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1984 by George Orwell, Chapter 5 (1)

Chapter 5 (1)

In the low-ceilinged canteen, deep underground, the lunch queue jerked slowly forward. The room was already very full and deafeningly noisy. From the grille at the counter the steam

of stew came pouring forth, with a sour metallic smell which did not quite overcome the fumes of Victory Gin. On the far side of the room there was a small bar, a mere hole in the wall, where gin could be bought at ten cents the large nip.

‘Just the man I was looking for,' said a voice at Winston's back.

He turned round. It was his friend Syme, who worked in the Research Department. Perhaps ‘friend' was not exactly the right word. You did not have friends nowadays, you had comrades: but there were some comrades whose society was pleasanter than that of others. Syme was a philologist, a specialist in Newspeak. Indeed, he was one of the enormous team of experts now engaged in compiling the Eleventh Edition of the Newspeak Dictionary. He was a tiny creature, smaller than Winston, with dark hair and large, protuberant eyes, at once mournful and derisive, which seemed to search your face closely while he was speaking to you.

‘I wanted to ask you whether you'd got any razor blades,' he said.

‘Not one!' said Winston with a sort of guilty haste. ‘I've tried all over the place. They don't exist any longer.'

Everyone kept asking you for razor blades. Actually he had two unused ones which he was hoarding up. There had been a famine of them for months past. At any given moment there was some necessary article which the Party shops were unable to supply. Sometimes it was buttons, sometimes it was darning wool, sometimes it was shoelaces; at present it was razor blades. You could only get hold of them, if at all, by scrounging more or less furtively on the ‘free' market.

‘I've been using the same blade for six weeks,' he added untruthfully.

The queue gave another jerk forward. As they halted he turned and faced Syme again. Each of them took a greasy metal tray from a pile at the end of the counter.

‘Did you go and see the prisoners hanged yesterday?' said Syme.

‘I was working,' said Winston indifferently. ‘I shall see it on the flicks, I suppose.'

‘A very inadequate substitute,' said Syme.

His mocking eyes roved over Winston's face. ‘I know you,' the eyes seemed to say, ‘I see through you. I know very well why you didn't go to see those prisoners hanged.' In an intellectual way, Syme was venomously orthodox. He would talk with a disagreeable gloating satisfaction of helicopter raids on enemy villages, and trials and confessions of thought-criminals, the executions in the cellars of the Ministry of Love. Talking to him was largely a matter of getting him away from such subjects and entangling him, if possible, in the technicalities of Newspeak, on which he was authoritative and interesting. Winston turned his head a little aside to avoid the scrutiny of the large dark eyes.

‘It was a good hanging,' said Syme reminiscently. ‘I think it spoils it when they tie their feet together. I like to see them kicking. And above all, at the end, the tongue sticking right out, and blue — a quite bright blue. That's the detail that appeals to me.' ‘Nex', please!' yelled the white-aproned prole with the ladle.

Winston and Syme pushed their trays beneath the grille. On to each was dumped swiftly the regulation lunch — a metal pannikin of pinkish-grey stew, a hunk of bread, a cube of cheese, a mug of milkless Victory Coffee, and one saccharine tablet.

‘There's a table over there, under that telescreen,' said Syme. ‘Let's pick up a gin on the way.'

The gin was served out to them in handleless china mugs. They threaded their way across the crowded room and unpacked their trays on to the metal-topped table, on one corner of which someone had left a pool of stew, a filthy liquid mess that had the appearance of vomit. Winston took up his mug of gin, paused for an instant to collect his nerve, and gulped the oily-tasting stuff down. When he had winked the tears out of his eyes he suddenly discovered that he was hungry. He began swallowing spoonfuls of the stew, which, in among its general sloppiness, had cubes of spongy pinkish stuff which was probably a preparation of meat. Neither of them spoke again till they had emptied their pannikins. From the table at Winston's left, a little behind his back, someone was talking rapidly and continuously, a harsh gabble almost like the quacking of a duck, which pierced the general uproar of the room.

