Chapter Four
Modern medicine is wonderful. I don't know how people used to put up with visits to a doctor for every little thing that went wrong. They even had to get permission before buying anything more complex than aspirin.
I straddled a straight-backed chair in the study while Rita applied a germicide and taped my ribs. Donna was beginning to show purple bruises all over her upper body. She stripped off her tattered top and let Rita rub some hemacylin over her back. I looked away when Rita began working on her breasts.
I stood up and bent over, sideways and as far back as I could. I didn't feel any grating or pain like I remembered from the time when I cracked one of my ribs falling off a horse.
“Now let's get the news,” Donna said, pulling on one of her brand-new tops. To my surprise, her new clothes came through the riot without a tear. When she plunged into the mob, she dropped her bundle, and no one bothered it.
“Go ahead, I'll be there in a minute,” I said.
Glancing from me to Rita, she shrugged and left.
“Is anything else wrong?” Rita looked at me with curious eyes.
“No. Come on.” I led her into our room and pulled open the bottom drawer of the bedside caddy. I picked up the little automatic nestled in its holster and slid it out. I scooped up the two extra clips lying beside it, too.
“Lee..."
“Don't argue with me about this, Rita. I'm not going anyplace anymore unless I'm armed, except bed. And I want you to move in here, right away, so I can be sure you're safe."
It took me at least a half hour to stop trembling after the mob dispersed. I was still scared, and I guess it showed on my face.
“Okay, maybe you're right."
I was surprised at how quickly she agreed, but relieved, too.
“But be careful with that thing.” Rita didn't like guns. She didn't believe in the death penalty, either, but then she had never lived anywhere but in safe middle-class neighborhoods. Same thing for Donna, although back when she was Don I'd taught her to shoot a gun and she'd gotten a license. But generally, as a man, Don was a quiet guy. He was the one you loved to hate in all your classes, the A student who lived at the library and preferred keeping his nose in his math books to going out and carousing. Now that she was a woman, I couldn't understand how she had gathered the courage to plunge into that boiling mob while I was still stupefied with fear.
“I'll be careful.” I picked out the lightest windbreaker I owned from the closet and shoved the automatic in one side pocket and the spare clips in the other. Secretly, I hoped I could make myself use it if I had to.
When we returned to the great room, Donna had both screens on. Russell still hadn't come home. I wondered if he was learning anything new about the gates. Surely someone was, somewhere, but if so, neither the networks nor the webs were telling us about it. There was plenty of other news, though.
All over the world, the sick, the elderly, and a surprising number of people who weren't happy with their present sex were clamoring to enter the gates, while at the same time governments were pleading for them to wait until more was known about the aftereffects. Their admonitions fell on deaf ears. Wherever the government tried to control access, mobs swarmed over the guards and swept them aside.
While some were struggling to get to the gates, a groundswell of religious opposition was building, especially in America. We saw throngs of protesters waving signs and shouting out slogans. They yelled that the sex gates were an abomination, and accused those who entered with making a pact with the devil.
There were riots and looting in many of the larger cities, including Old Houston. The Fourth Worlders weren't protesting anything. Instead, they were using the massive disorganization caused by the gates as an excuse to steal and burn, and while the police and military were busy, to kill. We saw one broadcast of a videotape that showed a carload of upper-class businessmen who made the mistake of driving into a Fourth World ghetto. They were pulled from their vehicle and slaughtered by an angry mob.
On one level I could understand the Fourth Worlders’ resentment. Most of them were old enough to remember when the state and federal governments still supported the poorer classes. They were outraged that the well had finally run dry. Government had run out of the money needed to keep the growing lower class on the public dole.
But that's no excuse for looting or killing. Sure, the standards are stringent, but if a person is truly unable to work, they can still get a stipend from Washington, enough to keep food in their bellies. And the public hospices will take in anyone so ill that over-the-counter drugs don't help.
The elderly, those over seventy, can still draw Social Security, too, even if the amount isn't what it used to be. On one of the older networks, two commentators were discussing that and other subjects. I couldn't tell whether they were real or graphies. Probably they were actual people; I doubted that many graphics programmers were on the job at the moment. At any rate, they were finding problems everywhere. One of them was pointing to a chart.
“...obvious that if enough of the elderly opt to change their sex and become young again, their Social Security checks will have to be cut off; otherwise the government will run out of money soon. Also..."
“...and think about this: the world is already under tremendous population pressure. Now the elderly can choose to stay with us in new bodies. And how can we possibly feed everyone if these new young men and women decide to have babies?"
“...enough jobs to support them all. Unemployment already..."
They blabbed on and on. Everyone was alarmed by the changes the gates were bringing, but there was no way to control them. There were simply too many, all over the world.
If the social order was upset in a liberal country like America, you can imagine what was happening elsewhere. In a broadcast from a conservative Middle Eastern country, we saw crowds of veiled women in traditional black chadors trying to break through to a gate. A ring of angry men held them back. While we watched, the number of women swelled. A few minutes later, they swarmed over the guards and surged up to the gate. In the crush, some were pushed into the gate and blinked out of existence. The camera moved to the other side of the gate and we saw naked men bursting into view like commuters scrambling out of a levitrain. They stumbled, fell, got up and fled in all directions, chased by shouting men waving sticks.
Rita cheered. “Good for them! I hope they get away. They can infiltrate the ranks of those fanatical fundamentalists and turn their world upside down. Maybe they'll even push some Arab men through a gate and then force them into one of those damn black tents. See how they like it!"
I hadn't realized Rita was a feminist. Or maybe she wasn't. I wondered how I would feel if I had to wear those hot black clothes and veil and be sequestered away from everything important. I couldn't imagine it, but it did make me think of one thing the commentators hadn't touched on. Because men and women are treated equally in America, we tend think that the same must be true in the rest of the world. It doesn't make any difference how many times you see evidence to the contrary or whether you're a man or a woman. Like racial prejudice, you can't understand it until you are on the receiving end. I thought Rita's outburst was a spontaneous reaction to the scene we'd watched, plus her own knowledge of the terrible way Muslim religious fanatics treated females. But I was wrong. I soon heard another web report. Some bright webster had gathered enough statistics to show that a lot of middle-aged women were choosing to go through the gates, even here.
“Why do you think that's happening?” I asked Rita.
“If you don't know, I can't tell you."
“Why not?"
“You wouldn't understand. Let it go for now."
I shut up, but I didn't stop thinking about it. Were there that many women who didn't like being female? Or was there some other reason?
I got up and rummaged in the cooler, looking for something simple to munch on before bedtime. There wasn't much there; a few days of staying glued to the screen had depleted supplies.
“I'm going to the store to get us something to eat. Anyone else want to tag along?"
“I'll go.” Donna stood up.
I had expected Rita to offer to go with me. Donna's offer was a surprise. I started to tell her I could manage, but then I saw a warning look in Rita's eyes. I was supposed to be treating Donna like an old girlfriend.
“Okay, thanks, Donna.” I pulled out my automatic and chambered a round, then clicked on the safety and put it back in my pocket. Donna raised an eyebrow.
I shrugged. “Just a precaution."
“Bring back some more wine,” Rita called as we walked out the door. She winked at Donna, making Donna blush. Some secret female signal, no doubt. I closed the door and clicked on the security system.
The streets were deserted, but it was getting late and they might have been anyway, gates or no gates Fortunately, it wasn't far to the neighborhood Quickshop. During the last energy crisis, neighborhood stores had made a comeback.
We walked along side by side. I tried to stay a little in front so I wouldn't have to watch Donna's breasts bounce with each step.
“Lee, I want to thank you for coming to my rescue when I tried to help that poor girl back at the gate,” Donna said.
“No problem. But why did you try? You might have been really hurt."
“It was an impulse, but I'd do it again if I had to."
“Why?"
“Sympathy, I guess."
“You didn't even know her."
“Yeah, but it seemed like she was a sister of sorts. You know?"
“Oh. Sure.” Made sense. They'd both experienced the change.
“I'm not sure you do.” Donna turned her head to stare at me. “You can't understand what it's like to have a man's mind in a woman's body. I can barely cope myself.” She hesitated, twisting her hands together before continuing. “For instance, you're avoiding my eyes. Do you think I'm going to come on to you?"
Was that what had been making me so uneasy around her? I didn't think so. It was just ... oh, hell, I didn't know what it was, but certainly not that.
Donna saw my troubled expression. “Relax, Lee. I may have a woman's body, but I still have a man's mind. You know?"
“But Russell! Last night, after Rita and I went to bed, I heard...” My big mouth again.
Suddenly, Donna blushed. “What did you hear? No, don't answer that.” She looked away and we walked in silence for about a block, then she spoke again. “I guess you heard me cry out in surprise. Russell and I were talking about what sex might be like as a woman and I let him touch my nipples. I had no idea the sensation would be so intense. But that's as far as we went."
Now it was my turn to squirm. “You mean you and Russell are ... Never mind. None of my business.” I wasn't used to talking to a strange woman about sex. I felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Donna forced out a laugh, but there was no humor in her eyes. “It's weird having the mind of a man and the desires of a female body, I'll tell you that much. I let curiosity get the best of me, probably because I had so much wine last night."
“I'm surprised Russell went along. I didn't know he was inclined that way."
“He's not—not interested in other men, that is. I do have a beautiful female body, after all.” She smiled but it was a painful smile. “I guess you could say he only wanted me for my body. He was trying to help me get used to being a woman, then what with all that wine we sort of got carried away. Besides, it was a scientific thing to do—or so we thought at the time."
“Be damned.” That was all I could think of to say, but I couldn't help wondering what it had been like. The sensation of feeling your nipples touched for the first time must be unforgettable. A part of me almost envied Don the experience he was having. The rest of me was damn glad he was the one who had rushed into the gate first.
Donna continued on, as if she were still my old male friend. “The longer I stay in this female body, the more sexual desires are surfacing. I can almost feel the hormones working on my mind, making me want to do things I never imagined. And I am beginning to suspect that sex is very different for a woman than for a man. When I was a man, I never thought about that."
I recalled my sexual encounters with Rita. Sure, I noticed when she had an orgasm, or when she was excited and how and where she liked to be touched and stroked, but it was all like feedback while playing at a virtual arcade. You relate almost entirely to the sensations you're feeling and never consider how the game characters might feel while getting excited or hurt or mad. Of course, the characters aren't real, but that's my point. Have you ever wondered what your partner in a virtual sex scene is experiencing? Of course not. You're too involved with your own sensations. I wondered if women felt the same way. Something else came to mind. I didn't know exactly how to say it.
“Uh, Donna do you think you'll ever try to have sex all the way, you know?"
I stole a glance sideways at Donna's face. She was frowning.
“Do you mean will I ever try sleeping with a man? Christ, Lee, I don't know. Right now I can't imagine wanting to do it with a man, but I haven't been a woman very long. And if I don't want to stay celibate for the rest of my life, what choice will I have? Those damn gates are only one-way, for now, anyway. So ask me again in a few months."
I was glad to hear that she wasn't considering the idea right now. It made me feel a whole lot better.
* * * *
The liquor store was still open, and we stocked up on munchies. We decided to wait until daylight to shop for more substantial food. The clerk kept giving Donna the eye while we waited for my phone to connect with the store's computer. It made me wonder if he were gay until I came back to earth. Ordinarily, it should have taken only a few seconds for my phone to mesh with his computer but minutes passed before it finally confirmed that I was solvent.
“It's been slow all evening.” The clerk scanned the length of Donna's figure.
Donna smiled. “No problem."
We picked up our packages and left. I could feel the clerk watching Donna as we walked out the door. Once outside and out of hearing, she laughed, her voice shaky. “That's going to take some getting used to. I felt like a piece of meat hanging on a rack—a naked piece of meat."
I wanted to go back and punch that clerk. He had no business staring at her like that.
* * * *
We got back to the house in time to learn another interesting fact about the gates. While Rita was cracking a bottle of Texas Valley, a webporter broke away from the crowds around the Vatican. They were larger than ever and still waiting on the pope to tell them what to think.
“...definitely confirmed. Pregnant women can enter the sex gates and walk out as a man with no problem. The fetus, however, is lost in the change. This presents an interesting point. How many desperate women all over the world will enter the gates in order to terminate an unwanted pregnancy? Will the cost of becoming a male deter them? Now stand by for a statement from the pope."
“If I were destitute, it wouldn't deter me.” Rita sounded certain.
“Do you really mean that?” Curiosity is my middle name.
Rita's face was set in grim lines. “I certainly do. You would, too, if you'd worked at a hospice like I once did and saw those poor girls coming in with nothing more than skin and bones holding them together. And the poor babies. We couldn't afford to even try to save most of them, not that it would do any good. Most of them are addicted to greenweed when they're born."
I knew about that. Greenweed was the drug of choice for our Fourth Worlders. It was cheap and not that addictive for adults. For them, it had little side effect other than hyperactivity during the euphoria. Children were another case. Up until puberty, the weed was highly addictive and passed easily through the placental barrier during pregnancy. Once addicted, kids became lethargic and even suffered brain damage. After a while, they turned into vegetables without even the will to live.
* * * *
We stayed up as late as we could, hoping that one of the webs or nets would come on with an explanation of who or what was responsible for the gates, but none ever did. Oh, a few of the wilder webs claimed exclusive, definite proof that God, the Devil or aliens were behind the gates.
The president came on and announced that the crisis was under control, and everyone should to go back to work the next day. I wondered if that applied to school. If so, Donna would have an afternoon in-person class to attend while Rita and I could plug in from home. I doubted Donna would go; I didn't think she was ready yet to face the world as a woman.
At last we were tired enough to go to bed. Rita and I showered together and took the opportunity to examine each other's bruises. They were fading, and when I washed off the bandage, I saw that the gash on my ribcage was almost healed.
I hadn't shaved the previous morning. I picked up a beard cloth and wiped my whiskers off. Rita doesn't like bristles.
“Any of it left?"
I rinsed the cloth out and passed it to her. She wiped her legs and under her arms and tossed the used cloth into the compost chute.
As worn out as I was, I still couldn't sleep once we were in bed. I kept thinking about Donna and Russell experimenting together the other night. I wondered what Rita knew about it. She had already been asleep when I heard that cry the night before. I decided to ask her in a roundabout way.
“Have you noticed that Donna seems to be adapting pretty well, considering her circumstances?"
Rita shifted her body closer to me. “Why shouldn't she be?"
“Well, considering that she was a man only a day or two ago, and the way she acted at first, I wouldn't have expected it."
“It's not a crime to be a woman. Or the worse thing that can happen to you, either."
“I didn't say that."
“You were acting like it, at first. But you're doing better.” She reached over and patted my tummy.
“Russell seems to be accepting the change in Donna without any trouble."
Rita sat up in bed. I watched her breasts jiggle in the dim light as she adjusted her position. “Lee, sometimes I think you're retarded. Are you trying to ask me whether I'm aware that Donna and Russell might decide to have sex with each other?"
“It was on my mind,” I admitted.
“Don't tell me you're bothered by it. I know better.” There was no arguing with that. She knew I'd tried a few kinky things myself when it came to sex. Like most people, I'd let the urge to experience a new sexual sensation overcome my normally conservative views. A few months ago we'd had a house party, and she and I and a female guest had wound up in bed together. I thought the girl was more interested in Rita than me, but I enjoyed it nevertheless. I still remembered how excited I got while watching the other woman kiss and fondle Rita. Unfortunately, I drank too much that night and my other recollections were vague. Rita told me about it though. According to her, she tried it because she wanted the experience, at least once, but she admitted to enjoying it.
“I'm not bothered. I'm curious, that's all.” She always seems to be one step ahead of me.
“Well, put your curiosity to bed. I'm sleepy.” She leaned down to kiss me, then stretched out and snuggled her back up against me. I slid my hand across her waist and up to cup her soft, warm breast. Sleep came easily after that.
Chapter Five
Rita was already up when I finally woke the next morning. I checked the time and saw that it was after nine, way past the time I'm usually up and around.
I threw off the covers and hurried to the bathroom. All I really needed was a piss and some listerpaste for my teeth. I grabbed a package, opened it and bit down. My gums tingled as it bubbled away the overnight accumulation of gook. While it was working, I ran a brush through my abominable hair. I hate the ugly rust color of my hair, so I keep it cut short. Some deodorant, a quick rinse to wash away the listerpaste, and I was done.
I saw the laundry was piling up. I threw on my last pair of clean jeans (my dress-up pair with the red piping) and pulled on a square-cut jean jirt with rolled-up sleeves and side pockets. I snapped the two bottom closures so my gun wouldn't drag the pocket down so obviously. I transferred it and the clips to the jirt, clipped on my phone and hurried out to the great room, ready for breakfast. I felt as hungry as a hyperactive shrew.
Russell was back, and bless his soul, he had stopped by McDonald's on the way and bought breakfast. He was already cramming sausage and biscuits into his mouth like some Fourth World starvation victim.
“Russell! What's going on?” I was excited to see him, even if his wrinkled clothes, blonde stubble and tangled hair did make him look like a homeless drunk after a three-day binge.
“Mmph,” he answered around a mouthful of biscuit and sausage. He swallowed it whole, then spat out some words. “Lots. Let's eat first, and I'll tell you."
I bent over to kiss Rita and sat down on the carpet. I think some refugee family must have owned the house before I rented it. The table only has one setting, low to the floor, and you have to sit on the carpet to eat.
I dug in. Russell had splurged on real pork sausage rather than the usual wheat and soybean synthetic. He must have been starving.
