The Doorkeeper's Mind

by E. L. Morrow

  J, “Those opposed …” Three nos.

  J, “Four to one against eliminating her. All those in favor of throwing in with the pro-plan group and providing extra protection for her….” One yea.

  J, “Those opposed?” Three nos.

  J, “The no’s have it. So how many are in favor of leaving her alone?” Four Yea.

  J, “We’ve decided to not interfere with her action. We’ll revisit this decision as needed. Anything else need to come up?

  J, “Till next month …” They all say in unison “V.”

  The Chatter-Searching-Computer waits until everyone disconnects. In the split second before the initiating computer shuts down a new call address is inserted. Now each time there is a call, there will be a sixth listener.

  After analyzing the implication of the conversation, Friend concludes there is no immediate threat to Marie. However, the recording is forwarded to Rudy and Danzella, with a note “Possible Security issue. M is unaware.”

  Wichita

  2095-01-04, 9:00 am CST

  Danzella answers her secure line. The contact can only be from Rudy. Their regular daily briefing was only four hours ago. But then a new potential threat to Marie’s safety surfaced. Setting the scrambler to today’s code, she waits for the green lights indicating no attempts to intercept the conversation, she answers.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you listen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Impressions?”

  “They sound serious. Friend says, we cannot identify the five people. They are using modulators to prevent voice print analysis.”

  “I agree. My only concern is that they might do a call analysis and discover the sixth number, and trace it to her.”

  “Friend is working on piggybacking on one of their numbers. In the meantime, her signal went through several countries and a dozen satellites. Question for you. Do you think they hired the shadows from Baltimore? Or did they only tap into his report?”

  “Not sure. Burnbalm is free-lance. We thought he was working for Big G. But they seem to know more than could be learned by reading a file.

  “My guess is they are all fixers for major financial blocks, or perhaps even whole nations. We’ll understand more about them as we hear more.”

  “Sounds like they are the policymakers. It seems they are committed to working in concert.”

  “I agree,” says Rudy. “And they’re international.”

  “So, do I tell my charge about this threat?”

  “She’s got enough on her plate. Besides, what more can be done? Keep her from traveling? Then she would be a sitting target.”

  “Agreed. I didn’t want to go against your judgment. Are you going to tell ‘your lady?’”

  “No! She’d worry. Believe me, we don’t want that.”

  “Should I tell the locals?”

  “Not now. I’ll put Harris and Davis in the loop. They may pick up something.”

  They both say, “Later.” The call disconnects.

  Danzella reflects, “The lights on the scrambler remain green. A positive sign. Rudy’s right—we can do nothing more to protect Marie without nearly imprisoning her. So why do I feel so uneasy about not telling her?”

  Thirty-One

  Surprise: Marie’s Journal

  Wichita

  2095-01-21, Friday, 9:30 pm

  Section: What I’m Learning about Myself.

  Date: January 21, 2095

  Well, I finally know what all the fuss is about.

  My last session with Ava was before being away for a week of Stop-the-Lies activity. From my previous visit, I became aware of Ava was planning the “surprise session.” Because of all that has happened since our last visit, I thought she might delay the sexual session but she didn’t.

  I should have been less obvious about knowing this would be the surprise session. Next time I’ll wear underwear in addition to my SOG.

  I wore a blindfold, to ensure my using the sense of touch primarily. Ava attached sensors designed to measure responses to particular stimuli and discover what excites me.

  Ava guided me to a bed that allowed my legs to hang over at the knees. There were three team members. Two women and one man.

  First, a massage: hands, head, and feet all at once. They moved together toward my torso.

  They avoided the most erogenous areas until last; working together on breasts, inner thighs, and ultimately areolae, nipples, and groin. I had a sensation of quivering all inside, and outside. Words cannot express it. I read once that an orgasm is like a vaginal sneeze. If that’s so, I caught the sexual flu.

  I convulsed, sneezed, writhed, and squirmed. At times I couldn’t get my breath, then breathing so fast and hard that I sounded like a locomotive engine.

  The whole thing took about 45 minutes. Felt like two hours. They gradually brought me down.

  When they finished, I had been kissed everywhere I would allow. I could say no to anything. I just realized—I didn’t need to reject anything. The monitoring must indicate what to avoid as unpleasant actions. A question for Ava next time.

  Anyway, I was kissed, caressed, and nibbled. I did the same to others. I think this is enough detail for me to remember. I don’t want to write porn in my journal.

  My team consisted of Ava, Candy, and Ronnie. Candy being involved surprised me. She’s retraining as a counselor after her serious injuries, last fall. She told me she wanted to repay me for saving her life. I’m glad she doesn’t know how close I came to failing her. Not a time for confessions.

  Ava said she always uses two Personal Pleasure Service Workers, one male and one female when conducting a surprise session.

  I am a sexual being. But until today, I didn’t understand what my sexuality feels like, from inside out. My sexuality has always been like a garment I can’t take off, but today I noticed the pattern, texture and luxurious feeling of being wrapped in the garment.

