Part three, Chapter 2 (3)

Behind his screwed-up eyelids a forest of fingers seemed to be moving in a sort of dance, weaving in and out, disappearing behind one another and reappearing again. He was trying to count them, he could not remember why. He knew only that it was impossible to count them, and that this was somehow due to the mysterious identity between five and four. The pain died down again. When he opened his eyes it was to find that he was still seeing the same thing. Innumerable fingers, like moving trees, were still streaming past in either direction, crossing and recrossing. He shut his eyes again.

‘How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?'

‘I don't know. I don't know. You will kill me if you do that again. Me matarás si vuelves a hacer eso. Four, five, six — in all honesty I don't know.'

‘Better,' said O'Brien.

A needle slid into Winston's arm. Almost in the same instant a blissful, healing warmth spread all through his body. The pain was already half-forgotten. He opened his eyes and looked up gratefully at O'Brien. At sight of the heavy, lined face, so ugly and so intelligent, his heart seemed to turn over. Al ver el rostro pesado y arrugado, tan feo y tan inteligente, su corazón pareció dar un vuelco. При вигляді важкого, зморщеного обличчя, такого потворного й такого розумного, його серце, здавалося, перевернулося. If he could have moved he would have stretched out a hand and laid it on O'Brien's arm. Si hubiera podido moverse, habría extendido una mano y la habría puesto sobre el brazo de O'Brien. He had never loved him so deeply as at this moment, and not merely because he had stopped the pain. The old feeling, that at bottom it did not matter whether O'Brien was a friend or an enemy, had come back. Había vuelto el viejo sentimiento de que en el fondo no importaba si O'Brien era un amigo o un enemigo. O'Brien was a person who could be talked to. O'Brien era una persona con la que se podía hablar. Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood. Quizás uno no quería tanto ser amado como ser entendido. O'Brien had tortured him to the edge of lunacy, and in a little while, it was certain, he would send him to his death. O'Brien lo había torturado hasta el borde de la locura, y en poco tiempo, estaba seguro, lo enviaría a la muerte. О'Браєн катував його до божевілля, і незабаром, це було певно, він відправить його на смерть. It made no difference. In some sense that went deeper than friendship, they were intimates: somewhere or other, although the actual words might never be spoken, there was a place where they could meet and talk. O'Brien was looking down at him with an expression which suggested that the same thought might be in his own mind. When he spoke it was in an easy, conversational tone.

‘Do you know where you are, Winston?' he said.

‘I don't know. I can guess. Puedo adivinar. In the Ministry of Love.' ‘Do you know how long you have been here?'

‘I don't know. Days, weeks, months — I think it is months.' ‘And why do you imagine that we bring people to this place?' ‘To make them confess.'

‘No, that is not the reason. Try again.' ‘To punish them.' Para castigarlos.

‘No!' exclaimed O'Brien. His voice had changed extraordinarily, and his face had suddenly become both stern and animated. Su voz había cambiado extraordinariamente y su rostro de repente se había vuelto severo y animado. ‘No! Not merely to extract your confession, not to punish you. Shall I tell you why we have brought you here? ¿Quieres que te diga por qué te hemos traído aquí? To cure you! To make you sane! Will you understand, Winston, that no one whom we bring to this place ever leaves our hands uncured? ¿Comprenderás, Winston, que ninguno de los que traemos a este lugar deja nunca nuestras manos sin curar? We are not interested in those stupid crimes that you have committed. The Party is not interested in the overt act: the thought is all we care about. El Partido no está interesado en el acto manifiesto: el pensamiento es lo único que nos importa. We do not merely destroy our enemies, we change them. Do you understand what I mean by that?'

He was bending over Winston. Estaba inclinado sobre Winston. His face looked enormous because of its nearness, and hideously ugly because it was seen from below. Moreover it was filled with a sort of exaltation, a lunatic intensity. Крім того, він був сповнений якогось піднесення, шаленої напруженості. Again Winston's heart shrank. Una vez más, el corazón de Winston se encogió. If it had been possible he would have cowered deeper into the bed. Si hubiera sido posible, se habría hundido más en la cama. Якби це було можливо, він скорчився б глибше в ліжко. He felt certain that O'Brien was about to twist the dial out of sheer wantonness. Estaba seguro de que O'Brien estaba a punto de girar el dial por puro desenfreno. Він був упевнений, що О'Браєн збирався скрутити циферблат із чистої безглуздості. At this moment, however, O'Brien turned away. En ese momento, sin embargo, O'Brien se alejó. He took a pace or two up and down. Dio un paso o dos arriba y abajo. Then he continued less vehemently:

