Dick Longg: Sexual Saviour of the Universe

by Mark Leigh

  ‘Sure’, Dick agreed. ‘It released deadly radiation but without a deadly blast’.

  ‘You’ve got it!’, Maxx smiled. ‘And that’s what gave me the idea for my weapon’. He patted the device proudly. ‘The Impotence Bomb’.

  Dick didn’t like the word ‘impotence’ or the word ‘bomb’ and the two used together gave him severe palpitations.

  ‘I won’t bore you with all the details but basically the bomb releases a very specific form of gamma radiation that affects neuro-chemicals in the brain, specifically in the left anterior cingulate cortex’.

  Maxx looked at Dick whose confused expression clearly belonged to someone who’d just heard the phrases ‘neuro-chemicals’ and ‘anterior cingulate cortex’ in the same sentence.

  ‘In layman’s terms’, Maxx explained, ‘The air borne radiation that will be carried for miles will instantly suppress any form of sexual desire in people’. As if this news wasn’t bad enough Maxx added for good measure, ‘Permanently’.

  ‘So no one will want sex?’ asked a horrified Dick. ‘Why on earth would you want that?’

  ‘Easy. No sexual desire means no distractions. And no distractions means people will be more efficient. And if they’re more efficient the economy will prosper. Everyone will benefit from a better standard of living, and the increased productivity will help fund our expansion’.

  ‘Expansion into what?’, Dick asked.

  ‘Well first Europe and then, well who knows?’

  ‘But we don’t have contact with any other country?’, said Dick.

  ‘Not yet. But we will, when we threaten other nations with the Impotence Bomb’.

  It’s disconcerting when someone strokes an inanimate object in an overtly sexual way and doubly so when the object in question is a bomb — but that’s exactly what Maxx did as he outlined his plans for world domination.

  ‘I feel it’s time for the United Kingdom to end this self-imposed period of isolation. Our first foreign target will be our neighbour France; a nation fiercely proud of its reputation for romance and love’, said Maxx. ‘We’ll explode the first bomb in France over a minor target like Lille or Bordeaux and then threaten the city of l’amour itself, Paris. Do you think red-blooded French leaders will let this happen to their country, let alone themselves?

  ‘Non! Of course they won’t! And with France under my total control I’ll then threaten Spain and Italy. Two other countries that, I’m certain, would rather submit to my rule than surrender their nations’ considerable libidos’.

  Dick gasped as the enormity of what Maxx was saying began to sink in.

  ‘From then on, nation after nation will fall before me like dominoes!’.

  ‘You mean like those displays where the whole floor is covered in dominoes and one knocks another one and that knocks another that knocks another and then the whole lot fall down making all sort of different shapes and some of them go round in circles and some go up and down little ramps or miniature see-saws until they all fall down making a gigantic pattern?’, asked Dick.

  Maxx ignored him and continued. ‘Take Sweden. What would it be without its reputation as the free-love centre of the world? Or Holland? 15% of its gross domestic revenue comes from taxes paid by legalised prostitutes. And what about Thailand? Its entire economy is based on sex-tourism. That, and table tennis balls. And Greece and Turkey? These countries would dissolve into revolution with the end of man-love!’

  ‘You’re not satisfied by the ultimate power you have here?’, asked Dick, horrified.

  ‘No!’ exclaimed a wide-eyed Maxx. ‘When I was able to perform as a porn star I had an insatiable appetite for sex…’

  ‘And this has been replaced by an insatiable appetite for power?’

  ‘Precisely… Controlling the United Kingdom was mere foreplay…’

  Dick tried to comprehend all the repercussions of this worrying metaphor. Had Maxx’s strengthening of the security forces been the equivalent of nipple rubbing? Had his CCTV monitoring of all public places been analogous to a blow job? Then he asked more sensibly, ‘But what about reproduction? Surely you’ll still need sex for this?’

  ‘We don’t need to’, Maxx said nonchalantly. ‘All our research and forecasting point to a population at optimum size. In the long-term future, if we need to reproduce then we’ll use frozen sperm that the Party has been collecting and storing’.

  ‘But what about Party members?’, Dick asked. ‘Will there be an antidote from the radiation for people like us?’