‘How is the Dictionary getting on?' said Winston, raising his voice to overcome the noise.

‘Slowly,' said Syme. ‘I'm on the adjectives. It's fascinating.'

He had brightened up immediately at the mention of Newspeak. He pushed his pannikin aside, took up his hunk of bread in one delicate hand and his cheese in the other, and leaned across the table so as to be able to speak without shouting.

‘The Eleventh Edition is the definitive edition,' he said. ‘We're getting the language into its final shape — the shape it's going to have when nobody speaks anything else. When we've finished with it, people like you will have to learn it all over again. You think, I dare say, that our chief job is inventing new words. But not a bit of it! We're destroying words — scores of them, hundreds of them, every day. We're cutting the language down to the bone. The Eleventh Edition won't contain a single word that will become obsolete before the year 2o5o.'

He bit hungrily into his bread and swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, then continued speaking, with a sort of pedant's passion. His thin dark face had become animated, his eyes had lost their mocking expression and grown almost dreamy.

‘It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take “good”, for instance. If you have a word like “good”, what need is there for a word like “bad”? “Ungood” will do just as well — better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of “good”, what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like “excellent” and “splendid” and all the rest of them? “Plusgood” covers the meaning, or “doubleplusgood” if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already. but in the final version of Newspeak there'll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words — in reality, only one word. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston? It was B.B.‘s idea originally, of course,' he added as an afterthought.

A sort of vapid eagerness flitted across Winston's face at the mention of Big Brother. Nevertheless Syme immediately detected a certain lack of enthusiasm.

‘You haven't a real appreciation of Newspeak, Winston,' he said almost sadly. ‘Even when you write it you're still thinking in Oldspeak. I've read some of those pieces that you write in “The Times” occasionally. They're good enough, but they're translations. In your heart you'd prefer to stick to Oldspeak, with all its vagueness and its useless shades of meaning. You don't grasp the beauty of the destruction of words. Do you know that Newspeak is the only language in the world whose vocabulary gets smaller every year?'

Winston did know that, of course. He smiled, sympathetically he hoped, not trusting himself to speak. Syme bit off another fragment of the dark-coloured bread, chewed it briefly, and went on:

‘Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we're not far from that point. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller. Even now, of course, there's no reason or excuse for committing thoughtcrime. It's merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. But in the end there won't be any need even for that. The Revolution will be complete when the language is perfect.

Newspeak is Ingsoc and Ingsoc is Newspeak,' he added with a sort of mystical satisfaction. ‘Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2o5o, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?'

‘Except ——' began Winston doubtfully, and he stopped.

It had been on the tip of his tongue to say ‘Except the proles,' but he checked himself, not feeling fully certain that this remark was not in some way unorthodox. Syme, however, had divined what he was about to say.

‘The proles are not human beings,' he said carelessly. ‘By 2o5o

— earlier, probably — all real knowledge of Oldspeak will have disappeared. The whole literature of the past will have been destroyed. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron — they'll exist only in Newspeak versions, not merely changed into something different, but actually changed into something contradictory of what they used to be. Even the literature of the Party will change. Even the slogans will change. How could you have a slogan like “freedom is slavery” when the concept of freedom has been abolished? The whole climate of thought will be different. In fact there will be no thought, as we understand it now. Orthodoxy means not thinking — not needing to think. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.'

One of these days, thought Winston with sudden deep conviction, Syme will be vaporized. He is too intelligent. He sees too clearly and speaks too plainly. The Party does not like such people. One day he will disappear. It is written in his face.

Winston had finished his bread and cheese. He turned a little sideways in his chair to drink his mug of coffee. At the table on his left the man with the strident voice was still talking remorselessly away. A young woman who was perhaps his secretary, and who was sitting with her back to Winston, was listening to him and seemed to be eagerly agreeing with everything that he said. From time to time Winston caught some such remark as ‘I think you're so right, I do so agree with you', uttered in a youthful and rather silly feminine voice. But the other voice never stopped for an instant, even when the girl was speaking. Winston knew the man by sight, though he knew no more about him than that he held some important post in the Fiction Department. He was a man of about thirty, with a muscular throat and a large, mobile mouth. His head was thrown back a little, and because of the angle at which he was sitting, his spectacles caught the light and presented to Winston two blank discs instead of eyes. What was slightly horrible, was that from the stream of sound that poured out of his mouth it was almost impossible to distinguish a single word.

