Space Orgone

The blue klaxons sounded on the SS Voyeur and parents scrambled their children to robotic nannies before making their way to the sex chapel where a crowd was gathering under the orgone blue dome, voices calling out deviantions.

“Feetishists afoot!” “Leather and spandex devotees bunch here!” “Strokes for Masturbatin’ Voyeurs!” “Role-players (No geeks!)” “GILFS and DILFS for Golden Showers!”  “Yoo-hoo, Ass Pirates, to me ye hearties!” “Sadomaschos Untie!” “Let the Orgone Radiation Gathering Yark begin!”

The gathered in the sex chapel gravitated towards their favorite deviancy and tapped deep into their psyches for the primordial carnality that lay under the epidermis of civilization. Exterior wear was shed for the seal-slick juices of the flesh. Large eunuchs beat on great drums and small eunuchs stroked bass harps. Castrated midgets cavorted with bells in rhythm as the dome slid open its blue current to reveal the star-shattered inky black. To the beat flesh moved slowly in minds losing thought but for that of pleasure in the now. Large arms pummeled animal hide towards a booming crescendo, rail thin fingers a frenzy on throbbing strings, short legs punctuating each tingle with stamps. An ocean of bodies moved in great ciphered knots. A blue haze wafted from pituitaries, navels, the anal circuit, hissed from hammering lingams and squelching yonis,  to fill the dome with crackling blue energy. The receded sheath of the dome caught this smoke, absorbed it. Outside in the vacuum, the Reich Drive, pushed past the minimum threshold, buzzed, starting its intricate process.

The Reich Drive was formulated by the enigmatic and elusive Werner Schlagjob, thought by Reichian devotees as the reincarnation of the Father of Orgone himself. His treatise on Reich’s lost papers rocked the scientific community, enraged the oil and coal cartels, and shattered multiple political and religious ideologies. The Drive converted the energies from the accumulator to workable electrical energy, and this gave mankind an unprecedented freedom.

Culture on Earth changed drastically. Orgone accumulaters were cranked out by the thousands, the century long dependence on fossil fuels finally severed. Taboos were overturned and religions embraced the sex industry. Bar mitzvahs featured sex professionals to usher the recipient towards adulthood. The onset of menses were celebrated by long dormant pagan fertility rites, the events of which were fiercely guarded by its participants. Ancient hippies, bolstered by longevity technologies, stayed in their enclaves and said through shrouds of smoke, “We wanted free love but, man, even this is too far out for us, man.”

Each home was off the grid and completely self-dependent. A simpler, more pastoral life descended upon the peoples of the Earth, this virtually unlimited energy allowing them time to pursue their heart’s folly. Indeed, many found themselves elbow deep in the loam, tending gardens of sweet fruits, succulent vegetables, intoxicating and medicinal herbs, or herding abundant quantities of farm beasts on the asphalt of overgrown megacities. Rain soaked days and moon dappled nights were spent thrusting and moaning and grabbing yes don’t stop yes that yes under the blue sparks of orgone accumulators. The crime rate dwindled, confining itself to crimes of passion, monetary greed and theft becoming a thing of the past.

All was good.

Then Man’s eyes turned outward. Romantic notions of the stars had always existed in his heart from his moist beginnings in the primordial soup, and now the very possible idea of entering space seduced his sentiment. Chemical rockets brought orgone accumulators and massive arrays of Reich Drives into Earth orbit. There, ion engines and the Drive were wedded, held in conjunction by the accumulators. In theory, the energies of people, ramped up by an indeterminable factor by sexual activity, collected by the accumulators would be enough to propel the ship in the void.

The first sex ships were radioactive shielded tin cans piloted by expendable burn-outs outfitted with second rate equipment, cosmonautic training, and first rate experience in the sex industry. The Kármán line was littered with the frosted corpses of Man’s first efforts. The pioneers who managed to pass the moon in their cold ships caligulated under the red eye of Jove, fucked languidly awash in Neptune’s blue hue, their orgone accumulator flickering with cerulean sparks. These ships continued outward until their sensors stopped transmitting, the fates of the occupants lost forever. The third ship sent out, the SS One Night Stand, famously passed the Kuiper belt before cutting off.

Lessons were learned and mistakes mended. The amount of occupants per mass mattered and had to remain above a certain threshold, if there were to be enough energy to power the ship. Families became central in ship life, if these ships were to keep going. The first generation ship was an experiment that remained in Earth orbit for fifty years before it was deemed a success and sent on its way. Many signed up for the stars and crept across the inky black in these large titanium ships, knowing very well that home was where the heart went.

Exhausted and panting the people peeled themselves from their partners, bade them a good night and went home to their children as the SS Voyeur penetrated deeper into the cosmos.


2 responses to “Space Orgone

  1. What’s the ceiling limit on perversity? Hassan i Sabbah would say “Nothing is true, everything is permissible.”

    Experience as a musical phenomenon, being so that all scales are experienced, all notes experimented, all melodies tasted. Existing for the sake of existing in all possible forms within and without extenuating lists of parameters. A probability processor.

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