To my wife Betty, my one true love, and the most wonderful, caring woman in the whole wide world. We have been married almost thirty years now and her beauty still inspires me, her gift of compassion astounds me, her innate sense of what is right and wrong constantly amazes me and her ability to overlook my failings is almost unbelievable. I am forever grateful that she chose me to share the second half of her life, though I'll be damned if I can figure out why. Whatever, I love and cherish her and cannot imagine life without her. She is my sweetheart, my friend, my lover, my companion, and all too often, my conscience. Every man should be so lucky.

THE ORIGINAL SEX GATES NOVEL

This is the Sex Gates novel as originally written by Darrell Bain alone. It has a completely different ending, and it contains one more major character and several more supporting ones. In this original version, all questions are answered and all issues resolved in this one book. It is being published now in response to all the fan mail and interest the trilogy generated-and continues to generate. The Sex Gates has already become a science fiction cult classic and this book should be a significant addition to the sex gates universe.

Author's Note

I wrote The Sex Gates in 1993 at a frenzied pace, completing the first draft in one month flat. In looking over my original novel and the one ten years later which includes Jeanine Berry as a collaborator, I am unable to judge which version I like best. That is for readers to decide. I can only say that going back over the old manuscript helped me recapture most of the original emotion and intensity with which I first got this notion into novel form.

When I revisited The Original Sex Gates, I was reminded of the two versions of Arthur C. Clark's grand stories, Against The Fall Of Night and The City And The Stars. I have been reading both versions over and over for many years and continue to enjoy both of them to this day. I sincerely hope you can do the same with the two different versions of The Sex Gates.

BOOK I

MARS

Chapter One

To say that the sex gates changed my life would be a gross understatement. They changed everyone's lives in one way or another, whether they went through them or not. In my case, they not only brought an endless sense of fascination and curiosity, but finally provided a purpose and direction to my life, which had been sadly lacking up until then.

Before the arrival of the gates, I was more or less a perpetual student. I had already earned degrees in journalism and biology at North Houston College, but I was still taking undergraduate courses in psychology, business, sociology and anything else that took my fancy. I was completely uninterested in earning a postgraduate degree, but still found many subjects I wanted to know more about.

I should explain how I was able to afford to stay in school as long as I wanted while so many other kids had to struggle so hard after the last of the federal loan programs were cancelled. My grandfather, Mosby Stuart (whom my parents say I take after) was an eclectic jack-of-all-trades who was relatively uneducated but self-taught in a number of subjects, most notably, electronics. He was a visionary, a dreamer (or so I've been told) and wandered all over the South for years, seeking a niche and dragging his family along with him while he looked. He finally found a place for himself during the electronics explosion back before the Millennium. I'm not sure exactly what he all did, but I understand he made most of his fortune designing software for some of the earlier computers. After that, he mostly stayed home in east Texas, spending a lot of his time sitting in front of the keyboard of his computer or browsing through his vast library (Dad used to tell me stories of how he and Grandma argued over the cost of shipping his books every time they moved. Apparently, he could never bear to throw a book away). I wish I had known him better, but Dad was in the military while I was growing up and we didn't get back to Texas that often. Then he and Grandma died together in a car crash in Houston one day while they were making the rounds of their favorite bookstores.

Grandpa's will left the home and half his money to Dad. The other half of the money was split between me and my brother, Derek. I started drawing my annuity on my eighteenth birthday, just as I was ready to start college. It was really a tidy sum, especially for a young kid. I was able to afford a four-bedroom home off campus, a new car every couple of years and still had plenty of money left over. As to why I chose North Houston College when I could have afforded to go to almost any university in America, I'm not sure. Probably, it had a lot to do with the fact Dad and Mom had moved into Grandpa's old house only thirty miles further north on the NAFTA highway when Dad retired, and in the two years before I started college, I grew to love that old place and the piney woods it was set in a few miles out from the little town of Ruston. Dad stayed home and did consulting work over the web and Mom gardened. They both contributed a lot of time to the antiquated public library, improving it enough so it became somewhat of a teenage hangout (which might tell you something about how much they changed it). I worked there summers and some evenings. It gave me a job and extra spending money, things not easy to come by for most of the local kids, but I'm not sure I really earned my salary. I grew up loving to read and letting me work in a library was somewhat akin to putting a rabbit in charge of a lettuce shop.

Anyway, when some of the towns and villages north of the old airport got together and incorporated after the Houston riots, they named their new city North Houston, and the state funded the construction of a new campus there to replace the one in Houston proper that was destroyed. The new college was close to home and that was where I decided I wanted to go. I've never been much of an adventurer, except through books and web games. Like I said, I take after Grandpa. If he had made his money early on, I doubt he would have traveled much either. Besides, by that time, I had gotten interested in science fiction (which earned me not a little teasing from my friends when the sex gates appeared) and Grandpa's library contained a lot of old books I couldn't find anywhere else, even as ebooks.

The house I rented was only a few blocks from the college campus, a post-millennium modular, solid on the outside but easy to change around on the inside. That helped a lot because early on, I let a few of my friends with money problems move in. The first few years, they came and went, but by the time I had earned my first degree, the four persons living there besides myself were more or less permanently installed. There was Don Wesley, my best friend, and his girl, Seyla Wickerson; Russell Borderlon, another real close friend, and Rita Hernandez, my main orbit who had been living with me for over a year, and myself, Jackson Lee Stuart. Grandpa was a civil war buff and Dad told me that he and Mom named me after his favorite generals, but only after he promised a hefty donation to the Disabled Veterans of America, Mom's favorite charity. Mom and Dad had a disagreement about whether to call me Jackson or Lee, or so I heard from my older brother, Derek. Mom won, I guess, because as far back as I can remember, everyone has called me Lee instead of Jackson.

It was Don who got in trouble with the first sex gate any of us ever saw. It was on a Saturday afternoon during spring break, shortly after noon. The five of us had walked over from the house to the campus beanery for lunch. The food there isn't anything to brag about, but it's convenient and comes with the tuition, so we all ate there a lot. Besides, none of us are very good cooks. The campus was almost deserted because of spring break. Most of the students had headed for Galveston or Corpus Christi, or the ones who could afford it and didn't mind the risk, on down to Mexico.

Don and Seyla were walking hand in hand in front of me and Rita, with Russell dragging along behind us, probably lost in thought over some physics problem. I was saying something innocuous to Rita, using it as an excuse to blow in her ear, when I heard a gasp from Seyla and "Hey! I'll be goddamned!" from Don. I looked up just in time to keep from bumping into them. Russell did bump into me.

The sex gate had materialized almost on top of us, right on the grassy lawn at the east corner of the campus adjacent to Romana Street, where we always turned when going home from the cafeteria. Russell later told me its appearance was instantaneous so far as he could tell. One moment, there was only grass and a paved street in front of us, and the next, the path was blocked by the gate, a glowing green arch darkening to dull turquoise inward from the edges and toward a green mist in the center. Though it was only about twenty feet high and maybe ten feet across, we were so close, it seemed to tower over us.

"Where on earth did that come from?" Rita asked, puzzlement tingeing her voice. She had been looking down at her feet while I whispered in her ear. Now she was staring up at the gate with her pretty brown eyes as wide open as a frightened owl. For no reason I could understand, I slipped an arm around her waist.

"It just came out of nowhere!" Don said, awed. "I almost ran into it!" He stood with his hands on his hips, head tilted speculatively to one side as if he were examining a blackboard problem in one of his math classes.

"Impossible!" Russell exclaimed, coming back to earth. He shoved his muscular body past me and Rita to get a better view. He stared at the gate belligerently, as if it were defying some natural law.

"It did!" Don repeated.

"What in Christ is it?" Seyla asked. She had let loose of Don's hand and crossed her arms protectively around her chest, flattening her breasts into the crook of her elbows.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Don said, in a tone suggesting the green arch was nothing more than a math problem he could solve. He took a step toward the gate, hands outstretched.

"Don, don't! It might be dangerous!" Seyla cried. She reached out to grab the back of his windbreaker.

Too late. Don took another step forward, bringing him into the edge of a faint nimbus extending from the darker turquoise inner portion. For a second, I could see him there, frozen motionless, then he disappeared as abruptly as a popped soap bubble.

"Don! Come back!" Seyla screamed. She took a step forward.

I was standing with one arm around Rita and the other half-raised, intending to stop Don myself. We had been buddies for years now, as close a friend as I ever had. I heard Seyla yell and start to move. Don vanished and I grabbed at Seyla, just catching the belt of her toga. I yanked her backward.

Rita had her hands to her face, holding her chin and cheeks and grimacing like a child watching a close-up of a monster in a horror movie on a big wall screen.

Seyla struggled in my arms. Her coffee and cream complexion paled to a sickly yellowish gray, draining all the normally exotic beauty from her face. I shook her and shouted, "Seyla, wait! Wait a minute!" It was all I could think of to say. I'm not very fast on my feet in an emergency.

