“No problem. We were on the outskirts. Anything new?” Rita and I hadn't even plugged in a phone on the drive back.
“Mostly they're running the shooting scene over and over. Messilinda isn't giving out any interviews."
Of course not. None of the Seconders ever gave interviews. Our scheduled interview had been cancelled, of course. I wondered how her shooting and rejuvenation as a man would affect the faith of the Gaters. As I recalled, the last time an evangelist had died and been resurrected, it had sent the world into a two-thousand-year uproar. I hoped the reaction would be more rational this time. There were plenty of other interviews and commentary, though. Mostly it was wild speculation and tabweb junk.
My phone beeped. I plugged into the small screen. Mary Wright's face came into focus. Her hair was in its usual tangle, and she was more agitated than usual.
“Lee! There you are! Listen, I need an eyewitness account immediately. You did see it, didn't you?” There was no need for her to say what she was talking about. It was about the only subject going at the moment.
“I didn't see much. You would probably be better off getting a story from someone who was close in or behind the gate when she—he came out."
“Negative. I've already put out teasers about the interview you had scheduled before all this happened. It has to have your name and picture with it. God, what a story!"
I let her talk me into it. Somehow, I had become the expert on Messilinda and the Church of the Gates.
“'scuse me guys. I can't talk for a little while. Mary wants a story right now.” I used the small screen to pull up my files on the subject in order to jog my memory, and wrote my story while taking occasional peeks at the big screen for the latest updates. It only took an hour or so to finish. I sent it off and closed down the files.
Everyone was discussing what the attempted assassination meant. While no one was certain if the bullet had actually killed her before she went flying through the gate, Messilinda's gender change was sensational enough, and that, plus the fact that she had survived a second passage through a gate was the subject of our talk. We didn't reach any concrete conclusions, nor did we have to. An hour later Messilinda (or Messler Scribner—she returned to her original name) gave out a brief statement.
He appeared on screen looking directly into the cameras with those startlingly beautiful emerald eyes I remembered so well. I could see that something had changed. Despite his good looks and youthful appearance, his determined expression revealed a mature individual who knew his own mind and was about to act on his beliefs.
“This will be my first and only statement.” He paused for a heartbeat, then continued. “Like every other person who has passed through a gate twice, I have no memory of the experience. I have no new information to impart on that subject. As for my future plans, I now wish to be left alone. Therefore, I am resigning as the leader of the Church of the Gates, effective immediately. I am not renouncing the church, nor am I endorsing it. My position is entirely neutral. I am leaving for my home. I will have nothing further to say on any subject. Thank you.” He turned abruptly and hurried away, flanked by a contingent of bodyguards.
“Well, so much for that.” Rita seemed saddened by his words. She wasn't a Gater, but she still wanted to believe the gates were a part of some higher power's plan for humanity.
“Damn!” Russell cursed.
“What's wrong?” I asked him.
“The same old thing. Every Seconder claims not to remember anything that might have happened while inside the gate. Something does happen, though. Those people come out changed. If we had even an inkling of what's in their minds, it might give us a handle on what the gates are, even if we can't do anything about them."
“Maybe they've been turned into gods,” Donna said.
That struck me as a bizarre idea. Even if it were true and they were new gods, they certainly didn't seem inclined to influence earthly affairs one way or another.
“The psychologists aren't getting much, either,” Rita said. “They act perfectly normal. With one exception, that is."
I knew what she was talking about. I was still spending a lot of time poring over the data on the gates. “They don't seem to be as interested in sex as they were before."
“That depends.” An elfish smile crossed Rita's face.
“On what?” What had I missed?
“Sorry, I meant to tell you yesterday, and it slipped my mind. While I was online with the department, we got a report from a source who doesn't want to be named."
“Why not? And what did he find out?"
“He recognized the profiles of a couple of Seconders, a man and woman, who had gotten together. While they were out, he wired their house, illegally, of course. They are certainly still interested. More so, if anything."
“Be damned,” Russell said. “I'll bet the NSC already knew about it, though; they won't give out anything without a court order."
“Whatever. I don't think it's wise to draw any conclusions from one case, but it will be interesting to watch and see if any other Seconders get together. If I found a pair, I'd be tempted to bug them myself, out of curiosity."
“You and me, both,” Russell said. “Maybe that's the best way to study the gates: indirectly."
“It's the only way, so far,” Rita reminded him.
And it was.
* * * *
With Messler Scribner's withdrawal from the Church of the Gates, the movement topped out and began a slow, gradual decline. It didn't stop other cults from growing up around the gates, though, everything from Satanism to tree-huggers to Suiciders, either individuals or as organized clubs.
The Suiciders were sensational news for a while. It was an easy way to go, they claimed. Walk through the gate, come around to the other side, walk through again and disappear forever. No fuss, no muss, no bother. Whether it was really an easy method of self-destruction was debatable, though. No one knew what happened to those who didn't make it through the gates. I did a story on the subject for Mary, which she sold with no problem. I emphasized the fact that so far, no Suicider had ever come out as a Seconder, and less than half even managed the first passage. I suggested that perhaps they belonged in a subcategory of those who never came back even the first time.
