by Darrell Bain
***
Two days later, Messler called again. I had been waiting, wanting to express my outrage at Horst's treatment of us, especially of Rita. He interrupted my tirade before I had hardly 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," I said.
"Perhaps not, but you won't be bothered by Horst again, I promise you that much."
"Can you guarantee that?" I asked, only half-believing him.
Messler smiled grimly. "I think so. It seems Mister 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 people, even from a fair distance. I decided not to ask.
"Thanks," I said, "If thanks are in order. But won't someone get suspicious?"
"They might, except for the fact the postmortem showed 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 needs to be said about Whitney Horst, may he burn in hell.
"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."
"For one thing, I can't kiss you through a screen," Rita smiled.
Messler considered. "I really don't like the idea, but I suppose I can set it up if you insist. 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 have your agent fly to North Houston to meet some of her 'porters? That would be a perfect cover."
"Mary hates to fly," I said.
Messler smiled. "I think a sufficient amount of money will set her mind at ease."
I thought of the fortune he had accumulated over more than a hundred years of living and decided if he couldn't persuade Mary to fly down here, no one could.
"Okay," I agreed. "Just let us know when and where."
"Will do." He disconnected.
***
We spent a goodly portion of the waiting time exploring all the wonderful aspects of sex where we both were mentally aware of the other's thoughts and sensations during the act. It only got better and better. The melding of our minds while our bodies were connected was more stimulating than any aphrodisiac ever invented, and the climaxes were amazingly intense-and almost always simultaneous. Once while we were in the beginning throes of foreplay, my mind wandered into the idea of what three or four Seconders in bed together would be like. I wondered if I would be able to stand it.
Rita enfolded the thought with her mind, caressing it like she would have the soft resilience of another woman's breast, then sent it back to me with conditional approval and an amused expression of how men were forever wanting more than one sex partner.
We spent some time wandering around the few streets of "downtown" Ruston, practicing our minds 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, then reached a plateau. There were limits, but I figured out then how Messler's agents had managed to elude the NSA team and so miraculously escaped 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 had been talking about 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, even with all the time I spent doing research and stories on the gates. What I really wanted to know, if anyone had ideas on the subject, was whether there were questions being asked about why the gate entities or powers, or whatever, constructed the Seconders' new minds in a way which forbade them from revealing any information to normals. Rita and I had discussed the subject both mentally and vocally. We agreed there must be some sort of continuing purpose and guiding direction connected to the sex gates, especially the way they turned Seconders into 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.
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 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 affectionate, catnip-scented puppies.
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 Webbank building. She sat at the head of the long table and stared curiously at us.
"Congratulations for what?" I asked.
"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 I 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 thought it outrageous that I hadn't already done a follow-up on the secondhand report.
"I'm sorry, Mary. I've decided not to do any more 'porting or 'cording," I said.
She jumped to her feet and pulled at her hair as if she were trying to yank knots out of it out. Well, maybe she was. "You can't do this to me!" she screamed. "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 just refused an invitation from the President to do an interview.
Messler had given me instructions about how to handle her. Our presence was just 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 in person."
Mary buried her head in her hands, strands of tangled hair falling forward. She began crying.
"Good-by," I said gently, smiling to myself. I could sense her mood. Already, her mind was skittering around possible alternates to the stories she had promised, perhaps even a special on this very meeting. The tears were just 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 trying to look as upset as Mary was pretending to be, we departed,.
We didn't worry too much about being tailed by the NSA, FBI or maybe even military intelligence agents. Messler owned the bank building, and I suspected the few individuals we passed were Seconders, though I made no attempt to touch their minds and find out. A private elevator took us up to the penthouse where we were met by a cute little redheaded girl who looked young enough to still be going to grade school. She was an adult, though. I caught the gestalt of her mind almost as plainly as I could Rita's, who was giving her an appraising eye while making mental contact. She led us into another conference room and followed us inside.
Messler and a young man were the only other persons present. Messler broke off conversing with him and came over to take our hands, each in turn. I sensed a mind behind his easy smile that was as tight and disciplined as a logic professor's.
"It's good to see you again, Lee. I still ha
ve 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 blue eyes twinkled like stars on a humid night.
"My only regret is that you failed to include me," Rita said, smiling.
Messler laughed, amusement sparkling through his mind pattern like a display of the northern lights. "Chalk up one for you. Now, let's get down to business. I'd like you to meet Trevor Andrews and Kellie Shawn. I hope you all get on well together."
I shook hands with Trevor while Rita and Kellie exchanged busses to the cheek. I wondered what he meant by hoping we would get along and sensed the same question hovering in the minds of the others. I already had the answer to one of my questions. Trevor and Kellie were obviously Seconders. I couldn't read their direct thoughts like I could with Rita, but it was much easier to sense the essence of their minds and personalities than it was for normals. I wondered how much further the capacity would extend if we happened to have sex together.
They caught a hint of my thought, but didn't seem to mind. Rita caught more than a hint, but didn't say anything.
"Sit down," Messler said, indicating a group of executive loungers off to one side.
I decided immediately that we needed some of those back home; they were more than comfortable. 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 just told it what I wanted.
Messler adjusted his chair, then 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 Alamo Lounge enjoying themselves. You can change places with them later, then go on home and no one will be the wiser."
"Smart," Trevor said. He looked a little older than Kellie, but not by much. He had brown hair, but the mustache he was trying to grow was coming in almost black.
"Necessary. I've learned a few things the last hundred years. One of them is to always assume you're being watched. Another is that history always repeats itself, though not necessarily 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 of being ostracized, persecuted, perhaps hunted down and eliminated. Seconders will be no exception."
