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. 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.