"This is impossible," Russell said again, but his dark blue eyes glittered with intense curiosity. He began edging around the side of the arch, as if by stepping off its dimensions he could measure it into a category of the physics he loved so much.

"Omigod!" a startled soprano voice screamed, seeming to come from the other side of the arch, suggesting to me that another frightened student like us was wondering where it had come from.

That thought lasted only a second. The voice came again, louder and shriller, with an overtone of horrified surprise in it. "My God, it's turned me into a woman! Lee! Seyla! Where are you?"

I almost ran over Russell getting around to the other side of the arch. At its edge, it was less than ten feet wide. Three or four running steps, and I was around the corner. I ran full tilt into Russell, who had pulled to a hasty halt.

My momentum knocked us both to the ground. I rolled over and stared up at a totally naked woman. She stood upright, legs splayed and head bent to where she was staring down at her hands clutching both her breasts as if they were strange parasites suddenly attached to her body. Wavy brown hair blew around her shoulders.

I stared, stupefied, not by her nudity, but at the expression on her face as she raised her head, like a child too young to understand who had just seen her distorted reflection in a funhouse mirror. Abruptly, her hands left her breasts and began scrabbling through the bushy triangle of hair between her thighs as if searching for a wayward insect.

"Seyla, look what's happened to me!" Her voice was starting to break, like a novice toastmaster making his first speech.

Seyla stood like a statue, staring at the woman as if she were being confronted by her first cadaver in anatomy class.

Rita was the first of us to react with anything resembling logical action. "Lee, get up and give me your jacket," she said, beginning to peel hers off. Rita thought that just because she was a psychology major, she should always act calmly. It was true that time, anyway. I got to my feet and shucked out of my jacket while she was wrapping her own around the woman's hips. She grabbed mine and threw it over her shoulders. I don't know what she would have done had it been later in the year when we wouldn't have been wearing much more than briefs and tankers, but fortunately, it was still spring and a warm breeze was blowing in from the gulf.

"Don? Is that really you?" Seyla moved tentatively forward, like a cautious cat eyeing a new toy.

"It's me. I'm Don. Oh, Lord love the Pope, look what that thing did to me."

That was an expression Don used a lot. I was still stunned, but hearing those words from the woman made me start to believe; that is, if we weren't dreaming the whole thing. Besides, she resembled Don, like an eighteen year old sister might have.

"Let's get her home, then figure it out," Rita said. "Come on, dear, let's go." She began urging her forward.

"Don't call me 'dear', damn it. I'm a man!" Don, if that's who it was, pushed her away, causing her breasts to pop into sight when she released her hold on the jacket. If she was a man, you sure couldn't prove it by her anatomy.

Seyla finally broke out of her trance and helped Rita get the girl moving. The girl didn't say anything else, but seemed to concentrate on walking, like a neophyte sailor on her first cruise in choppy seas. Her eyes were the same brown as Don's had been but they darted around glassily, as if she was just coming out from a heavy doping session.

The few students we saw were all hurrying in the opposite direction, toward the new campus edifice. I looked back over my shoulder and it was still there. A small crowd was beginning to gather, coming from all directions. There was little traffic on the street, and what few strollers we passed on the sidewalk gave us no more than a cursory glance. They were used to seeing students in odd raiment; probably they thought the girl with the jacket tied around her hips by the sleeves and another hung over her shoulders was just the forefront of a new clothing fad.

Rita and Seyla stayed close to the young girl claiming to be Don while Russell and I hung back. Russell was so deep in thought, he stumbled occasionally. Well, I was thinking too, but I can't claim my thoughts were all that profound. Mostly, I just wondered if it could possibly be true that Don had changed into a woman after being sucked into that weird green arch, and I have to confess, I was having guilt feelings that it had been him rather than me. How would I have reacted? I didn't want to pursue that thought. Fortunately, I didn't have to as our house came into view, sitting like a sanctuary on its spacious corner lot. We turned into the drive.

I told the door to open and Seyla and Rita hustled the girl into Seyla and Don's bedroom. Russell snapped out of his reverie as we entered and we both headed directly for the bar. I didn't usually drink much back then, even though I kept the bar well stocked for parties and such. Russell hardly drank at all, but he didn't object when I poured us both a double shot of Jack Daniels and dropped a couple of ice cubes into the glasses. We sat down on the little lounger and propped our feet up, trying to pretend we weren't straining our ears at mumbled sounds coming from the bedroom. I couldn't make out what the girls were saying, other than a strained curse or two from the woman purporting to be Don.

A few minutes later, all three emerged. The girl claiming to be Don was dressed in a pair of Seyla's loose slacks and one of his own shirts. Rita saw that Russell and I had glasses in our hands and left Seyla and Don sitting on the large lounger while she made them three of the same. Don-just let me keep calling her Don for the time being and refer to him as her, since that's what she obviously was-Don gulped hers as if she had been wandering in the desert for a week. She finished what was in the glass, then sat slumped over as if trying to hide her new breasts behind the oversized shirt.

I was still trying to sort out my thoughts. Don had been my best friend for years. In most things, we thought along the same lines, liked the same books and web programs and helped each other in classes; him, when I struggled with math, me, when he had to write compositions or papers. We had grown close, almost like brothers. In fact, many times I had found myself wishing he actually was my brother rather than the one I had. I wasn't comfortable around Derek, nor could I find much to say to him after he came out and told me and the folks he was gay. Every time I saw him, pictures would form in my mind of Derek bending over a man with the guy's dick in his mouth-or worse. It made me queasy.

Russell's blond eyebrows creased in a frown. He looked at Don, glanced away from where she sat hunched between Seyla and Rita, then forced his gaze back to her. "Uh, Don, do you remember what happened to you when you went into that, uh, gate I guess we can call it?"

"I don't remember a damn thing," Don said. "One second, I got close to the arch, and the next thing I remember is coming out on the other side like this." She looked down at herself, then got up and stalked over to the bar again. I couldn't help but notice how her hips swayed as she moved. I looked away hurriedly.

By this time, I had abandoned the idea I might be dreaming. The whole scenario was just too clear and defined, too logically linear once the basic assumption of that gate, as Russell called it, was stipulated. I had two thoughts in rapid succession. "How do we know you're really Don?" I asked. That was the first one.

"Et tu, Brute?" She looked pained.

As much as I loved Don, I thought it was something we had to consider. Maybe I had read too much science fiction, but I couldn't help asking.

"Willy's Arcade. The redheaded stripper," the woman said.

I blushed while Rita looked at me curiously. I had never told anyone about that episode except Don.

Seyla leaned close and whispered something to her. This time, she blushed at the new woman's inaudible response. She looked over at us. "She's Don, all right. I have to believe it now."

"Don't call me she," Don said.

"I still say it's impossible," Russell said. "Something like this violates all the laws of physics I know. Maybe we've all been hypnotized."

Rita shook her head, causing her thick black hair to dance around her shoulders. "I don't think so. This isn't how hypnotism works."

"How do you know?" Don asked, getting up and pouring another two fingers of whiskey. She almost dropped the bottle when she picked it up to pour.

"Remember, I took a course in clinical hypnosis just last semester," Rita said.

Hypnosis hadn't been my second thought, but it was close enough not to matter. "Suppose some, uh, entity inside the gate stole your, or Don's, thoughts and transferred them into another body?"

"I didn't see any entity, and I'll guarantee you that I'm still me, even if I am in a fucking female body," Don said.

Rita and Seyla both gave him an odd, almost angry stare, Rita more so than Seyla. He should have known better to say something like that, but I guess I might have too, under the circumstances.

"How can you guarantee that?" Russell said.

Don had downed three quick doubles. She leaned away from the barstool she had been propping her arm on and wobbled unsteadily. "Because I have to piss, goddamnit, and I don't know how!" She looked almost ready to cry.

Seyla rushed over and led her back to their room, keeping an arm around her waist.

"Hey!" Rita suddenly exclaimed. "I wonder if there's anything on the news or the web about this?"

I don't know why we hadn't thought of that sooner. I told the big wall screen to turn itself on. The first thing we saw as the picture firmed was a shot of a bright green arch, surrounded by policemen holding back a crowd. I noticed immediately from the buildings in the background that it wasn't the same one we had seen on campus, not unless it had moved in the meantime. Then the first thing we heard was a news anchor telling listeners in a voice shaking with emotion of how a woman had entered a sex gate before police arrived and had come out on the other side claiming she had been changed into a man.

And that, of course, is how the term "sex gates" came into being. That news anchor named them without even thinking about it.

Chapter Two

While the anchor was still blathering about "this unique event" and "awesome phenomena", I unhooked my comphone from its belt latch and glanced at the charge. It still had almost twenty-four hours left on it, so I didn't bother to plug in. I pointed it at the screen on the adjacent wall and zapped into the web to see what was happening there, then asked for two minute scans from the most popular webworks. They weren't doing much better. The first two showed scenes similar to what the old networks were displaying. Just before the screen changed to the third, Seyla and Don came back out of their bedroom.

Don was still feeling the effects of her three quick drinks. "Look, Ma. No cavities!" she said, grinning widely enough to show a set of perfect teeth.