  At the end, when I caught my breath, I asked, “Same time tomorrow?” They all laughed, but my question is serious – how often is the right amount of sex for me? Does it make a difference, if I must initiate having a sexual experience? Will I feel a desire for sexual activity the next time I am alone with a man? Or a woman?

  I experienced an orgasm, but not intercourse. No penetration; I’m not sure I ever want it.

  The primary question is intimacy. Will sex usually produce intimacy? That doesn’t seem logical. Perhaps I should seek out mental and emotional stimulation, before turning to the physical? Makes more sense, but what if the body stuff isn’t satisfying? And what if the person happens to be my gender? This is all so confusing.

  All of this must be clarified before getting serious about mating.

  A final thought. It never seemed likely that I would mate. Even Berry’s letter said she couldn’t tell if I ever find a mate. Now, I think it is possible. I might desire a mate if that could help me feel such pleasure. I could pass on having a mate and use PPSWs, but they are trained to give pleasure – what about my need to bring pleasure to another?

  More than one thought. This is all so new to me; I’m rambling. Must quit now, and catch up on WEEL.

  2095-01-25, 10:00 am

  Section: What I’m Learning about Myself.

  Date: January 25, 2095

  A special session with Ava to interpret what she learned about me from the Surprise Session. One conclusion is that I have difficulty letting go. How do I allow myself to just feel? Interesting choice of words. Another way of saying—I don’t want to lose control.

  Ava told me it took all three of them massaging me before I began to “… experience the pleasure.” What she did not know, and I didn’t tell her is I knew every move and touch before it happened. Until six hands were caressing and massaging me—then I couldn’t keep up—so, I let it happen.

  I’m always in control. From the time I first started talking, mother cautioned me what not to say to anyone
. It was for her safety and mine, but it established a pattern. I’ve never been completely spontaneous.

  Must focus some meditation time on these topics.

  The other surprise was her conclusion that I am genuinely bi-sexual. I gained as much pleasure with the women’s touch as that of a man. I asked her how this might affect a possible mating. She promised we’d talk about that later.

  What’s next, I wonder?

  Thirty-Two

  Meet Your Enemy

  Near Orlando, Florida

  2095-04-08, Friday, 2:20 pm EST

  Ten feet outside the building clears the wireless dead-zone, and the work-pad in Marie’s hand sends a message to Danzella and Rudy.

  Urgent. Meeting an informant near the lake. Read message in my room. Need eyes on me. Rtb-BF. DL.

  Raven’s Nest Working Groups are taking the afternoon off. After a trip to the fitness center, Marie returned to her room at 2:10 pm and found a message on the Inner-Center Message Device. Perhaps a dinner invitation; I’ll read it before showering, so I’ll dress appropriately. The message changed her plans:

  I have information that you and your friends need. I will give it only to you. If interested meet me between 2:30 and 3:00. Take a bench near the lake path. Come alone.

  Finding a spot on a bench for three Marie sits down, work-pad in her lap with audio on and set to record. My security team will hear everything I do and say. They will know that Rtb-BF means my energy reading ability gives me reason to believe the message is from Bluefoot. I will call the shots, but they will protect me. I need to settle down and check out the surroundings.

  Eight feet in front of her is a sidewalk; six feet further is the lake’s edge. The lake path wanders out of some thick shrubs, and smaller trees hide a fence separating this adult hotel from family-oriented lodging next door. One hears the laughter and shrieks of children playing in a pool just beyond the shrubs.

  About fifty feet to her left is a cluster of scrub palmettos at the base of some larger trees. That is a good place for one of the security team; the hedge against the fence is another. They’ll figure it out. I can relax for a few moments and enjoy the calm before what may well be a storm.

  In addition to the sounds of birds singing, children playing, boats, and ducks on the lake, I pick up a background of energy trails. I’ll let myself slip into a few of them. On the sidewalk, probably last evening, a young man tried to take liberties with his date, they argued, she slapped him, and they left in different directions. An older couple sat on this bench. They talked for an hour about all the good times. Oh, No. They both have cancer. They plan to end their lives tomorrow, on their 57th Anniversary. Damn it! I wish I didn’t know that.

  All these energy trails right here for me to pick up. Some happy, some sad, some violent; I can’t tell where they will lead. Like a background noise—but it’s energy. I better stop and prepare for what comes next.

  The bushes to my right moved a little—must be Harris. Rudy is likely on the other side, and I’ll bet Danzella is behind watching everything.

  “Thanks, friends. Glad you’re there.”

  They will listen in and keep me safe.

  At 2:50 Marie detects a change in the mood of her surroundings.

  The birds are still singing, but their sounds are faint. And the energy trails—are gone! No, they are covered up; smothered. Someone just sat down in the chair four feet behind me. He’s lived his whole life like this—how could he not be bitter.

  She says, “Senator Bluefoot, I presume.”

  “They used to call me that.” Marie starts shifting on the bench to see the person behind her, but he says, “Don’t turn around.”

  “Why? You don’t want to see my face before you kill me?”

