The Sex Gates

  Horst took us all the way to North Houston, and I found myself back in the same rundown lockup being questioned by the same personnel as last time, using the same old methods. At first, I shuddered involuntarily when I sensed the cheerful malice in the mind of our old white-jacketed friend. His hands felt cold and clammy as he fastened the restraints.

  Sometime later I became aware that I was coming out from under the effects of a veronal injection, or whatever serum they used. I pinched my thumb to verify the time, squinting through my fuzzy vision to read the numbers. Three and a half hours, about the same as before.

  I expected to be unstrapped and freed from the chair, but the man in the white coat left me securely restrained when he left the room, leaving only Horst and me there together. Horst had a sour look on his face, as if he had bitten into a crabapple. He avoided my gaze, and I wondered what he was up to now. I was still too drugged to gauge his intentions. Then they brought Rita in on a gurney.

  She was awake, but groggy and helpless. Horst sent everyone else out of the room, locked the door and walked back over to her gurney, a strange look on his face. As I slowly became aware something terrible was about to happen, he began cutting her clothes off.

  “Hey!” I yelled at him. “What do you think you're doing?"

  He continued without answering until Rita was totally naked. As she squirmed against her straps and looked at me with frightened eyes, he turned to me. “We've tried everything else to find out what you damned Seconders are hiding. Maybe this will work.” He reached over and squeezed her breast cruelly, while staring at me to gauge my reaction.

  I don't remember anything else. Apparently, what Messler said was correct. No matter what the duress, questioning a Seconder was useless. When I came back to consciousness, Horst was busy tucking his shirt back into his trousers. I checked my thumb watch. Another hour had passed.

  Rita was also coming back to her senses. Horst had released her restraints, and she sat up unsteadily on the gurney, then became aware of her nakedness. She started to cover her breasts, but decided that ignoring Horst was a better way of showing her contempt. She looked down at her naked thighs. I followed her gaze. We both saw the drying semen at the same time. She looked over at me with a grim smile.

  Her thoughts were almost as clear to me as if we were pressed together. Disgust, not rage. I commiserated with her in our new silent communion, mingling my sympathy for her with my own rage and vows of revenge against Horst. She sent her love back, but her thoughts warned me not to get violent and put us in further danger; she wasn't hurt and didn't remember anything about the rape.

  Horst left without another word, the mental morass of a rigidly sick mind trailing behind him like a shroud.

  A few minutes later the man in the white coat came in and handed Rita her clothes, then released my restraints.

  We knew the way out of the building this time and couldn't leave it fast enough. I called for a limousine from the lobby, and we spent the time on the way back to Ruston in a mutually healing embrace, our minds like two streams flowing together into a vast ocean of love.

  * * * *

  Two days later, Messler called again. I had been waiting, wanting to express my outrage at Horst's treatment of us, and demand Messler use his money and influence to do something about Horst's rape of Rita. He interrupted my tirade before I had barely begun.

  “Lee, I'm sorry for what happened to you, and especially to Rita. Back when I was younger, the government couldn't have gotten away with that sort of thing."

  “That doesn't make it any easier to take now."

  “Perhaps not, but you'll never be bothered by Horst again, I promise you that much."

  “Can you guarantee that?” I only half-believed him.

  Messler smiled, his expression grim. “I think so. It seems that Mr. Horst had a tragic accident yesterday. He lost control of his car and went off a cliff. He was dead long before the medics could get him to a gate, not that I think it would have done any good. His was the type of mentality which seems to preclude even a first passage."

  Now, how had Messler managed that? Then I thought of our rescue, and again of the way Rita and I were increasingly able to sense the mental state of ordinary persons, even from a fair distance. I decided not to ask.

  “Thanks. If thanks are in order. But won't someone get suspicious?"

  “They might, except for the fact that the postmortem showed that he had taken an aphrodisiac. You know how that distracts a person. He shouldn't have been driving with a shot of that stuff in his system."

  A perfect cover-up. Nothing else needed to be said about Whitney Horst. I felt a grim satisfaction and hoped he was burning in whatever hell there might be.

  “I see. Well, so much for that. I still want to get together with you, though. I have a lot of questions."

  “What's wrong with this? Our circuit is secure."

  Rita decided to join the conversation. “For one thing, I can't kiss you through a screen."

  Messler considered. “I generally try to avoid meeting with other Seconders in person, to keep from arousing suspicion, but in your case, I'm willing to make an exception. You're an exceptional couple. I have plans to be in North Houston next week on business. Why don't we get together then?"

  “Fine. How do we manage it?"

  He rubbed his chin as if his sparse whiskers were bothering him. “Why don't I arrange for your agent fly to North Houston to meet with several of her ‘porters? That would be a perfect cover for you to come here."

  “Mary hates to fly."

  Messler smiled. “I think a sufficient amount of money will set her mind at ease."

  I thought of the fortune he had accumulated over a hundred years of living and decided that if he couldn't persuade Mary to fly down here no one could.

  “Okay. Let us know when and where."