I looked. Her familiar gold crown was missing. Maybe this isn't Don after all, I thought. Then I remembered that stripper incident. If it wasn't Don, how could she know?

"And look here! My scar is gone." She pulled up one pants leg to display her shin, where she used to have a scar from a cleating accident in high school. It was gone, too. She dropped the pants leg and headed back to the bar.

I got up and followed her. We stood next to each other at the counter, with me uncomfortably aware of her unwanted new body. I tried to think of something I could say to help make her feel better. "At least if you had to get changed to a woman, they made you a pretty one," I said. It was true. Don had been handsome as a man; as a woman (if it were really him), she was very good-looking.

She glared at me. "I don't give a damn. And stop staring at these." She hooked a thumb at her breasts. "I'm not going to have them much longer."

"What? I mean, you're not?"

She tipped her glass and swallowed half the contents. "Damn right. I just figured it out. If going into that gate turned me into a woman, then going back into it ought to make me into a man again."

Russell, on his way over to join us, overheard the comment. "That doesn't necessarily follow," he said.

"You got any better ideas?" Don demanded.

"Don-" I hesitated, still having trouble thinking of her as my best friend, but concerned for her, nevertheless. "Don, why don't you wait a bit? Like Russell says, you don't know if it will work."

"I don't care. How would you like to have to squat to pee?" She swallowed as a sudden thought occurred to her. "Or Jesus Christ, what if I start having a period?" She set her glass down, plainly intending to head back to the campus.

Seyla's yelp stopped him. "Hey, guys, listen! A man that got changed tried to go back into the gate!"

We all hurried back over to the lounger so we could get a better view of the screens.

"What happened? Did he come back out?" Don asked. Excitement, or maybe the liquor she was still drinking, slurred her voice.

"Not yet," Rita said. "Be quiet and listen."

The report was coming in over one of the webworks. The icon in the corner of the screen identified it as an amateur program originating from San Francisco. "...over an hour now and so far, has not returned, nor has any sign been seen of her, or him, as in his original sex. This may mean the sex gates are a one-way proposition, but of course, it is too soon to say for certain. It's a sure bet, though, that many members of the gay community here will be clamoring for a turn at the gates in San Francisco. Already, we have one report of the police guard set up around the one near the Presidio being overrun and men and women going..."

"Aw, smash it to hell," Don said, another of her-his, rather-expressions. She discarded the notion of trying to go back through a gate, at least for the time being. Instead, she sat with the rest of us through the afternoon and on into the evening, watching the screens and listening to more and more information pour in from the web and networks. I sent out for pizza. Don ate enough to soak up some of the whiskey and topped it with a Nohang pill to ease her transition back to sobriety.

It quickly became obvious that the military and police, no matter how hard they tried, were unable to control access to all the gates; there were simply too many of them, thousands at least, probably more. They had appeared all over the world at exactly the same time (or as near as anyone had been able to figure), and seemed to be located numerically in proportion to population density. At least that's what it looked like on a world map shown by one of the webworks, with different colors depicting population gradients and white dots representing the location of every gate known to exist up until that moment.

The most interesting datum (other than the sex changes) came in just as we were polishing off the last of the pizza; the network news was ahead of the webs for a change. The elderly anchor, retired but brought back for commentary, was as excited as a child on the way to Disney World as he emoted, "...every case so far, has reappeared as a youngster, no matter what the age of the person when they entered. Are these gates the long-sought fountain of youth? This certainly appears to be the case, if you don't mind changing your gender along the way. Not only are people going into the sex gates coming back young, they're returning with the ailments of old age completely cured! No more arthritis and feeble eyesight! No more senility or incurable cancer! This is a boon for humanity, the dawning of a wonderful new age, a precious gift brought to us by the benevolence of unknown..." They cut him off as he began to ramble euphorically, not making much sense. If I had to bet, I would put money on him heading for a sex gate right from the studio.

"See?" Seyla said to Don. "Maybe it's not as bad as you've been making it out to be."

Don pursed her lips thoughtfully. She had told me once that her-his-family had a genetic disposition for early vascular disease, one of the illnesses still not susceptible to gene therapy. Her dad had died of it shortly after we met.

"That doesn't cover everything," she said. "Damn it, I don't like being a woman. It doesn't feel right." She brushed her hair back over her shoulders with an annoyed flick of her hands.

"How does it feel?" Rita asked. Ever since she decided on psychology as a major, she's always asking people how they feel. She leaned forward to listen from where she was cuddled next to me. We had switched seats after the pizza and taken over the small lounger.

Don was sitting by herself in my easy chair. "Everything is heavier than it should be. I almost dropped the Jack Daniels bottle. And my hips feel like they're out of joint when I walk. Besides that, I'm top-heavy." She grudged a small smile. I could understand that, at least.

Her breasts were pretty prominent. I guess if a person doesn't grow up with a couple of weights swinging from their chest, they would feel a little unbalanced at their sudden appearance.

Seyla went over and scrunched into the seat with her. She patted her cheek. "Don't worry. You'll get used to all that." Seyla is the eternal optimist, a weird attitude considering she had just been accepted for Medical School at Texas U.

"Maybe," Don admitted. "I still don't like it."

I wondered. Don had never impressed me as the least bit feminine. I still didn't know how to treat her, nor understand how we could possibly maintain the male closeness we had enjoyed if the change proved to be permanent. I guess she had been noticing my reluctance to even speak to her, because she suddenly pinned me with a stare.

"Lee, you're not saying much," she said.

I shrugged and felt my fingers tighten around Rita's thigh where I had been resting my hand. "I don't know what to say. This is like something out of a science fiction book."

"Yeah, with me as the alien."

"At least you're not a BEM," I said.

"What's a BEM?" Russell asked.

"Bug-eyed monster. Science fiction term for a nasty alien," Don said.

"Would anyone like some wine?" Rita asked. She scanned the room. We all nodded. She opened a bottle of Texas Valley Chablis, then a little later, another while we continued to watch the news.

President Forbes made a brief address from the Oval Office. He asked for calm and said the government was attempting to communicate with the entities controlling the gates. He assured us there had been no sign of hostility from any gate so far, even after being attacked. He cautioned citizens not to attempt passage through uncontrolled (read that as unguarded) gates until after a more thorough study of long term affects had been conducted.

It was about what you could expect from a politician. He probably hadn't gotten his daily web poll yet. Even if he had, he may as well have been talking to the wind. We saw some shots of oldsters, most walking, but some in wheelchairs. They were lining up and entering any gate they could find which didn't have soldiers or police around it and even some that did. We caught one good scene of an old woman beating a soldier over the head with her cane, then limping past him and disappearing into the gate. The shot shifted to the other side of the gate and we saw a young, naked man emerging, but not looking bewildered nor acting hysterical as Don had done. She, now he, had known what to expect and was grinning when he emerged. The camera made no attempt to conceal the fact he was nude, telling me, if I hadn't already known, that it was a webwork doing the filming rather than one of the newsworks.

I chuckled at the sight of the soldier being caned by the old lady, but I was still thinking about what the President had said about a gate being attacked. I wondered what the result had been. We hadn't seen that on either of our screens, but about halfway through the second bottle of Texas Valley, it came on, seen from such a long distance, even the close-ups were fuzzy. A contrail from a military jet descended from the sky, leveled out, then curved back up. Out in front of the contrail, a bright green speck glittered on a low hill surrounded by what looked like fourth world shanties. Presumably, the squatters had been ousted from their shacks before the bombing run, but then again, they might not have been. Governments don't pay much attention to the bottom fourth of their population. You could barely discern the curve of the arch from the distance, but that peculiar green color was unmistakable. A reddish black explosion ballooned up around it, obscuring it from sight. We watched as the smoke thinned. The gate was still intact. In fact, it didn't appear to have been the least bit affected, though you couldn't say the same for the hovels clinging to the sides of the hill. So much for explosives.

"They shouldn't have done that," I said.

"Why not?" Russell asked.

I had spoken before thinking, as usual, and had to answer slowly, marshaling my thoughts as I went along. "Hasn't anyone noticed we haven't heard a single word about who or what put the gates here? They must have come from technologically superior beings from somewhere else in the galaxy."

"You and your science fiction," Russell said. "Why not from another dimension?"

"Same case," I said.

"Maybe God put them here," Seyla said.

"Please don't start that," I said. I can maybe understand how an uneducated person living from hand to mouth, like so many have to, might be willing to believe that a superior being is watching over them and directing their lives, but Seyla is not uneducated, nor destitute either.

"Why not? There's no proof either way."

Well, she had me there. I didn't believe it, though. If there is a God taking care of us, He sure picks peculiar ways of doing it. Seyla and I had had this argument before. She was adamant about her belief in a supreme being with the will and desire to occasionally intervene in human affairs, though she didn't subscribe to any particular religion, nor was she given to proselytizing. Thank the chips for small favors.

"I can't argue with you there, but I don't think you're right," I said.

Rita joined in. "I bet lots of people will believe the gates came from God, especially those who are still arguing that the Rapture will occur on the anniversary of Jesus' crucifixion."

