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     © Copyright Stanislaw Lem
     © Copyright Alexei Novikov , translation
     Date: 04 Dec 2003
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     Stanislaw Lem "Sexplosion". 1971.
     Translated to English ¿ 2003 by Alexei Novikov

     Review of a (fictional) story by Simon Merrill "Sexplosion" (Walker and
Company - New York)

     If you believe the author -  and we are more  and more  often  told  to
believe  the writers  of science fiction - the  current inflow of sex in the
eighties is to become  The Great Flood.  But the events of "Sexplosion" take
place twenty years later - during the harsh winter in snowy New York. An old
man, who remains unnamed, sinking in deep  snow and bumping into cars buried
under  it makes his way to an  abandoned skyscraper, takes out a key, warmed
by the last bits of the old man's bodyheat,  unlocks the iron gates and goes
down to the basement levels.  His wanderings interleaved with flashbacks are
what make up the novel.
     The  dark  underground,  whose  walls become  lit  by  the beam  of the
flashlight,  turns  out  to be  something between a museum and  a part of an
exposition (or, more  appropriately,  sexposition) for a  powerful  concern,
evidence of those memorable years  when America conquered Europe once again.
Half manual  manufacturing of Europeans clashed with an  unstoppable pace of
conveyor   production,  and  the   post-industrial  scientific-technological
colossus quickly won over. Three corporations were left  on the battlefield:
"General Sexotics", "Cybordelics" and "Love Incorporated".  When  the volume
of  production  of  these  giants  reached  its  peak  sex,  out  of private
entertainment or  group exercise,  hobby or amateur collectioning, grew into
the philosophy of civilization. McLuen, who lived to that time still a stout
old man, proved in his "Genitocracy" that it was the destiny of mankind once
it stepped  on  the  road  of  technological  progress. That ancient rowers,
chained  to  the  galleys,  loggers  of  the   North  with  their  woodsaws,
Stephenson's steam engine with its cylinders and pistons defined the rhythm,
type and meaning of the motions that defined copulation as the main event of
human existence. After adopting the complications of sexual positions of the
East faceless business changed the medieval shackles into unchastity  belts,
occupied  artists  and designers with  creation  of copulators, megapenises,
vaginettes,  sexariums  and pornomats,  started  the  sterile conveyors that
continuously  produced sadomobiles, lovistors, home sodomizators  and public
homorobots, and  founded research institutions  that  started a struggle for
emancipation of both sexes from the duty of procreation.
     From that point  on sex became not a fashion, but a faith, orgasm - the
duty,  and  its  frequency  counters  with  red  needles took  the place  of
phonebooths on  the streets. But who is he, this  old man, wandering through
underground passages  from  a  room  to  a  room?  Head  lawyer of  "General
Sexotics"?  Maybe  that's why he remembers the big court processes, some  of
which reached the Supreme Court, for the rights to replicate - as mannequins
- body  likenesses of celebrities, starting  with  the First  Lady. "General
Sexotics" won it  (which set  it  back by 20 million dollars). And  now  the
shaking beam of the  flashlight reflects in plastic  boxes, which  hold  top
movie  stars and  other  celebrities,  princesses and  queens  in  exquisite
outfits - exhibiting  them any other way, according to  the decision  of the
Supreme Court, was prohibited.
     For  mere  decade synthetic sex made way  from simple inflatable models
with spring mechanism to samples with automatic thermoregulation and instant
feedback. Their human  prototypes were long dead or  turned  into old farts,
but  teflon, nylon, pornofoam and sexonil withstood the tests  of time. Like
in  a  wax museum elegant dames, caught in a  light spot of the  flashlight,
greet the passing old man a stiff smile, holding  the tape with their  siren
song  in  hand  (The  Supreme  Court  prohibited putting  the  tape  in  the
mannequin, but the customer could do this privately, at home).
