“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.
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* * *
Chapter Thirteen
Rita put her arms around me and hugged me hard. I could feel tears on her lashes as they brushed my cheek. Russell and Donna stared at each other with disbelief and shock.
I patted Rita's behind. “Don't get so upset. The mayor is probably activating the militia as a precautionary measure. In fact, I heard her say so a few minutes ago."
“I don't care. I'm scared.” She shivered in my arms, like a puppy that has been left out in the cold and is now trying to get warm again.
“There's no way to get out of it.” When I applied for my license, militia service was the furthest thing from my mind, even though I knew it made me subject to being called up if the need ever arose. The Supreme Court legalized city and county militias shortly after Orange County in California used them to put down riots during the financial panic.
“When do you think you'll have to report?” Russell asked. He seemed bewildered by the whole thing. If it didn't pertain to sex or physics, he wasn't interested.
I shrugged, or tried to; Rita was still clinging to me, making movement difficult. “As soon as the captains get their orders. Maybe today, almost certainly by tomorrow. We'd better start packing a kit.” As a soldier in the militia reserves, I was required to keep a few items on hand, like medicines, ammunition for my gun, and a few other items I couldn't bring to mind immediately. They would be listed in my phone files.
Donna got up and began making breakfast. She broke eggs into a pan, set them on the range and turned to ask, “What's that going to do to our move?"
I had forgotten all about Edie's call. “Thanks for reminding me.” I turned to bring everyone up to date. “The folks called a little while ago. Dad—Edie—has been called back to active duty. He wanted us to come on up right away and keep the house open while they're gone."
“Gone? Where are they going?” Donna popped toast in the toaster as she spoke.
“El Paso."
“El Paso? Is Mexico really going to try to succeed?” Rita had a personal interest in the question. Her folks still lived in Baja, California.
“I think the government is conducting some troop movements to discourage the idea. A state can't secede once it's in the Union.” I didn't think it could, anyway. Strange things were happening all over since the gates had arrived. “Anyway, we still need to take care of the house."
“I'm not going to leave you,” Rita protested.
“I'm not going to run off and leave Donna, either,” Russell declared.
Donna looked thoughtful, but kept her thoughts to herself. I wondered what was going through her mind. She had gotten her license while she was still a man. The idea had appealed to her then. She (or he at the time) had even thought about one day serving in the militia—the old male territorial instinct again.
I disentangled myself from Rita and tried to think. I certainly didn't want to be called up. Would I have to fight and possibly even kill someone, like that time by the gate? My stomach turned over at the thought. I could see the dead bodies at my feet again, their eyes staring sightlessly up at me.
But I would have no choice. I would be getting my orders shortly.
I spoke, trying to sound sensible. “Hey, look, guys, we were planning on moving anyway, weren't we? This just hurries it up."
“How can it hurry it up when we're in the militia and can't go anywhere?” Donna brought eggs and a plate of toast to the table.
“Well, there's no reason Russell and Rita can't go on up.” I looked at Russell and avoided Rita's eyes. “Donna and I can follow as soon as things calm down."
“Calm down? When there are riots going on all over the country?” Rita flung a hand out toward the screen. It was muted, but a map was being displayed, with little flickering flames winking beside a half dozen large cities.
“You know it won't last long. Riots never do.” I was trying to reassure myself as much as her. I was getting scared already.
“These may be different."
I took her back in my arms. “Sweetheart, you know the Fourth Worlders don't have a chance. They never do. Besides, look at it this way: You couldn't come along with us, and regardless, if I have to be away from you, I would feel a heck of a lot better knowing you're safe in Ruston rather than this close to Old Houston."
Russell rubbed his chin, scratching at his stubble. “Lee, I hate to admit it, but I think you're probably right. We could be getting the home office set up and have it ready as soon as you're released.” He sat down by Donna at the table and clasped her hand. Donna brought it to her cheek and rubbed it back and forth. If I didn't want to go, she must be even more reluctant. After all, she was still discovering what it was like to be a woman, and she was newly in love with two men. Going off to fight in the militia was the last thing she wanted to do.
