1984-bilingue

George Orwell 1 9 8 4
Why did you have to endure it, since the end was
always the same? Why was it not possible to cut a
few days or weeks out of your life? Nobody ever
escaped detection, and nobody ever failed to confess.
When once you had succumbed to thoughtcrime it
was certain that by a given date you would be dead.
Why then did that horror, which altered nothing,
have to lie embedded in future time?
He tried with a little more success than before to
summon up the image of O'Brien. 'We shall meet in
the place where there is no darkness,' O'Brien had
said to him. He knew what it meant, or thought he
knew. The place where there is no darkness was the
imagined future, which one would never see, but
which, by foreknowledge, one could mystically
share in. But with the voice from the telescreen
nagging at his ears he could not follow the train of
thought further. He put a cigarette in his mouth. Half
the tobacco promptly fell out on to his tongue, a
bitter dust which was difficult to spit out again. The
face of Big Brother swam into his mind, displacing
that of O'Brien. Just as he had done a few days
earlier, he slid a coin out of his pocket and looked at
it. The face gazed up at him, heavy, calm, protecting:
but what kind of smile was hidden beneath the dark
moustache? Like a leaden knell the words came
back at him:
127
¿Para qué sufrir todo esto si el fin era el mismo?
¿Por qué no ahorrarse todo esto? Nadie escapaba a
la vigilancia ni dejaba de confesar. El culpable de
crimental estaba completamente seguro de que lo
matarían antes o después. ¿Para qué, pues, todo ese
horror que nada alteraba?
Por fin, consiguió evocar la imagen de O'Brien.
«Nos encontraremos en el sitio donde no hay
oscuridad», le había dicho O'Brien en el sueño.
Winston sabía lo que esto significaba, o se figuraba
saberlo. El lugar donde no hay oscuridad era el
futuro imaginado, que nunca se vería; pero, por
adivinación, podría uno participar en él
místicamente. Con la voz de la telepantalla
zumbándole en los oídos no podía pensar con
ilación. Se puso un cigarrillo en la boca. La mitad
del tabaco se le cayó en la lengua, un polvillo
amargo que luego no se podía escupir. El rostro del
Gran Hermano flotaba en su mente desplazando al
de O'Brien. Lo mismo que había hecho unos días
antes, se sacó una moneda del bolsillo y la
contempló. El rostro le miraba pesado, tranquilo,
protector. Pero, ¿qué clase de sonrisa se escondía
bajo el oscuro bigote? Las palabras de las
consignas martilleaban el cerebro de Winston:
WAR IS PEACE LA GUERRA ES LA PAZ
FREEDOM IS SLAVERY LA LIBERTAD ES LA ESCLAVITUD
IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH LA IGNORANCIA ES LA FUERZA