  Maxx gave Dick the sort of look you’d give someone if they said that Hayden Christensen and Hugh Grant were talented actors.

  ‘Why on earth would I do that?’, he asked. ‘Party members are far more intelligent than the general population. Their satisfaction derives from increased power and responsibility, not from a few primitive grunts and pelvic thrusts. The effect of the bomb will only enhance their true potential’.

  Dick knew the Impotence Bomb was the work of a madman. A madman who had decided that if he couldn’t have sex, then no one else could. In fact, it was the work of a bitter, twisted, aggrieved and resentful madman with pieces of shrapnel embedded in his scrotum. And they’re the very worst.

  ‘Twelve Impotence Bombs will be launched by small rockets and detonated simultaneously over Britain’s major cities’, Maxx said, gesturing to Carter who closed and locked the suitcase. As the only one in the Resistance aware of the bombs and their devastating effect, Dick realised it was he alone who had to destroy them before they were used.

  ‘When er… when do you intend to launch?’, enquired Dick in a very laid back, I don’t give a shit but I’m just asking politely, matter-of-fact sort of way.

  ‘Well’, Maxx said, ‘There’s still the final computer simulations for blast range, uploading a slight modification to the guidance system, the final testing and assembly process under carefully controlled conditions and then transportation and installation at all the launch sites…’ He paused for a moment. ‘Sunday evening, I think’.

  Maxx looked at his pocket watch. ‘It’s late and we should go’. Dick felt very uneasy as the trio exited the room. Carter closed the heavy door behind them and it locked automatically with a reassuring loud clang. Dick reflected that the corridor seemed as bleak as the future. He had less than three days to save everyone in the country, in particular himself, from instant and irreversible impotence. The sound of Maxx and Carter conversing in low voices shook Dick from his contemplations.

  ‘So, what next?’ asked Dick. ‘Where do we go now?’

  Maxx turned to Dick. ‘I’m afraid you’re not leaving here Dick’.

  Dick gulped. He’d seen too much. Maxx nodded at Carter who reached into his jacket pocket. ‘No!’ Dick shouted. He threw himself to the hard floor, winced from the pain of a bruised kneecap, then grabbed Maxx’s ankle. ‘I’ll help you. I’ll do anything!’

  The more Maxx shook his leg, trying to dislodge Dick, the more Dick increased his grip. ‘Please!’, Dick implored. ‘Don’t shoot’. This pleading, he thought, was beginning to be a habit. And although it was totally out character he wasn’t ashamed to do anything in order to survive even if it meant begging like a dog. A dirty, mangy dog. A dirty mangy dog about to get shot. The next sound Dick heard wasn’t the expected gun being fired. It was the sound of Maxx laughing. He heard the security guards sniggering and even thought he heard the usually reserved Carter offer a mild chortle. Dick looked up and opened one eye to see the manservant holding out an electronic door key.

  ‘This is your room key’, Maxx explained. ‘I’ve carried out a risk assessment and am glad to say that you present a negligible one, which is why I am allowing you to stay here, in this facility’.

  An uncomfortable-looking Dick released Maxx’s ankle, got up from the floor, rubbed his still-painful kneecap and dusted himself down. Carter handed Dick the plastic card.

  ‘I think you’ll be very interested in what’s going on as we complete the bombs and get ready for
the detonation’, Maxx explained. ‘You’ll have free access here as long as you don’t hinder the work of the various technicians. As you know, they have very tight deadlines to meet’.

  ‘And with me staying within this building’, said Dick, now over his embarrassment and feeling more bullish now he knew he wasn’t going to die, ‘You’ll also be able to keep an eye on me’.

  ‘You’re so cynical Dick’, said Maxx smiling. ‘I just want you here to see all the preparatory work in progress. You’ll find it fascinating. But more than that, I want you here when we launch the first bomb over London’.

  ‘And why is that?’, Dick asked. ‘Just so you can gloat?’

  ‘No’, Maxx smiled. ‘Just so you can push the launch button’. All Dick could do was stare as Maxx continued. ‘The man famed for his legendary erections will be the man who launches the first impotence bomb. Now how fucking ironic is that?’

  Dick had to admit that as ironies went, it was fucking up there with the best.

