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.
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* * *
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—especia
lly 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 fede
ralized 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.
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