Dick Longg: Sexual Saviour of the Universe

by Mark Leigh

  Navigating via his street map Dick left the tearoom and walked some more until he reached a park with a boating lake. He was immediately struck by how family-orientated the New Victorians were. Husbands and wives were accompanied by smartly-dressed children walking obediently alongside or being pushed in prams. Dick noticed that these people didn’t really walk, they strolled, seemingly oblivious to any of the time-pressures that Dick was used to. The more he watched them, the more Dick felt he was in a scene right out of Mary Poppins. To most people this would have been comforting, but for Dick, this just reminded him that right now he should have been in another movie. One of his own. Feeling maudlin is a bad enough state to be in but Dick suddenly also found himself gripped by a sense of melancholia. Combining like a chemical formula, the result of these two emotions bonding was a feeling of loathsome self-pity. Dick slumped down on a park bench feeling the weight of his own sadness, the responsibility that had recently been heaped upon his shoulders and, of course, the knowledge that he was now well and truly trapped in this new world.

  ‘Jeremy! Jeremy!’, a female voice shouted.

  Lost in his thoughts, Dick failed to hear his name being called. Of course, it wasn’t his real name, which was another reason why he didn’t take much notice at first.

  ‘Jeremy!’. The voice was louder. And nearer.

  Dick still didn’t realise he was being addressed but the persistent calling made him look up.

  ‘Jeremy? Are you all right?’

  The penny dropped. Dick shook himself out of his daze to see William and Mary standing in front of him. He panicked and in a reflex move, assumed his defensive kung fu pose, much to the astonishment of his new neighbours.

  ‘Sorry. I was daydreaming’, Dick stammered.

  ‘What were you thinking about?’, William enquired.

  ‘Er… about my job interview’, Dick replied, pleasantly surprised how quick-witted his reply was.

  ‘Are you still nervous about it?’, Mary asked sympathetically.

  ‘Of course’, Dick answered, as earnestly as he could. ‘I really want this job. I feel I’ve got a lot to offer to the Party and really want to assist them in their objectives. They stand for everything I stand for. It’s so important that we maintain the ethical high ground and guard against moral turpitude…’

  Dick stopped speaking, aware that he was in danger of sounding far too phoney and because he wasn’t really sure what ‘moral turpitude’ meant; he’d heard someone say it once and thought it made him sound clever. It was one thing to be loyal to the Party and quite another to sound like he was giving answers he thought his neighbours, whoever they really were, wanted to hear.

  ‘I concur entirely’, commented Mary.

  William nodded in agreement, adding, ‘I bet a hearty luncheon will help you take your mind off the wretched interview. It will be our treat to welcome our new neighbour. It will be a good opportunity to get to know you.’

  Mary looked Dick in the eye adding, ‘Who would have thought we’d bump into you so soon?’

  ‘I know’, Dick added with a very weak smile. ‘What are the chances of that happening? Unless of course, you’ve been following me all morning’.

  Thankfully Dick didn’t say that last bit but he thought it — and he believed it to be true.

  Dick, William and Mary ate lunch in the park at a small café overlooking the boating lake. It was a friendly, enjoyable meal of cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches cut into neat triangles and served with a small side salad, followed by rhubarb pie and custard. Dick soon felt at ease with the company but still remembered to keep his guard up. Throughout, Dick drew on his acting skills to remain cautious while still appearing friendly. It was a tough balancing act but Dick was pretty sure he managed to pull it off. The lunch continued into mid afternoon, fuelled by a number of small glasses of sweet dessert wine. Dick wondered if his hosts were plying him with alcohol in an attempt to get him to loosen his tongue however all it did was make him feel maudlin again. Trapped in this future, he wasn’t sure when he’d ever have a chance to use his loose tongue again.

  Taking a slow walk home, Dick was invited into William and Mary’s apartment to play some amusing parlour games; Charades, I Spy and Blindman’s Bluff. Although these were not really amusing at all, these games were apparently a staple diet of home entertainment in this era. Afterwards they all watched a television programme about the pioneers of bridge building. At ten o’clock William and Mary announced they were going to retire for the evening. Dick was horrified that his neighbours were going to bed at this time in order to get a good night’s sleep before church. And he was even more horrified to hear that they insisted that he joined them in worship. Dick had only been to church five times in his life, for four weddings and a porn film, ‘The Sexorcist‘ (he played Father O’Tool who had to banish demons from several young women by taking them up the aisle).

  He slept soundly that night, his dreams interwoven with thoughts about that particular movie, a threesome with Susan and Alice and, disconcertingly, the stress-integrity calculations inherent in a suspension bridge. After waking at the same ungodly hour as the previous day Dick reluctantly got ready for Church. It turned out that William was church secretary; well-to-do, well-known and well-liked among the parishioners. He and Mary introduced Dick to the congregation, all dressed in their Sunday finery and all very friendly and welcoming towards him. The stress Dick felt being interviewed by Vera Darling was nothing compared to the strain he felt having to endure Sunday morning worship. He wished Taylor could see him now. Praying, singing and thinking good deeds all in the name of maintaining his new identity. This really was going above and beyond the call of duty.

