by Darrell Bain
The crowd surged forward in a pandemonium of noise and confusion, trying to comprehend what had happened. It had occurred so suddenly and was over so quickly, few of the flock realized yet that she had been shot.
From beside me, I heard Rita gasp in surprise, but I couldn't tear my gaze away. From our vantage point, we had a perfect view. As I watched, those in front of the crowd were pressed inexorably against the gate. As fast as they came into contact with it, they disappeared, just as suddenly as Messilinda had. Those behind began fighting to avoid being shoved forward. Screams and yells drowned out any possibility of telling where the shot had come from. I never heard the sound of a rifle report, but I suppose it could have had a silencer attached. We will never know, because the assassin was never caught.
We couldn't see what was going on behind the gate, but of course, there must have been naked young men and women emerging from the other side-though not as many as fell into the front, because some had been through a gate once already. Fortunately, there were several 'porters there, waiting to record the expressions of the faithful who had intended to enter after Messilinda's prayer.
Messilinda came out the other side immediately, young and male, with a bewildered look on her face. That was just about the last we saw of him. The 'porters closed around him in a circle hiding him from sight, other than for an occasional glimpse of the top of his head, his red curly hair unmistakable, but no longer shoulder length.
Rita and I saw a recording of that later, of course. At the moment, when we got over the shock of realizing that she had been assassinated, we simply turned and stared at each other. Rita stood there a moment, then came into my arms, clutching me so tightly, it was difficult to breathe. I held her, neither of us saying anything until police began dispersing the crowd, some of which had begun rushing around the sides of the gate to get a look at the other side.
"Come on," I said. "There's nothing else here for us." I took her hand and we walked back to my car and drove away.
***
When we got home, the others were seated in front of the big wall screens, watching the news reports of the assassination. Well, attempted assassination, anyway. I doubt the gunman anticipated that his efforts would simply turn her back into a male again-and produce a rare new Seconder.
"Hey, glad to see y'all! We were hoping you hadn't gotten caught up in that crowd," Russell said. He looked tired, as usual. He had been spending hours upon end in our new study room working on his doctorate and his and Rita's project, whatever that was. He wanted very badly to begin commuting back to the lab at NHU occasionally, but the campus was still closed to physically present students.
"No problem. We were on the outskirts. Anything new?" Rita and I hadn't even plugged in a comphone on the drive back.
"Mostly they're just running the shooting scene over and over. Messilinda isn't giving out any interviews."
Of course not. None of the second changers, or Seconders as they were beginning to be called, ever did. I wondered how her killing and rejuvenation as a man would affect the Gate religion. There were plenty of interviews and commentary, but mostly, it was just wild speculation and tabweb junk.
My comphone beeped. I glanced at the big screen before answering. Nothing much that I didn't already know was being said. 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 ever.
"Lee! There you are! Listen, I need an eyewitness account immediately. You did see it, didn't you?" She didn't even mention what she was talking about, but there was no necessity. It was about the only subject going at the moment.
"I didn't see much," I said. "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 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 prime reporter associated with news concerning Messilinda and the Church of the Gates.
"'Excuse 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 did the story while taking occasional peeks at the big wall screen where the assassination story was still playing. It only took an hour or so to finish. I sent it off and closed the files.
We all just sat around and talked about possible implications of the shooting. Every time it was mentioned, the 'porter or commentator hesitated over how to describe it. She hadn't actually been killed, though that had certainly been the intent. Her gender had been changed, though, and that, plus the fact she had managed a second passage through a gate was the subject of all the talk. We didn't reach any concrete conclusions, nor did we have to, right then anyway. An hour later, Messilinda (or Messler Scribner, her original name, as she now insisted on being referred to) gave out a very brief statement.
The picture showed him from the waist up, dressed in a conservative blue jirt and looking directly into the cameras with his young handsome face set in serene planes.