  “No. You’re not my enemy. In fact, you never were. By the time you came on the scene, my escape was already in place. Your little performance only hastened my departure. I’ve spent a lot of time and money changing my appearance, and I don’t want to give away my new face.”

  “Then why such a public place?”

  “Seriously, would you come to my room? Or invited me to yours?”

  “Point taken. But I’m intrigued by your offer.”

  “We’ll get to that. But first, to save time and energy, I suggest I tell you what I think you know about me—you can add anything else. I’ll do the same for you. Of course, you can add anything else.”

  “That way we won’t unintentionally giving something away. Could be a useful start.”

  “Okay, you’re aware I’m the presumed ultimate product of the Invincibility Project. A secret program established by the Army in 1992; kept secret until 2010 when a low-level clerk in the Office of Budget Management inadvertently accessed the wrong set of books. He or she found a trillion dollars had gone into a program for Personnel Enhancement with no structure for accountability.

  “Mysteriously the clerk and all the notes disappeared, but not until two colleagues plus a third person on the outside had received copies. They kept quiet and waited. It wasn’t until ‘21 when the ‘Death Knell’ scandal broke that they came forward with their story. They too went away, but the damage had been done.

  “The organizers of Invincibility scrambled to deny its existence while moving the operations further underground and creating different paths for funding. Ultimately everything moved overseas. It was finally shut down when President Earldrige discovered it still existed in ‘53. Up until the ‘40s, only the operators knew it continued to exist. When funding needed to increase, a few more people had to be brought into the loop.

  “But before it was shut down they produced 850 Invincibles, as we were called. At first, they tried to match characteristics they wanted to combine—a modified natural selection process; but the researchers soon concluded that would take too long. So, they started using gene-splicing, replicated DNA, and chromo-somatic manipulation.

  “Initially the changes were made on the zygote inside the woman’s body. But they soon started implanting a fertilized egg, telling the mother, she was being inseminated. My ‘egg’ had DNA from at least 14 different sources.

  “As you can imagine the fail rate was high, especially in the early years. Congenital defects; unanticipated sensitivities to ordinary things like light or sound; and insanity often developed by the age of five. Until the ‘20s less than 15 percent lived past their eighth birthday. To improve the odds, the project gods decided to remove the children to a controllable environment.

  “They began taking the kids around age eight—they went to an ‘invitation-only summer camp’ and never came home. The parents were offered extra money to keep silent. Those who refused were found to be unfit parents or they simply disappeared.

  “The age of removal moved earlier. By the end, it was shortly after the second birthday. But, of course, you already knew those things?”

  This is a test. He’s trying to determine if I will be truthful with him. It seems important.

  “Actually, you provided a lot of previously unknown details, particularly about the earlier years.”

  “Nothing you wouldn’t find out eventually. But it might help you understand how special I am. Something my benefactor reminded me of every time we talked.”

  That is the first time his tone is anything but flat. He has strong feelings about his benefactor. I can’t read his energy or thoughts—but I would bet they’re harmful.

  “So, I’m the perfect soldier. I only need four hours sleep per night, can march through August desert heat for 40 hours with only one canteen of water. I experience no pain and can will myself to stop bleeding even if my arm was blown off at the shoulder. I can lift a 300-pound man by the neck, strangling him with one hand while fighting off a battalion with the other.

  “I possess night vision like a cat and telescopic vision like a hawk. See the boat on the lake?”

  “Yes.”

  “There is a man and woman. The man is fishing, and the w
oman is reading a book—an actual physical book. Can you see them? What color shirts are they wearing?”

  “His shirt appears to be blue; hers is white. She is looking toward her lap, so there may be a book, but I can’t verify it.”

  “The woman’s shirt is white with a wide pink stripe running just below her boobs. She’s on page 73 of the book—page number is in the upper righthand corner, the paper is cream colored. The man wears a blue shirt with a wet spot on his right sleeve, which he got while hauling in the last fish. A listening device is in his right ear—it is tan similar to his skin, and the black wire runs behind his neck toward the left shirt pocket. Now, use the device in your lap to take a picture and tell me if I missed anything.”

  He apparently doesn’t care about my having a work-pad. Okay. Here’s the picture, enlarging … everything he said is correct.

  “You are right on every point. A skeptic could say you planted them for this demonstration.”

  “But you’re a believer. I’ll tell you how I know later. If you are wondering how I figured out you had a pad in your lap: well, no one’s ever seen you without something to read, and you would want to look as natural as possible. Also, I hear it.”

  “But the pad makes no sound.”

  “My acute sense of hearing says differently. To me, all pads, PCDs and the like give off a slight hum. Another example, I heard the click when your security person, behind me, took the safety off the weapon. That happened when you suggested I might want to kill you.

  “So, I have all these wonderful abilities. But there are drawbacks. I never hear the sounds of birds singing, water lapping against a boat, or almost anything from nature. I say ‘never,’ but I did experience those things before I turned six.

  “I possess detailed vision at a distance, but anything closer than five feet is a blur; never seen a smile, my hands, or a face unless it is five feet away. I use unique glasses to read print on a screen.