Syme

had vanished. A morning came, and he was miss-
ing from work: a few thoughtless people commented on
his absence. On the next day nobody mentioned him. On
the third day Winston went into the vestibule of the Re-
cords Department to look at the notice-board. One of

---

notices carried a printed list of the members of the Chess
Committee, of whom Syme had been one. It looked almost
exactly as it had looked before—nothing had been crossed
outbut it was one name shorter. It was enough. Syme had
ceased to exist: he had never existed.
The weather was baking hot. In the labyrinthine Ministry
the windowless, air-conditioned rooms kept their normal
temperature, but outside the pavements scorched one’s feet
and the stench of the Tubes at the rush hours was a hor-
ror.

---

The preparations for Hate Week were in full swing, and
the staffs of all the Ministries were working overtime. Pro-
cessions, meetings, military parades, lectures, waxworks,
displays, film shows, telescreen programmes all had to be
organized

---

stands had to be erected, effigies built, slogans
coined, songs written, rumours circulated, photographs
faked. Julia’s unit in the Fiction Department had been tak-
en off the production of novels and was rushing out a series
of atrocity pamphlets. Winston, in addition to his regular
work, spent long periods every day in going through back files of ‘The Times’ and altering and embellishing news
items which were to be quoted in speeches. Late at night,

quotewhen crowds of rowdy proles roamed the streets, the town
had a curiously febrile air. The rocket bombs crashed of-
tener than ever, and sometimes in the far distance there
were enormous explosions which no one could explain and
about which there were wild Rumours.