Their movement had an unexpected side effect. Almost immediately, legislators began proposing the gates as a humane method of execution. They were opposed by those groups who believed that the vanished went on to a better life elsewhere. They didn't want criminals cluttering up their supposed heaven. That motivated me to write my first attempt at humor, and Mary said it went over fairly well.
The NHU physical plant re-opened and Russell began traveling back and forth, staying away several days in some cases before coming home to rest and get re-acquainted with the family.
Rita went with him now and then, but rarely stayed the night. With Russell gone, I was left with two beautiful women. Most of the time it was a male paradise, living with two loving, accommodating women, but sometimes Donna simply wore me out. She'd fully accepted the fact of her woman's body and she couldn't seem to get enough of me—or Russell. I looked forward to his return so I could get some rest.
Pending Edie and Bert's arrival back home, we had the use of the huge old mattresses in the master bedroom and sometimes we all piled in there together. That was always fun. When I was temporarily down for the count, all it took was watching the girls go at it to get me back in the game.
* * * *
Despite Messilinda's attempted assassination, President Forbes’ legislation passed both houses of Congress, and he signed it into law. Construction soon began on simple single and family housing units. It was all controlled at the local level, with state delegations forming an oversight committee to root out fraud or abuse. No one wanted a repetition of the old days where a sore toe might earn years of government benefits.
Rita volunteered for one of the local committees and began spending some of her time at the single
small construction and food-distributing center in Ruston. She always returned home with a big smile on her face. I was happy for her. Her generous spirit finally had an outlet. One day, she came home almost bubbling with pleasure.
“Hey, girl, you look as happy as I did the day I discovered sex!” Donna called to her from the kitchen, where she was making sandwiches for supper.
“Oh, I am! Guess what? Construction of the shelter is almost finished. We'll be having an open house this weekend, and I want you all to come!"
“Wonderful!” Donna said. “We'll be there, for certain."
“Great. Oh, I hope Russ is home then. I want him to come see."
“Come see what?” Russell closed the door behind him and set his overnight bag on the floor.
Rita told him her news, while pushing him down on a lounger and adding a hug and a kiss.
“That's great. I've got some news, too. Let me get cleaned up and have something to eat, and I'll spill it."
Donna volunteered to help him with his shower, and Rita and I finished fixing some sandwiches.
He re-emerged in an old robe and wolfed down sandwiches as if he hadn't eaten in three days. Sometimes he did forget to eat when he was really involved at the lab. He got up and emptied the crumbs from his plate, then poured himself a drink, an anticipatory grin on his face like a boy getting ready to dig into a cookie jar.
“Okay, here it is. We've known about Seconders for some time, of course. Now we have someone who's made it through the third time. And fourth. And fifth, and—"
“Whoa!” I exclaimed. “Back up and tell it in detail. When and where did all this happen?"
He grinned at me. “You may have been responsible for it, Lee, in a small way."
“What!” I couldn't imagine how I would have had anything to do with it.
Russell grinned some more. “You remember that piece you did on the Suiciders? It gave some of the big boys ideas. Of course, the Suiciders never come back, but how about if a Seconder tried going through again?"
“I take it one did.” Rita gripped my hand.
“Yeah. Remember old Doc Renfrow? Well, even after the NSC finally released him, they kept him under surveillance. I suspect they are watching most of the Seconders. Anyway, he was in an auto accident a few weeks ago and suffered a terrible head injury. He was given no chance to live, and lacking any other option, his family chose to put him through a gate for the third time. He came out healthy, and back in a young male body.” Russell stopped to take a big gulp of his drink.
Donna looked impatient. “Wait a minute. You said something about a fourth and fifth time. How did that happen?"
Russell turned serious. “Look, this can't go any further than this room. It came in to the physweb in a roundabout fashion, and someone could be in big-time trouble if the NSC discovers that we know. Anyway, they took Renfrow into protective custody again and studied him for a week or two. Same deal. He didn't remember anything, and there were no detectable changes from the human form. Apparently, one of big boys got so frustrated after all the tests were completed that he convinced the other members of the team to shove him through a gate again to see what would happen."
“And?"
“He came out again. And again. And again, changing gender each time."
It took me a moment to grasp the implications. Each time through the gate you would become young again.
“Immortality. Effective immortality."
Rita's iron-tight grip on my hand relaxed. “Only if you make it through a gate the second time."
“Oh!” I felt stupid. In my excitement, I had forgotten that point. Then I deflated further. I wasn't about to go through a gate even once, so what did it mean to me?
“It will make a great story anyway,” she said.
“Yeah, if I can do it without revealing Russell's source or getting that damned Horst guy down on me again."
“Cheer up!” Russell drained his glass. “I also heard that Renfrow's family is getting an injunction. They will probably have to let him loose before long. Even if they don't, someone in his family will leak the news."