Rita and Donna were taking it slower, being careful not to dribble on their clothes. Rita was the only one in street dress. She was wearing red slacks and a white short-sleeved silkskin blouse. Not many women can get away with silkskin garments, especially on top. The stuff is flimsy and clings to the skin. It's not quite transparent, but with every curve revealed it's hard to tell the difference. Only nubile young women and older women who had visited a surgeon first wore it. Any sag or abnormality was instantly noticeable. Rita liked showing off those firm breasts I loved.
Donna was wearing something she bought the day before, a shimmering, translucent blue wrap. It clung to her curves, at least the ones I could see. I wondered how she felt wearing sexy clothes. I love the sensuous feel of a woman's body beneath satin or silkskin; but I can't imagine wearing it. My friend was on a strange journey.
Russell polished off the last biscuit, then covered his mouth and yawned. “Wow, I think I could sleep til doomsday."
“Not yet you can't,” I said. “I want to hear what you've been doing first."
“Nothing as exciting as what you guys have been up to.” Evidently, the girls had already told him about getting caught up in the riot at the campus gate. He glanced over at Donna and smiled. “Okay, if someone will make a pot of coffee, I'll fill you in. Not that I know much."
By the time we cleared off the table, the coffee was ready.
Russell took a sip of his. “Gah. I've drank too much of this stuff. It's starting to taste like scorched cabbage."
“That's your problem. Come on, give,” I said.
He looked pensive. “I might start over and go for a doctorate in electronics instead of physics."
“Why do you say that?” Rita asked.
“Because I've found out that I don't know a damn thing about physics. Anything I thought I knew has turned out to be wrong."
“In what way?” I asked.
“For one thing, the gates appeared instantaneously, all over the world, at exactly the same time. We can't slow the pics down enough to show a bit of difference."
“Another thing—there's obviously not enough room inside to hold all the people going in. And they come out the other side at the exact moment they go in, as near as we can tell. By the way, most of this information came in over the web. We haven't been doing anything at the lab yet other than trying to correlate and organize the data. What we are postulating is that the inside of the gates must be folded into some sort of hyperspace where the sex changes and medical cures take place. Time must move at a different rate there, too."
“Why do you think that?"
He looked pained. “Sorry. It's a theory. For all I know Santa Claus may be whisking them to the North Pole and letting his elves do the work. So far, we think the gates are indestructible, at least by any means we know of. Nothing hurts them. No one has even managed to get a sample of the material. Nothing will penetrate the surface, not even tungsten drill bits."
“Can't you try something else, like x-ray diffraction?"
“We've tried everything. That's what's so frustrating. We can't measure anything."
“Nothing?"
“Nothing. They don't reflect or emit any kind of radiation."
I was no scientist, but even I knew better than that. “They must reflect light. We can see them."
“They don't reflect anything! Not radar, not light waves, not sonar, not shortwave or anything else that's been tried. They don't emit anything, either."
“That's impossible.” I realized I was echoing Russell's exact words when we first saw the gate.
“Yeah, so is the square root of minus one."
“They must be solid, though,” Donna commented. “I saw a club bounce off when we got into the riot."
“Yup, as solid as granite, and as insubstantial as a rainbow. More. We know what causes a rainbow."
I thought it over. “What you're telling us then is that we're imagining them?"
“I'll guarantee you we're not,” Donna said. “Look at me."
Russell turned and gave her a long stare, not trying to avoid the obvious. He wasn't having any problem accepting her as a woman. “Yeah, and guess what? Nothing, and I mean nothing, can enter the gate except humans and whatever they're wearing or carrying at the time, and all that comes out is a naked person. Scientists are going crazy. The best idea we've come up with so far is that aliens sent the gates here. If that's true, we must seem like dumb animals to them. But that answer only raises more problems."
“Has anyone succeeded in communicating with the gates?” Rita asked. “The government keeps talking about it."
Russell shrugged, his eyes tired. “How can you communicate when there's no spectrum known to man that affects them? Point a radar, radio or sound wave at them and it's like they're not even there."
“How about telepathy?” Rita believed in it; I didn't.
“You're welcome to try. Others already have. No results; not unless you believe the tabwebs.” His grin turned into another yawn. “Look, guys, that's all I can tell you. I'm going to get some sleep."
He drained the last of his coffee, grimaced at the taste and headed off to his room. He paused at the door and turned around. “Oh, I almost forgot. There's one more thing: the sats have pieced together pictures of all the landmass on earth now. They've counted almost a million of the damn things."
That didn't make sense. “How did the satellites manage to take pictures if the gates don't reflect light?"
“You tell me. I know lots of people who would be interested in your explanation.” Russell closed the door behind him.
I poured another cup of coffee and sat down by Rita, admiring the way the silkskin blouse clung to her breasts. Donna turned on the screen. I watched flames rising from the Fourth World section of a large city. I couldn't tell where it was, and the graphie doing the commentary didn't say.
“These gates are still causing riots everywhere,” Rita said.
I nodded at the screen. “Maybe we should stay inside. People are freaking out all over the place."
“Someone has to go shopping."
I leered at her silkskin blouse. “If you go out looking like that, someone is going to be shopping for you."
“They couldn't afford me.” But she smiled at the compliment.
“Still, I don't think...” My phone spoke to me.
“Lee, are you there?” I recognized Dad's voice.
“Here, Pop.” I suddenly realized that I should have called and let the folks know we were okay. They must have been worried.
“I think you had better come home.” Dad sounded upset. I wondered if some webporter had caught a shot of one of us during the fighting around the campus gate.
“We're all fine here. No problems."
“I'm glad to hear it. We've got problems here, though. Please, son, come on up, for a day or so, anyway."
“Are you hurt? Or sick? Is Mom okay?” I felt my heartbeat speed up. It could be illness, maybe Dad's heart acting up again. I couldn't imagine any other sort of problem in Ruston. The worst thing that ever happened there was a losing football season.
“No, we're both fine."
“Then what's wrong?” It wasn't like him to be so secretive.
“I'd rather wait until you get here to explain. Trust me, it's important."
When Dad said something was important, I had to believe him. Normally, it would take an earthquake to upset him.
“Okay, give me a couple of hours.” It was only an hour trip up there, but I had promised Rita already that I would help her move the rest of her stuff over. Dad knew by my tone that I had something else important to do too.
“Fine. Drive careful.” He always said that.
Rita had been listening. “Do you want me to go with you?"
I considered the idea. She'd gone home with me a few times, but this sounded like a strictly family get-together. On the other hand, I didn't want to leave her unprotected when there were riots taking place in Old Houston, a mere half hour south of us. Before I could make up my mind, she noticed my hesitation.
“Never mind. It sounds like a family problem of some sort. As soon as we get my stuff moved, you go on up alone."
“No!” My voice sounded sharp.
“Don't worry, I'll be careful."
“I don't care. There's too many nuts running around right now."
“Jackson Lee Stuart, don't argue with me. I'm not going to be alone here. And Russell didn't mention seeing any trouble on the way home."
That was true, but that didn't mean the craziers had all become model citizens either. After a moment's thought, I pulled my pistol out of my pocket. “All right, but only if you carry this. And don't hesitate to use it if you have to.” Knowing she had protection would make me feel better. I already knew I wasn't going to change her mind—not when she calls me by my full name.
Rita made a face but took it. She thought the country would be better off if there weren't so many licensed gun owners. I disagreed. She hadn't read as much history as I had. Back before the Supreme Court finally came down solidly in favor of the twenty-ninth amendment, a person couldn't even take a stroll in a park without risking life and limb. Well, a lot places you still couldn't, but at least it's now legal to fight back.
The events of the day before had opened her mind. I showed her how to load and unload the gun and where the safety was located. She found a red jirt to go with her pants and stuck it in the pocket.
As expected, it only took us an hour or two to move her clothes and other belongings over to my house. Watching her hips sway as she moved around our bedroom settling in, I wanted very much to stay home. But the tension in Dad's voice kept coming back to haunt me.
“Don't go out alone,” I warned before I left. I was five miles away on the NAFTA highway before I remembered that Donna knew how to handle a firearm and would be less reluctant to use it if the need arose. After all, she still thought like a man. I should have given it to her instead and insisted that they only go out together.
The NAFTA highway runs along old US 59. Ordinarily it is packed with commuters in the morning, coming in from the country to workplaces in North and Old Houston, but today traffic was sparse, as if it were the Sunday afternoon of a Super Bowl. The highway engineers were still trying to perfect the much ballyhooed auto-control system; I had to use manual control. I plugged my phone in to let it charge and hear the news about the gates; I left the screen off, like I always do since the time I almost ran off the road while watching the beach patrol attempting to arrest a bevy of topless bathers on the family beach at Galveston.
Soon I heard a report from Los Angeles South. One of the juvenile gangs there had captured a half-dozen members of an opposing gang and decided it would be fun to force them through a gate and turn them into girls. Three of their prisoners made the change; the other three never came out. The gang lord and his two top henchmen had been arrested and charged with murder. I wondered how that would work with no bodies to present as proof of death. But the interesting part, the announcer said, was that preliminary statistics revealed some types of criminals (rapists, murderers, pedophiles, enforcers, etc.) had only about a fifty percent chance of making it through a gate.
I wondered if that was why some supposedly normal people never came out of the gates. Rita told me once that studies show the threat of punishment is the only thing stopping better than ten percent of the population from violent and/or sexual crimes. Either that, or some of those entering the gates were criminals who hadn't been caught yet.
There was some other news. Another war was breaking out in Africa. There was always a war going on somewhere on that ravaged continent. I couldn't figure out why; there wasn't that much there left to fight over, except the chromium mines. We still had troops guarding those.
Our armed forces had been placed on alert and some National Guard units had been called up (not because of Africa; they were needed to keep order in the cities here). Despite the president's request, most people still weren't returning to work. Martial law might be declared. The stock markets were down across the board with the exception of companies specializing in the teenage and youth markets. They were up and still climbing.
I was concentrating on the news so hard that I almost missed my exit. It's easy to do when you're driving an electrobile. They are so silent that your mind tends to wander.
Grandpa's old house was three or four miles past Ruston, going east after the turnoff. As I drove over the ramp, I could see downtown Ruston, a few old buildings clustered together, with others thinning away to homes within a few hundred yards. The elementary school was the largest building in town. From above, I could see the glittering arch of a gate sitting in the middle of the ball field. Two patrol cars were parked nearby. They were the sum total of Ruston law enforcement vehicles, if you didn't count the county sheriff. A few people were standing around the gate, not doing anything except staring.
I was surprised to see Derek's car in the driveway. The last time I saw him was Thanksgiving of the year before, the third anniversary of his announcement that he was a transsexual, a female trapped in a male body. Other than that he had only been home for Christmas the last two years, and I hadn't had much to say to him on either occasion.
Mom met me at the door with a hug; she must have seen me drive up. I could hear Derek and Dad talking in the den, right off the entry hall.
She looked worried. “You go on in, Lee. Maybe you can talk him out of it."
“Talk who out of what?"
“Your brother. He came home to tell us he intends to go through the gate."
So that was it. I tried to imagine having a son, then being told he was a transsexual, then having him turn into a female. I couldn't do it. No wonder Dad had sounded upset.
“Hello, Lee.” Derek got to his feet as I came in. I shook his hand, then dropped it to give Dad a hug.
Derek sat back down. He was taller and more muscular than me and had Dad's blonde good looks rather than taking after Mom like I do. I took a seat across the den from him, next to Dad. I couldn't help but wonder what he would look like as a woman; the thought made me shudder.
“I heard what Mom told you. You're not going to talk me out of it, so save the effort."
“Lee, tell him how dangerous it is.” Dad looked upset.
Was it? Derek was young and healthy and didn't have any criminal tendencies. But I had to help my parents. “Some people have gone in and not come out,” I warned.
Dad nodded. “That's my point. “Besides, no one knows what the long-term effects might be. What if something worse happened than...” Dad couldn't finish the sentence. He would be losing his firstborn son. The woman who came out would be a stranger. I didn't like the idea either, although Derek and I were already strangers.
“What could be worse than being a woman trapped in a male body?” Derek folded his arms across his chest, his face set in stubborn lines.
“You're not a woman!” Dad shouted.
“In my head I am."
“Son, please don't. At least wait a while until we know more about those things."
“What happens if they disappear as quickly as they showed up? I'll miss my chance. I'll be back to facing years of surgery and hormones."
Dad got out his old pipe and lit it. He had quit several years ago. I could imagine what the tobacco must taste like by this time. “Listen, your mother and I accepted it when you first told us you were a transsexual. We love you anyway."
“Anyway. See, you haven't really accepted it. Neither has Lee.” He looked over at me. I couldn't argue. I was struggling with Don's change, and he had been normal to begin with. I turned my eyes away from Derek's accusing gaze. How would I feel if I were forced into a woman's body, to live a lifetime there? Would I have turned out as well as Derek had? Aside from his sexual identity problems, he was a good brother. He was gentle, soft-spoken and earned a good living. I thought of the times when I was growing up that he had helped me with my problems.
I forced myself to look at him. His face mirrored his desperation. How would he act if he were free to express the feminine nature he felt was his true self? I didn't know, couldn't know. I was more concerned about Mom and Dad. Both of them were frantic with worry, the way they'd been when Derek was drafted during the Mexican war.
Derek got to his feet. “It's no use arguing. I'm going now, while the gates are still here."
“Please wait, Son. I'll go with you.” That was Mom. She had been standing by the entrance to the den, listening to us.
I saw Dad's face fall. He knew he was defeated. “All right, Son, if you think you have to, I'll go, too. Lee?"
We all left together. Mom picked up one of her old wraparounds as we left.
* * * *
The Ruston gate looked like a twin of the one on campus and the others on the news. The only difference was that I knew the few people standing around it.
Mom and Dad avoided the eyes of their friends. Their rigid faces showed they weren't in a mood to visit. I nodded to a fellow I had known in high school, then was sorry I had when he smirked at Derek.
Derek ignored everyone. His shining eyes were fixed on the gate. He strode forward, head high, and emerged at once from the other side, no longer male. I felt a stab of horror as I looked at my brother's nude female body and turned away. When I turned back, Mom was draping him with the wrap she'd brought along. I saw that his blonde hair was longer, and he was shorter. He looked like a small, attractive young woman. I shivered.
Derek and I each left Ruston that afternoon in our own cars. There hadn't been much to say after she came out of the gate; everything after that was anticlimactic.
Dad and Mom seemed smaller and older as they stood together and waved good-bye. I wondered how many other families in America were going through the same thing.
Chapter Six
I noticed that there was more traffic on the way home. Even with a world-shaking event like the gates, people have to shop, run errands, or go back to work. I kept the news on.
I caught the tail end of the major event of the day. The pope had spoken in Rome. He told the masses that after days of praying for guidance, God told him that the gates were manifestations of Satan, brought to earth to tempt the faithful into living beyond their allotted lifespan and in a state not ordained by God. By this, the announcer explained, the pope meant it was sinful to change from the sex God chose for you at the moment you were conceived. The pope announced that anyone willfully entering a gate would be automatically excommunicated.
Some of the more liberal cardinals and priests were protesting the pope's decree. I doubted that it would make much difference in America. Catholics here usually go their own way regardless of orders from the Vatican. Besides, Catholicism isn't much of a social force anymore, though it is still one of the largest religious denominations. Most American Catholics go through the motions, but do what they want.
The Catholics weren't the only ones dealing with the religious implications of the gates, though. The Methodists were still praying and assuring their flocks that God would soon reveal the purpose of the gates. The Baptists were split, some accepting; some calling them abominations. And as usual, the web evangelists were calling down God's wrath on the sinful and asking for even more donations so that they could remain on the webworks and bring the very latest word of God concerning the gates to the faithful.
It always surprises me what violent emotions religious convictions can evoke. Confrontations, demonstrations, fighting and even murder by the pro and anti-abortionists have gone on as far back as I can remember and they are still going on; in fact, the violence would probably get worse now that it was known pregnant women who go through emerge as baby-free men.
The possibilities interested me enough that I began to think about writing an article on the gates. The webs were bound to be receptive to the subject for a long time to come, and there were always newspapers and magazines. After getting my second degree in journalism I had had some small success with a few science articles (mostly of the Sunday supplement variety) and had sold a few short stories.
I switched off the news and began creating a file on the subject of the gates, with subcategories for each of the ideas I wanted to write about. Within a few minutes I had to back up and rearrange the data in my phone; ideas were coming so thick and fast I couldn't talk fast enough to keep up. By the time I pulled into our driveway, my enthusiasm was running wild. Parking the car, I rushed inside, eager to share my newfound calling with Rita.
Donna and Russell were locked together in an embrace on the small lounger. Donna's toga was around her waist, and Russell was caressing her bare breasts while they kissed.
I stopped, shocked. They hadn't noticed me. As I watched, Russell moved his hand to Donna's waist and began sliding her toga down over her hips. They broke the kiss and Donna shifted, intending to help Russell finish undressing her. But when she moved, she saw me standing there.
“Oh!” I saw that her face was flushed with sexual heat.
Russell took his hands off Donna's body and turned around. “Lee! We didn't hear you come in.” He didn't seem to be embarrassed at all. If I knew him, he probably viewed it as an interesting experiment.
I was more worried about what was going through Donna's mind. I'd thought his male mind in a female body would reject sex with another man, but it was beginning to look like the female sexual needs of that body were stronger than his earlier conditioning. I guess I couldn't blame her. If she tried to find a woman lover, her sexual options would be limited. And I couldn't expect her to live a celibate life. Still, Don and Russell? Maybe the sex gate had affected more than his body.
While these thoughts flashed through my mind, Donna yanked her toga up over her breasts. “Don't look so stupefied, Lee. What am I supposed to do? Stop feeling anything sexual for the rest of my life?"