     Slow and unsteady  steps of  the lonely old  man raise  clouds of dust,
through which, at a distance, you could see  glowing scenes  of group Eros -
often with  up  to 30  participants, something like giant layered  cakes  or
tight pretzels. Could it be  the  president  of  "General Sexotics"  himself
marching down  the  corridor among homorobots and cozy sodomizators? Or  the
chief designer of the concern, the one who genitalized  first USA, and later
the rest of the world? Here are visuaries with remote controls, programs and
lead  seal of  censorship,  the  very  one fought over  in six  great  court
processes. Here are piles of containers, ready for shipment overseas, packed
with "Japanese Balls", boxes with  pre- and post-foreplay cream and  similar
goods, along with manuals and specifications.
     That was  an  era  of  democracy, finally realized.  Anybody  could  do
anything  - with  anybody. Following the advice of the staff  futurologists,
the  corporations,  against anti-monopoly laws, secretly divided  the  world
market and went the way of specialization. "General Sexotics" was in a hurry
to  equal the  rights  of normalcy  and perversion. The  two  others bid  on
automation.  The  samples  of  masochistic  chains,  whips  and  accessories
appeared on the market to convince the general public that the saturation of
the market is not even a possibility, because big business, I  mean a really
big business not just satisfies the demand, it creates it! Traditional tools
of home  shared  the fate of Neanderthal's sticks and stones. The scientists
developed six and eight year  long  education courses,  then the courses  of
high school  for both sexes, invented  neurosexator,  followed  by mufflers,
suppressers,  special  insulation  materials  and  sound  absorbers so  that
passionate moans would not disturb the rest and enjoyment of the neighbors.
     But you have to go on, on and on, confidently and persistently, because
stagnation is a death of production. The models of  Olympus for personal use
and first androids with the  appearance of  ancient  gods and goddesses were
already  being  forged  out  of  plastic  in   white-hot   design  shops  of
"Cybordelics". There was a talk about angels, with a special fund started in
case of a lawsuit with the  church. It  was only  left to  make decisions on
some technical  problems:  What  should wings  be  made  out of?  Won't they
tickle? Should they move? Will they get in a  way? What to do with the halo?
What  switch  to choose for it  and where to  place it? And so forth. That's
when the diaster struck.
     The chemical compound,  code-named "antisex" was  synthesized long ago,
almost in the seventies. Only a select group of experts knew  about it. This
chemical that instantly was acknowledged to be a secret  weapon was  created
in the labs of a small company affiliated with Pentagon. Spraying of it in a
form  of  an  aerosol  would  indeed  make  a  devastating  blow at  enemy's
demographic potential. A fraction of a milligram was enough to eliminate all
sensations  normally coinciding with  sex. Which, by itself,  still remained
possible, but only as a form of physical labor, and fairly hard one at that,
a lot like washing, wringing or ironing.  There was an idea to use "antisex"
to control the population growth in the third world but it was decided to be
risky.
     How it came to a catastrophe of the world proportions is still unknown.
Was really the stock of "antisex" blown sky high  because of a short circuit
and a  fire and  a tank of ether? Or  was the fire started by competitors of
the three giants that divided the world market? Or maybe  it was the work of
some  subversive, ultra-conservative or religious organization?  There is no
answer.
     Having tired of  wandering in the endless underground  the old man sits
down  on the smooth lap of the plastic Cleopatra (having  pressed the "Stop"
button  beforehand) and approaches in his memories, like  to  the edge of  a
chasm,  to  the  great crash of 1998. Consumers, all as  one,  rejected with
disgust the goods that flooded the market. What appealed just yesterday  was
today  like an ax to  a tired logger, like a washing machine to a laundress.
Eternal,  as it  seemed,  charms  -  biological spell  of  the human kind  -
dissipated without a trace.  From that point on the breast  reminded only of
the  fact that humans are mammals, legs - that man is an orthograde creature
and buttocks  - that there's something to sit on. That's it! How  lucky  was
McLuen  that  he  didn't  live  to  see this  disaster,  he  who  restlessly
interpreted medieval castle and space rocket, jet engine, turbine, windmill,
salt-shaker, hat, relativity theory, parentheses  in mathematical equations,
zeros and exclamation points as  surrogates and  symbols of that only act in
which existence manifests itself in its pure form.
     Everything changed in mere hours. Human kind faced complete extinction.