I shut up after that and let Russell convince Rita to leave with him. I was glad he thought so logically; in his position, I doubt if I could have done the same.
By the time we finished eating, we were all in agreement. Russell and Rita would leave as soon as they could after Donna and I got our call.
Russell left to see if he could find a rental truck while Donna and I got our kits, spare clothing, and other necessities ready. Rita followed me around the house like a two-year-old hanging onto her mother's skirts. I didn't mind a bit. I dreaded the thought of being separated from her almost as much as I dreaded the prospect of possible fighting. I knew I would miss Russell, too. He was turning into a good friend, more like a brother. You can't share your woman with another man without caring a whole lot for him. For the first time since I had gotten up, I probed the memories of the previous night. Still no jealousy. If anything, I felt like Russell was now my brother in an expanded family, even if it didn't have any legal basis.
It took Russell until almost noon to find something to rent, an old gas-powered moving van, larger than we really needed since there was no furniture to haul. With us carrying while the women packed, we had everything except what we might need that night loaded and ready to go by evening. Periodically, we caught snatches of news as we passed back and forth from the bedrooms to the outside.
The regular army was already on duty in many places, and federalized guard units were beginning to arrive in others, but so far neither had made an appearance in Old Houston. Here, the outnumbered police, augmented by Messilinda's Gaters, were still on their own and having a hard time of it. Many of the Gaters were erstwhile pacifists and not very well armed. Later, we learned that President Forbes and cohorts of his party had made a cold-blooded political decision to let the Gaters and Fourthers fight it out in Texas (excluding El Paso), Oklahoma, and Arkansas where the Gaters had rapidly become a political force to contend with in the upcoming elections.
I didn't know that then. I thought the army had temporarily dropped the ball.
I sent out for Vietnamese food from McDonald's once the loading was finished. While we were waiting for it to arrive, we all hit the showers to wash off the sweat.
The hot water felt good as it steamed away the sweat and grime. The massage Rita gave me while washing my back was pleasant, too. I had been neglecting my workouts lately and my back hurt. I pulled on an old pair of cutoffs after toweling down and left it at that. Rita put on one of my old soft long-tailed shirts and rolled up the sleeves. Before leaving the room, I pulled her to me for a kiss. She knew I liked to see her in that old shirt. Somehow it enhanced her femininity, in the same way that a pilot wearing a silk scarf looks m
ore masculine than ever.
Rita was the one who started us eating Vietnamese cuisine. It was popular in California. McDonald's added oriental dishes to their menu at college outlets and were making a bundle. Orientals made up a high proportion of the student body ever since they began arriving in substantial numbers the century before.
We still hadn't gotten our militia call-up, but I expected it at any time. The situation in Old Houston was deteriorating rapidly. The police and Gaters were both outmatched and outnumbered by the Fourth Worlders. I wondered why the mayor was waiting to act.
* * * *
My phone and Donna's beeped almost in tangent, waking me from a dream where I was being smothered by hot feather pillows. The receiver didn't hear me the first time, and I had to speak up again before the lights brightened the room. As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw the reason for my dream. I was sandwiched between Rita and Donna, our legs and arms entwined in a warm and loving pile. Russell lay on the other side of Donna. We'd decided earlier to spend what was probably our last night together in the same bed.
I reached over Rita's shoulder and plucked the phone from the caddy, knowing who was calling even before I answered. The North Houston militia was on the line. I sat up and handed Donna's phone to her so she could stifle its noise.
We were both ordered to report to a marshalling area; for us that meant the geostadium grounds of North Houston College, contingency headquarters for student carriers (I had never gotten around to notifying anyone that I had dropped out of school. There hadn't seemed to be any hurry about it, and there was always the possibility I might decide to re-enroll).
Donna and I pulled on our uniforms and boots and carried our kits out into the great room. Donna looked small and lost, and there was a barely perceptible tremble to her lower lip.
Rita and Russell hurried to pull on their own clothes and followed us outside. I tossed our gear into the trunk of my car and shut the lid.
The Sex Gates Page 14