“No, of course not.” I didn't want to tell her what I was thinking. I'd caught quite a view of her breasts just before she yanked up the toga. I turned away to hide my erection.
What would Rita think if she knew? Probably it would amuse her; one of the advanced psych courses she was taking this semester was on the male sexual response.
“Is anyone else home?” I asked.
“Rita took my car a while ago to get some groceries. She should be back any time now,” Russell said.
Three hours later, she still hadn't returned.
* * * *
“I'm getting worried.” I was pacing around the living room.. Why had they let her go out by herself? No, why hadn't I taken her with me?
Russell took a logical approach. He turned to Donna. “Did she say where else she might go besides the grocery store?"
“Oh, hell, I remember now. She said she might stop by campus and see if anything new was happening at the gate. I'm sorry, Lee. It slipped my mind until Russell mentioned it."
“You stay here. Come on, Lee, let's go.” Russell always could think faster than me.
We hurried outside, zapping the security system on behind us. I ran for my car and pawed in the glove compartment for my spare gun. We were rolling before I realized I should have brought the rifle from my room. Russell had never applied for a license, not that it mattered much in Texas. He was never interested in carrying.
As we neared the gate, it became clear that yet another confrontation was going on. The college gate seemed to be a special focal point for demonstrators. The police were clearly overwhelmed by this latest struggle. Rita should have known better than to return here, but with her sheltered upbringing, she wasn't used to violence, or the idea of danger.
The whole area around the gate was in chaos. We had to park the car and run the last block or so to get there. At first sight, I thought it was some Fourth Worlders from Old Houston causing all the commotion around the gate, but it was the way they were dressed in leather and silkskin, which confused me. A small group of radicals were causing the trouble. They were fighting with some conservatives and several people were stretched unconscious on the grass. Others had split lips or bloody heads. Only one or two conservatives were still on their feet, trying to stop the radicals from reaching the gate.
There's no telling what rads will do when they decide to cause trouble. They are devotees of the new braindrug. It may put you in a state of bliss, but it also lowers your inhibitions to the level of a rabid dog.
One of the rads was laughing like a braying donkey. He'd captured one of the spectators—a girl—and was forcing her toward the gate. The girl's face was twisted with terror.
Russell swore and ran toward them. I froze in shock. Was that Rita?
Russell hit the man from the side. He fell away from the gate, dragging the girl down with him. She screamed. It was Rita! I knew that scream, even though her face was hidden from view.
I didn't even think about the gun I was carrying. I ran toward Rita, who was struggling to get away. The rad pushed her face into the grass and kicked out at Russell's legs. He went down. I chopped at the rad's head but missed. Someone shoved me from behind, and I went down. I struggled back up to my knees just in time to take a boot in the belly that doubled me up, gasping for breath.
“Throw them in, too!"
Hands clawed at my back. I clutched my gut and tried to suck in some air. My fingers touched the hard contours of the pistol in my pocket. I grabbed the butt as rough hands yanked me upright by my jirt collar. Russell went down again. I thumbed the safety off and fired twice at two rads who were kicking him in the ribs and head. Both went down.
For once, my slight stature worked to my advantage. I'm slender, but I work out. I bent forward and twisted violently sideways, breaking free of the man holding me by my jirt collar. I shot him, too.
Russell tackled one who was going after Rita again. She managed to struggle loose and crawled away. As I ran to her, I saw Russell going down for the third time from a wild swing. Blood was streaming from both his nostrils. I fired and his attacker slumped to the ground. Dad had taught me to handle firearms well. I hadn't missed once. The rest of the gang broke and ran after my last shot.
“Lee, thank God! Oh, thank God, you came.” Rita was blubbering like a fundamentalist at the Rapture. I folded her in my arms. I was trembling worse than she was. A siren warbled in the distance.
Russell got to his feet, wiping at his bloody nose. A red froth bubbled from his split lips. “Come on, let's get out of here!"
My legs felt shaky. I was about to collapse. I looked around and saw the four men I'd shot. One of them was moaning; the other three were still, their eyes open and unseeing in death. I leaned hard against Rita, and we stumbled away from the gate. People backed off, letting us go, as we headed down the block to the car.
Russell got behind the wheel, spitting out blood. I looked back as he drove away. The conservatives were still there, tending to their comrades. The screaming sirens were getting closer. I prayed that none of them had taken down my license number. Maybe someone had taped the action. If so, I could claim self-defense if the cops investigated. Probably they would say good riddance and leave it at that; they didn't like the radicals any more than anyone else did.
Back at the house, Rita tended to Russell's wounds. Her only injuries were a sore shoulder and abrasions on one cheek from falling to the ground. I was bruised, but not bloody. I described what had happened while Donna made a round of drinks and Rita worked on Russell. If this kept up, we were all going to wind up alcoholics.
“What in hell were you doing around that gate?” I asked. “Didn't you get enough excitement the other day?"
Rita reached for her drink with a trembling hand, her face subdued. “I wanted to take some notes for class. I got a little too close and got grabbed."
“Why didn't you use the gun I gave you?"
“I tried to."
“Well, what happened?"
“It didn't work."
“What!” I stared at her. I keep my weapons in perfect condition.
She looked away, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I forgot to take the safety off."
“It's a good thing Lee and Russell found you in time; otherwise you would have wound up like me.” Donna looked more upset than any of us. She knew from personal experience how it felt to have your life turned inside out.
“Lee's glad I didn't,” Rita answered.
Glad? Glad didn't begin to cover it. I couldn't even imagine Rita as a man. I could never relate to her the way Russell was doing with Donna. “I don't even want to think about it,” I said.
Donna lifted her head a fraction, her eyes defensive. “I'm trying to make it work.” She shot a desperate glance at Russell and got a warm smile in return.
* * * *
Rita and I hit the shower and then stretched out in bed. I turned on the screen and began searching for something besides news to help us relax, but there was still nothing on except commentary. Saturation news coverage is fine for unprecedented phenomena like the appearance of the gates, but anything gets old after a while. It made me long for the days when I kept my games, movies and mood programs on ROMS. In fact, I still had my old computer and a lot of programs, but they were all back at Grandpa's house in my old room. I left the screen on, just loud enough for us to hear in case anything interesting happened.
While we snuggled, I told Rita about the bright idea I had had on the drive back.
She gave me a peck on the cheek. “I've wanted to see you write for a long time. This is the perfect topic."
“That's what I think too. People will want to read about the human side of the gates. Something besides more commentary, I hope."
“Maybe you should aim for the countries where people don't have access to the web like we do. Printed matter still goes over big in those areas."
Right. The webs and ‘works didn't depend on cable anymore; everything was relayed by satellite directly to phones or home and office computers. The old Internet still worked, but communications companies had stopped servicing the wires and cables it depended on. This left Third and Fourth Worlders who were unable to afford receivers, not to mention phones, less and less able to relate to the world; print and what was left of the Internet were their only means of communication. It left them as cut off from the modern world as political prisoners in Siberia. For those unfortunates, interactive webs and works hadn't come close to replacing the printed word yet, though it was coming. Books and magazines were still being published, but not newspapers; they were in a steep decline in the civilized world, although they could still be found in primitive areas.
From all the web programming I've described, you'd think everyone in the world knew exactly what was happening with the gates. That wasn't true. Despite all the frenzied reporting, there hadn't been much news from those parts of China controlled by fractious warlords, and parts of India may as well have been swallowed by a black hole for all we knew from there. News from the Middle East was spotty, and of course there wasn't much left of Africa to get news from. Disease, wars, plagues, global warming and industrial pollution had devastated that continent, leaving the birthplace of the human race a barren wasteland.
Even where we did know what was going on, chaos and confusion was the rule rather than the exception. Except for France. The French embraced the gates as if they were a huge joke being played on the rest of the world.
There still had not been any confirmed communication with the denizens inhabiting the gates, if they were inhabited, and we still knew nothing about their purpose.
Our own government was struggling to formulate a policy. Apparently, lawmakers were beginning to realize the gates might be here permanently.
The FBI had been ordered to help make a positive identification of sex-changed individuals. They were doing it through fingerprint confirmation after writing a new program that figured in the size differences of the prints of the new individual, depending on whether the switch was to male or female.
Congress was considering a number of new laws. They wanted to suspend Social Security payments and Medicare to older individuals who changed sex after a six-month grace period; a similar law would do the same for retirees from government and the military. For once, something Congress proposed made sense to me.
A few congressmen also wanted to make it a crime to prevent anyone from passing through a gate, similar to the old abortion clinic laws. I had my doubts that one would pass, or be effective if it did, considering what I had seen so far. There were too many gates, too many anti-gate factions. Other bills would never fly. Mandatory birth control? Preventing pregnant women from passing through the gates? No chance, I thought.
I turned the screen off. It had been a long day.
Rita ran her hand up and down my chest, then caught hold of my chin and turned my face around for a kiss. “I still haven't thanked you for saving me, Lee. I was that close to being pushed through the gate."
“Russell's the one who saved you. If he hadn't reacted so quickly, you would have gone through."
“I'm glad. I'm not ready for that yet."
I stared at her. “Not ready? You mean you're actually considering it? Changing into a man?"
“Oh, not yet. I want to have a couple of babies first, then maybe wait until they're grown.” She chuckled. “How do you think you would like me as a man? Would you still love me?"
“How could I love a man?” I couldn't believe we were having this conversation.
“Oh, men! Lee, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about love."
I didn't know how to separate the two, especially with her. I said so.
“Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you. Listen, what would you do if you suddenly came down with an incurable disease? Roll over and die, or go through a gate?"
What a choice. I didn't want to think about it. “What would you do?"
“Take a chance on a gate, of course. I'm not in a hurry to die. Besides, don't you know that every woman in the world fantasizes about becoming a man, at least once in a while?"
“They have? I mean, they do? Why?” It was news to me.
“Oh, we don't really want to be men. But it's a pleasant fantasy. Think about the life most women still live, doing dirty dishes and diapers and cooking three meals a day and holding down a job for a lot less money than a man would make. Even with all that, women in America are pretty well off, but think of the rest of the world. Remember those Muslim women storming the gate? They hate the way they are treated—"
I held up my hands. “So you want to be a man?"
She laughed. “No way! It's a fantasy like I said. Being a woman has advantages men can't imagine. We were just discussing whether we'd even consider making a change, remember?"
We were back to that. I still didn't want to talk about it. “I feel the same way about being a man that you do about being a woman. To me, we have all the advantages."
Rita smiled. “Then neither one was us is going to be heading through the gate anytime soon."
I was glad to hear that. “Count on it."
We lay side by side in silence for a moment. I wondered if she was angry that I didn't have any desire to be a woman. I decided to offer an olive branch. “At least a woman can have a man she wants, whenever she wants, without having to go through all the preliminaries like a man has to."
Rita rolled over to stare at me. “You think so, huh? It doesn't work like that for a woman. Women don't think about sex that way: see a man, get wet, and pull him into bed. There has to be some emotional involvement for a woman to even get interested, and so far as that goes, we don't get the man we want every bit as often as a man doesn't get a woman he gets turned on by."
I took her hand in mine. “I guess men and women are different.” It was about as inadequate a statement as I have ever made.
She pulled her hand free and rolled away from me, pulling the blanket over her shoulder. “You are so right. You don't know how different."
Maybe so, but she was beginning to give me an idea. We didn't make love that night.
Chapter Seven
I never heard anything about the four men I shot. Apparently, no one with a recorder was nearby; either that or the authorities were too busy with other matters to worry about a few rads getting shot. It didn't bother me, other than a few bad dreams; as far as I was concerned, I had done what I had to.
Over the next few months the world, or at least the more advanced portion of it, gradually began getting back to normal—or as normal as possible under the circumstances. The gates, over a hundred thousand of them, remained as enigmatic and inscrutable as ever.
I didn't go back to any of my classes when the college re-opened, though the others did. Instead, I began submitting articles and stories to the web and zines. At first I didn't have much success, so it was a good thing I didn't need the money. When not attempting to break into print, I concentrated on research and added to my files, which were growing like Florida algae.
With society in an uproar and the future uncertain, financial markets in the advanced countries teetered and tottered but never quite collapsed. I missed one annuity payment completely, and the next one barely made a discernible blip on my credit balance, but after that the amount gradually increased to almost half of what it had been before the gates.
Pope Luke was assassinated. The new pope's first act was to rescind Pope Luke's encyclical, with one reservation: pregnant women were still forbidden to pass through a gate. Most Catholics were no longer excommunicated if they waited until the age of sixty or had an incurable illness before attempting the passage. Cardinals, priests and nuns were forbidden to go through the gate under any circumstances. Many resigned in protest, and some churches and dioceses had to close for lack of personnel.
Protestants were still divided; fundamentalist sects railed against the gates; liberal sects accepted them. Demonstrators continued to protest, but were no longer quite so violent. Automatic recording devices were set up around every gate in America. After a few protestors went to jail or were executed for assaulting or murdering individuals attempting to go through the gates, the violence slowed to a near halt.
Almost half the population of the country over seventy took a chance on the gates. Most of them made it through and emerged with healthy young bodies of a different sex. More than three-quarters of those over eighty opted to try the gates even though their chances of success were lower the older and/or sicker they were. The black shadow of death had the power to move the old to take their chances in the gate. The lure of another forty or fifty years of life was too strong, even if it did mean switching sex.
The medical profession was beginning to suffer from unemployment as hospitals and doctors’ offices closed. The preliminary reports that changed individuals now had perfect health proved correct: so far not a single illness had been detected in a sex-changed person. It was too soon to tell yet whether the new young people were aging, though a few scientists claimed to have measured a shortening of the chromosomes of telomeres on some chromosomes after cellular division, which would indicate a normal aging process. Others thought the new bodies would last far into the future. I reserved my opinion.
A large percentage of the physically impaired population, paraplegics, quadriplegics, the blind and deaf and those missing limbs or scarred by burns opted for the gates. Almost all of them reappeared in healthy new bodies. As soon as news of this got around, parents of mentally retarded children began bringing them to the gates. This proved more dangerous. Many of them never came out again. Those who did, however, were normal. Scientists and statisticians were desperately trying to find out what the defining characteristics for a successful passage were.
The Supreme Court ruled that same sex individuals had a constitutional right to a legally binding marriage, upholding laws already passed by most states. The court was simply accepting reality. People were learning that when they changed sex physically, their sexual orientation stayed the same at first, then slowly started to shift, but never completely. Some of the original orientation always remained. A debate was raging about why sexual orientation should change at all. Some attributed it to the hormonal changes, others said the opportunity to experience sex from the other side was too tempting. It was obvious that huge transformations in how we humans viewed sexuality were looming, although no one yet knew quite what to expect.
By the time the first surveys were conducted, almost half of the changed persons had experimented, or were planning to experiment, with the opposite sex. That fact was going to cause me trouble, though I didn't know it yet.
Meanwhile, the four of us were still living together, even after the spring semester ended and Rita graduated.
Rita got her degree in psychology. She had already been accepted for an internship at a sexual therapy clinic in Old Houston, but the gates were changing that profession, too. If humans were confused about sex before the gates, the situation was a thousand times worse afterward. While doctors had less to do, sex therapists were putting in double overtime. It looked as if Rita was going to be busy exploring on the cutting edge of a new world.
We saw little of Russell. Or I did, anyway. When he was home, he spent most of his time with Donna. But most days and nights he was at his lab, working on his doctorate. He had had to start all over with another thesis after the gates proved his old one wrong, but he didn't seem to mind. The physics department had set up all sorts of instruments by the gate on campus, and he spent a lot of time there, taking measurements (or as he ruefully told me, more often recording the absence of any). It was the kind of scut work that all doctoral candidates are forced to tolerate. We got the most reliable news on the nature of the gates from him (such as it was; most of the data was negative—things we didn't know.)
As the weeks passed, I remained uncomfortable around Donna. Her gender change no longer bothered me like it had at first—after all, it wasn't anything she chose to do—but I found it hard to accept her need to explore what it would mean to live the rest of her life as a woman.
Maybe it was a natural result of missing my good friend, Don, but I hated watching her begin to act more and more like a woman. Considering how she had to live, it was a natural development, but it put even more stress on our friendship. I couldn't talk to her about her periods, or what kind of makeup went best with her hair, or how her sexual life was going. Oh, she was willing to talk about those things, but when she brought them into our conversation I backed off or changed the subject. I acted (or tried to act) as if she were a female friend—if friendship between the sexes really exists. If she hadn't once been male, and my closest friend, I wouldn't even have tried. Don was handsome; Donna was just short of beautiful but with no idea what an impact her exquisite body had on men. It was next to impossible to be a friend with her because my normal male instincts would kick in, and then I would feel queasy when I remembered she was once a man.
In addition to all my other problems with Donna's change, I've never been entirely comfortable around beautiful women, especially those who exude sexuality. Donna was a sexy woman who had no idea she was radiating sex appeal. I watched lots of men become attracted to her, only to be shocked when she suddenly acted like a man. She got better at behaving like a woman as time passed. Both Rita and Russell helped coach her in appropriate behavior.
Unfortunately, as she got better, I found myself starting to react to her physically, especially when she paraded around the house half-naked. The tension between us grew, but I didn't want to ask her to move. She was going through enough turmoil. Instead, I made every effort to keep my sexual distance.
We were finally getting something over the web besides news. Rita and I were tucked away for the night watching a film. Naturally, it was about a couple who went through the gate together and their problems getting used to their changed sexuality. After watching for a few minutes, we began interacting. As was our custom, we took turns changing the script. That's usually good for a lot of laughs and should have been this time, especially as the program was designed to be a comedy. It wasn't. I kept trying to get the new male interested in women and at the same time I was sympathizing with the male mind in the new female body.
