Dick Longg: Sexual Saviour of the Universe

into bed and that night, slept the sleep of the dead. Or more accurately, the sleep of the blissfully shagged.

CHAPTER 14

The following two weeks saw Dick working in parallel on a new assignment at the Ministry; a publicity campaign in support of the forthcoming ‘National Hat Week’. When Vera first told him about this project Dick’s instinctive reaction was to exclaim, ‘What the fuck?!’ Fortunately, however, he managed to correct himself in time and what he actually said was, ‘What the fedora?!’. Of course, this didn’t make any sense at all but at least it was hat-related. Just from his observations so far Dick knew that everyone in this society loved hats. The women loved them because they were a fashion item that could be changed according to whim or the season. The men loved them because they could doff them to women and appear courteous. And everyone loved them because they kept them dry(ish) when the weather was inclement.

A small team in Dick’s department was responsible for creating a real buzz about National Hat Week, making it an exciting, stimulating and compelling event. Dick wasn’t sure that this was at all possible as he immersed himself in statistics about hat wearing, hat manufacturing, hat distribution, hat history, hat accessorising, hat care, hat pioneers — in fact anything and everything about hats. He found this a completely unstimulating exercise but threw himself into it like a loyal Party member.

Benjamin was part of this team so there was regular contact between the two of them. Although he hadn’t demonstrated any recent signs of resentment over Dick apparently being lined-up for promotion, Dick still didn’t trust him. He had the distinct feeling that everything he did or said was being scrutinised by his colleague. He wondered how long it would take before Benjamin discovered through his own sources that Dick didn’t actually have a close relative in the Party. And once he found this out, would he delve deeper into Dick’s past and discover that as far as this world went, he didn’t actually have one?

They were the last to leave a particularly dreary bowler hat sub-committee meeting when Benjamin asked Dick how the ‘secret education project’ was coming along, trying with varying degrees of unsubtlety to find out exactly what it was about and why it was so secretive. Dick wasn’t sure if this was because Benjamin wanted to show willingness in trying to help him or whether he was just snooping.

Of course, there might be another reason. Dick didn’t know where this particular idea originated. At first he thought it was just another example of paranoia on his part and he tried to dismiss it but the more he dwelled on it, the more he thought there could be an element of truth about it. It was an alarming thought; that Benjamin might actually also be a member of the Resistance… But if he was, then what was he doing here? Maybe Benjamin had been planted in the Ministry like Dick to find out about Project Gladstone and feed information back to Taylor. But why, Dick pondered, do this if he already had it covered? Was it that Taylor didn’t have enough faith in Dick, and Benjamin was there as a back-up? Did Taylor see Dick as being expendable and if something happened to him — and by that he meant something bad — he’d have another operative in place to take over where Dick had failed? Or, even more alarming, was Taylor actually planning to sacrifice Dick in order to throw the Party off the scent of the Resistance? After all, if Benjamin compromised Dick’s identity and Dick was arrested, it was unlikely the Party would consider there were two people who’d infiltrated the department. And this would mean Benjamin could continue his work virtually above suspicion. The Resistance would never do this, would they? But then again, maybe the end justified the means?

The more Dick thought about this, the more confused he was. He’d been told that he was ‘The One’, but based on what he’d learned, that actually didn’t mean much. Perhaps Benjamin was ‘Another One’. Perhaps there were actually lots of ‘Ones’ and the Resistance purposely kept them apart. Maybe the Oracle had seen them all in her dreams as if she was counting sheep. Is that what all the ‘Ones’ had been. Just sheep; all eventually heading for the slaughter? Dick felt his imagination running away with him. He didn’t like the feeling and was desperately trying to catch it up. The longer he dwelled on it, the more worried Dick became. Given the huge secrecy that Taylor sought to maintain around the Resistance, Dick wouldn’t have put it past him to have a devious plan like this. He was still trying to keep up with his imagination when he felt a strong, manly hand on his shoulder. Dick turned round to see Vera standing next to his desk with a quizzical, yet still stern, look.

