It was a bright warm day in August, and the clocks were striking 13. A newspaper that morning announced that the administration “has begun designating as secret some information that the government long provided even to its enemy: the number of strategic weapons in the nuclear arsenal.”
Winston Smith, a redacting clerk, returned from lunch to find a new assignment on his desk at the Ministry of Truth.
It was a reversal of a previous job. Back in 1984, when he had started at the ministry, Winston had been put in charge of releasing the numbers of warheads, so as to frighten the enemy at the time, Eurasia, and deter it from attacking Usamerica.
Now he was supposed to remove all that information from the earlier reports, lest the current enemy use the old information in some way that Winston could not even imagine. Winston was not even sure of the identity of the current enemy. Some days he was told it was the shadowy Alkeedah. Other times it was remote Mesopotamian Factions. Occasionally it was domestic Cuttanrunners or foreign Frogeaters.
Finding all the old documents in the files of the Ministry of Truth would be difficult, but possible, Winston thought. But what of those that had escaped, that might be lurking in public libraries and private hands? And where might the now-classified information be listed?
He glanced across his cubicle. Most information from the Ministry of Truth was stored on computers where it could be quickly adjusted on orders from Super Shrub, but some historical material remained on paper because the budget did not allow for the complete digitization of old data.
He opened the 1989 edition of the Statistical Abstract of Usamerica and turned to chart 542: “Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles, Submarines, and Bombers – Balance 1980 to 1987.” Usamerica had 996 ICBMs in 1987, Eurasia 1,389. There were 256 Usamerican submarine Poseidon systems. And 234 B-52 bombers. This information must now be kept from the public.
He was tempted to call upstairs for guidance. Should he just remove the data from the government computers and libraries? Or dispatch squads to go house to house, building to building, to find every copy of the Abstract and black out the now-classified information?
But calling upstairs would likely mean conversing with Julia. They had once been friends, long ago, back when their eyes met at a Young Adult Abstinence League meeting. But lately, she had been wearing her membership emblem, a scarlet sash, a little higher on the shoulder. It had to mean something, and Winston suspected that it meant she had now joined the Brotherhood, which was rumored to be opposed to Super Shrub.
It wouldn’t do Winston’s career any good to be associated with her, even on a routine query. And Super Shrub would know. The Ministry of Privacy could monitor every telephone call and electronic transmission in Usamerica.
Some uppity judge somewhere had called this a violation of the constitution of Usamerica, spying on citizens without probable cause or a warrant, but Winston Smith himself had assisted in the valiant efforts of the Ministry of Truth to demean that judge, and he felt confident the program would continue.
Smith had to get back to work. He started the computer program to remove the now-classified data from the government systems and any computers they could communicate with. That would be a good start, since most Usamericans were too lazy to look in books any more.
Winston Smith glanced out the window at the big billboards along the street and felt challenged. “War is peace,” one said, and he did his best every day to persuade Usamericans that peace came from perpetual war. “Freedom is slavery,” advised another, and he smiled at the thought of how easy it was to persuade them to give up their liberties in order to preserve their liberty.
“Ignorance is strength.” Yes, of course. The Ministry could draft a speech for Super Shrub. He would explain that “Our most solemn duty is to protect the Usamerican people, and I will assure the people that we are doing everything in our power to protect you.”
Ed Quillen of Salida (ed@cozine.com) is a former newspaper editor whose column appears Tuesday and Sunday.
