Billed--questionably--as another Day of the Jackal, this is much less of a story and relies instead on many special effects from the techno-styled world of circa 1984 when multinationals will engage in corporate war. In this case the terrorist scenario is conducted by a special task force called the Vikings. There's no telling what they will do: picking up Philip Russell and setting him down in a motel under the tutelage of ""sexual psychologist"" Michelle who can't replace his wife Julia--her funeral has been staged on video clips. And they've got lots of accessories--a vaginal spray which can easily become a plastic explosive, a graffiti bomb. Russell of course has no choice, or so it seems, except to take a stiff drink from the Computobar with seliktramatic controls-until the big bang you've been expecting as the Vikings go up the Marvo-Wall of a vast Mall to detonate a rival outfit. Instead of TM, you've got vibrator therapy where everything shakes before it goes off, no live characters--just one man with a conscience, and a lot of Simonizing to brighten up the ugliness of it all as you hurry along the highway, pull in at the next Holiday Inn, lay your head on the bedspread and expect no real surprises.