‘Mr. Brunel, are you all right?’, she said in her low voice, leaning towards him. ‘You seem lost in your thoughts’.

Dick shuddered in his seat, shaking himself out of the world of paranoia and into the world of his unsightly boss invading his personal space.

‘Yes Miss Darling’, Dick said, quickly composing himself. ‘I was, er, thinking about the Project and possible solutions’.

‘Good show, Mr. Brunel’, said Vera, who’d now moved even more uncomfortably closer, her slightly greasy nose almost nuzzling his ear. ‘I want to discuss that with you after work’.

Part of Dick interpreted this as a work-related request but there was a small, teeny-weeny part of him that interpreted it as a chat-up line (although not a very good one, granted). The last two hours passed very slowly as Dick contemplated spending even more time in the company of Vera. By six thirty only Dick, Vera and Benjamin remained in the department. Being his normal, toadying self, Benjamin asked Vera if she wanted his assistance that evening. Without raising her head from the pile of files that perpetually covered her desk Vera waved her hand to dismiss him as if she was shooing away a particularly irritating fly. Dick buried his head in his work trying to avoid the inevitable. The thing about the inevitable, however, is that it always happens. In this instance the inevitable was heralded by the sound of a large heavy report being slammed shut. The noise startled him.

‘Right’, said Vera standing up from her desk and rubbing her sweaty hands together. ‘Quality time on Project Gladstone’.

She walked passed him and locked the department door.

‘Can’t take any chances. The Resistance might have spies anywhere’.

She looked at Dick, and from her raised eyebrows, was either expecting a response or was suffering from some form of involuntary eyebrow spasm.

Dick replied with as much naivety as he could muster. ‘You don’t believe that, do you?’

‘Mr. Brunel, as servants of the Party we cannot afford to take any chances whatsoever. The Resistance are an insidious, evil bunch of malcontents who would stop at nothing to frustrate the ambitions of the Party. They could have agents anywhere. An office cleaner or maintenance person for example might walk passed this room or even enter it, cunningly looking for information or just eavesdropping on conversations’.

‘Do you think that’s true. I mean, that members of the Resistance are here among us?’, Dick asked, watching and shuddering inside as Vera dropped the office door key into her ample cleavage like some poor unfortunate victim falling into a dark, bottomless pit.

‘It is highly unlikely given the employee screening processes in place, but that does not make it impossible’, Vera replied, walking towards Meeting Room A. ‘Which is why we cannot afford to take any chances. Bring your documentation in here so we’re further shielded from prying eyes or ears’.

Dick wasn’t exactly sure whether ears could be prying but he unlocked his desk drawer, removed his report and joined Vera in the meeting room. She locked the door and hid this key exactly as before. Dick shuddered again. Vera explained that there had been a disappointing response so far. No one involved with Project Gladstone had come up with a practical, workable or even sensible solution to the problem. Someone had suggested that the police should be given special powers to poke all women with a knitting needle. If they didn’t shout then that proved they were man-made. Someone else proposed that the mechanical prostitutes could be identified by placing large and powerful magnets on every street corner. Another idea involved keeping every single woman in London immersed in salt water for two weeks to see if they exhibited signs of rust. Faced with this level of thinking and incompetence the Party hierarchy and the Leader himself were becoming nervous and agitated that it was taking so long to solve this particular problem.

With a sigh that indicated ‘here goes nothing’ Dick opened his folder. He took Vera through his notes and outlined his thoughts, cautiously at first as he wasn’t sure if they would be viewed as too crazy, but then with greater conviction as Vera demonstrated an unexpected high degree of enthusiasm about his plans. For his solution to succeed, Dick explained, he needed access to, and the co-operation of, the engineers who had designed and built the original mechanical prostitutes. Vera scanned his report, nodding at regular intervals then folded her arms, her