Amelia: Christ. Look at it. London of Airstrip One... Guess it makes sense that this is my personal Hell.
William: Aye. Like someone wrung the colour out of the whole bloody city.
V: Every nightmare has architecture, my friends. Walls. Floors. Load-bearing columns of fear. And what is built... can be unmade.
William: Speakin' our language, ye are.
V: North — Truth. East — Love. South — Peace. West — Plenty. Four ministries. Four lies dressed as virtues. Four foundations holding this particular hell together.
Amelia: Right. The Four Ministries of INGSOC. I know Orwell like the back of my hand. Whether it's Naziism or Communism, it's all the same shit in the end.
V: An astute observation. But tell me — do you know what day it is today?
Amelia: Fuck if I know. It was sometime in the middle of February when I rescued Charlene. Kinda lost track.
V: It is not February, Amelia. Not here at least. Whatever your waking mind believes, this dream knows its own occasion. One very suited to your cause...
V: Remember, remember, the fifth of November — the gunpowder treason and plot. I know of no reason why the gunpowder treason should ever be forgot.
V: But before we proceed — do either of you have an appreciation for music?
Amelia: Wait, did you—YOU DID! Oh you absolute MAD BASTARD—I love this shit!
William: LOVE, PEACE, PLENTY — och, they're all the SAME lie anyway! Doon they go!
Amelia: And there they are! All four bloody V's in the sky — Grandad, are you SEEING this?! God, I forgot how much I loved Moore's story!
William: HAHAHAHA! The cannons, lass — d'ye hear the CANNONS?! That's Tchaikovsky telling all fascists and socialists tae get tae HELL!
Amelia: I hear 'em, Grandad. I bloody well hear 'em.
V: And now... one remains.
V: The building is a symbol, as is the act of destroying it. Symbols are given power by people. Alone, a symbol is meaningless. But with enough people...
V: Blowing up a building can change the world.
Amelia: Then let's give these cocksuckers a proper symbol! England's watching — so let's make it BLOODY WELL COUNT!
William: That's my girl. That's my bloody girl right there.