Chapter 5 (1)

In the low-ceilinged canteen, deep underground, the lunch queue jerked slowly forward. En la cantina de techo bajo, en las profundidades del subsuelo, la cola del almuerzo avanzaba lentamente. У їдальні з низькою стелею, глибоко під землею, обідня черга повільно посмикувалася вперед. The room was already very full and deafeningly noisy. У кімнаті вже було дуже повно і оглушливо шумно. From the grille at the counter the steam De la rejilla en el mostrador el vapor З решітки на прилавку йде пар

of stew came pouring forth, with a sour metallic smell which did not quite overcome the fumes of Victory Gin. de estofado brotó, con un olor metálico amargo que no superó del todo los vapores de Victory Gin. ринула тушонка з кислим металевим запахом, який не надто подолав випари джину «Вікторі». On the far side of the room there was a small bar, a mere hole in the wall, where gin could be bought at ten cents the large nip. Al otro lado de la habitación había una pequeña barra, un simple agujero en la pared, donde se podía comprar ginebra a diez centavos el trago grande. У дальній частині кімнати був невеликий бар, звичайна дірка в стіні, де можна було купити джин за десять центів за кусок.

‘Just the man I was looking for,' said a voice at Winston's back. "Justo el hombre que estaba buscando", dijo una voz a la espalda de Winston. — Саме той чоловік, якого я шукав, — сказав голос за спиною Вінстона.

He turned round. Він обернувся. It was his friend Syme, who worked in the Research Department. Це був його друг Сайм, який працював у відділі досліджень. Perhaps ‘friend' was not exactly the right word. Можливо, «друг» було не зовсім правильним словом. You did not have friends nowadays, you had comrades: but there were some comrades whose society was pleasanter than that of others. У вас тепер не було друзів, у вас були товариші, але були товариші, товариство яких було приємніше, ніж товариство інших. Syme was a philologist, a specialist in Newspeak. Сайм був філологом, спеціалістом з новомов. Indeed, he was one of the enormous team of experts now engaged in compiling the Eleventh Edition of the Newspeak Dictionary. He was a tiny creature, smaller than Winston, with dark hair and large, protuberant eyes, at once mournful and derisive, which seemed to search your face closely while he was speaking to you. Він був крихітним створінням, меншим за Вінстона, з темним волоссям і великими виряченими очима, водночас сумним і глузливим, який, здавалося, пильно дивився на твоє обличчя, поки він розмовляв з тобою.

‘I wanted to ask you whether you'd got any razor blades,' he said. "Quería preguntarte si tenías hojas de afeitar", dijo. «Я хотів запитати вас, чи є у вас леза для гоління», — сказав він.

‘Not one!' «Жодного!» said Winston with a sort of guilty haste. — сказав Вінстон з якоюсь винною поспіхом. ‘I've tried all over the place. Lo he intentado por todas partes. «Я пробував скрізь. They don't exist any longer.' Ya no existen. Їх більше не існує».

Everyone kept asking you for razor blades. Todo el mundo seguía pidiéndote hojas de afeitar. Всі постійно просили у вас леза для гоління. Actually he had two unused ones which he was hoarding up. En realidad, tenía dos sin usar que estaba acumulando. Насправді у нього було два невикористаних, які він накопичував. There had been a famine of them for months past. Había habido una hambruna durante los últimos meses. Протягом останніх місяців у них був голод. At any given moment there was some necessary article which the Party shops were unable to supply. En un momento dado había algún artículo necesario que las tiendas del Partido no podían suministrar. У будь-який момент був якийсь необхідний товар, який партійні магазини не могли доставити. Sometimes it was buttons, sometimes it was darning wool, sometimes it was shoelaces; at present it was razor blades. То ґудзики, то штопання вовни, то шнурки; в даний час це були леза для гоління. You could only get hold of them, if at all, by scrounging more or less furtively on the ‘free' market. Sólo podía hacerse con ellos, si acaso, merodeando más o menos furtivamente en el mercado "libre". Здобути їх, якщо взагалі можна, можна було отримати лише більш-менш крадькома на «вільному» ринку.