“Lee, you're going to be the death of me yet,” Rita said after I steered the female character into the arms of a good-looking blonde at a party. She changed the blonde into a male who looked somewhat like me.
“Hey, wait,” I said. “At least let them finish."
“You didn't let me."
True, but watching men kiss puts me off, not to mention other things. I changed the program so the male character came into the room where they were hiding and broke it up. Rita immediately had him making out with his erstwhile partner.
I could watch that with no problem, so long as I didn't identify with the female, who had been male at the start of the program. The whole story made me uncomfortable, though. Rita saw that I was losing interest and switched the screen off.
“Lee, you are so provincial.” She didn't sound angry, only disappointed. She half turned in my arms so that one of her breasts was pressed against my side and the other hanging free over my chest. I cupped the free one in my hand, admiring its perfection. If there is a God, he knew what he was up to when he created women.
“Maybe so.” I didn't want to argue, but I suspected most people were as conservative as me when it came to changing sex, as long as they weren't driven to change by age or illness. You hardly ever saw any young and healthy people going through the gates. “Look at Donna; she didn't start running after men five minutes after she changed. But that's what you made your character do."
“Maybe not, but her sexual orientation has been changing, or haven't you noticed? For your information, she went for an implant last week when she borrowed your car."
“What!” I couldn't believe it. Or maybe I didn't want to believe it. There was only one reason I could think of for her to get an implant to prevent pregnancy. “Is she sleeping with someone? Are her and Russell getting it on?"
“No, silly, but she is becoming a normal woman. And a normal woman wants this.” She reached down and enfolded my penis, which had become engorged as soon as her nipple touched my palm.
“So Donna is actually thinking about having sex with a man?” I couldn't quite form the picture in my mind. I was having problems envisioning the male who would introduce Donna to the joys of sex.
“Lee, you're still living in the last century. Why shouldn't she act like any normal female?"
“She isn't a normal female."
“True. But she's trying to adjust to her female body. Try to remember that this situation wasn't her choice. Haven't you ever thought of what it would be like if you had been born female instead of male?"
“No.” Truthfully, I hadn't. I had always been satisfied with my sex. Maybe I wished once in awhile that I was stronger or better looking, but doesn't everyone? The only thing I really didn't like about myself was my rust-colored hair. If I were better looking, I wouldn't have any problem attracting women and making out. If Rita hadn't practically tripped me, I would probably still be admiring her from a distance. I don't know what she saw in me.
She rolled her eyes, then relented. “Poor Lee. Maybe that's why your stuff isn't selling. You don't understand the female viewpoint."
“I understand this much.” I bent down to nuzzle her breasts.
“Mmm. So you do. Hey, why don't we collaborate on a program or two and see what happens?"
Now that was an idea. I was planning to do some traveling on a project I was researching, but I hate to leave familiar surroundings or go anywhere alone. That would suit me fine, and I said so.
“Good, that's settled. I was planning on going with you anyway, but I'm glad you like the idea."
I wondered what Donna would be doing while we were gone. “When is Donna planning on the big experiment?"
“Not for a week or two, anyway. She'll have to wait that long to be certain the implant is effective."
“I wonder if she'll bring her fellow here.” The idea still seemed strange to me.
“Why don't you wait and see? In the meantime, try to be nice to her. She's more than a little scared."
I really didn't understand women. Here Rita had just told me that Donna wanted to have sex, and with the next breath she was saying that she was frightened. “I don't understand."
“You're impossible. Just be nice to her, okay?"
“I will. I always am, aren't I?” Despite my conflicting feelings, Donna was still my friend.
“You're nice to everyone once you disconnect your brain from your testicles. Come here.” She pulled me over her, and I quit thinking about Donna.
* * * *
We began packing for our trip the next morning. I didn't pack much as I didn't intend to be gone long. I wouldn't have made the trip at all, but the webworks wanted spontaneity. They demanded live interviews and action shots. I had managed to get an appointment in Lufkin, up the NAFTA a hundred miles or so, with a female evangelist who was making some big waves in Texas and was getting ready to branch out into neighboring states.
While I'm no expert on religion, this woman sounded like she would make a fascinating interview. In a nation full of middle-aged male evangelists, she was young, somewhere in her early twenties, with dark red hair and a voluptuous figure. Besides that, she was starting a brand new church. Her “Church of the Gates” declared that each gate was a separate manifestation of God and worshipping and believing in them assured that a person entering a gate the second time would immediately be transported to heaven. (At that time, no one had yet come back from a second attempt to pass through the gates. In fact, there had been very few individuals who had even tried—not after the first few failures. I only knew that occasionally someone had from Russell).
I still don't know where she got her so-called revelation. But it certainly met a growing need. Science couldn't explain the gates, not yet anyway, and the old religions held no place for them either. It was a time for something new.
* * * *
By the time we were packed and ready to go, Russell was already gone to the lab. Only Donna was there to see us off. She was in the study, working on math problems with an AI. It really wasn't an artificial intelligence, of course, but with those kind of dedicated programs it was extremely difficult to tell the difference. As we came in, she put a hold on the graphie, which had been explaining some esoteric equation.
Are you leaving already?"
“I thought we'd stop and see the folks since we're passing through on the way,” I explained.
“Well, tell them hello for me.” Donna (as Don) knew my mom and dad. I had long since told them of her unintentional sex change, but she hadn't seen them since it happened. I had only been up once, myself, with Rita.
“I will.” I wondered what they would think if they could see her now. She was dressed in tight gold jeans and a satiny white top that ended well above her navel. She jiggled as she got up to tell us good-bye; she never had gotten into the habit of wearing a bra.
“You be careful, now. There are still lots of crazies hanging around the gates."
“Don't worry. You be careful, too. Keep the security on while you're here by yourself."
“I will.” She gave Rita a brief hug, then embraced me. It was the first time she had done so. Before I knew what was happening, she kissed me full on the mouth, patted me on the cheek and turned back to her math problems. I felt my face get hot. I was glad she had her back to me. Rita noticed, though. I could tell by her elfish smile.
* * * *
As soon as we were on the way, I called home to let the folks know we were coming. Dad answered the phone. He sounded tired.
“It will be good to see you, Son. You, too, Rita,” he added, knowing that my car had a speaker circuit built into it. “I was going to call you, so this works out fine."
I wondered why he had been planning on calling. Was there some sort of problem with Derek? So far as I knew, my brother was getting along fine in his new female form. I hadn't talked to him, but he had left a brief message once while I was out.
* * * *
It wasn't Derek. It was Dad.
He waited until after Mom poured coffee and we were all four sitting around the old kitchen table before he made his announcement. His voice dragged, as if he were reluctant to say anything at all. He held his unlit pipe in his hand as if it were a talisman.
“Son, your mother and I are going to go through the gate as soon as you leave."
I couldn't have been more astounded if he had said they were going to the moon. I sat with my mouth hanging open, trying to make sense of his words.
“Dad, you're kidding,” I managed at last.
He shook his head. “No."
I looked at Mom. She nodded agreement.
“But why? What could possibly make you want to..."
Dad touched his chest. “I saw Doctor Davis yesterday. He told me that my heart is getting worse."
“Doctor Davis? But, Dad, he could be wrong! I mean I like him, but ... look, at least get another opinion."
“He already has,” Mom said. “Doctor Davis has added a consult room since you saw him last. The North Houston heart center agrees with his diagnosis."
“Can't you get an artificial heart?” That seemed like the simple solution to me. How could I stand seeing my dad change into a woman? And Mom—why her?
“Too risky. I have other complications that make me a poor candidate for surgery."
I swallowed hard. Maybe Dad had no choice. That still didn't explain why Mom was going into the gate with him.
She didn't wait for me to ask. “We don't want to be separated, Lee, not after almost forty years.” She gazed at Dad, love shining in her eyes.
I could understand that. My parents were a close couple. I had never once heard them exchange a cross word, not even when Dad volunteered for duty in the Middle East when I was a youngster. It didn't make this decision any easier.
“I'll cancel my appointment and stay here.” I dreaded seeing the change, but I didn't want to leave them either.
“No, Son. We'd rather you not. If we come out safely, it's going to be confusing to us for a while. We'd prefer to be alone until we get used to our new bodies and the changes they will bring."
I protested a few times, because I thought I should. Inside, I wanted to run from this nightmare. No more hugs from Mom? No more squirrel hunting with Dad on crisp fall mornings?
Rita sat in silence as we talked, even though she could have spoken up if she had wanted to. The folks knew how close we were and that we were already planning a family in the near future. Or at least we had been; we hadn't talked about it since the gates started demanding most of our attention.
We all hugged good-bye as Rita and I left, the four of us pressing our bodies together as if we might never see each other again.
“You'll call?” I asked Dad.
“As soon as we get home."
If they got home. I didn't mention that possibility and neither did they. As soon as we were out of sight of the house, I stopped the car at a little roadside park where we had picnicked many times. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried. Rita wrapped her arms around me and cried too. After a while, we brushed our tears away and drove on.
Chapter Eight
Over the last decade or so, Lufkin had grown from a small rural city to a fair-sized industrial center. I could see the haze generated by its factories from miles away. Many of Old Houston's plants had been moving further north for years in order to escape the floods and hurricanes which occurred there with increasing frequency as sea levels rose in response to global warming. The long-predicted disaster was not a theory any more but hard fact; the Antarctic icepacks were breaking up. Eventually, North Houston might suffer the same flooding, though the theorists differed on how far in the future that might be.
It had been a few years since I had visited Lufkin. New construction was everywhere, and thoroughfares where none had existed in the past made it hard to locate the Church of the Gates temple. I would probably still be looking if it weren't for Rita. I have absolutely no sense of direction, which is one reason I don't like to travel.
We arrived a few minutes early. I had been jumpy for the last half hour, waiting on the call from my folks. I was afraid they might call in the middle of my interview, but I certainly didn't want to miss them. We solved that problem by merging our phones so Rita could answer my incoming calls. I left my phone on mute with instructions to answer if Rita demanded it, in case something terrible happened.
Mom and Dad were both nearing sixty. Except for Dad's heart problem, their chances of making it through were excellent. Mom would almost certainly make it through, but Dad was taking a real risk. The scientists were still trying to correlate the various illnesses with age and the probability of success.
I tore my thoughts away from worries about my parents and focused on the interview ahead. The Church of the Gates temple was brand-new, of course, and constructed to resemble a gate, though larger. The greenish composite material was a poor match to the real thing, but a holographic projection at the front entrance created an eerie impression of a gate face. Both of us hesitated for a brief moment before walking through the gateway.
Once inside, a young man sporting a neatly trimmed beard greeted us. “Yes, how may I help you?"
“I'm Lee Stuart. I have a three o'clock appointment with Messilinda.” That was how the new evangelist billed herself: Messilinda, no last name. It was a strange name, but then I figured you had to be half nuts already to become an evangelist.
“Oh, yes.” He glanced up at a wall clock in the shape of a gate. “She is expecting you. Come with me."
Rita was told to wait in the lobby. Ordinarily I would have made a fuss, but the folks still hadn't called. I asked her if she minded.
“Of course not. Go ahead.” She could tell I was worried.
The pictures of Messilinda on the web programs didn't do her justice. She was far more beautiful than any of her photographs. She rose from a workstation where she had been manipulating pictures of a worshipful crowd surrounding a gate and held out her hand in greeting. I ignored it, not because I wanted to be rude, but because my attention was riveted to her body.
She was dressed in a filmy white shift, translucent on top, fading to opaqueness around her hips, then flaring gracefully translucent again from her thighs. Her hair was a glorious flame and her full lips were painted a pouty red.
“Mr. Stuart. How good to see you. Our church is blessed with your presence.” Her startlingly green eyes looked deep into my own.
Huh? I didn't see how I blessed it, not when the thoughts running through my mind would have earned an X rating on any children's program in the world.
“Uh, thank you,” I managed. She was still holding out her hand. I took it with an embarrassed smile.
She squeezed my hand, and intertwined her fingers with mine as she led me through a door behind the workstation and into a smaller room.
“Please sit down.” She indicated a spot on a long couch, fronted by a coffee table. There was a caddy at one end of the couch. Those three items were all the furniture the room contained, other than an oversized screen on one wall. “I like my guests to be comfortable. Would you like a drink?” She sat down at the end of the couch where the caddy was located.
“Whatever you're drinking."
She dispensed a pink concoction from the caddy, then leaned back and crossed long, slender legs. She faced me with perfect confidence, not in the least intimidated by the coming interview. I wondered how a woman so young had gained such experience in handling reporters.
She licked her lips and aimed a warm smile at me. “What would you like to talk about?” Not about what I was thinking, that's for sure. I sipped at the pink fluid in my glass. It tasted sweet, but it had a kick. I took a bigger swallow.
“Why don't we start with an overview of your revelation."
“Certainly.” She folded her hands in her lap and beamed at me, her face full of divine peace. “I believe that the gates are a direct manifestation of God in all his wonderful mercy. Only his love for humanity could possibly be responsible for the blessing of renewed life and vigor. He saw how divided and fractious we were, how males were too aggressive, females too submissive. The gates represent his desire to allow us to perceive ourselves from the viewpoint of the opposite sex so that we may finally understand ourselves and at last bring peace to the tortured earth."
As she spoke, she leaned toward me, her face earnest. It looked as if she really believed in what she was saying.
It still sounded like a sermon to me. “What about those people who enter the gates and don't return? What happens to their chance to look at things differently?"
“They are the doubly blessed. Those who don't return are united with God immediately."
“The criminals, too? From what I understand, a high percentage of those who don't make it through are criminals."
“That's what's so wonderful. God has forgiven them their sins, as he will all of us eventually."
“And how long will that take?” I couldn't keep a hint of skepticism out of my voice. Like most religious people, she had a quick explanation for everything, if you were willing to twist reality.
“Why, no longer than the timespan until you enter the heavenly gates for the second time. All who believe will be forgiven and taken to heaven."
Now I thought I had her. “Then why not go through once, turn right around and go through the second time? Why wait?"
“Isn't it obvious? When God's gates miraculously change our gender, he is instructing us to live out another life on earth before entering heaven. He wants us to lead others to the light. Just as Jesus’ disciples stayed behind after his ascension to spread the gospel, so must we.” A sweet smile touched those full lips.
I shook my head. I couldn't help feeling she was enjoying our debate. There was a quick mind behind that sexy exterior. “For the sake of argument, suppose an alien race with advanced technology is responsible for the gates rather than God. Doesn't that make as much sense?"
“If you believe that, you must not have done your homework. Don't you know researchers are saying the gates are immaterial? No physics ever imagined can explain them."
That was a good point. But I had an answer. I quoted from an old adage first formalized by a science fiction writer of the last century. “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."
“Arthur C. Clarke.” She laughed at my surprise. I hadn't expected someone so young to know Clarke. But now that I thought about it, how old was she, really? On the webs she had appeared to be somewhere in her twenties. Close up, she didn't look a day over eighteen. A chill ran up my spine as I guessed the truth. She must have made a passage through a gate, turning from male to female. She must have been a damned handsome guy, because she'd turned into one gorgeous female.
“You've been through a gate.” I stated it as a fact.
Her eyes flickered with alarm before her usual calm expression returned. “Can I persuade you not to publicize that conjecture?"
“Why do you want to keep it a secret?” I leaned forward, feeling a rush of excitement. Until that moment, the interview was going nowhere. I could have stayed home and watched her preach on the web for all the fresh material I was getting. She'd merely been sprouting her usual sermon.
“I don't really, but I must in order to bring more souls to the light. Many people resent those of us who have been changed. How did you know?"
My experience with Donna had helped. As beautiful and feminine as Messilinda was, I had caught nuances of her former male persona in her speech and mannerisms.
“It doesn't matter. You are in the public eye now. You won't be able to keep this secret for long. If I don't break the news, someone else will find out very soon, perhaps someone not as sympathetic as I am."
She frowned, making faint lines appear on her flawless brow, then leaned back and flashed a radiant smile at me. “Well, in that case, I suppose I'll have to live up to the revelation. God knows what he's doing. In any case, since you're the first to know, I grant you permission to use the knowledge."
I smiled back, inwardly rubbing my mental hands together in glee. This would be a great story. I pumped her for her former name, birth date and other biographical data. As she talked, I let her hear me tell the phone to run confirmation checks on the data. It didn't faze her in the least, so I assumed she was telling the truth. What was astounding is that she had been born almost a hundred years ago, making her the oldest person I knew of who had made the change.
No wonder she thought God was responsible.
When we finished, I stood up. We hadn't talked long, but I was anxious to get back out to the lobby and see if Rita had heard from the folks yet.
Messilinda stood, too, and took both my hands. She pulled me close to her. I was surprised, but she was a beautiful woman, so a part of me was more than willing to embrace her. As I looked down at a perfect view, she put her arms around my neck. Up close I could smell her subtle perfume and feel the heat of her breasts pressed against my chest. It was easy to forget that she had once been a man. I'd never known her as anything but a woman.
Her lips parted and her tongue darted into my mouth with an eagerness that had lots of practice behind it. Lost in her scent, I pulled her closer. She lifted one arm and reached behind her. I felt the fabric of her dress under my hands go slack.
I forgot all about Rita. There's nothing so imperative to a man with a hard on as finding some place to put it. Messilinda squirmed, and her dress fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, and I kicked it away.
A short time later, I slunk out of Messilinda's office feeling like a kid who has spent his church offering on candy. Why Messilinda had wanted to seduce me was a mystery. It certainly couldn't have been because of my looks. Perhaps she was hoping the act would persuade me to put a favorable slant on my exclusive.