"This will be my first and only statement," he said, paused, then continued. "Like every other person who has passed through a gate twice, I remember no more of it than I did the first time. I have no new information to impart on that subject. As for my future plans, I wish simply to be left alone. I am dropping all affiliation with the Church of the Gates effective immediately. This does not mean I am renouncing the church, nor am I endorsing it. My position now and in the future will be entirely neutral and I will have nothing further to say on the subject. I am leaving now for my home. Please do not attempt to contact me, as I will have nothing more to say, not on any subject. Thank you." He turned abruptly and hurried away, flanked by a contingent of bodyguards.
"Well, so much for that," Seyla said. Perhaps there was a tinge of abandonment in her voice, but if so, it was hard to detect. She seemed saddened more than anything else. I don't think she was ever close to subscribing to the Gater Church doctrine, but she still believed absolutely that the gates were a manifestation from God.
"Damn!" Russell cursed.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
"The same old thing. Every Seconder so far, that we know of anyway, still claims not to remember anything that might have happened while inside the gate. Something does, though. Those people come out changed. If we had 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, or Angels," Seyla said.
Neither of us bothered answering. Even if it were true, they certainly didn't seem inclined toward influencing earthly affairs, one way or another.
"The psychologists aren't getting much, either," Rita said. "They act perfectly normal, those who are free. With one exception, that is."
"What's that?" Seyla asked.
I already knew the answer. I was still spending a lot of time poring over all kinds of data on the gates. "They don't seem to be as interested in sex as they were before," I told her.
"That depends," Rita said, an elfish smile crossing her face.
"On what?" I asked. What had I missed?
"Sorry, I meant to tell you yesterday and it slipped my mind. While I was on line 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?"
"She. She recognized the profiles of a couple of Seconders, a man and woman, who had gotten together. While they were out, she wired their house; illegally, of course. They're certainly still interested in sex. More so, if anything."
"Be damned," Russell said. "I'll bet the security roaches already knew about it, though; they just won't give out anything without a court order."
"Whatever. I don't think it's wise to draw any conclusions from just that 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, just 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, that movement topped out and began a slow, gradual decline. It didn't stop other cults from growing up around the sex gates, though; everything from Satanism to tree-worshipers to Suiciders, either individuals or as organized groups, focused on them.
The suiciders made a small splash in the news for a while. It was an easy way to go, they claimed. Just walk through the gate, come around to the other side and walk through again and disappear forever. No fuss, no muss, no bother. Whether it was an easy method of killing yourself was debatable, though. No one knew what happened to persons failing to pass 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 with the real sickos, who never came back the first time.
That little piece had some ramifications: almost immediately, legislators here and there began proposing the gates as a humane method of execution. They were opposed by those groups who believed that persons failing to make the change went on to a better life elsewhere and they didn't want them cluttering up their supposed heaven. It generated another story I couldn't resist doing, my first attempt at humor, and Mary said it went over really well, which surprised the hell out of me. I've never been known for my humor; quite the opposite, in fact.
The NHU physical plant reopened for classes and Russell began traveling back and forth, staying away several days in some cases before coming home to rest and get reacquainted with the family.
Rita went with him occasionally, but rarely stayed the night. What that meant was better than half the time, I was left by myself with the three women of the household. You may think that would have been a man's paradise, living with three pretty, loving, accommodating women. It was most of the time, except that occasionally, Donna simply wore me out. Once she had fully accepted the fact of her woman's body, she couldn't seem to get enough of me.
I slept with Rita and Seyla, too, but occasionally, I just had to have a break and sneaked into bed and went to sleep early, leaving them to sort out the remaining options among themselves. Pending Edie and Bert's arrival back home, we also had the use of the huge old mattresses in the master bedroom and sometimes, we just 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. If you think seeing two women make love to each other is exciting, try three sometime, but don't blame me if you have to resort to vitamins afterwards.