‘I've been using the same blade for six weeks,' he added untruthfully. «Я користуюся тим самим лезом шість тижнів», — додав він неправдиво.

The queue gave another jerk forward. Черга знову рванула вперед. As they halted he turned and faced Syme again. Cuando se detuvieron, se volvió y miró a Syme de nuevo. Коли вони зупинилися, він повернувся й знову зіткнувся зі Саймом. Each of them took a greasy metal tray from a pile at the end of the counter. Кожен із них узяв із купи в кінці прилавка по засмальцьованому металевому підносу.

‘Did you go and see the prisoners hanged yesterday?' — Ви вчора ходили й бачили повішених в’язнів? said Syme.

‘I was working,' said Winston indifferently. — Я працював, — байдуже сказав Вінстон. ‘I shall see it on the flicks, I suppose.' Lo veré en las películas, supongo. «Мабуть, я побачу це на фільмах».

‘A very inadequate substitute,' said Syme. — Дуже неадекватна заміна, — сказав Сайм.

His mocking eyes roved over Winston's face. Його насмішкуваті очі пробігли по Вінстоновому обличчю. ‘I know you,' the eyes seemed to say, ‘I see through you. I know very well why you didn't go to see those prisoners hanged.' In an intellectual way, Syme was venomously orthodox. De una manera intelectual, Syme era venenosamente ortodoxo. В інтелектуальному плані Сайм був надзвичайно ортодоксальним. He would talk with a disagreeable gloating satisfaction of helicopter raids on enemy villages, and trials and confessions of thought-criminals, the executions in the cellars of the Ministry of Love. Він із неприємним злорадним задоволенням розповідав про гелікоптерні нальоти на ворожі села, про суди й зізнання ідейних злочинців, про страти в підвалах Міністерства Любові. Talking to him was largely a matter of getting him away from such subjects and entangling him, if possible, in the technicalities of Newspeak, on which he was authoritative and interesting. Hablar con él era en gran medida una cuestión de alejarlo de esos temas y enredarlo, si era posible, en los tecnicismos de Newspeak, en el que era autoritario e interesante. Розмова з ним здебільшого полягала в тому, щоб відвернути його від таких тем і залучити, якщо можливо, до технічних деталей новомовної мови, у яких він був авторитетним і цікавим. Winston turned his head a little aside to avoid the scrutiny of the large dark eyes. Winston volvió un poco la cabeza para evitar el escrutinio de los grandes ojos oscuros. Вінстон трохи повернув голову вбік, щоб уникнути пильного погляду великих темних очей.

‘It was a good hanging,' said Syme reminiscently. «Це було гарне повішення», — згадав Сайм. ‘I think it spoils it when they tie their feet together. Creo que se estropea cuando se atan los pies. «Я думаю, це псує, коли вони зв’язують ноги разом. I like to see them kicking. Мені подобається бачити, як вони б'ються. And above all, at the end, the tongue sticking right out, and blue — a quite bright blue. І до всього, в кінці, прямо висунутий язик, і синій — досить яскраво-синій. That's the detail that appeals to me.' Ese es el detalle que me atrae. Це та деталь, яка мене приваблює». ‘Nex', please!' «Некс», будь ласка! yelled the white-aproned prole with the ladle. — гукнув прол у білому фартусі з черпаком.