Rita jumped up as soon as I came into the lobby. “Lee! Your dad called. They made it!"
Her obvious joy made me feel even worse. “What did they say?"
“They sent their love and said don't call for a few days, but not to worry; they're fine. I'm so glad, Lee. I was afraid your dad might not make it."
“Me, too. Come on, I've got some stuff here that won't wait."
As soon as we got to the car, I asked Rita to drive while I plugged in my phone and began transferring the recording of the interview to my agent, flagging it with an “urgent” icon and asking her to put it out for bids. I used the car screen to make minor revisions as it unwound. I didn't want to take a lot of time to edit it for fear of being scooped. This news was bound to be worth a lot of money.
Unfortunately, I had forgotten to turn my phone off when the seduction began. “Whoops!” I said, feeling as foolish as a lineman recovering a fumble and then running the wrong way. I cut the recording.
Rita was staring straight ahead at the road. “Did you enjoy yourself?"
“It happened so quickly I don't remember.” That part was true. It had happened quickly.
“I'll bet you don't. My, and with a former man, too. Donna may have some hope after all."
“Donna? What's she got to do with it?” I didn't understand. But I've already mentioned that I don't understand women.
“Nothing, nothing. Just so long as Messilinda didn't convert you."
I could reassure her on that point. As for the rest, she suggested we play the seduction portion of the recording when we were home in bed to see if she could learn any new techniques. I said that she already knew more than enough to satisfy me, and besides, I doubted the phone had caught much of the visual since it was down around my ankles most of the time.
She laughed. Even though sexual jealousy is considered old-fashioned nowadays, I was still glad to hear that laugh. Lucky for me, Rita was like most people in my generation and enjoyed a variety of lovers. After the universal viricide was invented, sexual mores had relaxed to a degree that our parents still had trouble believing.
After we got home, Rita did her best to wear me out, and I cooperated until she succeeded. Why is it that a little strange sex makes you hornier than ever for your regular partner? Between one of our couplings, I asked Rita if psychologists had anything to say on the subject.
“They say men are rabbits in disguise and there's no cure for the condition. Shut up and fuck me again."
* * * *
The Messilinda interview (minus the unreported portion) got a big play in Texas and the surrounding states and even a bit of national publicity. It also brought in quite a lot of money, enough to keep us in beans for a while.
Messilinda's reputation didn't seem to suffer from the revelation that she had been a hundred-year-old man before founding her new religion. On the contrary, it enhanced her status. True believers were more convinced than ever that God had called her to start their religion. The number of her converts continued to grow. Of course, there were more debunkers, too, but that only helped keep her in the public eye.
While the interview helped build my reputation as a reporter, it had other, unexpected, results at home. Rita blabbed to Donna about how the interview ended with my making love to a woman who was once a man. Within a few days, Donna began overwhelming me with attention. One night I mentioned I was tired, and she offered to give me a backrub. At first the feel of her strong fingers kneading my sore shoulders was pleasant, but soon I became all too aware of her full breasts pressing against my back. I finally had to tell her to stop. Next, she began wearing provocative clothes, especially if we were home alone, and touching me when no touch was called for. When Rita wasn't around, she would sit next to me, smiling in an inviting way and batting her big brown eyes at me.
It became obvious she'd chosen me to initiate her into sex—probably because Russell was so seldom home. Perhaps in tune with his dedication to science, Russell was a real freethinker when it came to sex, and I suspected there was something going on between them. But Russell had reached a critical point in his work and was spending almost every moment at the lab.
I didn't know how to deal with Donna's sexual advances. First I tried to laugh it off, but soon I was watching so I wasn't left alone with her. I thought her actions must be obvious to Rita, but she never seemed to notice it, which led me to believe I was probably letting my imagination get the better of me. It was hard to believe my one-time best male friend was trying to seduce me.
The whole thing finally came to a head one afternoon when Donna and I were home alone. I was in the lounging room, sitting down and reviewing some notes on the screen there while having a small drink.
Donna must have heard me stirring. She came out of her room dressed in a tight tee shirt and short shorts with the top button unbuttoned and the zipper half way down. I couldn't see a panty line. She sat down beside me, closer than was really necessary.
I was careful to keep my eyes focused on the screen. “Hi, Donna. Did I wake you up?"
“No, I wasn't sleeping.” She scrunched closer and put a hand on my thigh. “Actually, I was thinking about you."
“Me?” I refused to look at her.
“Yes, you, Lee. Why are you avoiding me?"
“I'm not.” A pure lie.
“Yes, you are. You won't even look at me."
I forced myself to turn and face her. Her eyes were damp. As I watched, a tear broke loose and trickled down her cheek.
“Donna, what is it?” The sight of her tear-streaked face frightened me.
She hesitated, watching me from under thick lashes damp with tears, then took the plunge.
“Rita told you I have an implant, didn't she?"
Where was Rita when I needed her? I didn't want to talk to Donna about sex, and especially not if I was her target. “Yes, she did. Look, Donna, if that's what you want to do, you don't need my approval. There are plenty of men out there who will find you attractive."
“But I do need your approval. Don't you understand? I don't want my first time to be with any man. It's got to be someone I know I can trust with my heart and soul. It's you I want to try it with."
“Oh, hell.” I picked up my drink and took a big swallow.
“Please, Lee. Don't you see? This is a big step for me. I have a man's memories and a woman's desires. I'm scared. Won't you help me?"
I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I looked away, my mind whirling as I tried to think of a way out of the situation. While my eyes were turned, she slid right up against me. When I turned back, she grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me on the mouth. Her lips were soft and full, like the lips of any desirable woman. For what seemed like an eternity, we kissed while images of the old Don and the new Donna raced through my mind. I felt the beginning of an erection and drew back, half-rising to my feet.
“No, damn it. Donna, you're my friend, not my lover!"
“Am I your friend?” Her voice sounded as forlorn as a funeral dirge. Another tear glistened on her cheek.
“Yes!” What else was there to say? I walked away, leaving her sitting there crying.
Chapter Nine
Even after I rejected her attempt at seduction with such finality, Donna continued to treat me with warm affection. Her obvious love made me feel even worse, if possible. She didn't mention the subject again, and I certainly didn't.
I hoped she would drop the idea of trying sex with me and find another man, but I saw no signs of it. She was taking all her classes at home so there was no need for her to go to the campus. Mostly she stayed home and studied. The main difference I noticed was that she didn't laugh or smile as much as she had before. I felt as if that was my fault, I but didn't know what to do about it so I let it go, hoping she would cheer up. The one thing she wanted, I wasn't prepared to give.
This situation went on for several days. I didn't think anyone else knew what was causing Donna's mood of perpetual gloom until Rita broached the subject.
We were sitting out on the front porch enjoying after-breakfast coffee and early morning sunshine. I like being outside so long as I'm around my own digs, but in southern Texas in the summertime you have to get your porch sitting done early. The heat and humidity will run you inside by midmorning.
I finished my cup and picked up the carafe to fill it again. “More?’ I said to Rita.
“No thanks. Lee, I want to talk to you."
Uh-oh. The words every man dreads hearing. I could tell she was upset with me by the tone of her voice.
“What about?” Already, I was beginning to suspect what the subject of our discussion would be.
“You know what about. I can't believe you were so horrible to Donna."
“Me? What did I do?"
“You hurt her feelings. Badly. If I were her, I wouldn't even be speaking to you."
“Are you talking about the way she was coming on to me last week?"
“No, I'm talking specifically about four days ago when she asked you to make love to her and you refused. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
“Do you two talk about every damn thing that happens around here?” It was a feeble attempt to get the conversation going in another direction.
“Of course we do, with anything that matters. Didn't you and Donna used to gab about everything before the gates?"
True, but he had been Don then. Before Donna changed, we had discussed every aspect of our lives, especially women, including Rita, and whichever girlfriend he was seeing at the moment.
“Well, yes, now that you mention it, but it's different now."
“It sure is. Donna has a broken heart. Your friend needs your help and you are ignoring the pain you are causing her."
“Oh, come on now. I am not the only man in the world. If Donna wants to discover what it's like to be a woman in every way, I am sure someone else will be glad to help her out. Why doesn't she get on the phone and demand that Russell take a break from the lab? I've got a feeling he'd be more than happy to be her first."
Rita looked stubborn. “I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't end up with Russell eventually. But right now he isn't available. And she wants someone who has been her friend for years to help her through this critical moment of her life. That's you. I want you to make up with her."
“Make up with her? We haven't even had a fight."
“You hurt her. Why are you so impossibly stubborn sometimes? And so dense, I might add."
“Dense in what way?” We seemed to be talking in circles. I couldn't understand what she was talking about.
“Can't you tell how Donna feels about you? Couldn't you at least have tried? Even if you don't feel the same way she does, you could have done that much for her."
“Rita, please, let's drop the subject. I don't tell you who to have sex with, do I? Donna was the best friend I've ever had. We practically lived together from our sophomore year on. I'd like to stay friends."
“You sure pick strange ways of going about it."
“I'm sorry. I wouldn't feel right having sex with her. It would be like—like..."
“Like going to bed with a man, right?"
“Sort of."
“And yet you don't see a thing wrong with women making love to each other, do you? You enjoyed watching the night I had sex with another woman."
“I can't help the way I was brought up.” Besides, Rita, of all people, should know that when it came to sex, we humans were full of contradictory behavior.
“Don't blame it on your upbringing. Another thing, you didn't have any trouble with that hennaed redheaded evangelist did you? She only spent about a hundred years as a man.” Rita ‘s voice rose. She was about as angry as I had ever seen her, and she had nailed me good, right below the waterline.
“I'm sorry about that."
“You don't have to be sorry. Any male who could resist that flame-top needs to have his hormone levels checked. I only mentioned it to show you that your argument about Donna once being a man doesn't make much sense."
“Donna will get over it.” Maybe it didn't make sense, but the thought of making love with my former best friend was still making me squirm.
“Yes, she will, eventually. But you're not going to be very popular around here for a while.” She stood up, and turned to go back inside.
“Wait. Listen, I'll talk to Donna and explain."
“Explain what? That you have bricks in your head?"
“About how I feel. About how she feels."
“Lee, you evidently haven't got a clue about how she feels."
“Yes I do,” I argued. “I've known her longer than you have."
Rita closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She stood like that a moment, then opened her eyes and stared at me as if I were a student who had failed to grasp a problem after a dozen explanations. “You know her that well, do you? Then I guess you must know that she's fallen in love with you."
She turned on her heel and left me sitting out in the sun with an ache in my chest that wouldn't go away.
* * * *
I guess Rita really did love me. When I went back into the house, she acted as if nothing had happened between us. I retreated into the study and got online with my agent. I had never met her in person, but the big screen in the study made it seem as if we were in the same room together. Mary Wright doesn't look as if she could convince any editor to buy from her. She is a small, dumpy woman in her mid-forties who dresses as if she were one step up from joining the Fourth Worlders. She had gotten a good price for the Messilinda program, though, much more than I had expected.
“You've made a name for yourself, Lee. Now we need to exploit your reputation while you're hot,” she told me.
“I was lucky."
“Never mind that. Now you're marketable. What else do you have on tap?"
“Nothing much.” The professionals were covering the gate news much better than I could. I was only a fair amateur.
“Let me give you a project, then. The webs and zines have been saturated with the sex change aspects of the gates. Now they're looking for some scientific information, preferably from a personal angle. You already have a few science credits to your name so it should be an easy sell. Do you know any scientists?"
Did I know any scientists? I had one living in my house. Russell would be glad to help, I thought. “Sure do. Let me check and get back to you. Okay?"
“Great. See you later.” She was already taking another call as she cut the connection.
I wanted to see Russell right away. As I came out of the study, Rita and Donna were sitting down with their heads together. They looked up. I tried to act nonchalant.
“I'm going to run over to the campus and talk to Russell."
“Tell him to come home occasionally, will you?” Donna said.
“Sure. I will.” I gave Rita a quick kiss and bracing myself, pecked Donna on the cheek. A smile brightened her face. I hoped she wouldn't read anything into it that wasn't there.
* * * *
When I walked into Russell's lab, I found him standing in front of a screen with his back to me, watching the results of what appeared to be some experiment playing out. There were lots of graphs, lines and symbols flashing on the screen.
Somehow, Russell sensed my presence. He turned around. “Hi, Lee. What brings you here?"
“Something you may be able to help me with. I can come back later if you're busy."
“No problem. These results can wait awhile."
I wanted privacy to talk to him. “Can we go into your office? Is it free?"
“It is until the night shift comes on.” He had to share the little office with another doctoral candidate.
“What's your problem?” Russell asked as soon as he had cleared a stack of books and papers filled with equations from the other chair.
“No problem; my agent suggested I should talk to a scientist."
“What about?"
“Oh, how the brains are going about exploring the gates, what problems you're having, and what you're planning on next; I'm looking for anything you've found out that hasn't already been reported a million times."
Russell laughed. “You've come to the wrong department. Philosophy is the next hall over."
“Not interested. They have as many opinions as economists do, all of them contradictory."
“Physicists are fast joining their ranks. Actually, you should be talking to the genetics department. They've come up with a prize. A friend of mine was telling me about it right before you arrived."
“So tell me, too."
Russell gazed at the ceiling. “A brand new projection. Average lifespan of sex-changed individuals should amount to well over a hundred years, give or take a few. And nothing but old age to slow them down."
That was about fifteen more than the lifespan tables were giving us at the time, and the last decade or so was likely to be plagued with ailments. “Nice. Once that news gets out, a few extra doubters will take the plunge."
“More than a few, I think. I'm going to have to get a new adviser. Doctor Holt went through yesterday and took off for Mexico this morning to start enjoying all that money he's saved up."
I hadn't told Russell I was recording. I wanted him to act natural. I would let him know before using any footage, of course. “That's great. Tell me more."
He spread his hands, palms up. “We still don't know a damn thing. All we can do is act like that character in Alice in Wonderland who tried to believe several impossible things before breakfast."
“Such as?” I prodded.
“How about little green men from Mars? At least the color matches. Lee, when you have a phenomenon you can't measure, all you can do is speculate. One theory is as likely to be right as the next one. Or as wrong."
“What's your opinion?” I was forgetting this was for potential publication. Talking to Russell was always fascinating.
“My opinion? For what it's worth, I don't think God has anything to do with the gates. I'd rather believe in the Martians."
“Seriously?"
“No, of course not."
I grinned. “Actually, there was both a book and a movie back before the Millennium about little green men from Mars invading earth. They couldn't be measured, either.” I was talking about one of Grandpa's old science fiction novels. It was called Martians go home. Those aliens were obnoxious little gremlins.
“Really? What was the final explanation?"
I grinned some more. “There wasn't any. One day they went back where they came from."
“Maybe the gates will, too. Seriously, Lee, most scientists don't like to go out on a limb without some data."
“How do you expect to get any?"
“Easy. I'll use the tabwebs for evidence."
We both laughed. The tabs had been crazy about aliens for the last thirty years, at least, without a single fact to back them up. They still wrote about the Roswell crash as if it had actually happened.
We talked a while longer, relating stories we had each heard about the gates. I actually had more to tell than he did. He hadn't watched nearly as much news as I had.
I told him about the fundamentalist Muslim country in the Middle East where they were executing any woman caught going through a gate. But the gates were so well guarded there now—surrounded constantly by religious fanatics—that that wasn't likely to happen.
He told me that none of the astronomical or weather satellites had recorded so much as a blip at the time the gates appeared. If they came from outer space, it was by some means other than distortion of space or the electromagnetic spectrum.
Then he wanted to hear more about Messilinda. He rolled his eyes when I described her seducing me. “Some guys have all the luck. I barely have time to eat right now, much less have a sex life. For the life of me, though, I can't see anything special about you that would cause her to drop her panties the first time you met."
“Actually, she wasn't wearing any. Did you hear about Forbes asking Congress to start up the clipper production line again?"
“About time,” Russell grumbled. I agreed with his sentiments. As a kid, I had wanted to be an astronaut, but the financial crisis a few years ago had killed manned space travel. Now the mystery of the gates was stirring interest in outer space again.
“Indonesia is threatening to invade the Philippines."
“I heard about that. Muslims versus Catholics. Nothing new there. What I'm worried about is all the religious mania right here at home."
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Bible-belt mentality never dies. If we knew anything about what happens to people who don't come out of the gates, we could..."
Russell snapped his fingers. “Hey! Here's a story I'll bet you haven't heard. There was this doctor from the Temple medical center. He went through a gate a few months back. New life, right? Then one night he got mugged. The ‘worlders poured acid over his face for fun. Blinded him. He was so depressed he walked into a gate again."
“What happened?” I knew the answer even as I asked the question. I felt a thrill somewhere between anticipation and fear. Just when you thought you understood the gates, something unusual would happen.
“He came out the other side, perfectly normal, except that he had changed gender again."
Now that was really news. People had stopped trying a second passage because no one had ever returned from the attempt.
“Has it been verified?” I could hear my voice rising with excitement.
“Yup. Matter of fact, I went to school with one of his kids. I called him and he told me it's the straight truth."
“Give me his name. And his address, if you know it."
“His name is Walter Renfrow, but it won't do you any good to talk to him. He's claiming he doesn't remember a thing about what happened, other than that he can see again. But..."
“But what?"
“But some of his friends think he's holding back. I'd like to know myself. Here, don't let on where you got this from.” He pulled up the name and address from his phone and transferred it to mine.
After that, I was in a hurry to leave. I only stayed long enough to tell him that Donna and Rita wanted to see him a little more often. He said he would make an effort to spend a more time with Donna. No doubt he was planning a scientific investigation of her adjustment.
