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‘And this has been replaced by an insatiable appetite for power?’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.
‘I think you’ll be very interested in what’s going on as we complete the bombs and get ready for the detonation’, Maxx explained. ‘You’ll have free access here as long as you don’t hinder the work of the various technicians. As you know, they have very tight deadlines to meet’.
‘And with me staying within this building’, said Dick, now over his embarrassment and feeling more bullish now he knew he wasn’t going to die, ‘You’ll also be able to keep an eye on me’.
‘You’re so cynical Dick’, said Maxx smiling. ‘I just want you here to see all the preparatory work in progress. You’ll find it fascinating. But more than that, I want you here when we launch the first bomb over London’.
‘And why is that?’, Dick asked. ‘Just so you can gloat?’
‘No’, Maxx smiled. ‘Just so you can push the launch button’. All Dick could do was stare as Maxx continued. ‘The man famed for his legendary erections will be the man who launches the first impotence bomb. Now how fucking ironic is that?’
Dick had to admit that as ironies went, it was fucking up there with the best.
CHAPTER 31
Dick usually woke up feeling horny but this Friday morning he woke up feeling very horny and also very nostalgic. That’s not to say he was thinking about various sexual exploits in his past, and god knows there were thousands of these. No, this morning he was nostalgic for the reason that brought him to this research facility the first time; Jack. He wanted to find out where the mechanical murderer was being stored and pay him a visit. This was partly out of curiosity, partly because he had so much time to kill, but mainly because it would act as a diversion while he tried to figure out a way of thwarting Maxx’s evil plans.
After quickly washing and dressing Dick left his room. True to Maxx’s word, he was allowed to wander freely about the facility but despite this apparent liberty Dick felt he was, in effect, in an open prison. He remembered being here the first time developing Jack, and how tedious it was. Sure, the building was teeming with men and women, scientists, engineers and technicians but they were too busy and too focussed to spend much time with him to explain what they were doing or even just stop for a chat. Apart from being boring this previous visit has also given rise to feelings of inadequacy; the same thing was happening again. Dick became very self-conscious that he didn’t have a white lab coat, and felt very conspicuous and uncomfortable without one. In the tenth floor cafeteria he had a coffee and an iced bun and read the morning newspapers, conscious that people were staring at him. He was just leaving when he almost collided with a technician hurrying down the corridor carrying a long, flapping computer print out.