  “Will do.” He disconnected.

  * * * *

  While we were waiting, we enjoyed exploring all the wonderful sensations of having sex while both of us were aware of the other's every thought and feeling. It only got better and better. The melding of our minds while our bodies were connected was more stimulating than any aphrodisiac ever invented. As one, our bodies worked together in perfect unison, mounting steadily toward earth-shattering climaxes. Those climaxes were now amazingly intense, and always simultaneous. Once while we were in the beginning throes of foreplay, my mind wondered what three or four Seconders in bed together would be like. I doubted that I would be able to stand it.

  Rita enfolded the thought with her mind, caressing it, then sent it back to me with conditional approval, her own thoughts touched with amusement about the way men forever want more than one sex partner.

  We spent some time wandering around the few streets of downtown Ruston, practicing our newfound abilities by seeing how well and from how far we could gauge what a normal person was intending to do. We got better as time passed, but eventually reached a plateau. There were limits, but I now knew how Messler's agents had managed to elude the NSC team and so escape without being shot. Being able to sense another person's presence, and his intentions, was like having four arms in a wrestling contest.

  We also went over some of the questions we wanted to put to Messler. I wanted to know what he meant when he said they had a hint about the purpose of the gates. If they did, it was more than I had been able to gather, for all of my time spent doing research and stories on the gates. What I really wanted to know, was why the gate entities or powers, or whatever, constructed the Seconders’ new minds in a way which kept them from revealing any information to normals. Rita and I had discussed the subject and agreed that there must be some sort of continuing purpose and guiding direction connected to the changes that occurred with a gate passage, especially the way that Seconders became telepaths, at least between lovers. We also wanted to know whether Seconders could comprehend the thoughts of other Seconders. We still hadn't met any in person since our conversion.

&nbs
p; And the sex. Was the incredibly heightened, almost unbearably intense ecstasy of orgasm by design or merely a result of the new telepathic powers? I really doubted that we would get any definite answers, but I surely hoped so. I was as curious and bemused with the changes as a cat in a roomful of catnip-scented puppies.

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  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Congratulations, Lee. You too, Rita,” Mary said, running her fingers through her disorderly hair.

  Messler had reserved a conference room for her at the North Houston First National Web Bank building. She sat at the head of the long table and stared at us with frank curiosity.

  “Congratulations for what?” I felt uneasy, knowing she was upset with me.

  “For being alive, I suppose. When are you going to do that story for me?"

  Mary had called several times, leaving messages when I wouldn't accept her calls. She wanted a human-interest story from Rita and me on our second change. In fact, she was desperate for one. One of her other ‘porters had broken the news of our narrow escape and subsequent simultaneous change. With my reputation and following, she was outraged that I wasn't writing my own firsthand report and earning a huge amount of money from it.

  “I'm sorry, Mary. I've decided not to do any more ‘porting or ‘cording."

  She jumped to her feet and pulled at her hair as if she were trying to yank knots out of it. Well, maybe she was. “You can't do this to me! When you said you would come to this conference I promised three different ‘webs and one ‘work I'd have something for them within twenty-four hours!"

  The other ‘porters seated at the table stared at me as if I had refused an invitation from President Jones to do an interview.

  Messler had given me instructions about how to handle her. Our presence at this meeting was nothing but a blind to enable us to meet with him in person.

  “I'm sorry,” I said again. “I only came as a personal courtesy to you, because of our past relationship. You've always been good to me, and I wanted to thank you personally."

  Mary buried her head in her hands, strands of tangled hair falling forward. She shook her head in disgust and tears filled her eyes.

  “Good-bye.” I smiled to myself as I sensed her real mood. Already, her mind was skittering around possible alternatives to the stories she had promised, perhaps even a special on this very meeting. The tears were a last attempt to sway me, and they were as fake as the graphie ‘porters she loved so much.

  I took Rita's hand and we departed, trying to look as upset as Mary was pretending to be.

  We didn't worry too much about being tailed by the NSC, FBI or maybe even military intelligence agents. Messler owned the bank building, and I suspected the few individuals we passed were Seconders. A private elevator took us up to the penthouse where a stunning redhead greeted us and led us through the maze of rooms. I was getting vibrations of sexual attraction from her, but couldn't attribute it to my new powers. The frank sexual way she looked me over left no doubt about what she was thinking. She led us into another conference room where Messler was waiting for us, then left with one last sultry smile.

  Messler was standing in front of a window overlooking the city. He hurried over to take our hands, each in turn. Behind his easy smile, I sensed a mind that was as tight and disciplined as a logic professor's.

  “It's good to see you again, Lee. I still have fond memories of our last encounter. Rita, I hope you bear me no ill will over that little episode. It was all in fun.” His unforgettable green eyes twinkled like stars on a misty night.

  “My only regret is that you failed to include me.” Rita smiled and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

  Messler laughed, amusement sparkling through his mind pattern like a display of the northern lights. But that was all that came through. The rest of his mind pattern was a blank to me. “It's a mistake I will never repeat, now that I've met you. But let's get down to business. Please sit down.” Messler indicated a group of executive loungers off to one side.

