Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24946232-20140516235154

This is kind of a follow up to what happens after Kubrick's dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop worrying and Love the Bomb. (assuming that Strangeloves plan comes into effect and the doomsday device only goes off after he manages to put it into effect)

Down a concrete passage, below the toxic waste land, his tight leather shoes went click-clack. An automatic door whooshed open ahead of him.

Ah, 10:1, what a marvelous ratio. The mere thought of it caused his temple to twitch with anticipation. His mind drifted to his arrival at what had once been the great Land of Opportunity. He blessed Project Paperclip.

 The atmosphere Down Below reminded him of his final days in the Reich. He had been careful to hold his silence about those days. His mouth had remained shut and now he would be rewarded. Albeit not in a preferable environment, but this could be overlooked with the 10:1 ratio.

As he walked he whistled a Vera Lynn tune. He was in good spirits, in his head he went through the specimens he had at his disposal. He chuckled to think how different these where to the ones back in the Reich, the wretched specimen he and Josef would see to. He missed Josef; he would have liked it Down Below.

He came to the door of his quarters. On entering he moved straight to his suit jacket left draped over a chair and searched for his cigarette case. He liked to have one before and after. As he inhaled nonchalantly, his thoughts went back to his days of disability and the comfort nicotine had given him then. When the Allies stormed the bunker they had been awfully clumsy and left him paralyzed from the waist down. But this was only temporary: miraculously in those later days leading up to the detonation of the Doomsday Machine his mobility had been restored. God obviously wanted him Down Below.

 Many of doctor Merkwürdigliebe’s memories were linked to the inhalation of smoke; his mother, his father, his beloved Fuhrer. The Fuhrer’s frantic dragging on a cigarette before he went into isolation with Miss Braun was specifically poignant of late.

All these thoughts of the golden days gave him a marvelous idea. Yes, he thought, why not spruce things up a bit. He reached under his bed for a suitcase. It had been unopened for years and it took a while for the lock to yield. When it did Merkwürdigliebe looked down at his immaculate Schutzstaffel uniform. Hugo Boss had done a brilliant job; the sight of that attire always took his breath away. He carefully polished the Totenkopf with his cuff until it was gleaming.



<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">He slowly dressed himself, savoring the process with a feeling of euphoric nostalgia. When he looked in the mirror a childlike beam spread across his face.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">“Ah Herr Merkwürdigliebe,” Josef crooned. “You look wunderbar”.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">“Danke Josef,” Merkwürdigliebe breathed as he did up his top button “you look smart yourself, except for all that blood down your front.”

<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">He turned from the mirror to a vault leading off his quarters. The door was big, heavy and made of iron. He entered a password only he knew. All the men “Down Below” kept their possessions hidden. They rarely saw one another, and when they did they never met eyes or exchanged words. They especially avoided Merkwürdigliebe. He was the only man Down Below with a cheery disposition.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">The Door opened onto a descending iron staircase. Merkwürdigliebe made his habitual venture down into the darkness, the 10:1 ratio intoxicating him into a frenzied ecstasy.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">Shuffling could be heard in the darkness, this shuffling made Merkwürdigliebe’s heart flutter.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">He fumbled with a torch, turning it on to announce his arrival and to draw ten pairs of empty, light-deprived eyes into their master’s presence.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:115%; font-family:"CenturyGothic","sans-serif"">“Line up ladies” he called “line up for Doctor Strangelove”. <ac_metadata title="Stranger Love"> </ac_metadata>