Winston and Syme pushed their trays beneath the grille. Вінстон і Сайм засунули свої таці під решітку. On to each was dumped swiftly the regulation lunch — a metal pannikin of pinkish-grey stew, a hunk of bread, a cube of cheese, a mug of milkless Victory Coffee, and one saccharine tablet. На кожного швиденько висипали обов’язковий обід — металевий посуд із сіро-рожевою тушонкою, шматок хліба, кубик сиру, кухоль безмолочної кави «Вікторі» й одну таблетку сахарину.

‘There's a table over there, under that telescreen,' said Syme. «Там є стіл, під телеекраном», — сказав Сайм. ‘Let's pick up a gin on the way.' Vamos a buscar una ginebra por el camino. «Давайте дорогою заберемо джина».

The gin was served out to them in handleless china mugs. Джин подавали їм у порцелянових кухлях без ручок. They threaded their way across the crowded room and unpacked their trays on to the metal-topped table, on one corner of which someone had left a pool of stew, a filthy liquid mess that had the appearance of vomit. Вони пройшли через переповнену кімнату й розпакували таці до столу з металевою стільницею, на кутку якого хтось залишив калюжу тушонки, брудну рідину, схожу на блювоту. Winston took up his mug of gin, paused for an instant to collect his nerve, and gulped the oily-tasting stuff down. Winston tomó su jarra de ginebra, se detuvo un instante para recobrar los nervios y se tragó la sustancia de sabor aceitoso. Вінстон узяв свій кухоль джину, замовк на мить, щоб зібратися з нервами, і проковтнув маслянистого смаку. When he had winked the tears out of his eyes he suddenly discovered that he was hungry. Коли він підморгнув сльози з очей, то раптом виявив, що голодний. He began swallowing spoonfuls of the stew, which, in among its general sloppiness, had cubes of spongy pinkish stuff which was probably a preparation of meat. Він почав ковтати ложками тушковане м’ясо, яке, серед загальної неохайності, мало кубики губчастої рожевої речовини, яка, ймовірно, була м’ясною заготовкою. Neither of them spoke again till they had emptied their pannikins. Жоден із них більше не говорив, доки не спорожнив свої паннікі. From the table at Winston's left, a little behind his back, someone was talking rapidly and continuously, a harsh gabble almost like the quacking of a duck, which pierced the general uproar of the room. За столом ліворуч від Вінстона, трохи за його спиною, хтось говорив швидко й безперервно, різке лепетання, майже схоже на крякання качки, що пронизало загальний галас кімнати.

‘How is the Dictionary getting on?' ¿Cómo va el Diccionario? «Як справи зі Словником?» said Winston, raising his voice to overcome the noise. — сказав Вінстон, підвищуючи голос, щоб перебороти шум.

‘Slowly,' said Syme. —Despacio —dijo Syme. ‘I'm on the adjectives. Estoy en los adjetivos. «Я на прикметниках. It's fascinating.' Це захоплююче».

He had brightened up immediately at the mention of Newspeak. Він відразу пожвавішав від згадки про новомову. He pushed his pannikin aside, took up his hunk of bread in one delicate hand and his cheese in the other, and leaned across the table so as to be able to speak without shouting. Dejó a un lado su pannikin, tomó su trozo de pan con una mano delicada y su queso en la otra, y se inclinó sobre la mesa para poder hablar sin gritar. Він відсунув паннік, однією ніжною рукою взяв шматок хліба, другою — сир і перехилився через стіл, щоб говорити без крику.