She had a good point. Millennium fever hadn't quite died down yet, even though the turn of the century was years in the past. And she was right, though none of us there, or anywhere else for that matter, foresaw the religious uproar the appearance of the gates would cause.

"Why did you say that gate shouldn't have been bombed?" Don asked me. I tried to meet her gaze, not very successfully. I still couldn't think of her as Don, my friend. Every time I heard her clear soprano voice, my first thought was to look around and check out the new girl Russell or one of the others had brought over.

Getting sidetracked with God had given me time to consider the unconscious thoughts behind my impromptu outburst. "Think about it," I said. "Whoever or whatever brought the gates is clearly superior to us. They must have a reason and purpose in mind. If we get belligerent about it, they may move on to something worse, like maybe bombing us back."

Rita got up to open another bottle. Unfortunately, there wasn't anymore Texas Valley. I keep the bar stocked, but not that well. She found some California Chablis and opened that. I think she was enjoying our reactions and conversations, maybe even planning a paper: First reactions of a random group of college students to the appearance of the sex gates, with interaction of one male-to-female interposed, or something along that line. I love Rita but sometimes, I think she goes a little overboard with her psychology. I've taken some courses in it and so far as I'm concerned, it runs a close race with economics for being the most inexact science.

Don's Nohang pill had worn off, or more probably, was being overwhelmed by all the wine we were drinking. She was becoming animated and seemed to be less aware of the fact she was a male inhabiting a female body. I still kept my distance, though, even if I was beginning to be ashamed of myself. It had to really be Don sitting there as a female. She had too many of his mannerisms and memories and speech habits for it to be otherwise-unless the aliens controlling the gates had stolen her memories and plunked them into a new body. It occurred to me then, even if that was the case, what was the difference? It would still be Don, like in the science fiction stories where complete personalities are recorded, converted to electronic data, then booted into a high capacity computer, or into a blank human clone.

I was finally and completely convinced when one of the Web programs we were watching was interrupted (it was showing a huge crowd waiting outside the Vatican for the Pope to come out. Rumors had spread worldwide he was getting ready to declare a miracle).

"...reliable analysis from several sources confirms what many of us have already suspected. Changes of gender conform to how a person might have developed had they been born the opposite sex. Gene analysis proves the same person who goes into a gate comes out with only the sex determinate chromosome replaced. Still unanswered is how or why the rejuvenation process takes place, though it is almost certain from these same reports that all disease producing alleles, both dominate and recessive, have been eliminated and replaced with normal genes. Stand by now for a statement from the Pope."

The Pope never did come out that day, even though the crowd grew to huge proportions. Other religious figures did. Some were for the gates, some against, but I'll get to that later.

Maybe I'm not telling this part too well. It's been a long time ago and though my memories of that first day and night are still sharp and clear, I can't recreate the emotional content of them. What still amazes me is how easily the world accepted the presence of the gates (not the reactions; those were as varied as the colors of an art program). The five of us stayed up all night watching and listening and drinking enough wine to float a yacht.

More facts emerged, coming in bits and pieces, mostly from webporters, though I thought the old networks did themselves proud. They suspended all commercials while they did their best to keep the news rolling. If you don't know what a television commercial is, look it up in the history books. It would take too many words to explain here.

I guess the best way to go about this is to just relate those facts fitting into patterns which would directly affect the five of us in years to come. We learned that every single person emerging from the gates came out with a young, perfectly healthy body, no matter how old or sick they might have been when entering. Then there were the ones who went in and didn't come out at all. A pattern soon became clear. The older and/or sicker a person was, the less chance there was of a successful emergence. Almost anyone could make it up until the age of about seventy, so long as they were in fair health, but after that, their chances declined. At eighty or so, the odds were about fifty-fifty and fell off rapidly after that. Illness lowered the probability of a successful transition; the sicker a person was, the less chance they had. Children could go through the gates and some very sick ones had, pushed into them by despairing parents willing to accept the gender change in order to save their lives. Most made it; as I said, age was a factor.

No one going into a gate a second time had ever come out and most had stopped trying.

The gates were impervious. Even the atomic bomb exploded by the Shanghai warlord did no damage. When the smoke cleared, there was the gate, sitting green and shiny at the bottom of a new crater.

In many places, the police and military had abandoned all attempts to control access to the gates other than those reserved for study by scientists. There were simply too many of them, thousands upon thousands, and most of them located in densely populated areas. Reflecting back to that time, perhaps I'm assigning a wrong motive to the governments of that era. Many of them were ruled by despots but there were plenty of democracies around, including our own. In those countries, the people made their voices heard, particularly older persons who almost immediately snapped to the possibility of renewed youth and health. Perhaps it was that factor which caused the governments to withdraw the guards, though there is no way to be sure and I can't see where it matters now anyway.

We stayed up all night and into the next day. I tried to send out to McDonald's for breakfast but their delivery service wasn't operating. Russell was the only one of us with any cooking skills worthy of the name, a peculiar talent for a graduate physicist, I always thought. He scrambled eggs and made toast for the group.

Just after we finished eating, the President came on line again. I zapped the table back into its overhead recess and we quickly sat back down on the loungers.

It wasn't much. Forbes said, more or less, what he had told the country the day before, emphasizing that scientists were still trying to communicate with the beings responsible for the gates. He assured us the government would soon announce a policy for dealing with the gates. (How the government was going to form a policy when we didn't know where the gates came from, how long they would be around, why they were here and who or what was controlling them wasn't mentioned). After that, he proclaimed a national holiday and pleaded for everyone to go back to work the following day.

Well, that part made sense. If people didn't get back to work, the whole economy would go into free fall (it did later on, but never mind).

Watching the news coming in over two screens was mesmerizing, but a body can stay awake only so long. Besides that, we were out of wine. I yawned, loud enough to drown out the screen voices for a second.

Rita sat up from where she had been half-dozing against my shoulder. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready for some sleep." She stretched her arms over her head and wriggled her shoulders.

"Me, too," I agreed. "If the world comes to an end, wake me up; otherwise, we'll see you later."

I guess that was the general sentiment. We shut the screens off and went to bed.

***

My house (as I had it arranged) consisted of an entrance alcove, then a big circular area containing loungers, chairs, and the bar and kitchen, with the four bedrooms with their own baths radiating out from it. Russell was sleeping alone at the time; Seyla and Don shared a room and of course, Rita and I slept together. After living in the place for awhile, I had decided that six people were about the max I wanted to have around at any one time (permanently, anyway), so I had turned the last bedroom into a study.

"God, I'm tired," Rita said as she closed our door. She stretched again. "What a day. This will be something to tell our grandchildren about."

"If we have any," I said.

"What!"

We had already agreed to have a couple of kids one day. I laughed. "The gates. Today, they're changing our genders voluntarily. Tomorrow, it might be required." My mouth was running away with my brain again.

"You wouldn't want to have my babies, is that it?" She looked perfectly serious.

The thought had never entered my mind. Me, have a baby? Become a woman? No way! I stood speechless, shirt dangling from my hand.

Rita continued undressing. She discarded her blouse and sat down on the bed to pull off her jeans. "Well?"

"Just kidding," I said weakly.

Rita stood up and stepped out of her panties. She scrutinized me curiously, like a butcher examining a side of beef. She smiled. "I wonder what you would look like as a woman? I bet you would be cute."

"I don't," I said, "and I don't ever want to find out." With my odd rust-colored hair and eyes the color of old blue jeans, I would probably look like a statue which had been left out in the rain to rust. That's not even considering how awkward I was. If Don had trouble walking, I would probably have to crawl around as a woman.

Rita raised a dark black eyebrow. "Maybe even pretty, but never mind. Let's go to bed."

That suited me. Thinking of what Derek probably did with his lovers was enough to make me vow to just die of old age rather than ever go through a gate, even if they were still around when I got to that point.

Rita snuggled up against me, resting her head on my shoulder with her breasts pressing softly against my side. Ordinarily, that's enough to get me going but for once, I wasn't in the mood, and was tired besides. She probably felt the same way because it was only a couple minutes until her breathing became slow and regular.

I stayed awake just long enough to hear someone cry out from Don and Seyla's room. I couldn't tell for certain which of them it was because of the soundproofing, but it sure didn't sound like anyone in pain.

Chapter Three

I woke up late that evening to sounds of the shower running. I flipped back the sheet and sat up. It was like banging my head against a brick wall. Too much wine, not enough sleep. I fumbled in the drawer of the bedside caddy and found a Nohang pill, wishing I had thought to take it before going to bed. I punched a cup of water and swallowed the pill. On second thought, I took another and washed it down with more water. My stomach rumbled a protest but they stayed put. I reached back in the drawer for cigarettes and couldn't find any. From the taste in my mouth, I was pretty sure I had smoked all I had on hand. Oh well, I thought, I was trying to quit anyway.

