Book II chapter V
The smallest thing could give you away. A nervous tic, an unconscious look of anxiety, a habit of muttering to yourself–anything that carried with it the suggestion of abnormality, of having something to hide. In any case, to wear an improper expression on your face (to look incredulous when a victory was announced, for example) was itself a punishable offense. There was even a word for it in Newspeak: facecrime, it was called.
Yea, yea… invasion of privacy…
Thought Police bad. Freedom of expression good.
How awful it would be to have Big Brother constantly watching!
There are times when the mom in me sure wants to charge my children with a facecrime, times when I wish they didn’t wear their hearts on their sleeves, and their unhappiness, disappointment, rebellion, or disgust on their faces. When that new recipe makes its way to the dinner table, I’d like to see schooled faces and open minds, or rather open taste buds.
Facecrime… not a completely bad idea.