  CHAPTER 31

  Dick usually woke up feeling horny but this Friday morning he woke up feeling very horny and also very nostalgic. That’s not to say he was thinking about various sexual exploits in his past, and god knows there were thousands of these. No, this morning he was nostalgic for the reason that brought him to this research facility the first time; Jack. He wanted to find out where the mechanical murderer was being stored and pay him a visit. This was partly out of curiosity, partly because he had so much time to kill, but mainly because it would act as a diversion while he tried to figure out a way of thwarting Maxx’s evil plans.

  After quickly washing and dressing Dick left his room. True to Maxx’s word, he was allowed to wander freely about the facility but despite this apparent liberty Dick felt he was, in effect, in an open prison. He remembered being here the first time developing Jack, and how tedious it was. Sure, the building was teeming with men and women, scientists, engineers and technicians but they were too busy and too focussed to spend much time with him to explain what they were doing or even just stop for a chat. Apart from being boring this previous visit has also given rise to feelings of inadequacy; the same thing was happening again. Dick became very self-conscious that he didn’t have a white lab coat, and felt very conspicuous and uncomfortable without one. In the tenth floor cafeteria he had a coffee and an iced bun and read the morning newspapers, conscious that people were staring at him. He was just leaving when he almost collided with a technician hurrying down the corridor carrying a long, flapping computer print out.

  ‘I’m so sorry’, the man said, staring at Dick. ‘You’re Jeremy Brunel. I’ve heard about you’.

  Dick was pleased that his reputation preceded him. He admitted he was Jeremy, realising that Maxx couldn’t have revealed the truth about Dick and his recent unmasking. He was very much one for maintaining the status quo and for keeping up appearances.

  ‘I heard you were here. Under the personal invitation of the Leader’, the technician said. Dick felt that the word ‘orders’ was more appropriate than the word ‘invitation’ but decided to go along with the charade.

  ‘That’s right. He thought it would be useful for me to see the final preparations for the, er…’ Dick touched the side of his nose and winked. ‘You know…’

  The technician looked at him blankly.

  ‘You know’, Dick continued. ‘The, er…’ This time he winked and stamped his right foot twice.

  No reaction. Dick touched the other side of his nose, winked with his other eye and stamped his foot four times. Nothing. Dick looked both ways down the corridor and made the sound of a muffled explosion then grabbed his genitals and performed a mime of them melting away into nothing. The technician frowned so Dick grabbed the lapels of his lab coat and pulled him close towards him, speaking through gritted teeth, ‘The incotence gong’.

  ‘Incotence gong?’ asked the technician.

  ‘Gat’s got I said’, Dick replied, then opening his mouth properly explained, ‘I was talking through my teeth’.

  ‘Why?’ asked the technician.

  ‘Because the Impotence Bomb is a top-secret project, that’s why!’ Dick replied in annoyance.

  ‘No it’s not’, said the technician. ‘Everyone on the upper levels knows about it. We’re working round the clock to get it ready for launch on Saturday’.

  ‘Sunday’ replied Dick.

  ‘I brought it forward a day’, announced a different voice. Dick turned to see Maxx, accompanied by Carter, walking towards them. Maxx shooed the technician away and the anxious-looking man scuttled down the corridor almost colliding with someone else.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ Dick enquired, with a trace of anxiety in his voice. Now he only had two days to save the world.

  ‘Impatience’, said Maxx calmly. ‘And because I’m the Leader. It means I can do things like that’.

  ‘But will you be ready in time?’

  ‘Yes’, Maxx said with an air of confidence so absolute that it was scary. ‘Half the people in this building have been taken off their various projects to provide assistance’. Maxx put a friendly arm around Dick and the two of them walked along. ‘Now, what are your plans today Dick?’

  ‘I’d like to see Jack. For old time’s sake’, Dick answered nervously.

  ‘What a splendid idea’, Maxx said. ‘I think he’s kept on one of the sub-levels but ask any of the staff here. They know you’re my special guest and will only be too pleased to assist. After you’ve finished, join me at four o’clock in the main test laboratory for one of the bomb’s final trials. You’ll find it very educational’.

