Dick moved over to the male figure and operated the same concealed switch located just under its collar. It powered-up and came to life in a similar way. Dick looked into its eyes and shivered. He wondered if a mechanical man who was responding to a series of programmed algorithms and other words he had overheard but didn’t understand, could show menace. This one seemed to. Both figures stared at each other. Dick stared at his audience.
‘Lady and gentlemen’, (Vera was only one lady present and although her recent predatory behaviour had been far from lady-like, Dick thought it was only right to address her in this formal way). ‘This mechanical male will be sent into the seedier parts of the City in an attempt to flush out the concealed harlots. A handsome, strong figure; well-dressed with an air of confidence and the trappings and deportment of a wealthy man. Behold! A man willing and able to pay for sexual congress’.
The audience continued to look intently at Dick as he stood between the two motionless figures. ‘This man will, no doubt, attract the attention of the harlots. This demonstration will show how we expect any liaisons to play out’.
With that, Dick moved away from the figures and took up a position to the side of the stage near to the junior technician who, in a reflex as Dick approached, ducked down, holding his hands to his face. As if on cue (which it was, because that’s how she was programmed), the prostitute smiled at the man and raised her skirt and petticoats to reveal a cheeky garter on her shapely stockinged leg. The audience gasped at this wanton display of brazen sexuality. Outwardly they were shocked and horrified at what they were seeing. Inwardly however they were pleased they’d taken up a career as Party members or scientists because it meant they could freely observe a lady in her underwear as part of their job (and let’s face it, not many jobs outside of doctors and morticians allowed you this sort of opportunity).
Programmed to be attracted by the allure of the prostitute’s behaviour, the mechanical man approached. The two figures linked arms and walked over to the wall on the other side of the stage. Leaning back against it the prostitute raised her skirt around her waist pulling the man towards her and thrusting her tongue into his mouth. The man pulled himself away and in one fluid move covered her mouth with one cupped hand, while reaching into his jacket pocket with the other. There was a silver glint as the ceiling lights reflected off a very long and very sharp knife the man had pulled out. Before the prostitute realised what was happening the knife had delivered a vicious slash to her neck. Despite the fact that the harlot was a machine, the visual effect of this attack was not diminished in any way. The blade had severed her main oil feed, sending a spray of warm, amber-coloured hydraulic fluid across the first three rows of the audience who were too stunned, and too sticky, to cry out in alarm. With the force of a butcher and the skill of a surgeon the man then delivered two further deep cuts across her belly, making it resemble a hot cross bun, albeit a hot cross bun that was haemorrhaging vital fluids at an alarming rate.
The prostitute’s eyes dimmed and she slowly slumped to the stage. She writhed a few times as the last remaining volts of energy discharged then gave one last death rattle. If the audience had been disturbed by this violent display then they were positively distressed when the man reached into her exposed chest cavity and with the knife, deftly removed lengths of cabling, coolant tubes and her main capacitor. Placing these along side her lifeless body, the man wiped the knife on her petticoats and then placed it carefully back in his pocket. He stood up and moved away, standing silently but demonstrating, Dick felt, the tell-tale look of someone who’d just eviscerated a mechanical prostitute. The stunned audience remained frozen in their seats. Surprisingly, it was the monocle man who broke the silence first. He did this by standing up and clapping. After a few seconds he was joined by a serious looking colleague towards the back of the auditorium who supplemented his clapping by shouting ‘Bravo! Bravo!’.
The applause became as contagious as an outbreak of VD on the set of a cheap skin flick. Soon the entire audience were standing, well, except one or two of them who were so sticky from the oil that they were actually trapped in their seats. Vera smiled. Dick beamed. He drank in the adulation, vindicated that his proposal was a success. As the ovation died down and everyone became seated again, it was a senior Party member in the front row who spoke.
‘Mr. Brunel and Dr. Hargreaves. Thank you for an impressive demonstration’.
Dick was about to respond but before he had the chance, the doctor had stood up and thanked the Party for their support, his colleagues for their assistance and Vera for her encouragement. The only person he didn’t acknowledge was Dick. If Dick had previously taken a dislike to Dr. Hargreaves and his supercilious attitude, then he now absolutely loathed him. The senior Party member continued. ‘We will of course be discussing the results in detail and presenting them to the Leader but I’m sure that I speak on behalf of my illustrious colleagues here that I am quietly confident that it will receive full backing and implementation as soon as possible’.
Cue more applause, shouts of ‘Spiffing!’, ‘Well done, sir!’ and other polite words of encouragement.
A small man in the middle of the audience spoke. ‘One question though, Mr. Brunel. Is the degree of violence we have just witnessed, necessarily? Surely the mechanical man could just swiftly terminate the harlot with a single knife wound and then just walk discretely away so as not to attract unwelcome attention?’
Other members of the audience murmured in agreement.
‘He could do that’, Dick acknowledged, pleased that he was again the centre of attention. ‘But the extremely violent nature of these attacks is sure to be reported in the media. While these attacks obviously won’t discourage the mechanical harlots who will automatically obey their programming, they will act as a huge deterrent for any real women thinking of becoming prostitutes themselves’. Dick added, ‘Of course, the killer will replace the mechanical components removed from the victim’s bodies with authentic-looking imitation human organs’.
The man who asked the question nodded and another serious looking man seated behind him spoke. ‘This mysterious figure, this ‘harlot hunter’ you’ve created, I’ve never seen anything like him. He’s not like any old Tom, Dick or Harry’.
The audience murmured in agreement. Dick walked over to the mechanical man still standing silently on the stage and put his hand on its shoulder.
‘You’re right’, Dick agreed. ‘He’s special. He’s not like any old Tom, Dick or Harry. His name is Jack’. He paused. ‘Jack the Ripper. He was inspired by a historic figure I came across in my research. A figure from the original Victorian era… so you see there’s a certain symmetry to his reappearance now’.
Another eruption of applause. The entire audience was again on its feet giving him an unprecedented level of vocal support. ‘Fuck you, Dr. Hargreaves’. Dick thought, ‘This is my show!’ Dick walked to the front of the stage, his arms held out, basking in the adoration directed at him. If he’d known that the whole demonstration was being filmed and watched remotely he probably wouldn’t have acted so over-confidently or so arrogantly. Many miles away the observer made notes about what had taken place and his thoughts about Dick. The last note written was ‘cocksure’.
The Leader put his pen down and sat back to contemplate what he’d just seen.
CHAPTER 17
‘How are you feeling?’, enquired Vera as an old man hobbled painfully into the empty office early the next morning. The old man was actually Dick, except he wasn’t actually an old man, he just acted like one. Slowly and painfully he lowered himself into his chair. He winced and he grimaced. He even flinched and cringed. His whole body ached; his bruised back was a fetching shade of black, purple and blue. His left shoulder was acutely painful – the result of it being popped into place after he dislocated it. Dick didn’t know what made him leap off that stage into the audience. Well actually, he did. It was the whole buzz and knowledge that at that moment, all the spectators loved him. The problem was that none of the assembled Party members, scientists or technicians in this era understood the concept of crowd surfing.