‘The Eleventh Edition is the definitive edition,' he said. «Одинадцяте видання — остаточне видання», — сказав він. ‘We're getting the language into its final shape — the shape it's going to have when nobody speaks anything else. “Estamos logrando que el idioma adopte su forma final, la forma que tendrá cuando nadie hable nada más. «Ми повертаємо мову до її остаточної форми — форми, яку вона матиме, коли ніхто більше ні на чому не розмовлятиме. When we've finished with it, people like you will have to learn it all over again. Cuando terminemos con él, la gente como tú tendrá que aprenderlo de nuevo. Коли ми закінчимо це, таким людям, як ти, доведеться вчитися заново. You think, I dare say, that our chief job is inventing new words. Ви думаєте, смію сказати, що наша головна робота — винаходити нові слова. But not a bit of it! ¡Pero ni un poco! Але не трохи! We're destroying words — scores of them, hundreds of them, every day. Estamos destruyendo palabras, decenas de ellas, cientos de ellas, todos los días. Ми знищуємо слова — десятки, сотні щодня. We're cutting the language down to the bone. Estamos reduciendo el lenguaje hasta la médula. Ми рубаємо мову до кісток. The Eleventh Edition won't contain a single word that will become obsolete before the year 2o5o.' La Undécima Edición no contendrá ni una sola palabra que quede obsoleta antes del año 2050 ”. Одинадцяте видання не міститиме жодного слова, яке застаріє до 2050 року».

He bit hungrily into his bread and swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, then continued speaking, with a sort of pedant's passion. Mordió hambriento su pan y tragó un par de bocados, luego continuó hablando, con una especie de pasión pedante. Він жадібно відкусив свій хліб і проковтнув пару ковтків, а потім продовжив говорити з якоюсь педантською пристрастю. His thin dark face had become animated, his eyes had lost their mocking expression and grown almost dreamy. Його худе темне обличчя оживилося, очі втратили насмішкуватий вираз і стали майже мрійливими.

‘It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. «Це прекрасна річ — знищення слів. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. Por supuesto, el gran desperdicio está en los verbos y adjetivos, pero hay cientos de sustantivos de los que también se puede deshacer. Звичайно, велика втрата в дієсловах і прикметниках, але є сотні іменників, яких також можна позбутися. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. Це не лише синоніми; є й антоніми. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? Зрештою, яке виправдання є для слова, яке є простою протилежністю до іншого слова? A word contains its opposite in itself. Слово містить у собі свою протилежність. Take “good”, for instance. Візьмемо, наприклад, «добре». If you have a word like “good”, what need is there for a word like “bad”? Якщо у вас є таке слово, як «добре», навіщо потрібне таке слово, як «погано»? “Ungood” will do just as well — better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not. «Нехороший» підійде так само добре — краще, тому що це повна протилежність, якої інший не є. Or again, if you want a stronger version of “good”, what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like “excellent” and “splendid” and all the rest of them? Або знову ж таки, якщо вам потрібна сильніша версія «добре», який сенс мати цілу низку розпливчастих непотрібних слів, таких як «відмінно», «чудово» та всі інші? “Plusgood” covers the meaning, or “doubleplusgood” if you want something stronger still. «Plusgood» покриває значення, або «doubleplusgood», якщо ви хочете щось ще сильніше. Of course we use those forms already. Звичайно, ми вже використовуємо ці форми. but in the final version of Newspeak there'll be nothing else. pero en la versión final de Newspeak no habrá nada más. але в остаточній версії Новомови більше нічого не буде. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words — in reality, only one word. Зрештою, все поняття добра і зла буде охоплено лише шістьма словами — насправді, лише одним словом. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston? It was B.B.‘s idea originally, of course,' he added as an afterthought. Звісно, спочатку це була ідея БіБі», — додав він.

A sort of vapid eagerness flitted across Winston's face at the mention of Big Brother. Una especie de insípido entusiasmo cruzó por el rostro de Winston ante la mención del Gran Hermano. При згадці про Старшого Брата на обличчі Вінстона промайнуло якесь марне бажання. Nevertheless Syme immediately detected a certain lack of enthusiasm. Sin embargo, Syme detectó de inmediato una cierta falta de entusiasmo. Тим не менш, Сайм одразу відчув певний брак ентузіазму.