  At the next intersection Maxx and Carter turned left and Dick turned right. He didn’t go right for any reason other than that he wanted to get away from Maxx who continued to make him feel very uneasy. Dick wandered around for a while until he’d put some distance between him and the Leader and then asked a white-coated woman where he could find Jack. She made a few enquiries and then directed Dick to a room down on sub level four. A few minutes, and a convoluted route later, Dick reached the room in question. He hesitated before opening the door.

  His expectation was of seeing Jack presented in some sort of glass showcase, perhaps cordoned off by a thick blue rope, with a plaque explaining his background and the valuable contribution made by Jeremy Brunel. Dick pushed open the door and turned on the lights. After their flickering became a steady glow Dick realised he was in what appeared to be less of a museum environment and more of a glorified storeroom. Jack was standing in the corner surrounded by an assortment of de-commissioned, or just broken, mechanical equipment. In fact he wasn’t even standing. He was leaning against a wall and his suit, while free of the stains of hydraulic fluid and fake blood, was covered in dust. His posture, appearance and environment were certainly not in keeping with his character of a rich, well-to-do man about town, and definitely didn’t reflect the success he’d recently enjoyed.

  Dick hop-scotched over an assortment of metal junk and old cables to reach Jack. With some difficulty he managed to stand the heavy figure upright then brushed the dust from its shoulders. A bulge in Jack’s jacket pocket revealed a long knife in a sheath. Dick withdrew it. The blade was tarnished but still deadly. He replaced it and then felt the operating switch concealed under Jack’s collar. Dick really wanted to flick it on to see what happened but he wasn’t sure if this was wise. While he was deliberating, a nasally voice echoed in the room.

  ‘Turn him on if you like’. Dick spun round to see Dr. Hargreaves standing in the doorway. ‘He’s probably still part-charged up but he can’t do anything. We had him de-programmed after his work was done’. Dr. Hargreaves negotiated his way over to Dick and limply shook his hand with the same degree of contempt he’d shown at their last meeting.

  ‘I’ve just been with the Leader. He told me where I might find you’. Dick knew Hargreaves had been sent to keep an eye on him. ‘Jack was a tremendous success and a real feather in our cap. Should he ever need to, he’s
ready to go into action again at short notice; all he needs is re-programming, re-charging and a quick wash and brush-up’. Dr. Hargreaves continued in a begrudging tone. ‘Your contribution to the project was highly regarded’. Speaking under his breath, but still loud enough for Dick to hear, he added, ‘by some’.

  The two men continued with small talk about Jack and his mission but any bonhomie between them was very phoney and extremely awkward. In fact Dick wasn’t even listening to what the doctor was saying; he was trying to think of a way to get rid of him so he could be alone. Dick needed time to think and work out a plan of action. Hargreaves, likewise, wasn’t listening to what Dick was saying; he was thinking of an excuse to leave so he could get back to his real work. After all, he was a chief scientist, not a spy. And besides, Dick was pretty harmless in this storeroom, lost in his memories and the junk here. The solution to both of their wishes came via a knock on the door followed by a familiar voice.

  ‘Dr. Hargreaves?’.

  The doctor turned to the tall, distinguished looking man standing in the open doorway and smiled. ‘Kelvin? Come in. Let me introduce you to someone you obviously know by reputation’.

  Turning to Dick, Dr. Hargreaves said ‘Jeremy, this is Kelvin Huntley, a Grade 3b programmer on Project Gladstone. He was one of the back-room boffins. I don’t think you two ever met’.

  As Kelvin approached, Dick’s eyes popped out of his skull on coiled springs to the accompaniment of a klaxon. His jaw dropped to the floor and his tongue unrolled all the way across it. Of course, these things didn’t actually happen — but they would have if Dick had been a cartoon character. The reason? The two men had met before, quite a number of times in fact. On these occasions though, Dick knew Kelvin Huntley by a different name. That name was Taylor.

  Taylor (aka Kelvin) shook Dick’s hand warmly but he gave no indication whatsoever of any previous meetings. ‘I’m so pleased to eventually meet you Mr. Brunel. This was a great project to work on. We pushed the boundaries on programming, creating new cybernetic algorithms as we went. I’d really like to tell you all about the complexities of the project and how we overcame the problems along the way’.