I get wet every time I read Philip K. Dick's "The Golden Man": One of those rare, 1950s dystopian science-fiction stories that appeals to a woman’s sensibilities.
This story's orgasmic twist is unusual even for Dick, whose fixation with young, model-thin femme fatales named Pris (epitomized by Darryl Hannah’s character in Blade Runner) echoes the fantasies of a predominantly male audience.
The context of "The Golden Man" is fairly simple. Set in the aftermath of an all-out nuclear war, an international agency called the DCA is on the hunt for human genetic deviants. Cris, and 18-year old local farm boy, gets captured by Baines, an American DCA agent, and is brought in for examination. He manages to escape captivity and certain death by seducing Baine’s fiancé, Anita.
Wanna know Cris’s secret, “deeve” power? He’s irresistible to human females.
Let me draw you a picture: Imagine a tall, strong, and silent "manly man" personified by Gary Cooper’s 1950s on-screen personae, whose figure resembles the neoclassical ideal of male beauty incarnated in the Apollo Belvedere. (Contrary to his marble twin, however, he's no doubt equipped with a fully functional and perfectly proportioned cock.) In uniting these two clit-teasing male archetypes, Cris is the hottest man on earth.
It gets better: He’s genetically designed to get you off.
The downside? You’ll never get a call back. Before the orgasm-induced brain haze wears off, he’s already bolting for the exit. And, while you’re sure to fantasize about him for years to come, he won’t remember you five minutes after he fucks you.
Cold? Maybe. But having no memory is a highly effective genetic adaptation for a being whose two sole functions are fucking and running.
For the literary-minded among you, stay tuned for my next post. I'll walk you through what women really think when they're reading sexually suggestive literature.
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