“I wonder if any of us will ever live long enough to find out the purpose behind all this."
“I surely hope so,” Russell said. “And guess who will get the first opportunity?” He looked at Donna.
“Why me? Oh!"
“Yup, you. When we get old, the rest of us will only be going in for the first time. You'll be on your second go-round.” He spoke as if we'd already decided to grow old together, then go through the gates for a rejuvenation and not incidentally, a sex change. I decided to let it be and not provoke an argument. Old age was a long time off, after all.
* * * *
Rita and I slept together by ourselves that night. It had been a noteworthy day. It seemed to make Rita especially passionate during our lovemaking. At least that's what I thought it was until she told me the real reason.
During our second bout of foreplay, she held my head in a tender embrace while I was giving my devoted attention to her breasts, holding and caressing one while I sucked and nuzzled and teased the nipple of the other. Her breathing became faster and faster until finally she took her hand from my neck and drew me over her. She guided me inside and wrapped her arms and legs around me. I gazed down at her sweet face and began kissing her flushed cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally her soft lips, while beginning to make those first slow, sensuous movements that would arouse her to renewed passion. She pressed me against her and opened her eyes.
“I love you.” She raised her hips to meet my slow thrusts.
“I love you, too,” I whispered.
“Is there room for three?"
Huh? Did she want one of the others in bed with us now? I stopped moving. If that was what she wanted, I wouldn't object, though I would have preferred to finish what I was doing first.
She giggled and pulled my lips down to the hollow of her throat, knowing I had misinterpreted her question. “My implant runs out in a week or two. Should I renew it?"
I moved my lips over the soft skin of her neck. We had been talking about it before the gates appeared, but dropped the idea because of the disruption they caused. Now, though, the country seemed to be settling down. Why not?
I brushed a damp curl off her forehead. “I hope it's a girl. If it is, I want her to look just like you."
If it weren't for the implant, we surely would have conceived that night.
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* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Three days later the story about Renfrow broke. The tabwebs had a fit with it. So did the regular webworks and news networks. There was such a groundswell of interest and enthusiasm over the prospect of immortality that Congress, paying attention to the polls, passed a bill appropriating even more money for gate study. They also passed a resolution urging all Seconders to cooperate in the studies.
Those who wanted to die naturally found themselves in a minority. General public opinion held that if enough money and scientists were hurled into the research to find out why so few individuals were able to make a second passage through the gates, the problem was certain to be solved.
The scientists, of course, weren't certain at all. We heard about their opinions from Russell.
It was a great story and held the public interest for weeks. Unfortunately, I was still under Horst's injunction not to write anything about Seconders, let alone those who went through a third time. I got really annoyed and spent some credits on a good lawyer. He had a federal judge in his pocket, but even so, it took three days before Horst capitulated. Bureaucracy can sometimes be as mindless and stupid as a flatworm.
Once I got my final release from the NSC, I used Russell's source (without naming names, of course) to get in on the action. Fortunately, with Mary's help, my pieces had no trouble selling.
By this time, I was really enjoying my career as a webporter, and seemed to have found my niche writing offbeat news abou
t the gates. After the hoorah about the Renfrew began to die down, I started using my time to search out sociological and psychological trends resulting from the presence of the gates on earth. Those ‘ports took Rita and me on several trips together. She was back in school, working on her doctorate in psychology, but she still had time to accompany me on my trips, which often related to her doctoral research.
I still didn't like traveling and hated to fly. I presented this problem to Mary. She cussed and pulled her hair, but set me up with some stringers in other parts of the country, and gave me access to a truly wizard graphics technician. He could make an interview from a thousand miles away look as if it were taking place in the next room.
One of the major stories I did (with Rita's invaluable help—she put me in touch with sources from her work as a sex therapist) was on the sudden drop in the birthrate. I was ahead of everyone else on this one, and it made me a bundle. I didn't even have to pay a commission to a stringer.
The gates had been around for almost three years when I broke the story. I already had it on file, and had for weeks, for the simple reason that I trusted Rita's intuition.
“The birth rate is about due to start dropping,” she said to me one day as we were driving back from Dallas, not one of my favorite trips. There was no good way to get from there to Ruston without taking a few secondary roads.
“Why do you say that?” I glanced over at her. She was doing the driving.
“Can't you guess?"
I thought about it. Nothing obvious came to mind. “No."
“Simple. First, most of the individuals who have gone through the gates have been older, but a substantial minority of younger people has gone through, too. Some were young but suffering with debilitating diseases or crippled in accidents. Others were forced through during the riots. And a few simply thought it would be exciting to change sex."
“So?” I still didn't get it.
“First of all, the older people aren't going to be interested in having children. They've already done the family thing. And how many of the men-turned-into-women are going to want to get pregnant and have a baby? How about you? Suppose you had been forced through a gate? Would you consider the idea?” She turned her head and gave me a know-it-all smile.
The Sex Gates Page 17