It started with a market crash next to  which the crisis of 1929 seemed like
child's  play. First to  go  up in flames was  Playboy  publishing. Starving
workers of strip clubs jumped  out the windows. Illustrated magazines, movie
studios, advertising firms,  beauty salons all went  down the tubes. Perfume
and  cosmetics,  then clothing  manufacturers stalled. In 1999 there  was 32
millions of unemployed in US.
     What could appeal to the buyers now? Abdominal support, synthetic hump,
gray wig, shaking figures in wheelchairs  for the disabled - the things that
didn't remind of the sexual effort, of that nightmare, that hard labor. Only
those  guaranteed  erotic   immunity,  meaning  rest   and   peace.  Because
governments, sensing the coming danger, declared the total emergency in  the
name of  saving  of  the human  kind. The headlines screamed with appeals to
reason  and a  sense of  duty, on TV the servant of every religion convinced
their congregation  to wise  up, appealing to higher,  spiritual ideals. But
the  public  was  deaf to  this  choir  of  authorities. Pleas and  sermons,
pleading  to  humane  ideals  didn't  work. It  was  all  useless.  Only the
Japanese, known for their obedience, with their teeth grinding, answered the
call.  The government tried material  means,  rewards and bonuses,  honorary
medals, the competitions for  the  best childbearer.  When that didn't  help
they stooped to repressive measures. The populations  of whole regions would
dodge  the childbearing duties; young  people would run away into the woods,
the  older  people  would  produce  fake certificates  of  impotence. Public
committees were  eaten  away by bribery. Everyone  was eager to watch if the
neighbor  is neglecting their duties  but would  dodge,  as they only could,
this hard sexual labor.
     Now the disaster is just  a memory in the  mind of  the  old man who is
sitting on Cleopatra's lap. The human kind  didn't die out. Fertilization is
now done in sanitary, sterile and hygienic way, much like a vaccination. The
epoch of great trials changed to a relative stability.
     But the culture can't stand the void. And the void  that resulted after
the sexplosion  was  filled  with  gastronomy.  Gastronomy  is  divided into
regular  and  indecent.  Many  gluttonous  perversions  and  the  books   of
restaurant  pornography  are in  existance. Injesting  food in some poses is
deemed  to be  incredibly obscene.  It is prohibited,  for  example, to  eat
fruits  while kneeled  (And  that's what  a  sect  of kneeling  perverts  is
fighting for). You  can't eat spinach and eggs  upside down. But underground
restaurants still  thrive  (could it be otherwise?) where  connoisseurs  and
gourmets  enjoy piquant shows. In the light of day  specially hired athletes
gorge so much the viewers salivate. Pornoculinary books are smuggled in from
Denmark and describe such truly awful things as eating eggs through a straw,
while  poking fingers  into spinach seasoned with garlic  and  sniffing  the
goulash seasoned with red pepper, while  lying on the table and wrapped into
the table cloth, with legs tied to a coffee maker that replaces a chandelier
in  this orgy.  Pulitzer  Prize this  year was  given  for  a novel about  a
shameless guy who first rubbed  the floor with truffle paste and then licked
it off having rolled in spaghetti to his heart content.  The ideal of beauty
changed  - the most beautiful is being a 350-pound hulk, which testifies  to
the enviable eating  capacity. The fashion also changed - now you can't tell
a woman from a man by clothes. And the congresses of most advanced countries
debate a  question of teaching the young people the mysteries of the act  of
digestion. So far this questionable topic is prohibited.
     And, finally,  biologists are really  close  to  solving the problem of
totally eliminating  sex -  the remnant of the dark ages. The fetus will  be
conceived synthetically and grown using genetic engineering and develop into
a  sexless  individual. That will be the end  of  horrible memories that are
still alive in the minds of  those  who survived the sexplosion. In brightly
lit laboratories, in this temples of  progress, a  great hermaphrodite (more
correctly, sexlessite) will be born  and  the  human kind,  having done away
with its  shameful past,  will, without  any inhibitions,  taste the  fruit.
Gastronomically forbidden, of course.

Last-modified: Thu, 04 Dec 2003 05:09:56 GMT
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