He loved Big Brother. Actually, the entire concept of total scrutiny of one’s life by others became as crystalline clear as a saline rinse. 

When Winston imagined his life before, a simple regimented existence of performance and sleep, he could see the importance of being a steady cog within the gears of governance. 

“The squeaky wheel gets the grease” was a saying once used when someone realized that their condition could only be improved through complaints. “The wheel which whines, begs replacement and reconditioning” has become an apt improvement.  

The argument about time and how it is perceived was once reduced to the final words of a failed Shakespearean king:

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,

creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

to the last syllable of recorded time;

and all our yesterdays have lighted fools

the way to dusty death.

Life is not a challenge for people to accept and conquer. It is a treadmill, which legs propel and sweat oils, until new nameless feet are required to replace those faceless automatons no longer useful. 

It is better to be decided upon, than to decide. 

Let go. Let BB.