diary? For the future, for the unborn. His mind hovered for a moment round the doubtful date on the page, and then fetched up with a bump against the Newspeak word DOUBLETHINK. For the first time the magnitude of what he had undertaken came home to him. How could you communicate with the future? It was of its nature impossi￾ble. Either the future would resemble the present, in which case it would not listen to him: or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless. For some time he sat gazing stupidly at the paper. The telescreen had changed over to strident military music. It was curious that he seemed not merely to have lost the pow-