George Orwell 1984 Indonesia Pdf

1984
George Orwell
* Chapter One *

* Chapter Two *

* Chapter Three *

* APPENDIX. The Principles of Newspeak *

The A vocabulary.

The B vocabulary.

Etext by Roderick da Rat
* Chapter One *
It
was
a
bright
cold day in April, and the clocks were
striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his
chin
nuzzled
into
his
breast
in
an
effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly
through the glass doors of Victory Mansions,
though not quickly
enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust
from
entering
along
with
him.
The
hallway
smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At
one end
of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor
display,
had
been
tacked
to
the wall. It depicted simply an enormous
face, more than
a metre wide:
the
face
of
a
man
of
about
forty-five,
with a
heavy black moustache and ruggedly handsome
features. Winston made for
the stairs. It was no use trying the
lift. Even at the best of times
it was seldom working,
and
at
present the
electric current was cut
off during daylight hours.
It
was part of the economy drive in
preparation for Hate
Week.
The flat was seven flights up, and Winston,
who was thirty-nine
and had a varicose ulcer above his
right
ankle,
went
slowly,
resting several times on the way. On each landing,
opposite the
kemudi angkat-shaft,
the
plakat
with the enormous face gazed
from the
wall. It was one of those pictures which are so contrived
that
the
eyes
follow
you
about
when
you
move.
BIG BROTHER IS
WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran.
Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a
list
of
figures
which
had
something
to
do
with
the production
of
pig-iron. The
voice came from an oblong
logam
plaque
like
a
dulled
mirror
which
formed
part
of
the
surface
of
the
right-hand wall.
Winston turned a switch
and
the
voice
sank
somewhat,
though
the
words
were
still distinguishable. The
instrument (the telescreen,
it was called) could be dimmed, but
there was no way of
shutting it
off completely. He
moved
oper
to
the window: a smallish, frail
figure, the meagreness of his
body
merely emphasized by the
blue
overalls
which
were
the
uniform
of
the
party.
His
hair
was
very
fair,
his face
naturally sanguine, his skin roughened by
coarse soap and blunt
razor blades and the cold of the winter that
senggat
just ended.
Outside, even through
the
shut
window-pane,
the
world
looked
cold.
Down
in
the
street little eddies of wind
were
whirling dust
and torn paper into spirals, and though
the
sun
was
shining
and
the
sky a harsh blue, there
seemed to be no
colour in anything,
except
the
posters
that
were
plastered
everywhere.
The
blackmoustachio’d
face gazed down from every
commanding corner.
There was one on the house-front
immediately
opposite. BIG BROTHER IS
WATCHING YOU, the caption said,
while
the
dark
eyes
looked
deep
into
Winston’s
own.
Down
at
streetlevel
another
poster,
torn
at
one
corner,
flapped
fitfully
in
the wind,
alternately

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