One did not have to look at the map to see what it meant. Brazzaville and Leopoldville were in danger. The mid-day bulletin had not mentioned any definite area, but it was probable that already the mouth of the Congo was a battlefield. A Eurasian army (Oceania was at war with Eurasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia) was moving southward at terrifying speed. On and off he had been worrying about it all day. The news from the African front was disquieting in the extreme. At present only music was coming out of it, but there was a possibility that at any moment there might be a special bulletin from the Ministry of Peace. It was saccharine flavoured with cloves, the speciality of the cafe. Unbidden, a waiter came and filled his glass up with Victory Gin, shaking into it a few drops from another bottle with a quill through the cork. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption said. Now and again he glanced up at a vast face which eyed him from the opposite wall. Winston sat in his usual corner, gazing into an empty glass. A tinny music trickled from the telescreens. A ray of sunlight slanting through a window fell on dusty table-tops.
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