The Original Sex Gates

by Darrell Bain

  The gang was still together, even after the spring semester ended, and Seyla and Rita graduated. Seyla changed her mind about medical school and decided to start work on a masters degree in genetics. I didn't blame her; If things kept on like they were going, medical doctors would find themselves driving taxis or clerking in drugstores in order to keep dinner on the table.

  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. What psychologists thought they knew about human sexuality was evolving so rapidly, she decided to take a semester off and study the situation before going to work.

  We saw little of Russell. He was still spending lots of time at school working on his doctorate. He had to start all over with another thesis after the phenomena of 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 actually, recording the absence of any), scut work all doctoral candidates are forced to tolerate. When he wasn't at the gate or in the lab or teaching, he managed to come home occasionally. We got the most reliable news on the nature of the gates from him (such as it was; negative data may be as important as hard facts, but human nature being what it is, it doesn't excite like factual data does).

  I was finally comfortable with Donna. Her gender change no longer bothered me like it had at first, and her liaison with Seyla began to seem natural. What did bother me, a little, was that she began acting more and more like a woman. I guess it was natural for her to do so, but it prevented me from getting as close to her as I once had been. I couldn't talk to her about the inconvenience of having periods, or what kind of makeup went best with her hair, or how her sexual life was going. Subjects like that didn't seem to inhibit her from talking to me, but when she brought them into our conversation, I tended to back off or change the subject. Otherwise, I acted (or tried to act) as if she were a female friend with whom I had a platonic relationship. If she hadn't once been male and my closest friend, it wouldn't have been possible. Don was handsome; Donna was just short of beautiful and still hadn't learned completely what affect her exquisite body had on men.

  I've never been entirely comfortable around really pretty females, especially those who seem to just naturally exude sexuality. Donna exhibited that phenomena without knowing she did, at least in the beginning, but it was ameliorated by the fact that she couldn't go long without acting out of character for a woman, bursting the illusion like discovering your favorite female webstar is really a hockey player in disguise. She got better in her female role as time passed. I found myself reacting not so platonically in the physical sense, especially as she tended to go around the house half naked at times. Mentally though, I kept my sexual distance.

  We were finally getting something over the web besides news. Rita and I were tucked away for the night watching a new release. Naturally, it was about a couple who went through the gate together and their problems getting used to their new sex. We watched for awhile, then began interacting. As usual, 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 had been billed as a comedy. It wasn't. I kept trying to get the new male interested in women and at the same time, 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 blond woman at a party. She changed the blond into a male who looked somewhat like me.

  "Hey, wait," I said. "At least let them finish."

  "You didn't let me."

  Well, I hadn't, but watching men kiss puts me off, not to mention other things. I had the male character come into the room where they were hiding and break it up. Rita immediately had him start 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. It sort of spoiled the story, though. Rita could tell I was losing interest and switched the screen off completely.

  "Lee, you are so provincial," Rita said, not angry but stating it like an unalterable fact of nature. She half turned in my arms so 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 said, "but so are most people. Look at Donna; she didn't start running after men right after she changed like you were having that character do."

  "She had Seyla. Besides, 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 do that. "Are she and Seyla having problems?"

  "No, silly, but Seyla isn't a lesbian, you know. Don't you think she's had time to begin missing this?" She reached down and enfolded my penis, which had become engorged as soon as her nipple touched my palm.

  "I guess I thought they were just going to continue like they were before Donna changed. Is she actually thinking about having sex with a man?" I couldn't quite form the picture in my mind, despite the time she had been a woman.

  "Lee, you're still living in the last century. Of course she is; any normal female would."

  "She isn't a normal female," I said.

  "She's as normal as I am. Or at least she's getting that way. She can't help it. Haven't you ever thought of what it would be like if you had been born female instead of male?"

  "No," I said, and truthfully, I hadn't. I had always been satisfied with what I was, other than occasionally wishing I was bigger and stronger and better looking, with normal hair instead of that odd rusty color I had been stuck with. I thought if I were, I could be more like men I had known who never seemed to have a problem attracting women and making out. If Rita hadn't practically tripped me, I would probably still be admiring her beauty from a distance. I still didn'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 just don't understand the female viewpoint."