I stripped off my shorts and carried them into the bathroom. I must have pissed out a quart of used up wine while listening to Rita making watery sounds in the shower. I gargled with some Listerine Plus, deciding to let my teeth wait until the Nohang had time to take effect; any sooner, and I was certain that what wine hadn't come out one end, would spout from the other. I slid the far end of the shower door open and stepped inside.

I loved to see Rita naked, even with her thick lustrous hair slick with water and plastered against her neck. She is small and petite enough to make me feel as if my slim frame is taller and more muscular than it really is. Her breasts thrust out firmly from her chest, small tan nipples erect from the lukewarm water. They are barely lighter than the rest of her upper body; you could easily tell she rarely wore a swim top. She had a small waist and slim hips emphasized by a narrow strip of lighter colored skin she covered when sunbathing in public.

She had her back to me. I slipped my arms around her waist and reached up to cup her breasts. The Nohang was already beginning to work.

Rita turned around in my arms and kissed me, then said, "I didn't think you would be feeling so spry this morning."

I nuzzled her neck and ran my hands up and down her back. "Neither did I a few minutes ago."

She helped me wash. We toweled each other off and hurried back to bed. Rita wasn't like some women I've known. She was always ready for sex and never loathe to experiment. I don't know if her studies had anything to do with it, but they might have. From what I've read, modern psychology emphasizes sex more than it used to as a means of getting to know a person. I guess that makes sense, knowing how many diseases you could catch from it just a few years ago. Whatever, I was glad it wasn't much of a problem anymore. Can you imagine, people used to actually risk their lives when they had sex?

Rita treated me to a few quick lubricating licks, then slipped me inside her. She stretched out on top of me and began moving her hips while propped on her elbows. She moved slowly at first, then faster. Her breasts rubbed against my chest in time to the rhythm, nipples hardening to tight little points that stressed the greater softness beneath. I exploded inside her. She cried out and collapsed over me, shivering and mouthing short little moans of pleasure.

When she felt me softening, she rolled off and went back into the bathroom. I got up and called up the weather. The front had stalled, then dissipated. It was warm outside. I gathered up fresh jeans and a shirt and pulled them on, not bothering with a jacket. Rita came out dressed in a pink spring toga with one shoulder left bare. She slung her bag while I picked up my comphone and hung it from a loop of my jeans. Damn. I had forgotten to plug it in overnight. I checked the charge. It was still green enough to last a while. I wondered about that, then remembered I had charged it while we were eating breakfast.

Don and Seyla were already up when we came out, but Russell wasn't present.

"Is Russell still sleeping?" I asked.

Seyla pointed to the wall screen where he had left a note. Gone to the lab. See you later. Russ. I wondered what he thought he could accomplish there, though his thesis advisor would probably have something for him to do. However, Russ might go off on a tangent of his own; he's probably smarter than the whole physics department put together. Besides, every physicist in the world was probably going crazy by this time.

Don and Seyla were standing together near the door, as if we had caught them just before leaving. Don was wearing another set of Seyla's clothes, shorts and a pullover which did nothing to conceal her figure.

"'Morning, Don. 'Morning, Seyla," I said, trying for a casual approach to staunch the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that hit me when I saw how very thoroughly feminine Don's new body was. I had seen her naked when she first came out of the gate, but this was different. She was dressed as if she wanted to appear feminine.

"Good morning," Seyla said. "We were just leaving. Do y'all want to come along?"

"Where are you going?" Rita asked.

"Shopping for some new clothes," Don said.

Incongruity. I knew Don hated to shop as much as I did. And why today, of all days? He caught my quizzical expression. "Well, I can't keep wearing Seyla's things. She doesn't have that many to spare."

"Oh," I said, looking down at the floor. I couldn't form a picture of Don in the women's section of a store selecting skirts or togas. Or picking out panties and bras. Well, panties, anyway. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"Hey, Lee!" I looked up at her, then glanced away.

"Look, I didn't ask for this," she said, voice shrill and hurtful sounding. "But since it happened to me anyway, I'm going to have to get used to it and so will you. As a start, you can call me Donna instead of Don."

That startled me into looking directly at her. My mind buzzed like a swarm of bees looking for a new hive. "Wait, Don-"

"Donna," she said emphatically. "I don't want to see people staring at me when someone calls me by a male name."

I still couldn't say it. I hurried on with the thought. "Has anyone checked the news this morning yet? Maybe-"

"We've already looked. It's still the same," she said.

Lord help her. Did this sudden change in attitude have anything to do with that cry in the night I had heard just before going to sleep? Was it her, or Seyla I had heard? Rita elbowed me in the ribs. "We'll go with you, Donna. Won't we, Lee?"

We sure would. Rita didn't get that tone in her voice very often, but when she did, I had learned not to argue. We left.

***

It was only a short walk to the nearest mall. Rita held tightly to my hand to make sure I didn't get away after we went inside and got into the women's clothing display area. Seyla took Donna into a measuring booth while Rita held onto my hand and led me around to look at the display screens. They made me think about getting threedee at home. The graphic models looked so lifelike, I expected to see one of them come waltzing out of the screen at any moment and start talking to us. Just to give you an idea, when we stopped in the lingerie section, I got an erection just looking. One in particular got my attention; a tall blond, modeling translucent yellow glitterpanties and nothing else. Rita noticed my reaction and laughed out loud.

"Ready to change your luck?" she asked, glancing down at the bulge in my jeans.

"Only if you go blond," I said, giving a right answer for once.

She punched me affectionately on the arm. "Come on, let's go see if Donna is finished before you change your mind."

Donna (it was still hard for me to think of her in those terms) had already gotten her measurements entered into the shop's computer and was busy selecting clothes from the nearby screens, with help and advice from Seyla. Within minutes, articles of clothing began dropping into the delivery chute, funneled there from the fabrication room buried in the bowels of the store.

"Now for underwear," Seyla said. Donna blushed. I may have, too.

"We'll wait here on you," Rita said. "Lee has already been tempted enough." Donna gave me a questioning glance. I shrugged.

While they were off in lingerie, Rita gave me some orders. "Lee, the next time you speak to Donna, if you don't call her that, I'm going to be very upset with you." Her forehead was creased in a frown.

"I'll try," I said. Maybe I could get used to it.

"You'd better do more than try. Not only that, I want you to quit treating her as if she's a freak. Can't you see how hurt she is?"

I hadn't noticed. Don-Donna hurt? By me? I thought back over the last thirty-six hours. Well, maybe. I certainly hadn't talked to her much, but I didn't know what to say. How do you go about nudging your best friend and asking him if he had gotten laid last night when he had turned into a her?

"I'm sorry," I said, and really, I was. I just didn't know how to get unsorry. "I didn't realize that was how I was acting."

"Well, you were. Listen, just try treating her like an old girlfriend you're still on good terms with."

"Maryanne?" I said.

"Damn your eyes, Lee, no!" She tried to put on a mad face but it dissolved into a giggle before she could stop it. "All right, you can even use her if it will help. Now get on with it; here they come."

"All finished?" I asked brightly. Rita glared at me.

"We're done," Seyla laughed, "but I thought Donna was going to have a heart attack when she saw some of the prices."

"We have-had it made didn't we, Donna?" I forced the word out as naturally as I could. "No overpriced clothes for us, just to keep up with fashion." Damn. I had included her as if she were still a man.

She didn't seem to mind. "Yeah. Where to now?"

I pinched my thumb and forefinger together to check the time. My thumbnail watch said it was eight thirty. It would be dark outside by now. "Why don't we stop by the campus and see what's going on with the gate there? We can grab a burger at the Dagwood if it's open." The Dagwood's burgers were always good and it was right across the street from where the gate had appeared.

"Good idea," Donna said.

Rita squeezed my hand approvingly. She probably didn't realize how uncomfortable I still felt with the situation. At least I had said her name, though.

We strolled slowly along the rows of Leyland Cypress that lined the boulevard leading toward the campus, almost alone on the sidewalk. Most people must have still been home with their eyes and ears tuned to their screens. I was tempted to scan the newswebs with my comphone but no one else seemed interested, so I didn't.

As we neared the college, I began to hear a peculiar noise, like the muttering of a distant thunderstorm, but the discordance came to me as a cadence, as if it were being conducted rather than occurring spontaneously.

"What's that noise?" Donna asked.

Seyla stopped, bringing the rest of us to a halt to avoid running into her. She frowned and squinted her eyes as if it would help her hear better. After a moment, she said, "Sounds like that class I was in last year when the prof failed everyone."

"No, it's rhythmic," Donna said. "Like someone chanting."

Listening closely, I agreed with her. We walked on. The noise became louder. It was discernable as voices now, some seeming to be opposing the others. We turned a corner and the sex gate came into view. There was a crowd around it, split into four smaller groups, two large ones on one side of the gate and two smaller ones on the other side. The groups were separated on each side by police in riot gear. Floodlights from nearby squad cars illuminated the side of the gate where most of the crowd was gathered. The two groups were shouting at each other and at the line of people, old and young, who were attempting to run the gauntlet along the tenuously divided aisle being held open by the police. Some of them shouldered hastily constructed signs:

SEXUAL FREEDOM NOW!

