There’s something very disconcerting about a woman materialising right in front of you. It’s even more alarming when the woman who’s doing the materialising tells you that she’s from the future.
Dick looked her up and down. Alice was in her mid-twenties, attractive with an ample bosom but any hint of sexuality was being inhibited by a starched white blouse buttoned up to her slender, pale neck and a voluminous dark brown-coloured corduroy skirt that concealed any suggestion of the rest of her figure. Her skin looked like fine porcelain giving the impression that if you pushed her over, she’d break. She carried a rather formal-looking suede bag and the overall impression was one of a prim and proper Victorian nanny. For the second time in as many minutes Dick’s mouth made random shapes but failed to form any recognisable words. Alice took advantage of this situation, as she knew it wouldn’t be long before Dick regained the power of speech and/or movement and either called security or seduced her. Either way she would fail in her mission and time was of the essence.
‘Mr. Longg’, she continued, by now crouching over him as he remained prone. ‘My sudden appearance here has put us both in very grave danger. I need you to listen to what I have to say. My story will, no doubt, seem very far-fetched but please hear me out’.
As the mysterious woman spoke, Dick began to regain his composure and his motor skills. He hadn’t been this spooked since that fateful day during filming three years ago when he lost his erection after only fifty minutes although in his defence, he had been suffering from both a bad case of debilitating flu and from being accidentally kneed in the testicles in a previous orgy scene. Slowly getting up up, Dick reached for the bottle of chilled champagne.
‘Mr. Longg!’
‘Call me Dick’, he responded, unsubtly opening his robe a little.
‘I must have your full attention!’, Alice commanded, looking at him sternly. ‘Are you aware of H G Wells?’.
‘Of course I have. Everyone knows Harry Wells, the director of “Forest Hump” and “Saturday Night Beaver”.’
‘No! The Victorian British author’. Alice could see that this was going to take longer than she had imagined, and longer than she had.
‘Ah. That H G Wells’, Dick nodded, faking his knowledge of nineteenth century literary greats. ‘Yes, I am aware of his work’.
Alice didn’t believe him for one minute and sighed. ‘He wrote “The War of the Worlds”.’
‘“The Whore of the Worlds”? I starred in that!’
Alice ignored him. ‘“The Shape of Things To Come…”’
‘I was in that one too!’
It was all Alice could do to stop herself slapping him. Instead, she grabbed the lapels of his robe and drew him to within a few inches of her face.
‘“The Time Machine…”’
‘I wasn’t in…’
‘Don’t say anything!’ Alice exclaimed. ‘Wells published it in 1896 but it wasn’t just science fiction; it was a story very much inspired by fact. You see, a small, select group of his contemporaries were more technologically advanced than we ever knew…’ Pausing for effect she continued, ‘They had actually developed time travel!’
Alice momentarily relaxed her grip and Dick took this opportunity to pull himself away and register his scepticism.
‘Whoa! Hold on lady. I don’t know lots of things but one thing I do know is that time travel is impossible. It belongs in books and in movies!’
‘Believe me, Mr. Longg. It’s true. Time travel was invented’, Alice said in a very matter-of-fact-everyone-knows-that sort of way.
‘Sure. And you’re saying it was developed by some uptight old Victorian guys in stuffy suits, top hats, brogues and gold watches on chains?’
‘Precisely. That’s how I’m here. And it’s why I’m here!’
Dick was unimpressed. Confused as well, but more unimpressed than confused.
‘Look lady, you’d better go before I call security’, he said. ‘Why are you telling me all this? I don’t know who you are or what you want…’
Alice pulled Dick towards her once more. ‘I want you!’, she replied with more than a hint of desperation in her voice.
‘Yeah, right’, Dick responded. ‘Tell me something I haven’t heard a million times before’.
Alice continued forcefully. ‘Please hear me out, I implore you. Suspend your disbelief for a while and assume that what I am telling you is absolutely true’.
Dick groaned. It was a groan that implied ‘I'm bored and want to end this conversation and get back to filming’, rather than a groan he might have emitted while being fondled with a sable glove or having low-fat raspberry yoghourt licked off his testicles. However, Alice’s sudden appearance, her clothing and the garbage she was spouting intrigued him and Dick decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Well, for a short time anyway.
‘You’ve got one minute’, he told her firmly, ‘and not a second more’. Dick looked down at the Rolex Submariner on his wrist before realising he wasn’t wearing it. He sighed.
Seated on the couch, maintaining a safe distance from Dick, Alice continued with an even greater sense of urgency. ‘My home, the Great Britain of 2150, is a totalitarian state. It’s governed by the descendants of this cabal of businessmen, scientists, industrialists and politicians from the 1890s who developed time travel and transported themselves one hundred and fifty years into the future where they established a new society’. Dick went to open his lips but Alice interrupted him.
‘I know what you’re about to ask… how did a few influential men change society so radically and so quickly?’.