‘You haven't a real appreciation of Newspeak, Winston,' he said almost sadly. — Ви не дуже цінуєте новомову, Вінстоне, — майже сумно сказав він. ‘Even when you write it you're still thinking in Oldspeak. I've read some of those pieces that you write in “The Times” occasionally. Я час від часу читав деякі з тих творів, які ви пишете в «The Times». They're good enough, but they're translations. Вони досить гарні, але це переклади. In your heart you'd prefer to stick to Oldspeak, with all its vagueness and its useless shades of meaning. У своєму серці ви б віддали перевагу старомові з усією його невизначеністю та марними відтінками значення. You don't grasp the beauty of the destruction of words. Ви не збагнете краси руйнування слів. Do you know that Newspeak is the only language in the world whose vocabulary gets smaller every year?' Чи знаєте ви, що новомовна — єдина мова у світі, словниковий запас якої з кожним роком зменшується?»

Winston did know that, of course. He smiled, sympathetically he hoped, not trusting himself to speak. Sonrió, con simpatía que esperaba, sin confiar en sí mismo para hablar. Він усміхнувся, як сподівався, співчутливо, не довіряючи собі говорити. Syme bit off another fragment of the dark-coloured bread, chewed it briefly, and went on: Сайм відкусив ще один шматок темного хліба, злегка пожував його й продовжив:

‘Don't you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? ¿No ves que todo el objetivo de Newspeak es reducir el alcance del pensamiento? «Хіба ви не бачите, що вся мета новомови полягає в тому, щоб звузити діапазон думки? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it. Every concept that can ever be needed, will be expressed by exactly one word, with its meaning rigidly defined and all its subsidiary meanings rubbed out and forgotten. Cada concepto que alguna vez pueda ser necesario, se expresará exactamente con una palabra, con su significado rígidamente definido y todos sus significados subsidiarios borrados y olvidados. Кожне поняття, яке коли-небудь може знадобитися, буде виражено одним словом, його значення буде чітко визначеним, а всі його допоміжні значення стерті та забуті. Already, in the Eleventh Edition, we're not far from that point. Вже в одинадцятому виданні ми недалеко від цього. But the process will still be continuing long after you and I are dead. Але процес триватиме ще довго після того, як ми з тобою помремо. Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller. З кожним роком слів все менше, а діапазон свідомості завжди трошки менший. Even now, of course, there's no reason or excuse for committing thoughtcrime. Навіть зараз, звичайно, немає жодних причин чи виправдань для вчинення мислезлочину. It's merely a question of self-discipline, reality-control. Es simplemente una cuestión de autodisciplina, control de la realidad. Це лише питання самодисципліни, контролю реальності. But in the end there won't be any need even for that. Але зрештою навіть у цьому не буде потреби. The Revolution will be complete when the language is perfect.

Newspeak is Ingsoc and Ingsoc is Newspeak,' he added with a sort of mystical satisfaction. ‘Has it ever occurred to you, Winston, that by the year 2o5o, at the very latest, not a single human being will be alive who could understand such a conversation as we are having now?' —¿Se le ha ocurrido alguna vez, Winston, que para el año 2050, a más tardar, no habrá un solo ser humano con vida que pueda entender una conversación como la que estamos teniendo ahora? «Чи спадало вам коли-небудь на думку, Вінстоне, що до 2050 року, найпізніше, не залишиться в живих жодної людини, яка могла б зрозуміти таку розмову, яку ми ведемо зараз?»

‘Except ——' began Winston doubtfully, and he stopped. — За винятком… — із сумнівом почав Вінстон і замовк.

It had been on the tip of his tongue to say ‘Except the proles,' but he checked himself, not feeling fully certain that this remark was not in some way unorthodox. У нього було на кінчику язика сказати «Окрім пролів», але він стримався, не відчуваючи до кінця впевненості, що це зауваження не було якимось чином неортодоксальним. Syme, however, had divined what he was about to say. Однак Сайм угадав, що він збирався сказати.