  "I understand this much," I said, bending my head 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 on doing a little traveling on a project I was researching and I dislike going away from familiar surroundings, and especially hate to go anywhere alone. That would suit me fine, and I said so.

  "Good, I'm glad that's settled. I was planning on going with you anyway, but I'm glad you like the idea."

  I wondered what Donna and Seyla would be doing while we were gone. "When is Donna planning on the big experiment?" I asked.

  "Not for a week or two, anyway. She'll have to wait that long before being certain the implant is effective."

  "I wonder if she'll bring her fellow here?" I said. The idea still seemed strange to me.

  "Why don't you wait and see? In the meantime, be nice to Seyla. She understands, but she's scared for Donna. And herself, for that matter."

  I guess I really didn't understand women. Here she had just told me that Seyla was missing sex with a man and now I find out she's scared of Donna trying it. "I don't understand," I said.

  "You're impossible. Seyla is afraid she'll lose Donna. She loved him when he was male and still does as a female. Just be nice to her, okay?"

  "I will. I always am, aren't I?" Seyla was easy for me to be nice to. Despite (or perhaps because of) her exotic beauty, she had never vamped around us men, not before the gates and not afterwards. She was as sweet and playful as a ten week old kitten, and the occasional insecurity she displayed made her as easy to talk to as a sister. I think her infrequent bouts of mild depression were a result of her mixed racia
l ancestry in a nation where race has been a divisive issue since the continent was discovered. It was worse now than ever, not counting the unrest the gates had caused. Blacks were having an especially hard time. The financial difficulties the country had gone through a few years earlier hurt them worse than other groups and a substantial minority had been classed as fourth worlders in the last census. I always felt sorry for blacks. Their race was unfortunate to have been on the downside of technological development when Africa began to be explored, partly because their natural resources were harder to get at than on some other continents and also because the whole equatorial belt of rain forests kept great civilizations from rising. I'm sure there were other factors, but the slave trade put them at a permanent cultural disadvantage, especially as in most languages "black" has negative connotations. All in all, they came out on the short end when Destiny rolled the dice and have been suffering from it ever since.

  "You're nice to everyone once you disconnect your brain from your testicles. Come here." Rita pulled me over her and I quit thinking of Donna or Seyla either-for the time being, anyway.

  ***

  We began packing for our trip the next morning. It didn't take much doing as I didn't intend for us to be gone very long. I wouldn't have made the trip at all, but the webworks were in a "spontaneous" fad at the time. They wanted live interviews and action shots away from background props. I had managed to get an appointment in Lufkin, up the Nafta highway a hundred miles or so, with a female evangelist who was making some pretty big waves in Texas and was getting ready to branch out into neighboring states.

  As little as I understand the religious mind-set, this one sounded interesting. She was young, appearing to be in her teens or very early twenties, with dark red hair and a voluptuous figure. She had formed a "Church of the Gates", declaring each gate was a separate manifestation of God, and worshiping and believing in them assured a person making the second entrance an immediate transport to heaven (at the time, no one had yet come back from a second attempt to pass through a gate. In fact, there had been very few individuals who had yet tried, once it became known it was seemingly impossible.). I still don't know how she came up with the idea of the church and certainly didn't realize at the time that a few people would manage a second passage.

  Seyla and Russell were both gone. 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 that kind of dedicated program, 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?" she asked.

  "I thought we'd stop and see the folks for a few minutes since we're passing through on the way," I explained.

  "Well, tell them hello for me." Donna (as Don) knew Mom and Dad almost as well as I did. I had long since told them of her unintentional change in sex, but she hadn't seen them since it happened. I had only been up once myself with Rita.

  "I will," I said. I wondered what they would think if they could see her now. She was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting gold jeans and a satiny white top that ended well above her navel. She jiggled as she got up to tell us good-by; she never had gotten into the habit of wearing a bra.

  "You be careful, now. There's still lots of crazies hanging around the gates," she said.

