“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.
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* * *
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 Sex Gates Page 6