‘The proles are not human beings,' he said carelessly. "Los proles no son seres humanos", dijo descuidadamente. — Проли — не люди, — недбало сказав він. ‘By 2o5o

— earlier, probably — all real knowledge of Oldspeak will have disappeared. The whole literature of the past will have been destroyed. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron — they'll exist only in Newspeak versions, not merely changed into something different, but actually changed into something contradictory of what they used to be. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron: existirán solo en las versiones de Newspeak, no solo se cambiarán en algo diferente, sino que en realidad se convertirán en algo contradictorio de lo que solían ser. Чосер, Шекспір, Мільтон, Байрон — вони існуватимуть лише у новомовних версіях, не просто змінені на щось інше, а фактично змінені на щось суперечливе тому, чим вони були раніше. Even the literature of the Party will change. Even the slogans will change. How could you have a slogan like “freedom is slavery” when the concept of freedom has been abolished? Як у вас може бути гасло на кшталт «свобода — це рабство», коли поняття свободи скасовано? The whole climate of thought will be different. Весь клімат думки буде іншим. In fact there will be no thought, as we understand it now. Orthodoxy means not thinking — not needing to think. La ortodoxia significa no pensar, no necesitar pensar. Православ'я означає не думати - не потрібно думати. Orthodoxy is unconsciousness.' Православ'я — це несвідомість».

One of these days, thought Winston with sudden deep conviction, Syme will be vaporized. «На днях, — подумав Вінстон з раптовим глибоким переконанням, — Сайм випарується. He is too intelligent. He sees too clearly and speaks too plainly. Він бачить занадто ясно і говорить занадто просто. The Party does not like such people. One day he will disappear. It is written in his face.

Winston had finished his bread and cheese. He turned a little sideways in his chair to drink his mug of coffee. Він трохи повернувся набік у кріслі, щоб випити кухоль кави. At the table on his left the man with the strident voice was still talking remorselessly away. En la mesa de su izquierda, el hombre de voz estridente seguía hablando sin remordimientos. За столом ліворуч від нього чоловік із пронизливим голосом усе ще безжалісно говорив. A young woman who was perhaps his secretary, and who was sitting with her back to Winston, was listening to him and seemed to be eagerly agreeing with everything that he said. Молода жінка, яка була, мабуть, його секретарем і сиділа спиною до Вінстона, слухала його і, здавалося, охоче погоджувалася з усім, що він говорив. From time to time Winston caught some such remark as ‘I think you're so right, I do so agree with you', uttered in a youthful and rather silly feminine voice. De vez en cuando, Winston escuchaba algún comentario como "Creo que tienes tanta razón, estoy de acuerdo contigo", pronunciado con una voz femenina juvenil y bastante tonta. Час від часу Вінстон вловив якісь зауваження на зразок «Я думаю, що ти маєш рацію, я згоден з тобою», вимовлені молодим і досить дурним жіночим голосом. But the other voice never stopped for an instant, even when the girl was speaking. Але другий голос не стихав ні на мить, навіть коли дівчина говорила. Winston knew the man by sight, though he knew no more about him than that he held some important post in the Fiction Department. Winston conocía al hombre de vista, aunque no sabía más de él que ocupaba un puesto importante en el Departamento de Ficción. Вінстон знав цього чоловіка в обличчя, хоча знав про нього лише те, що він обіймав якусь важливу посаду у відділі художньої літератури. He was a man of about thirty, with a muscular throat and a large, mobile mouth. Era un hombre de unos treinta años, de garganta musculosa y boca grande y móvil. Це був чоловік років тридцяти, з мускулистим горлом і великим, рухливим ротом. His head was thrown back a little, and because of the angle at which he was sitting, his spectacles caught the light and presented to Winston two blank discs instead of eyes. Tenía la cabeza un poco echada hacia atrás y, debido al ángulo en el que estaba sentado, sus gafas captaron la luz y le presentaron a Winston dos discos en blanco en lugar de ojos. Його голова була трохи закинута назад, а через кут, під яким він сидів, його окуляри вловили світло й показали Вінстону два чисті диски замість очей. What was slightly horrible, was that from the stream of sound that poured out of his mouth it was almost impossible to distinguish a single word. Що було трохи жахливо, так це те, що з потоку звуку, який лився з його рота, було майже неможливо розрізнити жодного слова.