  They were so comfortable that I decided immediately that we needed some back home. Messler had style as well as substance. Each was equipped with a caddy and lap table. I fiddled with some buttons trying to call up the bar menu, then got smart and told it what I wanted.

  After adjusting his chair, Messler spoke. “In case you're wondering, I've hired actors to double for you while we're having this meeting. They're down in the Houston lounge having a good time. You can change places with them later, then go on home and no one will be the wiser."

  “Smart.” I nodded my appreciation of his forethought.

  “Necessary. I've learned a few things the last hundred years. One of them is to always assume that you're being watched. Another is that history always repeats itself, though not exactly in the same fashion.” He paused for effect.

  I took the bait. “So what's going to repeat this time?"

  He laced his fingers together. “The more removed from normal a person or group is, the more likelihood there is that they will be ostracized, persecuted, perhaps hunted down and eliminated. Seconders will be no exception."

  With that statement, Messler's attitude became much more serious. Indeed, his whole personality underwent a transformation. When he glanced over at me, I saw that his eyes lacked the amused sparkle they possessed earlier; now they were compelling in their intensity, drawing me to look deeper and deeper into their depths. I struggled to understand what had changed about his eyes, then realized that I could now see pure intelligence staring at me out of those emerald depths. His gaze was filled with wisdom and understanding, yet as he looked calmly at me, I began to know how a mouse must feel under the detached examination of a scientist.

  After a moment, he began to speak and I noticed that his voice had changed as well. It became less resonant but that didn't distract from its commanding tone; instead it became focused, forceful, almost mesmerizing. “Those who cannot understand us will come to hate us and will try to hurt us in any way they can."

  “We've had an inkling of that already. Horst.” Rita spoke with blunt honesty.

  “There will be worse. The government isn't making their interest in Seconders public yet, but it may come to that soon. Even if the government says out of it, the public will start turning on us eventually as some of the implications sink in, especially if the gates stay with us. For instance, can you imagine how you would feel if a very small minority of people were able to live practically forever and you couldn't?"

  I nodded. I'd already thought about that.

  Messler continued, “That's one of the factors which will make itself felt, though not immediately. Those who have gone through the gates only once won't kick up too much of a fuss until they begin growing old. Or getting sick. Then watch out. Or suppose we had an epidemic, like the Shivas Prion that cropped up in India a few years ago? How many millions died then? Seconders can cure themselves simply by going through a gate again; most of those who've been through once already know they are risking everything to go through again—the odds are they will vanish."

  “Are you saying that we may have to go into hiding?” Rita leaned forward, concern evident on her face.

  “Some may, eventually. In fact, in many countries, we're already seeing it happen. That's no long-term solution, though. It's impossible to hide in our society. Identification is too easy these days, and computers track us everywhere. It's not like it was back before the Millennium."

  “So what is the solution?"

  “Bear with me. You agree that Seconders will be feared and resented more and more as time passes?"

  “Resented, maybe,” Rita said.

  “Ever hear about the Salem witch trials? Or about the Spanish Inquisition? The Holocaust? Have you studied the origins of the race problem in this country? Oh, we'll be feared, all right. There are some smart analysts in the government. Eventually, they'll ferret out our secret, simply by observing us and putting a pattern ana
lysis computer to work. Then watch out. We'll be corralled like sheep, and either put to work, or possibly eliminated, like a few already have been in Russia."

  Despite her natural inclination to think the best of people, Rita saw our point. “All right. I have trouble with the concept, but I'll take your word for it. But—” She looked around me, as if appealing for help. “Isn't there something we can do to stop this reaction before it happens?"

  “Don't make waves,” Messler said. “Never let on how different you are, or do anything to take advantage of your difference, like, for instance, hanging around a broker and sensing when he's ready to jump on a winner. Don't congregate in groups or form organizations. That's a sure-fire way to draw attention to yourselves."

  He was telling us to lay low and keep quiet. I didn't think that would do much good in the long run. I said so.

  Messler smiled. “You're right. Acting normal can delay things a bit, though. And I can help personally. Money is still good for a number of things, like paying for spinweb slots to counteract public opinion. Or making sure that government reports and research comes out skewed. For instance, I've helped make sure the government doesn't learn why Seconders can't be questioned. The real reason is that our minds go into a sort of autistic state under coersion, but the NSC thinks it's something else.” His smile broadened.

  “You can do that? Buy off government researchers?” It was a stupid remark. Of course he could. Things like that went on all the time. Money has limits, though. There's always someone willing to offer more money for the other side.

  “For a while. The autistic angle is something important, something we need to conceal as long as we can. Have you ever heard of the term Idiot Savant? Some autistics are like that. There ae indications that after numerous gate passages we may develop unusual talents like they have—without becoming either idiots or autistic."

  I voiced my worries. “But what if someone finds out you are bribing people and offers more money?"