‘The first thing for you to understand is that in this place there are no martyrdoms. 'Lo primero que debes entender es que en este lugar no hay martirios. You have read of the religious persecutions of the past. Ha leído acerca de las persecuciones religiosas del pasado. In the Middle Ages there was the Inquisition. It was a failure. Це був провал. It set out to eradicate heresy, and ended by perpetuating it. Se propuso erradicar la herejía y terminó por perpetuarla. For every heretic it burned at the stake, thousands of others rose up. Por cada hereje que quemó en la hoguera, miles más se levantaron. За кожного спаленого на вогнищі єретика повставали тисячі інших. Why was that? Because the Inquisition killed its enemies in the open, and killed them while they were still unrepentant: in fact, it killed them because they were unrepentant. Men were dying because they would not abandon their true beliefs. Naturally all the glory belonged to the victim and all the shame to the Inquisitor who burned him. Later, in the twentieth century, there were the totalitarians, as they were called. There were the German Nazis and the Russian Communists. The Russians persecuted heresy more cruelly than the Inquisition had done. And they imagined that they had learned from the mistakes of the past; they knew, at any rate, that one must not make martyrs. E imaginaron que habían aprendido de los errores del pasado; sabían, en todo caso, que no se deben hacer mártires. Before they exposed their victims to public trial, they deliberately set themselves to destroy their dignity. They wore them down by torture and solitude until they were despicable, cringing wretches, confessing whatever was put into their mouths, covering themselves with abuse, accusing and sheltering behind one another, whimpering for mercy. And yet after only a few years the same thing had happened over again. The dead men had become martyrs and their degradation was forgotten. Once again, why was it? Una vez más, ¿por qué fue? In the first place, because the confessions that they had made were obviously extorted and untrue. We do not make mistakes of that kind. All the confessions

that are uttered here are true. We make them true. And above all we do not allow the dead to rise up against us. Y sobre todo no permitimos que los muertos se levanten contra nosotros. You must stop imagining that posterity will vindicate you, Winston. Posterity will never hear of you. You will be lifted clean out from the stream of history. Serás sacado de la corriente de la historia. We shall turn you into gas and pour you into the stratosphere. Nothing will remain of you, not a name in a register, not a memory in a living brain. You will be annihilated in the past as well as in the future. You will never have existed.'

Then why bother to torture me? Тоді навіщо мучити мене? thought Winston, with a momentary bitterness. — подумав Вінстон із хвилинною гіркотою. O'Brien checked his step as though Winston had uttered the thought aloud. His large ugly face came nearer, with the eyes a little narrowed.

‘You are thinking,' he said, ‘that since we intend to destroy you utterly, so that nothing that you say or do can make the smallest difference — in that case, why do we go to the trouble of interrogating you first? That is what you were thinking, was it not?'

‘Yes,' said Winston.

O'Brien smiled slightly. ‘You are a flaw in the pattern, Winston. You are a stain that must be wiped out. Did I not tell you just now that we are different from the persecutors of the past? We are not content with negative obedience, nor even with the most abject submission. No nos contentamos con la obediencia negativa, ni siquiera con la sumisión más abyecta. Ми не задовольняємося ні негативним покорою, ні навіть найнижчішою покорою. When finally you surrender to us, it must be of your own free will. Cuando finalmente te entregues a nosotros, debe ser por tu propia voluntad. We do not destroy the heretic because he resists us: so long as he resists us we never destroy him. No destruimos al hereje porque se resista a nosotros: mientras él nos resista, nunca lo destruiremos. Ми знищуємо єретика не тому, що він протистоїть нам: поки він протистоїть нам, ми ніколи його не знищимо. We convert him, we capture his inner mind, we reshape him. We burn all evil and all illusion out of him; we bring him over to our side, not in appearance, but genuinely, heart and soul. Le quemamos todo mal y toda ilusión; lo traemos a nuestro lado, no en apariencia, sino genuinamente, en corazón y alma. We make him one of ourselves before we kill him. It is intolerable to us that an erroneous thought should exist anywhere in the world, however secret and powerless it may be. Nos resulta intolerable que un pensamiento erróneo exista en cualquier parte del mundo, por secreto e impotente que sea. Even in the instant of death we cannot permit any deviation. Incluso en el instante de la muerte no podemos permitir ninguna desviación. In the old days the heretic walked to the stake still a heretic, proclaiming his heresy, exulting in it. Even the victim of the Russian purges could carry rebellion locked up in his skull as he walked down the passage waiting for the bullet. Incluso la víctima de las purgas rusas podía llevar la rebelión encerrada en su cráneo mientras caminaba por el pasillo esperando la bala. Навіть жертва російських чисток могла нести бунт, замкнений у своєму черепі, коли він йшов коридором, чекаючи кулі. But we make the brain perfect before we blow it out. Pero perfeccionamos el cerebro antes de explotarlo. The command of the old despotisms was “Thou shalt not”. La orden de los viejos despotismos era "No harás". Заповідь старих деспотій була «не роби». The command of the totalitarians was “Thou shalt”. Наказом тоталітаристів було «Ти маєш». Our command is “THOU ART”. Nuestro comando es "TU ARTE". No one whom we bring to this place ever stands out against us. Nadie a quien traemos a este lugar se enfrentará jamás a nosotros. Everyone is washed clean. Even those three miserable traitors in whose innocence you once believed — Jones, Aaronson, and Rutherford — in the end we broke them down. Incluso esos tres miserables traidores en cuya inocencia alguna vez creíste, Jones, Aaronson y Rutherford, al final los derribamos. I took part in their interrogation myself. I saw them gradually worn down, whimpering, grovelling, weeping — and in the end it was not with pain or fear, only with penitence. Я бачив, як вони поступово виснажувалися, скиглили, нищувалися, плакали — і врешті-решт це було не від болю чи страху, лише від покаяння. By the time we had finished with them they were only the shells of men. Cuando terminamos con ellos, no eran más que caparazones de hombres. There was nothing left in them except sorrow for what they had done, and love of Big Brother. It was touching to see how they loved him. Fue conmovedor ver cómo lo amaban. Було зворушливо бачити, як вони любили його. They begged to be shot quickly, so that they could die while their minds were still clean.' Вони благали, щоб їх швидше розстріляли, щоб померти, поки їхній розум ще чистий».