***
Even after Messilinda's assassination, or whatever you want to call it, President Forbes' legislation passed both houses of Congress and he signed it into law. Money was released and construction began on simple single and family housing units. It was all controlled at local levels, with state delegations forming an oversight committee to be root out possible fraud or abuse; not that they succeeded. Politicians will be politicians, regardless, but it helped. No one wanted a repetition of the old days where a sore toe might be grounds for enough government benefits to last years. Seyla volunteered for one of the local committees and was accepted. She began spending some of her time at the single small construction and food distribution center in Ruston. She always returned home with a big smile on her face. We were all glad for her. One day, she came home especially happy, almost bubbling with pleasure.
"Hey, girl, you look as pleased as I did the day I discovered sex!" Rita 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 said, closing the door behind him and setting his overnight bag on the floor.
Seyla told him her news in the midst of pushing him down on a lounger and plopping herself into his lap.
"Well, that's great," Russell said. "I've got some news, too. Let me get cleaned up and have something to eat and I'll spill it."
Seyla drug him off to the shower while I mixed up the inevitable pitcher of Whatnot. It was becoming a tradition to greet Russell's return with a rousing party.
He and Seyla came out shortly. Russell had thrown on an old robe rather than bother dressing. He scarfed down sandwiches as if he hadn't eaten in three days, which he probably hadn't if he had gotten really involved at the lab. He got up and emptied the crumbs from his plate, then replenished everyone's portion of rum, an anticipatory grin on his face like a boy just getting ready to dig into a cookie jar.
He sat down beside Seyla and said, "Okay, here it is. We've known about Seconders for some time, of course. Now we have someone who's made it through a third time. And fourth. And fifth, and-"
"Whoa!" I exclaimed. "Back up and tell it in detail. When and where did it happen?"
He grinned at me. "You may have been responsible for it, Lee, in a small way."
"What! No way!" I could hardly have had anything to do with it.
Russell grinned some more. "You remember that piece you did on the suiciders? Well, 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 said. She gripped my hand, as curious about the results as I was.
"Yeah. Remember old Doc Renfrow? Well, even after the NSC finally released him, they still kept him under surveillance, just like they do all the Seconders. 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 in a young male body." Russell paused dramatically, taking a big gulp of his drink.
Donna took the bait. "Wait a minute. You said something about a fourth and fifth time. How did that happen?"
Russell turned serious. He looked at us each in turn and said, "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 NSA discovers who let the cat out of the bag. Anyway, they took him 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 the big boys got so frustrated after all the tests were completed, he convinced the other members of the team to shove him through a gate again, just 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. "Immortality. Effective immortality," I said. "God's chips, think what that would mean!"
Rita's iron-tight grip on my hand relaxed. "Only if you make it through a gate the second time."
"Oh," I said. Stupid. I had gotten so excited, I had forgotten that point. Then I deflated further. I wasn't considering going through a gate even once, so what did it mean to me?
"It will make a great story anyway," she said.
"Yeah, if we could do it without revealing Russell's source or getting that damned Horst guy down on us again," I said.
"Cheer up," Russell told me. He drained his glass. "I also heard his 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 let the news slip anyway."
"I wonder if any of us will ever live long enough to fi
nd out the purpose behind all this."
"I surely hope so," Russell said. "And guess who will get the first opportunity?" He looked directly at Donna.
"Why me? Oh!"
"Yup, you. When we get old, each of us, except you, will only be going in for the first time. You'll be on your second go-round." He spoke as if it had already been decided we would all grow old together, then go through the gates together 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 way off, after all.
***
Rita and I slept together by ourselves that night. It had been a noteworthy day, what with Seyla and Russell both having news to impart. It seemed to make Rita especially tender and attentive 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 folded her arms and legs around me. I gazed down at her long dark lashes and began kissing them and her cheeks and nose and lips while beginning to make those first slow, sensuous movements. She held me firmly to her and opened her eyes.
"Hi," I said. "I love you." I moved some more and she raised her hips to meet my slow thrusts.
"Hi. I love you, too," she 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 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, then dropped the idea, what with all the disruption they caused. Now, though, the country seemed to be settling down somewhat. I had been for it before, just waiting for the right time. Why not now?