"We've had an inkling of that already," Rita said quietly.
"There will be worse. The government isn't broadcasting their interest in Seconders yet, but it may come to that soon. Even if not, the public will begin coming down on us as soon 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 were able to live practically forever and you couldn't? That's one of the factors which will make itself felt, though not immediately. The firsters won't kick up too much of a fuss until they begin growing old again. Or getting sick. Then watch out. Or suppose we have an epidemic, like the Shiva Prion that cropped up in India a few years ago? How many millions died then? Seconders could cure themselves simply by going through a gate again; firsters couldn't, without bucking tremendous odds."
"Are you saying we may have to go into hiding?" Kellie asked. Concern showed on her little-girl face like a child being left overnight with an abusive stepfather.
"Some may, eventually. In fact, in many countries, we're already seeing it happen. That's no long-term solution, though. Identification is too easy these days, not like it was back when I was young.
"So what is the solution?" I asked.
"Bear with me. You all agree that Seconders will be feared and resented more and more as time passes?"
"Resented, maybe," Kellie said.
"Ever hear of the Salem witch trials? Or of 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, then putting a pattern analysis computer to work. Then watch out. We'll be corralled like sheep, and forced to work for them, or possibly just eliminated, like a few already have been in Russia."
It took some recounting of history to convince Kellie, though not the rest of us, and particularly not me. History was one of my subjects.
"All right," Kellie said. "I have trouble with the concept, but I'll take your word for it. But-" She looked around at the rest of us, as if appealing for help. "Isn't there something we can do as a counteraction?"
"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."
It didn't seem to me like those actions would be of much use 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 government reports and research comes out skewed." His smile broadened.
"You can do that?" I asked. It was a stupid remark, my old tendency to talk before thinking coming back to haunt me. Of course he could. Things like that went on all the time. Hardly anyone listened to bureaucratic pronouncements anymore. Money has limits, though. There's always someone willing to offer more money to convert a follower to an opponent.
"For a while."
I mentioned the idea of bigger bribes.
Messler took it in stride. "There aren't many people with enough money to outbid me. Besides, you're all too young to realize it, but you would be amazed at the number of friends and agents and contacts a man makes or can plug into key positions over a long lifetime, especially a wealthy man. Trust me. I can control mob reaction for a good long while, in this country anyway, and perhaps in others."
Rita reflected. "'A good long while.' How long is that?"
"Long enough, I hope, but again, that's no permanent solution, just as Lee says. That's where you four come in."
He leaned back in his lounger, enjoying the consternation. We didn't have a clue as to what he meant. Or Rita, Kellie and I didn't. Trevor didn't act surprised. "I suspected something like this," he said.
"Suspected what?" I demanded.
"I was a pilot on the first FTL expedition," he said.
Uh-oh. Rita wasn't going to like what I sensed was coming. Remembering that horrible 'cording the ship had brought back, I wasn't sure I would either.
"Exactly," Messler said. "What we need desperately is to discover something big enough to compensate for the fear and resentment of Seconders, which is certain to occur. A lever, if you will, big enough to permanently swing public opinion over to our side."
"What makes you think we'll find anything like that in space? All I've seen so far are weird plants and animals and a poor man having the blood sucked out of his body by some monstrosity." Rita certainly wasn't agreeing with him.
"Tell them, Trevor," Messler said.
Trevor stroked his mustache pensively, trying to convert his own mental impressions into words. Presently, he said, "No one knew it, but I was the only Seconder on the crew, and so far as I know, the only person who sensed an alien presence while we were beyond light speed."
"Aliens? What were they like?" My old love of science fiction leaped into my mind like a cat being presented with a bowl of cream.
"I don't know. It's almost impossible to describe. For several hours during our last outward jump, right before we came back into normal space, there was a strangeness which pulled at my mind like a distorted abstract painting I wanted to correct. I knew it was nothing human, but it wasn't like interacting with a virtual computer, either, nor like anything I've ever experienced. You know how you want to straighten a picture, or adjust a bodycomp? It was
sort of like that, beckoning to me, annoying me, like trying to remember a dream. You know there's more data there somewhere, but you can't pull it up. I just know something out there was making contact with me, tugging at my mind." He ran his fingers through his short brown hair. "I'm describing this badly, I know. The only other thing I can say is that the pull, the urging I felt, suggested whatever it was would only be found much further out than we went. And that it might, and I emphasize might, have some connection with the gates. That impression was so faint, I can't really say for sure."
He was describing it badly. Even after I suggested he try to project a mental picture of what he had experienced, all I got was a vague image which meant nothing, combined with his certainty that the experience had been real rather than imagined, and that he was all too ready to go out again.
I glanced over at Rita and shrugged my shoulders. She returned my gaze, then looked back toward where Messler was still leaned back, seemingly in deep thought. He answered quickly when Rita spoke, though.
"All right, Trevor has convinced me there's something worth going back after. Fine. Maybe there is. Maybe he will discover a, oh, a force field, or a black hole he can carry around in his pocket, or find that the universe came out of a gigantic gate controlled by Martians. I know Trevor wants to go and I can sense Kellie does, too. What does that have to do with Lee and I? I'm assuming you intend for us to accompany them?" She diplomatically failed to mention that she knew I wanted to go, too. She read my thoughts perfectly.
Messler took a long time before he answered. "I made a lot of my money playing hunches. You two are another hunch. You beat billions to one odds very recently. I have a feeling that somehow, that fact is important, and it has something to do with the purpose of the gates, if there is one. I can't tell you why, nor what might happen. You are unique, though. It may turn out to be important." He shrugged uncomfortably.
