Dick Longg: Sexual Saviour of the Universe (13 page)

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. He 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.

‘Have you looked in your inside jacket pocket? I’m sure you must be carrying matches there’.

Dick stared at the man and backed off slightly, worried by this strange comment.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t have any matches’. Dick turned to continue his walk home.

The man gripped his shoulder firmly. More firmly than Dick would have liked considering he was a complete stranger and from what Dick could feel, fairly strong. To placate him and encourage him to leave, Dick reached into his inside jacket pocket to show him it was completely empty.

‘There’, Dick said reaching in to the pocket. ‘There’s nothing here…’ he paused. ‘Except for this… book of matches’.

Dick stared at the stranger then offered him the book of matches that had somehow found its way into his jacket. The stranger thanked him then struck a match to light his pipe. By the flickering orange glow of the flame Dick recognised the familiar face of
Taylor
. With the tobacco now alight,
Taylor
took a few satisfying puffs, exhaled with even more contentment and returned the matches.

‘Here, take these back. You never know when you might need them’, he said before adding more quietly, ‘I’ll walk the last few streets with you then I’ll continue on my own. We can’t be seen too long in public’.

Dick and Taylor exchanged confidences on the way back to Dick’s apartment.
Taylor
had somehow known about his successful interview and subsequent appointment at the Ministry, and Dick told him about the work he was undertaking on prostitution. He also told
Taylor
all about William and Mary and how he was treating them with caution.
Taylor
agreed this was definitely the right way to behave and said he’d try and find some background information on each of them.

‘When will I meet up with you again?’, asked Dick approaching his apartment block.

‘Fairly soon’, replied
Taylor
. ‘After you’ve been working for a little longer we’ll meet at the headquarters for a thorough debriefing. We can’t meet too often in the open like this in case you’re under observation. And from what you’ve told me about your neighbours, that sounds very likely’.

‘How will I know when to meet, or even where?’ asked Dick.

‘Don’t worry’,
Taylor
said. ‘We’ll contact you in some way and tell you the arrangements’. Then, in a louder voice he added, ‘Thank you for the match and for your companionship, sir’.

After shaking Dick’s hand and doffing his hat he walked away leaving Dick outside
Elm
Grove
Tower
.

Dick reached his apartment and opened the door as quietly as he could to avoid waking his neighbours who were surely fast asleep by now. Before he went to bed Dick had two surprises. The first was a small envelope on the floor in the hallway that had obviously been slid under the door. It was a note from his neighbours; neat copperplate handwriting that congratulated Dick on his new job. Dick’s heart raced. How did they know that he’d got the job? He hadn’t told anyone. Was it some sort of warning. A ‘be careful, we’re watching you’ sort of warning? When Dick next saw William and Mary should he ask them how they knew about his appointment, or just ignore it and remain cautious. Dick thought about it and decided that confrontation was not advisable; he’d just thank them for their kind thoughts and well wishes.