  After the service and the pleasantries of goodbyes, and many invitations extended towards him for future lunches, teas and suppers, Dick returned home. William and Mary were travelling out of town in their hovercar to visit Mary’s parents for Sunday lunch. They graciously invited Dick but he even more graciously declined, saying that he was going home to have a restful afternoon reading and doing a jigsaw, which he’d learned, was another popular leisure activity of the New Victorians. William told him not to be too overzealous; he and Mary looked forward to helping Dick complete it at some point. Dick put on his best fake smile and told his neighbours that he looked forward that that very, very much.

  Back home Dick spent the afternoon on his rudimentary computer researching more about the Party and the Leader. Unsurprisingly there was an immense amount of information about the Party but surprisingly little about its current Leader. He was spoken about, referred to and widely quoted — but there didn’t seem to be much about his background, just the same old ‘official’ photos. Strangely, Dick couldn’t find any references to his actual name either. He was The Leader, plain and simple. The Party obviously wanted to retain a high degree of mystique about him. It had been in power for years and years, in fact, Dick couldn’t find reference to a time when the Party hadn’t ruled. As far as he could gather there were no free elections; Party members selected their own leader.

  Dick couldn’t figure out why none of the population openly objected to the way they were forced to live their lives but guessed if you’ve never been able to masturbate at will, enjoy a good tonguing or reach nirvana with identical twin swimwear models, you wouldn’t know what you’ve been missing. The population were also totally unaware of the real reason for their monthly injections. They were told that the chemicals were for well-being, to increase resistance against illness and tooth decay, which was why they were so readily accepted. Providing these health benefits while maintaining a strong economy and a disciplined society made the Party extremely well regarded, which was why there didn’t seem to be any dissent at all. And now Dick was being asked to destroy the status quo…

  Engrossed in his research and thoughts Dick failed to notice a pinging noise that became progressively louder. Eventually its volume was such that Dick looked up, walked over to the phone and answered it. H
e had no idea who’d be calling him at this time, or in fact, at any time, but was thrilled to think someone wanted him. Excitement turned to disappointment when all he heard was the dialling tone. With the pinging becoming even more annoying and persistent Dick looked elsewhere for its source. He listened to all the household appliances, even the fisting hole, ever so slightly worried that a needle might somehow be inserted into his ear. Then he remembered the small slot in the wall near his front door. Behind a glass flap was what looked like a small index card.

  The pinging noise ceased when Dick opened the flap and removed the card — the equivalent of e-mail in this communication and information-censored age. Dick scanned the typed message and punched the air in delight and relief. He hadn’t felt this way since waiting for the all clear from a rather aggressive yeast infection courtesy of a very unhygienic co-star. Dick put the card down and smiled. He’d landed the job at the Ministry of Information. Now, he felt, he was a fully-fledged and paid-up member of New Victorian society. Now he could fight the enemy from within. Then, in anticipation of his mission, he let out another fart.

  CHAPTER 10

  Monday morning. Dick wanted to make a good impression on Vera so he arrived at the Ministry of Information a whole hour early for work. Each day he was becoming more impressed with the New Victorian efficiency. He’d only been offered the position the previous day but his photo pass and department handbook were already waiting for him at the main reception desk. After signing for these items and being scanned-in he was waved through to the elevators. This time he was sure the voice said, ‘You’re a cunning bastard and I’m keeping a close watch on you’. A minute later he reached the office that would be his home for most of the week, and probably quite a few evenings too, given the work ethic that Vera had explained to him.

  Dick stood outside, gulped, sweated, gulped some more and adjusted his trousers, the material of which was beginning to chafe. Then, after more sweating, gulping and trouser adjusting he gingerly pushed open the heavy wood-panelled door. The room was far larger than he imagined. There were at least twenty desks in this open-plan office, plus one more on a raised platform at one end. At least he thought it was a desk. It actually looked more like a dumping ground for files and papers. Dominating the rear wall were ornate-framed twin portraits of Queen Victoria and the Leader. Dick looked at Victoria and smiled, remembering his guilty pleasure. He was sure she winked back at him and even waggled her tongue suggestively, but then realised this thought was pure madness so he immediately looked away and studied the room some more. Each of the desks had a phone, computer terminal and various in and out trays. The side walls were covered in miniature versions of the information posters that were created, Dick assumed, by this department. His eyes were still roaming the room when one of the huge piles of paper on the raised desk spoke.

  ‘My! You’re an eager beaver’.

  ‘A what?’, said Dick, taken by surprise.

  ‘A beaver. An eager beaver’, repeated the voice. It took quite a few neurons leaping synapses before Dick realised he was not listening to sentient paperwork but actually a human being seated behind, and entirely obscured by the files. Vera raised her head above the paper parapet and smiled a sort of half smile.

  ‘Enthusiasm. I like that in an employee’, Vera continued. ‘The issue, Mr. Brunel, is whether this is Day One keenness and zeal, or whether you intend to keep it up’.

  ‘Hello Miss Darling’, Dick replied, ‘I intend to keep it up as long as I’m working for you’. He smiled back in an earnest manner, at least that’s what he hoped he was doing. He hoped it wasn’t a smile that implied ‘I just made another double entendre at your expense you oppressive, work-obsessed stuffy dullard’.