YOUTH FOR THE ELDERLY!

THESE ARE THE DEVIL'S GATES!

GOD SAYS: THREESCORE AND TEN!

It looked to me as if there were not nearly enough cops in proportion to the number of demonstrators and I didn't like the looks of the yelling mobs. Most of them were dressed in ragged jeans or the cheap jumpsuits the fourth worlders from Old Houston favored.

"Wait up," I said. "I don't like the looks of those goons." I felt instinctively in my pocket for the little automatic I was licensed to carry, knowing it wasn't there. Right after I was issued my permit, I took it everywhere with me but I had gradually gotten out of the habit. Nothing requiring a firearm ever happened in North Houston and I rarely went anywhere except to class or a bookstore. I still like printed books, even though I could have downloaded them and read them on my comphone just as easily.

"There's cops there," Donna said. "Come on."

I hung back, then followed reluctantly when Rita began to move forward again. The chanting became louder, but I still couldn't make out what was being shouted because the groups were overriding each other.

At my suggestion, we angled around to approach the gate from the end where the lesser crowd was gathered. I guess I'm not very brave. Just as we got to the end of the clear lane the cops were maintaining, a nude woman emerged from the gate. She was short and stocky and not very pretty, except for the glossy red hair flowing down to her shoulders.

"There's one!" a male voice shouted. The opposing demonstrators surged forward. A shield went flying into the air as a cop was bowled over. The open path narrowed, then closed completely as the cops were buried under a writhing tangle of bodies.

"Help! Help me!" a woman's shrill scream rose over the tumult. "Hel-" Her voice was cut off as sharply as a broken phone conversation.

"I got 'er, I got 'er!" a medley of drug-roughened voices shouted in triumph, louder than the cacophony of cursing, yelling cops and the screams and grunted obscenities of the tangled mob as they fought each other with clubs and fists.

Donna sprang forward like a frightened gazelle and disappeared into the mob before any of us could stop her. Seyla screamed and followed her into the chaotic rioting.

"Christ on a chip," I said, the worst curse I knew. My knees buckled like warm taffy as an adrenaline surge spread through my body. I would have fallen if Rita hadn't been holding onto me. I took a step forward while my heart hammered in my chest, expecting violent action but not getting it. Another step and my legs stiffened. "Stay here!" I yelled to Rita and plunged into the mob. I could have saved my breath; she was right behind me.

A siren warbled in the distance, heard only dimly as I struggled to find Donna and Seyla. All I could see was thick, burly necks and breasts jouncing under pullovers and worn jumpsuits. Grimacing faces with teeth bared crossed and recrossed in front of my eyes, dipping and weaving. Fists and clubs were swinging. I caught a blow on the side of my head and another in the ribs. Dazed, I swung a balled fist at the nearest dirty face. The woman dropped out of sight and another replaced her. She was waving a paring knife, but her arm was entangled with two others. Another blow to the head sent me reeling. The siren undulated above the noise, coming closer and closer. I felt a sudden fearful terror and knew the subsonics must be beating on my brain. I was barely able to keep from turning tail and running. "Rita! Where are you? Donna! Seyla!"

Some of the mob began covering their ears to keep out the undercurrent of subsonic compulsion. I ignored it as best I could; it helped that I knew what it was. Beyond a grubby man bending over in front of me, I caught a glimpse of Rita. She was struggling with another woman, trying to pull her away from a prone figure. The man in front of me raised up, still holding his ears. I kicked him in the crotch and he went down, sucking in a gasp of pain. I stepped over him just as Rita finally gave up pulling at her opponent. Instead, she backed up a step on the bloody grass and kicked her in the head. She fell onto her side, giving us a chance to stare at what was laying on the ground in front of her.

The mob was beginning to disperse by the time I got a look. The homely redheaded woman I had seen come out of the gate was barely recognizable. Blood and dirt and grass stains covered her body. Her one intact eye stared blankly at nothing. She was very dead.

A hand grabbed my arm from behind and twisted it up against my shoulder blades. "You're under arrest," a voice shouted in my ear.

"No, no, we were trying to help her," Donna said, getting up and separating herself from several other prone figures. Her top was hanging in tatters over her heaving breasts and tears were streaming down her face. It was the first time I had ever seen Don-Donna cry.

The pressure on my arm eased. Beside me, Rita spoke to the cop who was still holding onto me. "Honest, Officer, that's what we were doing. Oh, that poor woman."

The cop let go of me. "Let's see some I.D.," he said.

We all produced our student cards. The cop accepted them, all except for Donna's. "That's not you," he said. He dropped his hand down to his belted sidearm.

"Yes it is. I stumbled through this same gate yesterday when it first appeared."

The policeman sighed. "All right. Better get your picture changed as soon as the college opens again. If it does. God knows what's going to happen if this keeps up."

We were all able to walk away. The only halfway serious injury was a gash on my rib cage, but I had enough med supplies back at the house to take care of it, along with the bruises and scratches we all carried. I was still a little dizzy from the two blows to the head and my swirling thoughts didn't make me any steadier. Was this a typical example of how people were going to react to the gates, or just an aberration? And what the cop had said, "...if this keeps up". And all those fourth world goons. I didn't credit them with organizing the demonstration; this far into North Houston meant they must have been hired and transported in to take care of the rough work. I felt sick. I don't mind a person believing in causes I disagreed with, but God's Chip, why do they have to resort to violence? I wondered how much of it was going on elsewhere and suddenly, I had an urgent compulsion to get home and turn on some more news.

Chapter Four

Modern medicine is wonderful. I don't know how people used to put up with having to go see a doc for every little thing wrong with their bodies, then having to get permission before buying anything much more complex than aspirin.

I straddled a straight-backed chair in the study while Rita applied a germicide and taped my ribs. Seyla had hardly been marked but Donna was beginning to show purple bruises all over her upper body. She stripped off what was left of her top and let Seyla rub some Hemacylin over the bruises. I looked away after she finished with her back and began working on her breasts.

I stood up and bent over, sideways and then as far back as I could. I didn't feel any grating or pain like the time when I cracked one of my ribs falling off a horse.

"Now let's get the news," Donna said, pulling on one of the new tops she had bought. Luckily, none of her new clothes had been ruined. When she plunged into the mob, she had dropped her bundle and no one had bothered it.

"Go ahead, I'll be there in a minute," I said. She and Seyla left.

"Is anything else wrong?" Rita asked.

"No. Come on." I led her into our room and pulled open the bottom drawer of the bedside caddy. I picked up the little automatic nestled in its holster and slid it out. There were two extra clips laying beside it and I picked those up, too.

"Lee-"

"Don't argue with me about this, Rita. I'm not going anyplace except bed anymore unless I'm armed." It had taken me half an hour to stop trembling after the mob dispersed. I was still scared and I guess my expression showed it.

"Okay, maybe you're right. Just please be careful with that thing." Rita didn't like guns. She didn't believe in the death penalty, either, but then she had never lived anywhere but in nice, protected middle-class neighborhoods. Same thing for Donna. I couldn't understand how she had gathered the courage to plunge into that boiling mob while I was still stupefied with fear.

"I'll be careful," I said. I picked out the lightest windbreaker I owned from the closet and shoved the automatic in one side pocket and the spare clips in the other. I just hoped I could make myself use it if I had to. I had never shot so much as a rabbit, let alone a person.

Seyla and Donna had both screens going. They were sitting together on the small lounger holding hands. I wondered what was going on with them. Seyla was acting as if the gender change of her lover was as natural a fact as breakfast from McDonald's. It didn't seem right to me, but if any of the others were concerned, they weren't showing it.

Russell still hadn't come home. I wondered if he was learning anything new about the gates. Surely someone was, somewhere, but if so, neither the networks nor the webs were telling us about it. There were plenty of other things going on, though.

All over the world, the sick, the elderly, gays and lesbians were clamoring to enter the gates, while at the same time, governments were pleading for them to wait until more was known about them. Their admonitions fell on deaf ears. Wherever controlled access was attempted, mobs swarmed over the guards and buried them by sheer weight of numbers. In other places, especially in America, a groundswell of religious opposition was beginning to build. We saw throngs of protesters waving signs and shouting out slogans about the abomination of the sex gates, assuring each and every person who entered one that it was akin to a pact with the devil and they would most assuredly go straight to hell..

There were riots and looting in many of the larger cities, including Old Houston. The fourth worlders weren't protesting anything. They just used the massive disorganization caused by the gates as an excuse to steal and burn, and while the police and military were busy, to kill. We saw one episode where a carload of upper class businessmen tried to detour through a fourth world ghetto. They were pulled from their vehicle and slaughtered for no apparent reason-except perhaps because they were affluent. In a way, I couldn't blame the fourth worlders for their resentment. Most of them were old enough to remember the time when the state and federal governments still supported the indigent and were too uneducated to understand government officials had finally gotten it through their heads that the well they had been watering the masses from for so many years had finally run dry. I don't think that's an excuse for looting, though, and especially killing. The standards are very stringent, but if a person is truly unable to work, they can still get a stipend from Washington or from most states, enough to keep food in their bellies, and the public hosclinics will take in anyone who is so ill that over-the-counter drugs don't help.