  "Don't worry. You be careful, too. Keep the security on while you're here by yourself."

  "I will," she said. She gave Rita a brief hug, then embraced me, the first time she had done so. Before I knew what was happening, she kissed me firmly on the mouth, patted me on the cheek and turned quickly back to her math problems. I felt my face get red. I was glad she had turned around so quickly, that she couldn't see it. Rita noticed, though. I could tell by her elfish grin.

  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 my car had a speaker circuit built into it. "I was going to call you, so this works out fine."

  "Okay, see you in a bit," I said. I wondered why he had been planning on calling. Was there some sort of problem with Derek? So far as I knew, he 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 like a talisman.

  "Son, your mother and I are going to go through the sex gate here as soon as you leave."

  I couldn't have been more astounded if he had said they were going to the moon. I was speechless for what seemed like hours but could only have been a few seconds. "Dad, you're kidding."

  He shook his head. "No, I'm not."

  I looked at Mom. She nodded agreement.

  "But why? What could possibly make you want to…?" I ran out of words.

  Dad touched his chest. "I saw Doctor Tyson yesterday. He told me that my heart is getting worse."

  "Doctor Tyson? But-Dad, you can't go by just what he says! I mean I like him, but-look, at least get another opinion."

  "He already has," Mom said. "Doctor Tyson has added a consult computer since you saw him last. The North Houston Heart Center agrees with his diagnosis."

  "Can't you get a transplant?" That seemed like the simple solution to me. Even a baboon heart would be better than seeing my dad change into a woman. And Mom-why her?

  "Haven't you heard? Animal transplants have been suspended until they develop a way to eliminate zoonotic viruses that sneak in with the organ. And they suggest I not wait on a human replacement."

  I remembered vaguely hearing something about the suspension after he mentioned it, just an innocuous bit of news I didn't think had anything to do with me. That still didn't explain why Mom was going into the gate with him.

  She didn't wait for me to ask. "I can see you're wondering why I'm going too. Perhaps you're too young to understand, but we don't want to be separated, not after almost forty years." She gazed fondly at Dad.

  I thought about it and maybe could see her point. My parents were as close a couple as I had ever seen. I have never heard them exchange a cross word, not even when Dad volunteered for duty in the Mideast when I was a youngster. It didn't make it any easier.

  "I'll cancel my appointment and stay here," I said, the last thing I really wanted to do.

  "No, son. We'd rather you not. If we come out safely, it's going to be rather confusing to us for a while. We'd rather be alone until we get used to the idea.

  I protested a few times, but it was more because I thought I should than through conviction. No more hugs from Mom? No more fishing with Dad on lazy summer days?

  Rita remained silent through the conversation, even though she could have added her voice 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 much lately, what with the sex gates getting most of our attention.

  We all hugged good-by as Rita and I left, the four of us pressing our bodies together as we might never do 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 enjoyed family picnics many times. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried. Rita shed tears with me. After a while, we brushed the 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, not a theory anymore but hard fact; the Antarctic ice packs were breaking up. Eventually, North Houston might suffer the same fate as Old Houston, though the theorists differed on how far in the future that might be, if it happened at all.

  It had been a few years since I had visited Lufkin. New construction and thoroughfares where none 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 by myself.

  We arrived a few minutes early. I had been on pins and needles the last half hour, waiting on a call from the folks. I was hesitant about the possibility of being interrupted in the middle of business, yet didn't want to miss their call. We solved that problem by merging our comphones so Rita could answer my incoming calls. I left that portion of mine muted with instructions to cancel the suppression if Rita demanded it, just in case something terrible happened, like one or both of them not coming out of the gate. They were both past sixty. If it hadn't been for Dad's heart problem, their chances would have been excellent. Mom's still were, but it was impossible to gauge Dad's possibilities. The scientists were still trying to correlate the type and seriousness of illnesses with age and the probability of success.

  The temple had been hastily constructed to resemble a gate, though larger. The green colored composite material was a poor match, but a holographic projection created an eerie impression of a gate face. I was almost scared to go through it.