“Do you remember writing in your diary,” Dexter said, “that it did not matter whether I was a friend or an enemy, since I was at least a person who understood you and could be talked to? You were right, I enjoy talking to you. Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you happen to be insane. Before we bring the thread to an end, you can ask me a few questions, if you choose.”
“Any questions I like?”
“Anything.” He saw that Winston Smith’s eyes were upon the dial.
“Does Cecil Adams exist?”
“Of course he exists. The Straight Dope exists. Cecil Adams is the embodiment of the Straight Dope.”
“Does he exist in the same way as I exist?”
“It is of no importance. He exists.”
“Will Cecil Adams ever die?”
“Of course not. How could he die? Next question.”
“What is the origin of ‘the whole nine yards?’”
“That, Winston, you will never know. If we choose to give you free membership for life, and if you live to be ninety years old, still you will never learn the answer to that question. As long as you live it will be an unsolved riddle in your mind.” Winston lay silent. His breast rose and fell a little faster. He still had not asked the question that had come into his mind the first. He had got to ask it, and yet it was as though is tongue would not utter it. There was trace of amusement in O’Brien’s face. Even his spectacles seemed to wear an ironical gleam. He knows, thought Winston suddenly, he knows what I am going to ask! At the thought the words burst out of him:
“Has mankind ever visited the deepest part of the ocean?”
Dexter raised a finger to the man in the white coat. Evidently the thread was at an end. A needle jerked into Winston’s arm. He sank almost instantly into deep sleep.