The elderly, those over seventy, could still draw social security, too, even if the credit wasn't quite what it used to be. On one of the old networks, two commentators were discussing that and other subjects. I couldn't tell whether they were real people or graphies. Probably they were actual; I doubted many graphics programmers were on the job at the moment. At any rate, they were finding problems everywhere. One of them was pointing to a graph.

"...obvious that when enough of the elderly have opted to change their sex and become young again, their social security checks will have to be cut off; otherwise the government will run out of money soon. Also..."

"...and think about this: the world is already under tremendous population pressure. How can we possibly feed all these new young men and women, especially when they start having babies?"

"...enough jobs to support them all. Unemployment already..."

They went on and on. After a while, we got tired of listening and switched programs. It wasn't that they weren't focusing on potential problems; they were, but repetition will bore anyone eventually.

***

In a conservative Mideast country, we saw crowds of veiled women in traditional black chadors being held away from a gate guarded by what looked to be hastily deputized men, most in traditional Arab dress. While we watched, the number of women rapidly increased. A few minutes later, they swarmed over the guards and surged up to the gate until they were pressed together as tightly as sardines in a can. Those who were pushed into the gate blinked out of existence so quickly, it created a strobelike effect as more women crowded forward to disappear in turn. The view switched to the other side of the gate where naked men burst into view like Tokyo commuters boiling out of a levitrain exit. They stumbled, fell, got up and scattered in all directions, bowling over anyone in their path.

Rita cheered. "Good for them! It's about damn time those ragheaded bastards see what they've created. I hope they put every fucking old Arab man who goes through a gate into one of those damn black tents. See how they like it then!"

I hadn't realized Rita was such a feminist. Or maybe she wasn't. I wondered how I would feel if I had to wear those hot black clothes and veil and be sequestered away from everything important in my country. I couldn't imagine it, but it did make me think of one thing the commentators hadn't touched on. In America, we tend to have an unconscious perception that just because men and women are treated equally here, the same must be true in the rest of the world. It doesn't make any difference how many times you see evidence to the contrary, or whether you're a man or a woman. Like racial prejudice, you have to actually live on the receiving end before you can truly understand what it entails. I thought Rita's reaction was just a spontaneous response to overloaded sensory input, heightened by academic knowledge of how most Muslims still treated females. That just goes to show how wrong a person can be, as I found out later in the day through another webwork report. Some bright webster had gathered enough statistics to show that a lot of normal women (by that I mean heterosexually normal) were entering the gates, even here.

"Why do you think that's happening?" I asked Rita.

"If you don't know, I can't tell you," she said.

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand. Let it go for now."

I shut up, but I didn't let it go. Were there that many women who didn't like being female? Why not? I knew I wouldn't like it, having periods and babies and so forth, but it seemed to me that if a person grew up with that kind of body, they ought to accept it, just like I accepted the fact of my odd-colored hair and slight physique. What was the big problem?

I got up and rummaged in the cooler, looking for something simple to munch on before bedtime. There wasn't much there; none of us had been shopping lately.

"I'm going to go get us something to eat," I said. "Anyone else want to tag along?"

"I'll go," Donna said. She disentangled her hand from Seyla's and stood up.

I had been expecting Rita to offer to go with me, but she demurred. I started to tell Donna that I could manage, but then I saw a warning sign in Rita's eyes and remembered I was supposed to be treating Donna like an old girlfriend.

"Okay, thanks, Donna," I said. I pulled out my automatic and chambered a round, then clicked on the safety and put it back in my pocket. Donna raised her brows in question.

"Just a precaution," I said.

"Bring back some more wine," Seyla called just as we were walking out the door. She winked at Donna, bringing a faint blush to her face. I tried not to think of what the wink might mean. I closed the door and clicked on the security system.

The streets were deserted but it was getting late and they might have been anyway, gates or no gates.

We walked along side by side. I tried to stay a little in front so I wouldn't have to see the little bounce of Donna's breasts with each step she took.

"Lee, I want to thank you for coming to my rescue when I tried to help that poor girl back at the gate," Donna said.

"No problem. I just don't know why you tried. You might have been really hurt."

"It was an impulse," she said, "but I'd do it again if I had to."

"Why?"

"Sympathy, I guess."

"You didn't even know her."

"Yeah, but it seemed like she was a sister of sorts. You know?"

"Oh. Sure." The change.

"I'm not sure you do," Donna said. "You can't understand what it's like to have a man's mind in a woman's body. I can." She hesitated, then continued. "For instance, you avoid looking at me, as if I might crawl all over you if you gave me any encouragement."

Was that what had been making me so uneasy around her? I didn't think so. It was just-oh chips in hell, I didn't know what it was, but certainly not that.

Donna saw my troubled expression. "Relax, Lee. I may have a woman's body, but I still have a man's mind. You know?"

"Seyla! That's why…" My big mouth again.

"Yes, Seyla. I still think of her as my girl. I can't help it."

"You mean you and Seyla are… Never mind. None of my business." I wasn't used to talking to a strange woman about sex. I felt like a kid caught watching a porn site on the web.

Donna laughed. "It's damn funny. I might not have been able to go through with it if I hadn't had so much wine last night."

"I'm surprised Seyla let you. I didn't know she was inclined that way," I said.

"I didn't either. And she's not, ordinarily, or at least I don't think so. I think at first, she was just trying to get me used to being a woman, then what with all that wine, we sort of got carried away."

"Be damned." That was all I could think of to say, but I couldn't help wondering what it had been like. It must have been pretty unique, though. Most men (at least the ones I've talked to) are fascinated with the idea of lesbian relationships and will go to great lengths to watch them having sex together, either virtually or in reality. I think it has something to do with the male psyche. We're naturally more sexually attuned to visual stimuli than women and watching lesbians in action sort of gives you a double dose.

Donna continued on, as if she were still my old male friend. "You know, I was surprised at how differently a female experiences sex. It's not something a man thinks very much about."

Do you know? She was right. I thought about my sexual encounters with Rita. Sure, I noticed when she had an orgasm, or when she was excited and how and where she liked to be touched and stroked, but it was all like feedback while playing at a virtual arcade, where you relate almost entirely to the sensations impinging on yourself and never consider how the game characters would feel while getting excited or hurt or mad or whatever. Of course, the characters aren't real, but that's my point. Have you ever wondered what your partner in a virtual sex scene is experiencing? Of course not. You're too involved with your own awareness. I wondered if women felt the same way. Something else came to mind. I didn't know exactly how to say it.

"Uh, Donna, do you think you'll ever try it like, you know, with someone besides Seyla?"

Donna got a serious expression on her face, seen dimly by me under the street lights.

"Do you mean will I ever try it with a man? Christ, Lee, I don't know. Right now, it doesn't seem possible, but I haven't been a woman very long. Ask me again some other time."

I was glad to hear she wasn't considering the idea. It made me feel a whole lot better.

The liquor store was still open and it stocked enough munchies so we decided to wait until daylight to shop for more substantial food. The clerk kept giving Donna the eye while we waited for my comphone to mesh with the store's computer. It made me wonder if he were gay until I came back to earth. Ordinarily, it should have taken only a few seconds for my comphone to connect with his machine but minutes passed before it finally confirmed I was solvent.

"It's been slow all evening," the clerk said, scanning the length of Donna's figure.

Donna smiled. "No problem."

We picked up our packages and left. I could feel the clerk's eyes follow Donna out the door. Once outside and out of hearing, she laughed nervously. "That's going to take some getting used to. I felt like I was being undressed by a dirty old man on a prime time webwork."

For some reason, I wanted to go back and punch that clerk. He had no business staring at her like that.

***

We got back to the house just in time to learn another interesting fact about the sex gates. While Rita was cracking a bottle of Texas Valley, a webporter broke away from the crowds around the Vatican. They were larger than ever and still waiting on the Pope to tell them what to think.

"...definitely confirmed. Pregnant women can enter the sex gates and make the gender change with no problem. The fetus, however, doesn't come along, no matter how close to term the woman may be. This presents an interesting point. How many desperate women or girls will enter the gates in order to terminate an unwanted pregnancy? Will the certainty of instantaneously becoming male deter them? Now stand by for a statement from the Pope."

"If I were destitute, it certainly wouldn't deter me," Seyla said firmly.

"Do you really mean that?" I asked. Curiosity is my middle name.

Seyla's face was set in grim lines. "I certainly do. You would, too, if you worked at the hosclinic like I do and saw those poor girls coming in with nothing more than skin and bones holding them together. And the poor babies. We can't afford to even try to save the majority of them, not that it would do any good. Most of them are addicted to Greenweed when they're born."

I knew about that. Greenweed was the drug of choice for our fourth worlders. It was cheap and not that addictive to adults, and had little side effects, other than hyperactivity during the euphoria. Children were another case. Up until puberty, the weed was highly addictive and passed easily through the placental barrier during pregnancy. Once addicted, kids became lethargic and began losing their reasoning power, just like an oldster suffering from senility. After a while, they stopped wanting to live.

