Mark Leigh - Dick Longg - Sexual Saviour of the Universe

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.