Dick Longg: Sexual Saviour of the Universe (7 page)

The treatment continued for a tedious length of time until he woke up one day in a different environment. This time Dick found himself naked in almost complete darkness in what he assumed was a prison cell. There was a rudimentary toilet and an uncomfortable sleeping bench against one solid wall while unyielding steel bars formed the other three. Dick was aware of a man shouting in the distance, accompanied by a low murmur that was becoming louder by the minute. Suddenly a klaxon sounded and his cell was flooded with a glaring white light.

As his eyes slowly became accustomed to the brightness Dick was aware of two things. Firstly, that his cell was actually more of a cage;
 
one of many in a large tented enclosure. And secondly, that he had an audience that was slowly increasing in size. Not the previous collection of security personnel, scientists or medics. This was a completely new mix of civilians; men, women - even small children. It took a few minutes before the realisation of Dick’s situation began to sink in. He wasn’t just a prisoner, he was an exhibit in a Victorian freak show - the Elephant Man of 2150. To his audience, he must have appeared just like Joseph Merrick, hideously deformed and a sight to be pitied. Only unlike the real Mr. Merrick, Dick definitely did possess something resembling a rather large trunk. Smelling salts were being administered to a number of women who had fainted. Children were crying. Even grown men were crying but Dick didn’t know whether this was out of horror, pity or just jealousy.

Dick could hear the voice of the barker become louder as he moved through the astonished crowd. Soon he was in sight wearing a bright chequered showman’s costume and carrying an ornate silver-topped cane that he used as a pointer. Eventually stopping outside Dick’s cell he clanged the bars loudly with the cane.

‘There he is ladies and gentlemen’, he barked (because that’s what barkers did), ‘Before your very eyes, a freak of nature like no other! A living example of the dangers of sexual intercourse out of wedlock! This man has indulged in the sexual act far too frequently and became contaminated… infected… resulting in his current, hideous, pestiferous condition. Look how malformed he is. A man in human form for the most part, but between his legs hangs a gruesome appendage… a macabre tentacle!’

The inquisitive crowd surged forward as the barker whipped them into a fervour. ‘Have you laid your eyes on such a pitiful specimen? Not so much as man as a monstrous beast! There is no known cure for this sexual deviant. There is no relief from his suffering… apart from one!’

In expectation of the answer the crowd’s murmuring died down. ‘The only remedy’, the barker continued, ‘Is...’, (here he gave a theatrical pause), ‘Amputation!’

At this exact moment the barker pulled the top off his cane to reveal a swordstick. Catching the glare of the lights, the blade almost glowed and the crowd gasped. Dick gasped too, but for completely different reasons. He really, really, really hoped the barker had revealed the swordstick just for dramatic effect. He’d never hoped for anything in his life so much. To Dick’s immense relief the barker replaced the blade and continued his shpiel.

‘Step right up and take a look but and let me remind you: approach the cage at your own risk. Remember ladies, he could put anything through those bars!’

The barker put obvious stress on the word ‘anything’, at which point there was another collective gasp from the audience. Dick now realised why he’d been spared. Now that he was no longer involved with the Resistance, or whatever remained of them, he was relatively harmless. In this state he was obviously more use to the Party alive than dead. He was their greatest propaganda coup and as such would probably spend the rest of his pitiful days in this cage, entertaining the public. He imagined he was part of a large collection of ‘freaks’ used to promote the dangers of promiscuity. As he couldn’t see them properly he could only take a wild guess at the identity of his fellow exhibits in the other cages. Maybe there was a man with four testicles. Maybe he had more. Or none. A woman with two vaginas. Or a penis. Or three breasts.
 

Dick wasn’t sure whether it was the sense of danger, the fact he was naked and being watched or the thought of a woman with three breasts, but he felt an erection in progress. He wasn’t the only one to notice and it was obvious that the barker, let alone the spectators, had no idea how big it was going to get. As they backed off, Dick, feeling braver by the moment, moved to the edge of his cage until he was holding the bars, his face wedged up against them, waggling his stiff member and bellowing defiantly like a latter day Tarzan. He heard shouting. Lots of it. Faced with this spectacularly terrifying sight, many of the women and a number of men in the crowd passed out. Most of those who remained had run away crying in blind panic. A few of the more brave or inquisitive souls had decided to stay and stare. The barker, fearing for his life, had instinctively separated his cane again.

The blade came slicing through the air towards Dick’s groin, much too fast for him to react.

He screamed a primeval scream.

This was still bellowing from his lungs when
Alice
burst through the door.

‘What’s wrong?’, she asked. She looked extremely concerned.

Dick sat up in his bed and saw he was in his room once more. His sheets were in disarray and he was drenched in sweat from this truly terrifying nightmare.

‘
Alice
. You can’t imagine how pleased I am to see you’.

‘I’d noticed’, she replied, looking down at his lap.

- - o O o - -

Dick slept far more soundly the second time and awoke fresh to face whatever challenges the next day brought, just as long as they didn’t involve being abducted by any members of the Party. Or having a sharp sword heading directly towards his penis. He was towelling himself dry after another cold shower when
Taylor
knocked on his door, requesting his presence in the lounge.

‘Dick, there’s someone I’d like you to meet’.

‘Is it someone who’s discovered a way to return me to 2010?’, Dick spoke back to the door with misplaced optimism.

‘No’, came
Taylor
’s disembodied voice, adding Dick thought, to try and make him feel better, ‘But I’ve made you coffee and a hearty breakfast’.