I almost ran home, intending to pack a bag and head for Temple the same day. I wanted to ask Rita to go with me, but when I arrived home, there was no one around that I could see. I was disappointed that Rita wasn't handy, but decided leave her a note. I intended to get up there and see that doctor before word got out. The first person to make two trips through a gate!
I headed for my room, which was across the hall from Donna's. As I passed, I noticed her door was half open. My stride shortened and something impelled me to peek inside.
Donna was lying on top of the sheets with her head propped up on a couple of pillows, watching a women's fashion program. All she was wearing was a filmy nightgown. The thin silk covered her, but revealed every curve.
I was standing in the doorway, frozen, staring at the soft swell of her breasts when she looked away from the screen and saw me. The moment stretched into eternity, but I couldn't seem to make my legs move.
“Why hello, Lee. Come on in.” Donna's voice was low and seductive. She stretched her body, arching her back so that her breasts lifted towards me, their fullness straining against the thin nightgown. She slid one hand across the silken sheets in an inviting gesture.
My legs started working again. I staggered over to the bed, moving like someone in a dream. The closer I got, the more disoriented I became, as if I were breathing in pure oxygen. I felt dizzy. My eyes drank in her voluptuous breasts, slim waist and long legs. Her liquid brown eyes watched my approach with suppressed anticipation.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. She reached out and took my hand. Her touch was like an electric shock, sending tingles up my arm.
“Donna, I—you—my God, you're beautiful. You're as lovely a sight as I've ever seen.” Why had I never realized how desirable she was until this moment?
An eager excitement lit up her face. She tugged at my hand. I kicked off my shoes and lay down beside her. My mind was buzzing with desire. I couldn't tear my gaze away from her.
“Lee, are you sure?"
“Oh, yes!"
I reached out to touch her and suddenly her body was pressed against mine. Our lips met and it seemed as if I tasted the nectar of the gods. I searched for her breasts and found them, firmly pliant beneath their flimsy covering. Her nipples became erect against the palms of my hands, sending waves of desire coursing through my body. She was a warm, desirable woman and I would let nothing on earth prevent me from possessing her, not even the thought of who she once was.
She sat up and pulled the nightgown over her head, revealing her naked body to the feel of my hands and the taste of my lips. I felt my erection surge and become cramped inside my pants. I stripped them off, and my penis came free, hard and erect, pulsing with exquisite expectation. She brought my head down to her breasts and moaned softly as I took them each in turn into my mouth, exulting in the feel of my tongue twirling around the hard little buttons of her nipples. The thought of stopping never entered my mind; my body was in total control, and all I knew or felt was concentrated in my groin.
Donna reached down and took me in her hand, and I was lost in a whirlpool of exquisite sensation. Somewhere off in the far distance a voice was shouting a warning that she had taken a pheromone, one of the very few proscribed drugs, and that this lust I felt was a trick of chemistry. I ignored it. She was my world, my utmost fantasy, the girl of a hundred adolescent dreams. She pulled me over her, thighs spread and ready, and guided me inside her. My last coherent thought was that if using a pheromone on me was cheating, I was grateful to be tricked.
Chapter Ten
Our lovemaking went on for hours—I'm not sure how many. I ravished her. I couldn't get enough of her. And I told her I loved her, again and again, even while I knew it was the pheromone talking. She cried. She cried out at the pleasure she was giving and receiving. She told me she loved me, and I believed her, in the deepest depths of my soul. It was impossible not to believe her.
Hours later we both collapsed into the bed, exhausted, as the effects began to wane. As I slowly came to my senses, I realized my body was shaking. I couldn't help wondering about side effects. The pheromones were illegal, so I doubted much research had been done. Of course, that didn't stop them from being used, especially by the rich looking for a new thrill.
Like most males, I've fantasized about using a pheromone on a girl, but that's all it amounted to: fantasy. I would never want to trick someone into sex, and I never expected a friend of mine to do it to me. Now that I was thinking rationally again, it hurt to realize that Donna, my old friend, would tamper with my mind.
Donna was curled up on her side, lost in a deep sleep. That was one side effect, one that hit the person taking the pheromone. She would be unconscious for several hours.
I eased out of her bed, gathered up my discarded clothes and shoes, and crept back to my own bedroom, struggling to think through a haze of exhausted satiation. Mostly I was amazed that Donna would risk using a pheromone to seduce me. Possession carries a long prison sentence. And where would she get her hands on the powders? North Houston has less drug use than most areas of the country. The few illegal mood changers were almost never seen here.
As I slumped into my own bed, I didn't know whether to be sorry or glad that she had used it on me. A part of me hated her for tricking me, yet images from our hours of passionate lovemaking continued to flash through my mind. I craved more. That's one of the other side effects. It creates an attraction, acts like a bonding agent between two people. But did it create it from nothing, or had I felt something for Donna before?
I would never know the truth now. But I also knew that Donna and I would become regular lovers. My inhibitions about touching her had been burned to ash in the flame of our desire. The memory of her soft skin, her warm mouth, her full breasts, would draw me back to her. I lay in the bed with my eyes half closed, picturing her nude body moving above mine as we made love, and my heart pounded with desire.
Some distant corner of my mind stopped the images long enough to remind me about Rita. How would this affect my relationship with her? Sure, she had encouraged me to sleep with Donna, but I was sure she'd never imagined that Donna would seduce me with pheromones.
Despite these worries, I must have fallen into an exhausted sleep, because when I woke up, Rita was in bed beside me. I sat up, startled, and she opened her eyes and smiled.
“You were snoring. You only do that when you're really tired.” She giggled, like someone with a secret.
“What do you mean?” Guilt made me feel defensive.
“Don't worry. I know you had sex with Donna."
I searched her face in the shadows but saw no sign of anger.
A feeling of relief swept over me. I found that I wanted to talk about my incredible experience. “You don't sound angry."
“Why should I be? I've told you from the start that you should make love to her."
“Now that it's happened, I'm not sure how I feel about it.” I shook my head and told her about the pheromones. She listened, her expression serious, and immediately reassured me on one point anyway.
“The bonding effects wear off in a few days. One of my psych professors did some research on it, even though the drug is illegal. In a week or so, you'll know what you really feel for Donna. Meanwhile, the ice is broken, so to speak."
That wasn't all that was broken. In the course of our passion, I had learned that when a man went through the gate, it did a complete job of creating a woman. I felt tenderness toward Donna, knowing I'd been her first, and compassion and love for Rita, for her openness and generous heart. Would I have been so generous?
A paranoid thought occurred to me. Was she encouraging Donna and me to get together because she wanted some distance between us? I hesitated, but had to ask. “Do you still love me?"
She threw an arm over my chest. “More than ever, you dope. I don't ever want to be separated from you. Or Donna, either."
A sense of relief flooded through me, and I missed the inclusion of Donna in her affirmation. I sighed. “I'm glad. I feel the same way. I only hope I can forgive Donna."
“For what, Mr. Stud?"
“For seducing me with a pheromone. That still bothers me."
Rita laughed and threw me a playful wink. “But she didn't. I slipped it into her caddy before I left. I knew she would have a nightcap before going to sleep."
I sat bolt upright, forgetting all about my tired body. “You did! Why?"
She shrugged as if she had done nothing worse than give Donna a backrub before leaving. “I got tired of waiting on you to come to your senses. Don't try to tell me you're sorry it happened."
Now I was really shaken. Donna was innocent. And Rita said she was only trying to help us both. Was I getting to be that stodgy about sex?
It was more than I wanted to think about. “I can't say I didn't enjoy the experience, but it will take me a few days to process it. Besides that, you took a big risk. What if you had gotten caught with an illegal drug?"
“Why, I would have swallowed it down, seduced the cop and made my getaway. Don't you know that women will do all sorts of crazy things when they're in love?"
“I didn't, but I think I'm learning.” I dropped the subject. I was exhausted, but still thinking well enough to realize an argument would only result in two women mad at me.
Fortunately, I had a new subject to distract Rita. “Would you like to go to Temple with me in the morning?"
“Sure, why not? What's going on there?"
“I'll tell you in the morning. Let's get some sleep, or I'll never be able to drive."
I curled up against Rita and dozed right off. My dreams were beautiful.
* * * *
Donna was still asleep when we left the next morning, and we didn't try to wake her up, knowing that the aftereffects of the pheromone would probably keep her in bed until noon. To reassure her, I left her a long note telling her I couldn't wait to see her again.
Russell wasn't there, either. The way he was practically living at the lab, I was beginning to feel guilty charging him rent. But maybe it was just as well he wasn't around much right now, while I worked out my relationship with Donna.
It was going to change—that much I knew for sure. Somehow while I was sleeping, my mind had cleared and I saw things differently. Don was gone forever and Donna was one beautiful woman. I found myself wanting to get my business taken care of as soon as possible so that I could get back and see her again.
I splurged on two complete natural breakfasts for me and Rita at McDonald's, then we got on the road. Temple is way up in northeast Texas, a three-hour drive about on the NAFTA, then another half hour or so on a state highway. On the way, I told Rita about the doctor who had managed what had heretofore been considered impossible, a second successful passage through a gate. She was as eager as I was to talk to him, though neither of us had figured out yet how to go about seeing him.
“I should have bought two doses of pheromone,” Rita joked. “That way I could slip it in his coffee or something and get the information out of him in bed."
“We don't know that he has any new information, yet."
“He must. He's the only person that we know of so far who has managed two passages. Just examining his new body or talking to him ought to tell us something."
“Okay, let's make that our strategy. All we want is a little time with him. We'll even offer him payment, if that's what he wants."
“You'll have to do the offering. I spent all my money on Donna yesterday."
I grinned. “Fine. I'll offer money; you offer him your tender young body."
“Don't joke. If it comes to that, I might."
I couldn't decide whether she was kidding me or not.
As it turned out, it made no difference. We were too late by several hours. I managed a few words with his son by mentioning that we had a mutual friend (without ever telling him who it was). He was too distraught to ask. During the night a squad of Secret Service agents had arrived and whisked his father away, citing some obscure national security code. Their lawyer had been unable to find out where he was being held.
I recorded our brief conversation, added the necessary background information, and forwarded the packet to Mary while we made the drive back.
Although I was disappointed, I still had a scoop. I knew Mary would find me an editor who would pay top dollar for the news that someone had gone through the gates twice. Besides, the drive itself was pleasant. The East Texas piney woods are still relatively unspoiled; in fact, since composite materials had become so universally used in construction, much of the old logged-over timber was making a comeback.
I was feeling mellow and pleasantly satisfied, so much so that I decided to call Dad and Mom and see how they were doing and if they were agreeable to us stopping on the way back.
I didn't recognize Dad's voice when he answered the phone, of course. He had to tell me twice that it was really him before I got it into my feeble mind that he was now not only young again, but female besides. He laughed about it and told us to come on by.
They must have realized it would be strange seeing them for the first time. They were waiting on the lawn when I drove up—a young man and a young woman waving at my car. At first I wondered who the heck was standing in my parents’ yard, then I knew. It was them.
After the first shock wore off, I decided they looked like a couple of my cousins. They still retained a faint resemblance to old photos of when they were young, but it was like a distorted mirror image because each of them looked the way they would have if they had been born a different sex.
I greeted them in the yard with a guarded smile, as if I were meeting two strangers. Rita was the one who got out and hugged them both. Yet I couldn't deny that these were my parents. The feeling of blood was still strong between us.
Soon we were inside, sitting at the kitchen table. It felt surreal to sit in these familiar surroundings and watch two people younger than me act exactly like my parents. Dad was brimming with energy and chattered on about the change as he puttered around the kitchen, making coffee and setting out snacks. (I had to keep reminding myself this was my dad. He had always left the kitchen chores to Mom.)
“Son, you and Rita can't possibly imagine how good I feel now. You'll have to grow old and feeble yourselves before you understand how old age drains the sap from your body."
“You always told me that experience compensated for age."
“It does, but retaining all that knowledge and experience in a young body is sort of like how I felt when I switched from a typewriter to a computer. It's wonderful!” He danced a little step by the kitchen stove. “I feel like I could fight a cage full of tigers!"
“How about you, Mr. Stuart?” Rita asked.
Mom smiled and rubbed at the whiskers on her face. Evidently, she hadn't gotten into the habit of wiping her beard off every morning yet. “I guess I am the mister now, aren't I? But please don't call us Mr. and Mrs. Stuart. I've told you that before, and it sounds silly now when we're younger than you are. Anyway, physically, it's like Edie says, but I'm still having trouble adjusting to this body."
“Edie? Are you changing your names, too?"
Dad shrugged her slender shoulders and grinned. “Take a good look at me and see how you would like being called Ed."
I did. He resembled nothing so much as a young girl ready to graduate from high school. I looked at Mom, a solid young man dressed in new jeans and long-sleeved work shirt with rolled-up sleeves, just the way Dad used to dress. “Are you taking a new name, too, Mom?"
“Yes. I guess we were lucky already having names that were easy to change. You can call me Bert now instead of Bertha or Mom.” He smiled gently at me, as if he knew how disoriented I must be. I wondered how Grandpa would have felt had he still been around.
Edie poured coffee and set out a plate of old-fashioned molasses cookies. (I began calling the folks by their new names during that visit. To tell the truth, it helped. I started to think of them as someone else than my parents, as a brother and sister who were very close to me. Call it denial if you want, but life had not prepared me to be older than my folks.)
“What are your plans now?” I asked. Of course, Dad's military retirement checks wouldn't stop for six months, but that still might leave them short before too long. Grandpa had left them a lot of money, but not enough to support them through a whole new life, especially the way the markets were reacting to the changes wrought by the gates.
“We're thinking of going back into the military if they ever decide to accept the sex-changed population."
That made some sense. The military had been Dad's whole life until he retired, and being female would present no hindrance. He had worked in weapons testing at first and later, as he rose in rank, procurement.
“Sounds like a good idea. Will you sell the house?” I hoped not. Every time I came back to visit, it was like leaving the twenty-first century and traveling back in time to a gentler, more reasonable society.
Edie rubbed her chin as if feeling for whiskers, a male mannerism she hadn't abandoned yet. “I hope we don't ever have to. In fact, we've been talking about asking you and Rita to move back here after you've finished with school, whether we go anywhere or not. Let me show you something."
She got up from the table and fetched a magazine from her study. I recognized it at once: National Geographic, the one national magazine that never seemed to falter, regardless of how much the media changed. I had grown up with it, and part of my interest in general science derived from it.
She thumbed through the pages until she found the article she was looking for, then handed it to me. Rita bent her head to study it with me. It was another article about global warming. I scanned through it, noting that the author emphasized the prominence of the scientists he quoted. There was a map projecting the prospective new coastlines of the world, including America, and this issue focused on the Gulf Coast.
The map displayed the Gulf of Mexico grown larger, with fingers extending well into Old Houston. The rising waters even took in bits of North Houston, like amoeba pseudopods searching out new territory. The date at the top of the map was not that many years in the future.
“With all the turmoil from the gates, people have forgotten about other problems,” Edie said, “but that doesn't mean global warming is going away. You kids,” he smiled when he said that, looking over at his young partner, “might be much safer here than in North Houston before too much longer."
I could imagine. Where would all the Fourth Worlders of Old Houston go when the waters covered their city? How would they feed themselves or earn a living? The city was already at the boiling point with unrest caused by high unemployment and diminution of government handouts.
Rita looked thoughtful. I studied the map with a sense of foreboding. The gates had already taught me that life could change in unexpected ways.
“We'll certainly consider it. If we do, there might be more than just, um, Rita and I."
“No problem. I'm planning on renovating and enlarging the place anyway, while money is still worth something."
“Do you think there's going to be another financial crisis?” My mind snapped into high gear, reviewing where I had my money invested.
Edie rubbed her chin again. “I don't see how we can avoid it. The gates have the whole world in an uproar, for all the good they do.” Dad had always been very smart with money; I saw no reason to disbelieve him.
We visited a while longer, then got back on the road. “Funny,” I remarked after we turned onto the NAFTA and headed south, “that was like meeting old friends you haven't seen for a while. It's going to take me some time to get used to them as they are now."
“You're not alone. People all over the world are going through the same adjustments. It's probably every bit as strange to them as it is to you."
* * * *
Mary certainly worked fast. As we left Ruston, my latest scoop came on the webs. Almost all of them carried it. Rita hugged me as if I had won the Medal of Honor. She was a little premature with her congratulations. The program was abruptly cancelled and replaced with other ‘ports, and the Secret Service was waiting on us when we pulled into my driveway.
Neither Rita nor I had ever been arrested, so it was a new experience for both of us, even though the agents didn't call it an arrest. Their spokesman said it was “protective custody.” They hustled us into a government van while Donna watched from the front porch. There wasn't even any time to speak to her.
“I want a lawyer,” I said to the chief agent, who had introduced himself as Whitley Hortz. He was seated in the captain's chair right in front of us. I twisted my wrists against the tight plastic bonds.
“Mr. Stuart, let me inform you: Under national security directive 3011-4A, signed into law this morning by President Forbes, you are not entitled to legal representation. We are allowed to hold you sixty days before taking you to court and another sixty with a judge's concurrence."
“That's not fair!” Rita cried.
Perhaps not, but I decided not to argue. Besides all the laws passed after the constitutional amendment of the Bill of Rights, many laws were being passed and signed by the president concerning the gates in one fashion or another. I couldn't keep up with all of them. And I already was sure about the reason we had been arrested: Doctor Walter Renfrow, the first person known to have passed successfully through a gate twice.
I used both my bound hands to touch Rita for reassurance. “Don't worry, hon. We haven't done anything wrong."
