He examined the chess problem and set out the pieces. It was a tricky ending, involving a couple of knights. “White to play and mate in two moves.” Winston looked up at the portrait of Big Brother. White always mates, he thought with a sort of cloudy mysticism. Always without exception, it is so arranged. In no chess problem since the beginning of the world had black ever won. Did it not symbolize the eternal, unvarying triumph of Good over Evil? The huge face gazed back at him, full of calm power. White always mates.