His voice had grown almost dreamy. Su voz se había vuelto casi soñadora. Його голос став майже мрійливим. The exaltation, the lunatic enthusiasm, was still in his face. He is not pretending, thought Winston, he is not a hypocrite, he believes every word he says. What most oppressed him was the consciousness of his own intellectual inferiority. Lo que más lo oprimía era la conciencia de su propia inferioridad intelectual. He watched the heavy yet graceful form strolling to and fro, in and out of the range of his vision. Observó la forma pesada pero elegante que se paseaba de un lado a otro, dentro y fuera del alcance de su visión. Він спостерігав за важкою, але витонченою фігурою, яка крокувала туди-сюди, всередину й поза межами його зору. O'Brien was a being in all ways larger than himself. O'Brien era un ser en todos los sentidos más grande que él mismo. There was no idea that he had ever had, or could have, that O'Brien had not long ago known, examined, and rejected. No había idea de que alguna vez hubiera tenido, o pudiera tener, que O'Brien no hubiera sabido, examinado y rechazado hace mucho tiempo. Не було жодного уявлення про те, що він коли-небудь мав або міг мати те, що О'Браєн давно не знав, досліджував і відкидав. His mind CONTAINED Winston's mind. Su mente CONTENÍA la mente de Winston. Його розум МІСТИВ розум Вінстона. But in that case how could it be true that O'Brien was mad? Pero en ese caso, ¿cómo podía ser cierto que O'Brien estaba loco? It must be he, Winston, who was mad. O'Brien halted and looked down at him. His voice had grown stern again.

‘Do not imagine that you will save yourself, Winston, however completely you surrender to us. No one who has once gone astray is ever spared. Nadie que se haya descarriado una vez se salva. Ніхто, хто хоч раз заблукав, не буде пощадений. And even if we chose to let you live out the natural term of your life, still you would never escape from us. What happens to you here is for ever. Lo que te ocurra aquí es para siempre. Understand that in advance. Entiéndalo de antemano. We shall crush you down to the point from which there is no coming back. Things will happen to you from which you could not recover, if you lived a thousand years. Never again will you be capable of ordinary human feeling. Everything will be dead inside you. Todo estará muerto dentro de ti. Never again will you be capable of love, or friendship, or joy of living, or laughter, or curiosity, or courage, or integrity. You will be hollow. We shall squeeze you empty, and then we shall fill you with ourselves.'

He paused and signed to the man in the white coat. Winston was aware of some heavy piece of apparatus being pushed into place behind his head. O'Brien had sat down beside the bed, so that his face was almost on a level with Winston's.

‘Three thousand,' he said, speaking over Winston's head to the man in the white coat. —Tres mil —dijo, hablando por encima de la cabeza de Winston al hombre de la bata blanca.

Two soft pads, which felt slightly moist, clamped themselves against Winston's temples. Dos almohadillas suaves, que se sentían ligeramente húmedas, se sujetaron a las sienes de Winston. He quailed. There was pain coming, a new kind of pain. O'Brien laid a hand reassuringly, almost kindly, on his. O'Brien posó una mano sobre la suya de manera tranquilizadora, casi amable.

‘This time it will not hurt,' he said. "Esta vez no dolerá", dijo. ‘Keep your eyes fixed on mine.'

At this moment there was a devastating explosion, or what seemed like an explosion, though it was not certain whether there was any noise. En ese momento hubo una explosión devastadora, o lo que pareció una explosión, aunque no se sabía con certeza si hubo algún ruido. There was undoubtedly a blinding flash of light. Winston was not hurt, only prostrated. Winston no resultó herido, solo postrado. Although he had already been lying on his back when the thing happened, he had a curious feeling that he had been knocked into that position. A terrific painless blow had flattened him out. Un terrible golpe indoloro lo había aplastado. Страшенний безболісний удар розплющив його. Also something had happened inside his head. As his eyes regained their focus he remembered who he was, and where he was, and recognized the face that was gazing into his own; but somewhere or other there was a large patch of emptiness, as though a piece had been taken out of his brain.

‘It will not last,' said O'Brien. —No durará —dijo O'Brien. ‘Look me in the eyes. What country is Oceania at war with?'

Winston thought. He knew what was meant by Oceania and that he himself was a citizen of Oceania.