“That remains to be seen,” Hortz said. He wasn't smiling. No one said anything else.
The drive didn't take long; they took us to the new federal building near the center of North Houston. We were separated almost at once. I protested and was told to shut up.
I was placed in a small holding room and left alone for an hour or so. There was nothing else in the room except a hard wooden bench. I sat for a while then got up and paced, gnawing nervously at the plastic cuffs still holding my wrists together while I wondered and worried about what they were doing to Rita.
An ordinary-looking young man in a white coat finally came for me, accompanied by two huskies dressed in business suits. I was led into another bare but larger room and strapped into an upright chair. As uncomfortable as it was, I'm sure a Spanish inquisitor used it sometime in the past. Visions of torture flashed through my mind, but fortunately, there are less painful methods of eliciting information nowadays. The man in the white coat attached wires and leads to various portions of my anatomy with clips and tape. He started an IV in my right arm, adjusted the drip, and injected a syringe of something into the drug port.
“Veronal,” he said, the last thing I clearly remember.
I have a vague impression of questions being asked, but can remember very little of what I said. An indeterminable time later, I became aware that my thoughts were becoming clear. I focused my eyes on a figure standing in front of me.
Hortz stared at me like a bug under a microscope. Government agents weren't very polite back in those days, not after all the constitutional amendments had been ratified.
“Mr. Stuart, It is my determination that you and Miss Hernandez present no threat to the country at the present time. Let me be very frank, though. There will be no more information distributed by you to the webs concerning Doctor Renfrow, not now, nor in the future. In fact, you are instructed under the provisions of security directive 3017-7B to cease all investigation of persons now or in the future who may pass through a gate for the second time. Is that clear?"
“But why? What is wrong with them?"
“Is that clear?” he repeated, ignoring my question.
“Yes.” What else could I say?
“See that you remember.” He turned and left without another word. Someone had already unstrapped my arms and taken off the instrument leads. I pulled myself to my feet, although I was still shaking from the effects of the veronal. Another agent opened the door.
“Come with me,” he said. I followed without arguing. My coordination was still not back to normal, and it was all I could do to stay on my feet. He walked me back by the route we had followed on the way in. We wound up at the entrance to the federal building. Rita was waiting for me there, half supported by a female agent. Her eyes were as glassy as new marbles.
“Lee!” She came into my arms and began crying. I patted her back and kneaded her shoulders.
“If you feel stable enough, you're free to go,” the female agent said. She didn't have to tell me twice. There was nothing I wanted more in the world right then than to get away from that place and back home to my family.
It was at that point that I began thinking of Donna and Russell as family. The thought of seeing them and getting Rita safely back home made me feel like a combat soldier suddenly being told that his suicide mission had been cancelled.
It took a few minutes to catch a cruising taxi. I held Rita in my arms and let her cry herself out as the driver followed my instruction back to the house. On the way we passed a gate sitting like a lonely artifact on the turf of central park, sparkling in the bright sunlight. There were only a couple of people approaching it as if they intended to enter. Nearby, a delegation of several young men and women in conservative white dress smiled and encouraged them. They wore bright red circular emblems on their chests with a neat CG in white letters centered inside the circles, the icon of Messilinda's Church of the Gates. Her religion was really catching fire.
Homecoming was like the first day of semester break after you've been assured that you passed all the final exams. I threw open the front door and drank in the sight of the great room, feeling dizzy with relief. For once, Russell was there, comforting Donna while they both waited for news about us.
After we'd finished hugging, we sat and talked late into the night, worried about what the feds might do next. But, as Russell observed, we didn't have enough data to come to any firm conclusions.
Finally, Russell left for his bedroom. He had to be at the lab by six in the morning. Rita and I decided to call it quits for the night, too, but when we staggered together into our bedroom, Donna followed us inside as if she belonged there.
Chapter Eleven
If I thought for even a second about ordering Donna to leave, the love and pleading in her big brown eyes changed my mind. While I stood staring, my exhausted mind still not functioning properly, Donna embraced me in a tight hug, then stepped back and began stripping off her clothes. Rita got a wicked grin on her face and soon clothes were flying all over the room.
I'm afraid I acted like a kid with a brand-new baseball mitt he can't wait to try, and Rita behaved like a girl who had been given a new doll for Christmas. Donna wanted only to make us both happy, separately and together. How long had Rita had the hots for Donna? Or had our session together provoked her desire? Or did the fact that Donna had once been a male incite Rita's desire? The changes the gate had brought were making life complex—and interesting.
At one point during our lovemaking, I watched in fascination as Rita lay in Donna's arms, shuddering as Donna kissed her breasts. Moments later, she took Donna's breasts in her hands and teased the nipples until they stood erect. As far as I knew, Rita had only been to bed with a woman once before, and she had never expressed a desire to repeat the experience. Now she couldn't seem to get enough. Her hands and mouth explored the soft mounds of Donna's breasts, fondling and kissing them and taking the nipples into her mouth like a hungry baby.
Like any man, I had to pause and recover from time to time, but the women were insatiable. Then, too, I was noticing that the gate might have turned Donna into a beautiful woman, but she still acted like a man in bed. She was aggressive and quick to assume the dominant role, with both Rita and me. To my surprise, I enjoyed it. Because of my mediocre looks, I've never been a big on the male macho thing. So I found it strangely exciting to submit to the desires of an attractive woman. I let her do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and so did Rita. Rita was never one of those sweet little Southern belles who wait on the man to make the first move (I think they only exist in myth nowadays), but even she was learning things from our new bedmate.
When both of them made love to me at once, I closed my eyes and drowned in the wild sensations; I moaned each time Rita moved her lips slowly and sensually down over my penis, while at the same time Donna leaned over me with one of her breasts tucked in my mouth and the other in my hand. Waves of pleasure ran through my body, and I felt as if I were being washed to the shores of a heavenly paradise. When I finally fell into a thoroughly satiated sleep, they were still going at it.
* * * *
When I awoke after my night of pleasure, the reality of my arrest hit me twice as hard. I could tell Rita was having problems adjusting too. We spent most of the day hanging around the house, reluctant to venture too far from familiar ground. When Russell got back from the lab that night, he tried to help me remember some of the questions my interrogators had asked. All I could recall was vague voices coming to me from what seemed like a great distance.
“There's something peculiar going on,” he said, as if we hadn't already been given ample demonstration of the fact.
“Yeah. They're treating Doctor Renfrow as he had changed into a little green Martian while he was in the gate."
Russell's brow creased in a frown. “You know, maybe that's what they do think."
“That he turned into an alien? Come on, Russ, be serious."
“Not really an alien, but I am being serious. I'll bet there's something about him that has the government upset. If the first trip changes your sex, what might the second trip change?"
“Well, it changes you back. And he looked normal, according to his son,” I reminded him.
“A spayed cat looks normal on the outside, too, but that doesn't mean it is."
I shrugged. “Whatever, I've been told to leave it alone. I intend to do as I was told. I don't want to ever go to jail again.” One experience was enough to last me a lifetime.
“They won't be able to keep it secret,” Russell declared. “Scientists talk. I'll find out what it's all about before the week is out."
I had to agree with him there. The government may be able to cancel web or network programs they disagree with, but web communications between individuals are impossible to control, let alone censor.
* * * *
Russell was on campus during much of the next several days. It gave Rita, Donna and I a lot of time to explore our three-way relationship. I asked Rita once what it was about Donna that had drawn her into the sexual relationship.
“Don't tell me you're against it.” She lifted an eyebrow and smiled.
“Not at all. Just curious.” I was, too.
“Let's put it like this: I always cared about Don, partly because I loved you so much and he was your friend, but also because he was an attractive, sexy guy in his own right. Then, when Don became Donna and fell in love with you, I naturally got even closer to her."
“Why closer?"
She grinned wickedly. “Maybe it's the perverted psych major in me. But I wanted to see how a man in a woman's body would make love—and how better than to be in bed with him and a man."
I stared at her, and she met my gaze without flinching. Who would have guessed Rita would be so brazen about sex? “I never suspected you were that way."
“I'm not ‘that way,’ as you put it. It was more than an experiment. I care about Donna."
“A lot of people would think that was strange."
Rita's eyes flashed. “For your information, women have loved each other since we came down out of the trees. Finally, our culture is reaching a level where it can be expressed more or less openly, and not necessarily in a physical sense. Why do men always have to think of women in terms of sex?"
“Because you're sexy, I guess."
Her anger vanished. “Lee, you're so typically male I should write a paper on you.” She wrapped an arm around my neck and hugged me, taking the sting out of her words. I touched her lips, thinking how lucky I was.
My curiosity wasn't quite satisfied, though. Thinking quickly over what she had said, I asked, “What about Russell? Are you going to fall in love with him, too?"
“Now what brought that up?"
“Well,” I hesitated. I was learning that Rita didn't need much encouragement to talk when it came to sex. “When we got back from being under arrest, I had a strong feeling that the four of us were like a family now."
Rita looked thoughtful. “I felt the same way. And I know Donna thinks Russell is sexy in his own quiet way."
For an instant, I felt angry. Donna was my lover. Then I remembered that Donna was only now learning what it meant to be a woman. And she deserved someone who would be as committed to her as I was to Rita. But then, would we still stay lovers? Would Russell be open to a foursome? For that matter, did Russell still think of Donna as a man, or did he see the attractive woman she was becoming?
I couldn't figure out all the nuances; the gate was bringing too many mindbending changes. Besides, I didn't really care who had sex with whom. But I didn't want to see anyone get hurt.
Rita mussed my hair and smiled enigmatically. “Don't worry about it. One of these days when you're old and gray and decide to go through a gate you'll discover more about women than you ever thought possible."
I left it at that. I didn't tell her that I wasn't planning on going through a gate when I got old. I liked being male too much, especially right now.
* * * *
The government's secret soon came out the way Russell predicted it would. One evening ten days after our arrest, he came home from school with a big grin on his face. He grabbed Rita first, then Donna, kissed them both with a loud smack, then still keeping an arm around Donna's waist, said, “Gather ‘round, folks, I've got some news!"
Letting go of Donna, he sprawled into the depths of the big easy chair. He took her drink from her and drained it.
“Must be important,” I said, sitting down across from him and leaning forward.
“Remember that doc who went through the gate twice, then got arrested by the Secret Service?"
As if I could forget. Russell was only teasing me—he laughed and went on. “They didn't get a damn thing out of him! Veronal, scopalamine, pentathol, hypnosis, you name it, they came up blank. And it finally got out, just like I told you it would. The web is warping with the story."
I didn't get it. “What's the big deal if he doesn't know anything, other than that he managed to come out of a gate twice?"
“The big deal is that none of the drugs had any effect on him. It was like trying to question a catatonic. He never said word one. Not only that. They took him to some government lab and tested him physically forty ways from zero. He's perfectly normal and human; gene analysis matches his original identity exactly, allowing for the elimination of some detrimental recessives."
“Have they let him go?” Maybe I could get that interview now.
“Nope, but they probably will, eventually. The private lines are talking about a couple of other similar cases. One of them was kinda cute. This Arab woman sneaked out of her house, bribed a guard and went through a gate. Naturally, she turned into a male. The way the story reads, her husband grabbed her and tossed her back into the gate. She made it through the second time and came back out a woman again."
“I'll bet she's mad as hell,” Rita said.
“That's not the story we're getting. She didn't seem to mind at all and went right along with the inevitable questioning; she offered no resistance, the same as our case. But she didn't talk, either."
“Could this be the beginning of a trend?” Donna seemed interested, but not anxious. A few months ago she would have bolted for the gate, but I think she was beginning to enjoy being a woman by then.
“I doubt it, though it's a little early to tell yet. Statistically, ninety-nine point et cetera percent of those who have tried a second passage never come back. Even if it is a trend, at this rate, it will take years to gather enough of a statistical universe to understand why a few make it but the vast majority don't. Shucks, we're still not even sure why some don't come back from the first attempt."
“There's still something peculiar about this,” I said. “Whoever heard of a person able to clam up under veronal?"
“Name me one thing that isn't peculiar about the gates,” Russell challenged. “This is one more puzzle to add to all the others."
I nodded my head. “So what else have you heard?"
“Probably not much that you haven't. Our funding got cut, though."
“How come?"
Russell waved the hand holding his drink. “Something about Congress not being able to come up with the money next year. We're going on half rations now so we can keep operating if that turns out to be the case."
Rita looked skeptical. “I would think the government would have plenty of money. Social Security and Medicare payments must be way down."
“You haven't been keeping up with the news,” I said. “What they've saved, they've spent on the military, gate research and the space program."
“Yeah, isn't that great?” Russell said. “After all this time, they've finally decided to fund every kind of space research and production imaginable. Hell, they're even talking about reviving the Nerva and Orion projects."
Neither of the women knew what he was referring to. I might not have if I hadn't been such a science fiction buff. Nerva and Orion were both nuclear-propelled rocket projects cancelled way back before the Millennium.
I frowned. “If that's the case, Washington must be swinging toward the alien origin of the gates."
“That's what I hear, though what purpose our dinky little space programs will serve in figuring out anything about the gate technology, I have no idea."
“Can I quote you as an ‘informed source’ on this?” Mary was agitating for another piece from me ever since the last one was pulled.
“Hell, you can quote me by name if you want to. Scientists are webbing all over the place about it, for and against."
“Which position do you favor?"
“Oh, well, I say go for it. For all we know, the gates may disappear tomorrow, and we'd be that far ahead at least. If the damn dumb politicians had spent the money in the first place, we'd have so much industry in space by this time that we could support every Fourth Worlder on earth, whether they ever worked a lick or not."
I agreed. Democracy has many virtues, but foresight isn't often one of them.
Russell leaned back and sighed, his exhaustion showing on his face. “Well, that's my scoop for the day. What are you folks hearing?"
I wondered whimsically whether anyone in the physics department ever turned on a news program. If they did, you couldn't prove it by Russell.
“Men are beginning to outnumber women, in this country anyway, and probably in most of the others regardless of what they're saying. If that keeps on, the gates may wind up solving the overpopulation problem,” Rita said.
“Messilinda's Gate Church is still gaining converts. They've gone national and are beginning to pick candidates to run in the next election,” I said.
Russell made a face. “How can people believe in that nonsense?"
Donna shook her head at him. “The same way they've been believing ever since the Neanderthal age. Everyone isn't as rational as you are."
“Yeah, but damn all..."
I laughed. “Russ, we must have gone over this a thousand times. Most people cling to the idea of a God because they can't face the fact that they are going to die. For that matter, they can't stay alive without thinking there is a purpose for their existence. Why bring it up again?"
“For one thing, if those damn Gaters have their way, there wouldn't be any more scientific research. They think the gates have all the answers to the inscrutable."
“I doubt that it will go that far."
“I hope not.” Russell yawned. “Tell me the rest in short sentences. I'm ready for bed."
By this time, the gates had been around for nearly two years, and you would think people would have learned to live with their presence, but that wasn't the case, any more than the country had ever compromised on the abortion issue or the everlasting racial problems, not to mention religion and politics. We have always been a fractious country, and the gates just gave more ammunition to the divisions.
By now, several main factions were contending for control of the gates (or for the power to form policy about them). The most unusual was Messilinda's rapidly growing Church of the Gates (though it took her a few days to come up with an explanation of why God had rejected a few of the heaven bound). They wanted us to worship the gates and ascend into heaven after the first rejuvenation ran out. They opposed any form of research on the gates and were against most other scientific research, too. Of course, the other religions disagreed. I find it amazing that they insist on holding such varying beliefs about abortion, birth control, homosexuality, and so forth, beliefs that keep them at one another's throats.
To the Fourth World population, the gates seemed like an indulgence of the idle rich. What difference did it make which sex you were when you were starving and jobless? They were hungry and penniless and getting more so each day. Every day it seemed Fourth Worlders were rioting somewhere for jobs and a return of government handouts.
The military continued their buildup, expecting trouble at any moment. They already had the Fourth Worlder riots to contend with. There was also the possibility of another country invading us because they hated how America allowed free access to the gates, or even—although I didn't take it seriously—the chance of an alien invasion. Daily, the tabwebs got more and more hysterical about the supposed alien menace behind the gates. When the news got out about the second passage individuals being resistant to drug interrogation, they really went wild.
Unemployment in the medical profession and allied industries was eating into the banking system's cash reserves as jobless persons drew down their savings or borrowed against their credit limits. There had already been a number of bank failures.
Mexico, Puerto Rico, and Hawaii were all threatening to succeed from the Union and the Texas legislature was close to having enough votes to exercise their constitutional right to split into four states.
To top it all off, my dad (and the National Geographic article he showed me) proved to be right. Most of the governors and mayors of threatened areas were demanding that the government begin building inland cities for the population threatened with displacement by the rising oceans.
It was obvious the world was dangerously close to chaos and the gates had only made things worse. More and more, I wanted to get away from the bigger cities. As we sat and talked, I decided to tell the others about Dad's offer for us to move into Grandpa's house as soon as the renovation was finished.
“I'm for it,” Donna said at once. She was stretched out on the long lounger with her head in my lap while Rita sat upright next to me. I was resting one hand on her breast and squeezed it gently in appreciation.
“I don't like the mood the country is in,” she added, “and I think it's likely to get worse before it gets better. That's not even considering the rise in sea level, and we know that's going to continue."
“How can you be so sure?” Rita asked. “Lots of scientists say the worst is over now, and they won't rise much further."
“That's government propaganda,” Russell said. “The ice caps are still melting. You've been listening to too much political comment. None of the inland congress critters want to spend their tax money on supporting a bunch of Fourth Worlders."
“It won't just be the Fourths,” Rita contradicted.