  ‘Splendid’, said Vera, ignoring or not understanding Dick’s remark. ‘Now come here. Don’t be shy!’

  Vera beckoned and Dick approached. He felt less like he was approaching a desk on a platform and more like he was approaching some sort of raised altar where he was going to make a sacrifice. Himself. Vera cleared half the papers to one side so Dick could see her more fully. He forgot how large she was. And how uptight she dressed. Her cream blouse was buttoned all the way up to her chin and then a little bit higher. He hadn’t noticed before but the blouse seemed to conceal a larger-than-average chest but he wasn’t sure whether this was two large rolls of fat or indeed bosoms. The jury was out.

  ‘I won’t introduce you to your colleagues when they arrive as there are far too many. Plus of course, I don’t have the time to do that and neither do you. I’m sure you’ll get to know names but remember don’t get too friendly. We’re all here to work for the Party; this is not a social club’.

  Lumbering down the few steps from the platform Vera continued.

  ‘This is where you’ll be working’, she said, indicating a desk in the front row. ‘I like to put my new staff where I can keep an eye on them, at least for their probationary period. That way I can tell whether they measure up. Do you think you’ll measure up, Mr. Brunel’.

  Dick smiled and he spluttered. In succession these expressions would be OK but simultaneously, as in Dick’s case, it made him look and sound like a moron.

  ‘Are you all right Mr. Brunel?’, enquired Vera.

  ‘Er, yes, Miss Darling’, Dick replied, quickly trying to regain his composure.

  ‘Well?’, she continued.

  ‘Well?’. Dick was confused.

  ‘Well do you think you’ll measure up?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, of course’, Dick replied. ‘With my experience and loyalty I don’t think you’ll have any concerns about my performance’.

  ‘Good’. Vera said without any trace of amusement on her face, her hand resting on one of his shoulders. ‘I like to have staff who measure up’.

  Dick felt confused. Confused and violated. Vera was the last person he expected to be touchy-feely but here she was, her hand resting on his shoulder asking if he measured up. And what was it she asked earlier? ‘Whether he could “keep it up?”’. Did she know more about him than she let on? Was she playing mind games with him? Or was he still overly paranoid and imagining things? Or, worse still, was this some weird and frankly, odious form of wish fulfilment on his behalf? Dick knew he was lonely but surely he couldn’t be that lonely.

  Fortunately Dick’s thoughts were soon taken up by work. He wasn’t sure whether it was luck, fate or the intervention of the Resistance ‘mole’ who arranged this job, but he was relieved at his first assignment. Given the wide-ranging remit of the department, Dick could have found himself working on projects about coal-mining production, armed forces recruitment, water conservation, shipbuilding or god forbid, bridge construction. Instead Vera handed him a pile of folders and a large box of research information on prostitution and told him to summarise the main findings in a report. Dick had never needed to visit a prostitute although a few of his co-stars had worked as hookers when they weren’t filming and this had given him a good insight into the business.

  Dick judiciously read though all the files and was genuinely surprised to learn that although prostitution was virtually unknown in this society, it did exist. For unknown medical reasons some men and women had developed a degree of natural immunity to the monthly injections. Unrepressed, this group needed far more frequent sexual gratification. The women among them had resorted to becoming prostitutes while the men had sought them out. This had been going on for a number of years although the Party had ensured that these activities were kept completely out of the news. Dick also learned that the Party had been exhausting huge amounts of police manpower trying to identity and track down the hookers and their tricks but this was an almost impossible task.

  There were a few references to a ‘Project Gladstone’ among the files but Dick drew a blank trying to find out any more information about this. He worked well into the night on the report, adding his own comments and observations on the subject. It had been a long, long time since his last nine-to-five job and Dick had forgotten
just how incredibly taxing it had been. He’d rather have sex all day long with a stream of incredibly hot women than work in an office but then again, Dick was always one for thinking the obvious.

  It was very late and the roads and streets were deserted as Dick walked the few blocks from the subway towards his home. Footsteps were magnified in the silence and seemed to echo. At least that’s what Dick first thought. After a short while he realised that he wasn’t hearing an echo; he was listening to the sound of not just his footsteps, but also someone else’s. Dick was being followed in the darkness. His pursuer at first trailed him from a distance but then progressively became closer. Dick glanced around a few times to see an indistinct figure, apparently a man, approaching. His instinct was to run but he stopped just as he broke into a jog, deciding that this might arouse suspicion. Instead he halted, tensed himself and took long, deep breaths to calm his nerves as he turned to confront his follower. When the figure was within ten feet of Dick, it spoke in a rich voice.

  ‘Sir, I am in need of a light for my pipe. By chance are you carrying a book of matches?’

  The figure was now standing in the shadows just ahead of Dick. He was tall, wearing a heavy coat and scarf with a bowler hat pulled down low, or as low as you could pull down a bowler hat without looking silly or getting it jammed on your head.

  ‘I am sorry. I don’t smoke’ said Dick, relieved that this was all the mysterious man wanted.