Winston was still in solitary confinement, but he was not tortured now. He was fed at regular intervals, he was even given cigarettes. At first he was content to lie free from pain, that in itself was bliss. Slowly as his physical health improved, he retreated into a dream world with the faces changing – his mother, O’Brien, Julia, it was all the same now. He was provided with a slate and pencil, slowly he set about educating himself in the way the Party wanted. He wrote the Party slogans on the slate and made himself believe them. He convinced himself that two and two was five, he acquired, laboriously the stupidity required to do that. Ha managed to convince himself that he had never seen the photograph confirming the innocence of the three executed leaders. He remembered seeing it, but that was an aberration.
On the whole, he was making excellent “progress” when one day he suddenly woke up from a dream crying out “Julia, my love.” His feelings, he realized were unchanged. He had surrendered his mind, but he still hoped to retain his heart. He clung to one last shred of hope, that in his heart he could continue to hate the Party, disguise that hatred even from himself and release it into consciousness only at the moment of his execution. Thus the Party would be unable to destroy his hatred and he would score a small victory by dying with his hatred inviolate.
However, O’Brien anticipated this as he did ever other thought of Winston’s. Entering the cell he tells Winston that intellectually he has made good progress but emotionally the final step remained to be taken. He then asks Winston about his true feelings towards Big Brother. Recognizing the futility of lying, Winston confesses “I hate him.” O’Brien now passes judgment, it is not enough to obey Big Brother, one must also love him. He then utters the dreaded words “Room 101.”