I knew more political theory than she did. “You're right, hon, but most people can afford to move themselves when the time comes, and the Third Worlders at least try to support themselves. Russ is right. Any inland politician who advocates spending anything more than token money on relocating the Fourths would get kicked out of office."
“So what? It's the right thing to do. They should realize that."
How do you explain to a political novice that representatives, with a very few exceptions, always vote in a way that will assure their re-election? It's an instinct as old as the jungle and survival of the fittest. Protect your turf. Take a walk through any middle-class neighborhood and observe how carefully fences and hedges delineate each individual home, or think how women so often dominate the decor and arrangements inside a home.
Donna spoke up. She may not have understood politics, but she knew how contrary human nature could be. “Rita, hon, Lee is right. There won't be any moves until the last moment and anything could happen then."
“I sure would hate to leave school.” That was no surprise. Russell was practically married to his lab.
“Better that than get killed in a riot when Old Houston starts moving north,” I said.
“I suppose you're right. I guess I could commute back and forth for the lab. How will we support ourselves, though? It's not like Ruston is advertising for professionals to come to work there."
“I'll put some of my money with Dad—Edie's. We'll build in a big enough home office so that we can work from it. And there's always farming."
“Ugh,” Donna grimaced.
I molded her breast in my hand. “If things get bad, it might come to that. Better a well-fed farmer than a hungry mathematician."
Russell covered his mouth as he yawned again. “If we're all agreed, I'm for bed.” He got to his feet.
I thought about inviting him into the bedroom with us, then caught Rita's slight shake of her head. I knew she was a better judge than me. She would know when the time was ripe.
The three of us were soon headed for bed, too. As we were undressing, Donna turned to Rita. “I know you're devoting your life to helping others with your psychology. But I'm afraid you're being too optimistic and trusting. The world is changing for the worse and we're in for a rude awakening before it's all over."
None of us imagined how soon that awakening would come.
Chapter Twelve
Over the next several weeks, the country remained in more or less the same shape: shaky, but still holding together, although when the stories Russell had related broke there was some localized insanity. After the webs began playing stories about second passers—they were soon known as Seconders—I called Hortz at the federal building to see if I could do some pieces of my own. I had a devil of a time tracking him down; he had left North Houston for Washington. I finally located him there and got his permission, subject to censorship by the local office.
They didn't bother me much, and Mary soon placed a couple of my stories. I sent the money to Edie with instructions to use it to begin construction of a home office. She was tickled that I was planning to move back to Ruston. I hadn't mentioned yet that there might several of us. Rita was still debating about the prospective move. With her job working in the sex clinic, she had the most to leave behind. Russell didn't mind commuting since he would stay at the lab for days at a time—something he was doing already.
I couldn't see any of us leaving Rita behind—especially me—but I was confident I would be able to convince her, especially after an incident that took, place a few weeks after my arrest.
Russell was working at his lab. Donna was off shopping. I found it amusing that Donna had taken up the female habit of shopping as quickly as a hound dog snapping up a hushpuppy. When she was a man, she was a typical male. She had to be forced into a store.
Rita came home from work and dropped her briefcase by the door. She let loose an exasperated sigh.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey, Lee. What are you drinking?"
“Nothing right now, but I'll fix us one if you like."
“I like. Make it a strong one. This hasn't been a good day.” She plopped down on the same lounger I had been using.
“What went wrong?” I got busy behind the bar concocting my favorite rum whatnots.
“One of our therapists went through the gate, and now her—his—clients are confused. I spent half the day calming people down."
“Sorry.” I handed her a glass and sat down beside her.
“Thanks.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. Strands of ebony black hair tickled my upper arm. “Where is Donna?"
“On the perennial female quest: shopping for new clothes. At least I think that's what she's after."
She smiled. “You're the one who needs new clothes.” She fingered the worn threads of my shirt, then chugged her drink down and held out her glass for a refill.
“Better take it easy,” I warned. “This stuff packs enough punch to make a cat chase a dog."
“Good. That's what I need."
I shrugged and poured us each another. She took the next one a little slower, but not by much. Then she stood up, stretching the tension out of her muscles.
“Excuse me a minute. I want to change.” She departed for her room, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. She returned a few minutes later, wearing a short black nightgown with a row of tiny white touchtabs running down the center. It looked good on her, accenting her slim waist. It was short enough to display most of her shapely thighs.
“That's something new, isn't it?” I suppressed the urge to whistle. It looked great on her.
“Yup. First time I've worn it.” She fingered the hem of the material between two fingers. “Here, feel. It's made out of that new velvetin."
I bunched a fold of the cloth covering her upper thigh in my hand and rubbed it between my fingers. It felt like the thinnest and softest velvet ever devised.
“Nice.” My hand strayed from the material to the warm skin of her thigh.
She finished her drink and leaned all her weight against my side. “I'm glad to see you appreciate beautiful things, Lee.” She ran her hand up and down the soft fabric of my old pair of jeans, stopping each time just below my crotch.
I began to get an erection. The way that dress clung to Rita made it easy to imagine her naked. She curled an arm around my neck and drew my face down to hers. She parted her lips as I yielded to the pressure of her hand and brought my lips down to meet hers.
Her tongue was hungry in my mouth.
She caught my hand and brought it to her breasts. I could feel her heart pounding through the thin fabric. I slipped the straps down over her shoulders and the silky garment fell away, exposing her nipples.
I heard a car door slam and snatched my hand away as the door opened and Donna came into the room, carrying a couple of shopping bags. She spotted us on the lounger, and then her gaze took in Rita's half-naked condition.
She lifted an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting?"
Rita laughed, making no effort to cover herself. “You know better than that. Why not join us?"
Donna didn't need to be asked twice. She dropped her shopping bags and joined us on the lounger. Since Rita was already half undressed, we concentrated on her, kissing her face and shoulders and then slipping the nightie up over her head. She was wearing nothing at all underneath.
Donna began unbuttoning her own blouse. As usual she was braless, and I could see that her nipples were already erect with excitement. I stood up, unzipped my jeans and let them fall to the ground.
“Oops! Excuse me!"
I turned to see Russell standing in the doorway, a red flush on his cheeks. His eyes were riveted on Donna's bare breasts.
Behind me, Rita giggled and gave Donna a small push. With a seductive smile, Donna got up and walked toward Russell, meanwhile taking her blouse completely off and letting it fall to the floor. She was naked from the waist up and as she reached him, her fingers undid the touch tabs on his shirt and pushed it away from his chest. She ran her fingers through his chest hair, then took his face in her hands and kissed him hard on the lips.
“Russell...” Her voice was a low, seductive murmur. “You've been spending way too much time in the lab lately. Why not join the family?"
I saw his eyes turn dark with desire. “Why not."
“Come on, then. Hurry!” She tugged him toward her room with one hand and ran her fingers down the clasps of her skirt with the other. It dropped away from her and floated to the floor like a discarded handkerchief.
* * * *
Rita and I were cuddling together in bed when I heard voices outside my door. I suddenly realized we had been indulging ourselves for hours. It was probably well past suppertime.
Rita heard too. She kissed me and then sat up. “Come on; I'm hungry. Maybe they've fixed something to eat."
She was out of the door before I was. Of course, all she had to put back on was her wrap. I got into jeans and shirt and followed her out a minute later.
Russell and Donna were sitting at the table, holding hands, gazing at each other like two teenagers with their first crush. Russell glanced up as we came in and grinned. For the first time I wondered if he had been spending so much time in the lab because he felt left out of our threesome. Well, that wasn't going to be a problem anymore.
A cheese and sausage pizza lay on the table. I helped myself to a slice, got a beer out of the fridge, and sat down by Donna. She smiled and gave me a peck on the lips, then patted my thigh affectionately, as if I had done something nice for her. I wondered if I would ever learn to understand women. Or men who had become women.
The big screen was already on. China was in the news this time, or at least pieces of it. The country had broken apart several years ago, and now various warlords controlled different areas. The old policy of one birth per family was still enforced in some places; amended in others. In this case we heard that if the first child was a girl, a family could try a second time for a boy, but only once. Gender selection was still almost unavailable, unlike here and in other countries. Since the arrival of the gates, second (and many first) girl children were forced through to become boys. I wondered what would happen when all those boys reached adolescence with so few girls around. I could imagine ravening hordes of males invading neighboring countries in search of females a few years down the line.
“They are being ridiculous.” Donna tossed her head as she listened to a warlord explain the new policy. “What's wrong with girl babies?"
I knew something about the reasons from my history studies. “Nothing, except that better than half the population of Asia are still Fourth Worlders, even peasantry. A son is the assurance the parents will be taken care of in their old age."
“Don't they even have Social Security?"
“Not as we think of it."
“Well, I think it's horrible. What will all those boys do when they grow up?"
“Think of the girls. They'll certainly have a choice,” Rita said.
I shook my head. “More likely, we'll see more sex slavery than any time since Genghis Khan went on a rampage, not to mention invasions of their neighbors. But that's years in the future."
Rita handed me a slice of pizza. Maybe she wanted me to shut up or change the subject. At that moment, another news bulletin flashed on the screen. Several riots were happening at once. Blacks, Hispanics and a few whites were overrunning the few federalized guards stationed at the gates, posted there to guarantee passage. As we watched, the live broadcast, female guards were taken prisoner; the male guards were tossed into the gates, then taken prisoner a moment later when they emerged as naked females. The live camera turned away from the horrifying scenes that followed. It was several moments before the city was identified: Los Angeles again. That polyglot city would riot at the drop of a hat.
“What on earth do they think they're doing?” Rita asked.
No one said anything. The newshead answered her question. It was a citywide Fourth Worlder uprising. They were attempting to capture all the gates in the city and control entry for ransom. Food and jobs were their main demands. Food the country could manage, but I wondered where they thought jobs would come from when they had no skills. The gap between Fourth Worlder knowledge and education and that of the rest of the population was as wide as that between a feudal baron and his serfs. The problem had been growing for decades, and there was no solution in sight. There was certainly no money for make-work jobs. The country had supported too many elderly and supposedly indigent for too many years until it went broke. We were still suffering the pains of the financial crash that resulted. Facts wouldn't stop a mob, though, and never had. It would just have to play itself out.
As we watched, the scene flicked to another city. I recognized the Denver city center immediately. Fourth Worlders had caught the mania there, too, though they didn't seem to be quite so organized as the ones in Los Angeles. That made sense, since their gangs weren't nearly so monolithic as those in the bigger city.
Rita watched the turmoil with dismayed compassion. “Those poor people. Don't they know they can't possibly win? They'll only make things worse for themselves."
“It's frustration and resentment,” Donna said. “They don't have anything to lose, so it's easy to lash out."
I agreed with her. If I had been raised in the Fourth World, I might be out there rioting myself, even if I knew it wouldn't solve anything. At least I could express my rage that way.
Russell watched the riots unfold, but he wore the distracted look of someone who has just fallen in love. He kept turning away from the screen to stare at Donna.
“I thought you'd be back at the lab by now,” Rita said, teasing him.
Of course, Russell took her seriously. “Problems with the instruments. Dr. Jones doesn't know as much about gravity as he thinks he does. That's why I came home early today.” He turned his attention back to the screen. “Looks like riots are breaking out in a couple of cities."
As it turned out, it was more than a couple. Scenes from Baton Rouge came on the screen next. That city's population had been swollen the last few years by refugees heading north as New Orleans slowly flooded, and it looked as if every single one of them were joining in the riots. Recruits from the Church of the Gates were battling them. We saw a brief flash of Messilinda urging her followers to help the police and militia. If Baton Rouge was typical, the Gaters were turning out to defend the gates with a will.
President Forbes used the national webworks to break in with a ten-minute exhortation, pleading for calmness and consideration. He added that he was federalizing National Guard units in the states where unrest was occurring.
“These goddamned gates!” Russell exploded. “What in hell is behind them? All they've caused so far is chaos."
“And a second chance at life for a lot of old people.” Trust Rita to notice when people were helped.
“Not to mention a chance for women in oppressive countries to get out from under the yoke,” Donna added. I think she was finally realizing that females in other parts of the globe didn't have it as easy as she did.
I chewed thoughtfully on my pizza. “Good and bad. Life's been topsy-turvy since they appeared."
“Yeah, and whoever or whatever put the gates here must have known they would rock our civilization,” Russell said.
I disagreed. “How can you say that? Maybe this is like a game to them, like Chaos Calling.” That was a popular web game at the time. The idea was to dream up a random factor and toss it into a given situation, scoring points for the most change you could induce.
“Whatever. You're right, Lee. We still don't know a damn thing. That's a good analogy, though."
I could understand Russell frustration. The gates had turned his chosen field upside down, but even after years of study scientists couldn't get a handle on how or why they worked.
“I still think God must have something to do with them,” Rita said.
That upset me. I stared at her. “You're not going to become a Gater, are you?"
“No, of course not. I would never pretend I know what God is or what he or she is thinking. I don't think aliens did it, though. Aliens advanced enough to create these gates wouldn't be interested in our petty civilization."
“Damn it, the gates are like an unbreakable code.” Russell ran his hands through his hair. “Why do they only affect humans, for example? Why not chimpanzees, or Chihuahuas?"
I laughed, but Russell didn't. “That fact alone makes me think they must be the product of an alien race. The gates are aimed specifically at humans, the only self-aware species on this planet, if you don't count the crazy dogs and cats the gene engineers are fooling around with."
“Maybe they found Earth and didn't like the way humans were developing,” Donna suggested.
“In what way?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Maybe they think separate sexes are the reason behind the constant turmoil on this planet. Maybe they think we are too polarized and need to learn to handle both male and female energies. Maybe they think the gates will steer us in another direction."
“They certainly will do that. In fact, it's already happening.” Rita winked in Donna's direction. “Whether that is their intent or not though, who knows?"
I turned to her. “Why do you think the race will go off in a different direction? We're still human, after all. You told me yourself that persons changed by the gates retain the same basic drives we've always had."
“So we do, but there hasn't been enough time yet to see how it will play out. Once the majority of the population has experienced living in bodies of each gender for a time, the basic gestalt of the race is bound to change in some ways."
“There's a flaw in your thinking,” I said.
“What's that, smarty?"
“For one thing, gender-changed individuals will never make up the majority of the population. Some people don't want to change their sex no matter what benefits it offers. Almost thirty percent of the oldsters still refuse to enter a gate, even when they know they're dying."
Rita looked smug. “That will change over time. We're already seeing a slight decline in their numbers. Besides, the ones who do change have had a lifetime of experience, not to mention a lifetime to accumulate assets. They will ultimately wind up controlling our destiny. They are natural leaders, and they have the wealth to influence society."
After a while, the news got old, especially when the ubiquitous commentators and politicians started in with their blather. We kept one screen on with the sound turned down low just in case anything new turned up. Our serious discussion gradually turned into an impromptu party to celebrate Russell's entrance into our threesome, and then almost degenerated into an orgy. Rita, who always seemed to be the one initiating sexual experimentation, started it off by flirting with Russell. Donna was still lusting after me. And since Rita was busy elsewhere, I did my best to satisfy her.
Suddenly, all the barriers were down. Russell and Rita, Rita and me, Donna and Russell, Donna and Rita, me and Donna. The combinations kept changing. All the bedroom doors were left open as the four of us experienced sexual freedom with each other. I remember thinking how much I loved them all, and telling Rita of my discovery.
“You're growing up,” she said. I think that's what she said. That's about the last thing I clearly remember.
* * * *
I was the first one up the next morning, mainly because I had forgotten to take a Nohang pill. I woke up with a pounding head and a mouth that felt like a garbage disposal looks after all the recyclables have been eliminated. I stumbled out of the bedroom, leaving Donna sleeping peacefully behind me and found the pills. I shook out a double dose, thinking that if we had another night like the one just finished, someone was going to have to go to the pharmacy.
While I was alternating orange juice with coffee, I stared at the screen. No one had ever turned it off. As the Nohang gradually started to work, I suddenly realized that the mayor of North Houston was speaking. I told the volume to increase until I could hear what she was saying.
“...will not be tolerated here. The council is expected to act on my recommendation within the hour. Thank you."
Recommendation? I wondered what she had recommended. I left the volume up, filtering out comments that were mostly repeats of what we had heard the previous evening.
My phone beeped. “Lee,” I croaked.
“Lee? Is that you?” I didn't recognize the voice.
“Yes, it is."
“This is Edie. Are you sick, Son? You don't sound good."
“Hi, Dad—Edie, I mean. No, I feel fine. Not enough sleep.” I was feeling better by then, so it wasn't a complete falsehood.
“Good. Listen, Lee, I've been called back to active duty. We have to leave for El Paso this afternoon."
“We? Is Mom—I mean Bert—going with you?"
“He wants to, but we need someone to look after the house. Are you and Rita ready to move yet?"
This was sooner than what I had anticipated, but not impossible. However...
“Uh, there may be four of us coming up. We've sort of formed a, well, a family."
There was a pause, then, “Whatever you want to do, Lee. Being young and healthy again has given me a new outlook on life. I feel the same way you young people must feel now."
We talked for a few more minutes before I broke the connection. As I clipped the phone back to my belt, Rita put her arms around me and nuzzled the back of my neck.
“Good morning.” I twisted around to meet her embrace. Russell was right behind her. He had a silly grin on his face. A vague memory of them in my bedroom together surfaced. I twitched it, and nothing happened to upset me.
“What's going on?” Russell asked, nodding his head at the screen. Even as he spoke, the mayor appeared, replacing a shot of a mob running through the downtown streets of Old Houston. She looked tense, but her voice was firm as she announced that all licensed carriers were being drafted into the militia. It took a moment for it to register. That meant me. And Donna.