There I am, spinning at 110 rpm on the stationary bike – part of my regular workout at the YMCA. It is Friday and I’m in a gloomy mood, feeling lonely as I sometimes do.

Positioned directly above the cardio equipment is an array of televisions. Half of them are filled with talking heads, barking statistics on the war effort or on the escalating number of SARS cases. And I pedal onward to nowhere.

The sound of the various televisions mixes with pop music from the P.A. system. The room is filled with incomprehensible noise; its tone simultaneously hinting at patriotism, dread, and sex.

Pedaling becomes work; a struggle against loneliness and the state of world affairs. I crank up the resistance level and work out some of the stress.

As the sweat runs down my forehead, I cannot help but think of Winston Smith, Orwell’s main character in 1984. The telescreens are everywhere, droning on about the ever-present war in Eurasia. Doublespeak is the language of choice, and everyone is quite alone.