In truth, that wasn’t what Dick wasn’t going to ask. That question would have been too insightful for him, but it gave Alice the chance to explain what had happened in the future — and a way for this author to sneak in some exposition without it appearing too contrived. In any case, the reasons how and why certain Victorian gentlemen time-travelled to the year 2046 is not that important. It’s a MacGuffin. You know, a plot device like the actual Maltese Falcon in the film of the same name or the stolen money in Psycho. What these Victorian gentlemen did, however, is key to this story and far, far more important. Anyway, for the sake of both Dick and those readers who want some background information, Alice explained what had happened.
‘The facts are imprecise’, she said. ‘Much of the history of that time is unclear and that which does exist, has almost certainly been re-written. However, what we can deduce is that soon after this group of men travelled to the future, they infiltrated the top echelons of British society, eventually forming a new political party while keeping their identities and origins a complete secret’.
Dick frowned the sort of frown a kitten makes as it paws at a mouse on a television screen. Noting his reaction, Alice decided to keep the explanation simple.
‘By 2050, society was in decline and family life was being eroded. Crime was rising, particularly among the young, and there was a general lack of respect and discipline. Political parties were indistinguishable. Polices were weak and bland. Their leaders were anonymous, spineless and lacklustre. The public wanted change and they embraced the so-called ‘New Victorians’ and their manifesto of good family values, law and order, a strong work ethic and a willingness to help the less fortunate. They had a charismatic leader who achieved almost celebrity status. What started as a popular movement for reform soon developed into a full grown political party that swept into power — and which has been the ruling the country in various forms for the last hundred years or so’.
Dick was half listening to Alice and half counting to himself, trying to work out if a minute had passed. He thought it had.
‘There’s virtually no opposition to their policies and the Party, as they’re known, run Great Britain as a sort of benevolent dictatorship. Their current leader is a mysterious man who is rarely seen in public’. Alice halted her explanation and stared at Dick. By the way he was mouthing numbers it was obvious he wasn’t paying full attention. Alice gave him the slap round the face she had recently resisted and which she felt he now deserved.
‘Listen to what I’m saying’, she pleaded. ‘I live in this world. A world shaped by Victorian ethics and morals!’.
By now Dick had given up trying to count in his head and was considering what Alice had said.
‘Is that so bad?’, he enquired, mainly out of politeness as he still didn’t believe a single word Alice was saying.
‘Well not all of it. As I said, we live by strong values… but there’s also a downside. The Party don’t believe in promiscuity or relationships out of wedlock. They claim it contributes to the ruin of society’.
Alice paused again for dramatic effect. ‘The result is that there is virtually no sex’.
If Dick’s disbelief had been suspended, it just came crashing back down rather heavily. Now Alice had his full and undivided attention. A world without sex? It wasn’t worth thinking about. And it definitely wasn’t worth living in.
‘I can’t believe that!’, Dick said, slightly distraught. ‘You’re making it up’.
‘I wish I was’, said Alice sadly. ‘Some of us know from surviving fragments of your history how it used to be. In my world the Party have imposed their puritanical attitude towards sex on everyone and since the current leader came to power about three years ago it’s become far worse. Now, most sexual feeling is repressed and that which does take place is only permitted amongst married couples on a weekly basis. Monthly bromide injections to suppress desire are mandatory. Impure thoughts are not allowed to become impure deeds’.
‘Man, I’m glad I’m not living there!’, Dick said anxiously.
‘But you will be’, added Alice nonchalantly, removing from her bag some sort of electronic bracelet with green pulsating lights similar to one she was wearing. ‘You see, I’ve come here to take you back. Or rather, forward. I’m part of a resistance movement which has been trying to overthrow the Party and we need your help’.
‘Me?’, asked Dick incredulously. ‘Why me? I’m a top porn star. I’m a lover not a fighter!’
‘You have been chosen, that’s all I know. Someone very influential in my time has said that you are ‘The One’’.
‘I’m very flattered, lady but I’m not going anywhere with you’. Dick was not only adamant, he was also angry. ‘Do I think you’re from the future? No way! And even if I did, do I want to live in a future without sex. Never! Do I want to help bring down your government? Of course not! Why would I want to give up everything I’ve got here? Everything I’ve worked for! I’m going back on set and suggest you go back to wherever you came from, whether it’s the future, or more probably, the asylum!’
‘But Mr. Longg!’, Alice implored, ‘We don’t have much time! As soon as I arrived here the Party would have detected a disturbance in the time vortex wormhole continuum and would have sent agents to hunt me down!’
For a split second Dick considered asking about the time vortex wormhole continuum, but then thought better of it and instead started to leave. As he headed towards the door he turned back. ‘It was good meeting you. Have a nice day’.
Alice lunged and grabbed his arm forcefully. ‘Stop! Let me tell you a bit more about my world. Just hear me out, I beg you. Please! Then you’ll see how desperate I am’.
Desperate wasn’t a word Dick associated with her. Insane, yes, as in ‘one hooker short of an orgy’, but desperate, no.
‘All right’, he said, humouring her and shaking loose her hand, which was now beginning to hurt. ‘You’ve got one more minute’. Dick looked down again at his watch that wasn’t there, and sighed.