Taylor
had left the equivalent of a New Victorian sweat suit out for Dick to wear, a grey-coloured brushed-cotton ensemble, more functional than fashionable. In fact, not fashionable at all, unless you lived in a retirement condo in
Fort Lauderdale
, Dick thought. He finished dressing and headed for the lounge, contemplating that eggs, tomatoes, hash browns and bacon, even if it was the really crispy type he liked, were definitely no substitute for reverse time travel. He pushed opened the panelled door and found himself looking at a plump woman in her late forties. Her pale face was framed with a mass of unruly frizzy ginger hair, the style sported by the lead character in The Hair Bear Bunch.

‘Good morning Dick’, said a smiling Taylor who was standing beside her. ‘I’d like you to meet the Oracle’.

Dick shook her pallid, chubby hand with an expression that was part polite smile and part disappointed sneer. So
this
was the Oracle. When
Taylor
had first mentioned her, Dick had visions of a mysterious, wizened crone whose decades of wisdom were etched in deep lines that criss-crossed her expressive face - not an unattractive middle-aged woman with an orange ‘fro. Dick considered himself extremely liberal in his views but there were some popular prejudices he shared and could not shake off; an unconditional dislike and distrust of Turks, the Welsh and the ginger. He hated everything about the latter; their hair colour (obviously), the way they insisted on describing themselves in a quasi-exotic way such as ‘flame-haired’, ‘strawberry blonde’ or ‘Titian’ and their skin - the colour of watered-down milk; so pale you can almost see their internal organs.
 
But there was one thing he hated above all else, and this was the reason he refused to work with ginger-haired girls: orange pubes. And here he was, now standing facing the woman who was ultimately responsible for him being kidnapped and now trapped in this horrendous future.

The Oracle spoke. ‘Hello Mr. Longg. I saw you in a dream’.

She didn’t expect Dick to punch her in the face. Neither did Dick. It was just a reflex act; a combination of the Welsh lilt in her voice and the fact that Dick needed to take his anger and frustration out on someone.
Taylor
helped the Oracle up from the floor and into an armchair, producing a handkerchief to stem the blood from her nose.

‘I can understand your resentment, Mr. Longg’, said the Oracle, holding her head back and pinching her nose.

‘You saw me in a dream? In a fucking dream!’ Dick was incredulous. He couldn’t spell that particular word or pronounce it properly, but he was in that state all the same. ‘And you had me brought over six hundred years into the future on the basis of just a dream?’

Dick was never good with maths. He was actually only a hundred and forty years in the future but
Taylor
decided that it really wasn’t the best time to correct him.

‘It was an omen’, said the Oracle. ‘A crystal clear image of you formed in my mind!’

‘What was responsible for this image?’, Dick asked, expecting to hear something about hallucinogenic drugs or a self-induced spiritual altered state.

‘Cheese’, said the Oracle.

Dick really hoped he hadn’t heard the Oracle say the word ‘cheese’. He actually wished she’d said something like ‘fleas’ or even ‘bees’, as if insects were somehow involved in forming her visions; even those would have been preferable to a milk-based foodstuff. Sadly for Dick, his hearing was fine.

‘Cheese on toast, in fact’, the Oracle continued in her annoying Welsh accent destroying, Dick thought, any impression of mysticism or the paranormal that Oracles traditionally convey. ‘It was Stilton. Or it might have been mature cheddar… Or was it a nice piece of Brie? Anyway, I had a late night snack and dreamt about someone who would be our salvation. That person was YOU!’

‘Jesus!’ exclaimed Dick. Turning to
Taylor
he asked, ‘Doesn’t this sound a little, shall we say, flaky?’.

‘Flaky? I don’t understand’, said
Taylor
, frowning.

‘Flaky. You know, a bit weird. Putting your faith in someone like me, someone you’ve never met before, on the basis of what this fucking crackpot saw in a cheese-inspired dream’. By now Dick was wide-eyed in astonishment. ‘How good is she? I mean, has she ever had this sort of vision before?’

Taylor
hesitated, carefully looking for the right words, but it was the Oracle who answered, dramatically waving one of her hands around while dabbing the other one at the blood still dripping from her nose. ‘I had a similar dream about four years ago.
 
It was very clear. Very clear indeed. I saw a man. He came from an earlier time.’

‘The Resistance brought him here in a similar way to you’, explained
Taylor
.

‘So I guess the reason I’m here now is because he didn’t defeat the Party’, said Dick.

Taylor
nodded.

‘Then what happened? Why didn’t he succeed?’, Dick enquired, asking for good measure, ‘And where is he now?’.

Taylor
sighed and shook his head. ‘I wasn’t in the Resistance then, but from what I know, they trained him well and sent him out into the real world to begin his mission’. He paused and looked away. ‘Sadly, after a few months it was apparent that he didn’t succeed’.

‘What happened? Was his identity compromised? Did a piece of equipment fail?’ Dick was becoming irritated. He wanted answers. ‘Did he have to abandon the operation? Was he captured?’

Taylor
’s reply came in a whisper. ‘We’re not sure’.

Dick’s reply also came in a whisper, though he wasn’t sure why, as he was quite annoyed over this lack of answers. ‘I know you weren’t there but you must know what happened!’.

Taylor
looked at his feet. ‘I don’t’. He studied his shoes more intently and spoke even more quietly. ‘The Resistance never saw him or heard from him ever again’.