***

We stayed up as late as we could, hoping that one of the webs or nets would come on with an explanation of who or what was behind the gates, but none ever did, other than a few of the wilder tabwebs, all of which claimed exclusive, definite proof that either God, the Devil or aliens were behind them. We paid no attention to them, of course.

Finally, lack of sleep and the renewed supply of wine sent us to bed. According to the President, everyone was supposed to go back to work the next day. I wondered if that applied to school. If so, Seyla and Donna would have an afternoon in-person class to attend, while Rita and I could plug in from home. I doubted Donna would go; I didn't think she was ready yet to face the notoriety she was sure to attract. On the other hand, maybe she would. By now, she was bound to have some company.

Rita and I showered together and used the opportunity to examine each other's bruises to see if they were fading. They were, and when I washed off the bandage, I noticed the gash on my rib cage was almost healed.

I had neglected (or forgot) to shave the previous morning. I picked up a beard cloth and wiped my whiskers off. Rita doesn't like bristles.

"Any of it left?"

I rinsed the cloth out gently and passed it to her. She wiped her legs and under her arms and tossed the used up cloth into the compost chute.

After we were in bed, and as worn out as I was, I still couldn't sleep due to thinking of Donna and Seyla having sex together. I wondered if Rita knew about it. She had already been asleep when I heard that cry from their room. I couldn't stand not knowing, but I went about asking her in a roundabout way.

"Have you noticed that Donna seems to be adapting pretty well, considering her circumstances?"

Rita shifted her body closer to me. "Why shouldn't she be?"

"Well, considering she was a man just a day or two ago, and the way she acted at first, I wouldn't have expected it."

"It's not a crime to be a woman," Rita said.

"I didn't say that."

"You were acting like it, at first. But you're doing better." She reached over and patted my stomach.

"Seyla never did seem to have any trouble," I said.

Rita sat up in bed. Her breasts swayed attractively in the night-lit room as she adjusted her position. "Lee, sometimes, I think you're retarded. Are you trying to ask me whether I'm aware Donna and Seyla are having sex with each other?"

"It was on my mind," I admitted.

"Don't tell me you're bothered by it. I know better." There was no arguing with that. A few months ago when we had thrown a house party, she and I and a female guest had wound up in bed together. The girl had been more interested in Rita than me, but it had been enjoyable. I still remember how excited I had become while watching the other woman kiss and fondle Rita. Unfortunately, I had overindulged that night and my other recollections were rather vague. Rita had told me about it though. According to her, she had accepted the incident as a psychological experience for herself, one she admitted to rather enjoying that once.

"I'm not bothered. I was just curious, that's all." She always seems to be one step ahead of me.

"Well, put your curiosity to bed. I'm sleepy." She leaned down to kiss me, then stretched out and snuggled her back up against me. I slid my hand across her waist and up to cup her soft, warm breast. Sleep came easily after that.

Chapter Five

Rita was already gone from the bedroom when I finally woke up the next morning. I checked the time and saw it was already after nine, way past the time I'm usually up and around.

I threw off the covers and hurried to the bathroom. All I really needed there was to take a piss and some Listerpaste for my teeth. I grabbed a package, opened it and bit down. My mouth tingled as it burrowed beneath my gum line and bubbled away the overnight accumulation of gook. While it was working, I ran a brush through my abominable hair. The only thing I liked about it was it was just thick and wavy enough that it didn't take much care, so long as I kept it cut reasonably short, which I did. Some deodorant, a quick rinse to wash away the listerpaste residue and I was done.

Someone was going to have to do laundry before long; either that, or I was going to have to buy some more clothes. I threw on my last pair of clean jeans (the pair with the red piping I wore when I wanted to dress up) and pulled on a square-cut jean jirt with rolled up sleeves and side pockets. I snapped the two bottom closures so my gun wouldn't drag the pocket down so obviously. I transferred it and the clips to the jirt, clipped on my comphone and hurried out to the living room, hoping someone was ready for breakfast. I felt as hungry as a hyperactive shrew.

Neither of the screens were lit and it was immediately obvious why not: Russell was back, and bless his soul, he had stopped by McDonald's on the way and brought breakfast. He was already cramming sausage and biscuits into his mouth as if he were a hungry farmer and hadn't eaten since the fall harvest.

"Russell! What's going on!" I yelled. I was excited to see him back, even if his wrinkled clothes and the blond stubble and long tangled hair did make him look like something the cat had dragged home. His eyes were veined with red, too.

"Mmph," he answered around a mouthful of biscuit and sausage. He swallowed the whole mouthful, then got some intelligible words out. "Lots. Let's eat first and I'll tell you."

I bent over to kiss Rita and sat down with my legs crossed beneath the table. One day, I'm going to replace it; I think some refugee family must have owned the house before I rented it. It has only one setting, low to the floor and you have to sit on the carpet or a cushion to eat from it.

I dug in. Russell had splurged on real pork sausage rather than the usual wheat and soybean synthetic. He must have been starving.

The girls were taking it slower, being careful not to dribble crumbs on their clothes. I say clothes, but Rita was the only one of the three in street dress. She was wearing red slacks and a white, short-sleeved silkskin blouse. There are only a minority of women who can get away with silkskin garments, at least on their upper bodies. The stuff is flimsy and clings to every inch of skin it contacts. . Even without being transparent, it reveals every bit of a woman's body. Only young (or augmented) women and girls wore tops made from it because of the way it covered their breasts. Any sag or abnormality was instantly noticeable. Fortunately for Rita (and me), she didn't have any. Seyla had on one of her old wraps and Donna was wearing a new one, which she must have bought the day before, a shimmering, translucent blue thing which probably weighed less than an ounce. It looked good on her, at least from what I could see of her body above the table. I wondered momentarily how she felt wearing it rather than the shorts she used to wear to breakfast. To me, there's hardly anything more sensuous than feeling a woman's body beneath satin or silkskin; it occurred to me right then I hadn't the slightest idea of what it felt like to be wearing it rather than admiring it on a woman.

Russell polished off the last biscuit, then covered his mouth as he came out with a huge yawn. "Wow, I think I could sleep until doomsday."

"Not yet you can't," I said. "I want to hear what you've been doing first."

"Nothing as exciting as what you guys have been up to," he said. Evidently, the girls had already told him about getting caught up in the riot at the campus gate. He yawned again. "Okay, if someone will make a pot of coffee, I'll fill you in. Not that I know much." He glanced up at the wall screens and zapped both of them on but left the sound muted.

By the time we cleared off the table and got it out of the way, the coffee was ready.

Russell took a sip of his. "Gah. I've drank too much of this stuff. It's starting to taste like scorched cabbage."

"That's your problem. Come on, give," I said.

He looked pensive for a moment. "I think I'm going to start over and go for a doctorate in electronics instead of physics."

"Why do you say that?" Rita asked.

"Because I've just found out I don't know a damn thing about physics. Or put it another way; everything I thought I knew has turned out to be wrong."

"In what way?" I asked.

"Well, start at the beginning. In the first place, the gates appeared instantaneously all over the world at exactly the same time. We can't slow the pics down enough to show a bit of difference."

He glanced up at the wall screens. One of them was showing a crowd shoving against one side of a gate. The individuals next to it were blinking away like sparks from a fire. "See that? There's obviously not enough room inside to contain an apparatus that can cause all the changes. Besides, they come out the other side at the same time as they go in, as near as we can tell." He looked toward the screens again. "By the way, most of our information came in over the web. We haven't been doing anything at the lab yet, other than trying to correlate and organize the data.

"Obviously, the inside of the gates must be folded into some sort of hyperspace where the sex changes and medical cures take place."

"Why do you say 'obviously'?"

He looked pained. "Sorry. That's just a theory. For all I know, Santa Claus may be whisking them to the North Pole and letting his elves do the work. Next, I guess you've already learned from the news that the gates are indestructible, at least by any means we know. Nothing hurts them. In fact, up until the time I left the lab, no one has even managed to get a sample of whatever material they're made of. Nothing will penetrate the surface, not even diamond drill bits."

"Can't you try something else, like X-Ray diffraction?"

"We've tried everything. That's what's so chipping frustrating. We can't measure anything."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. They don't reflect or emit any kind of radiation."

Now I knew better than that. "They must reflect light. We can see them."

"They don't reflect anything! Not radar, not light waves, not sonar, not shortwave or anything else that's been tried. They don't emit anything, either."

"That's impossible," I said, Russell's exact words from when we had first seen the gate on campus.

"Yeah, so is the square root of minus one."

"They must be solid, though," Donna commented. "I saw a club bounce off that one where we got into the riot."

"Yup, as solid as granite-and as insubstantial as a rainbow. More. We know what causes a rainbow."

I thought it over. "What you're telling us then, is we're imagining them?"

"I'll guarantee you we're not," Donna said. "Look at me."

Russell glanced at her, not trying to avoid the obvious as I had done at first (and still was, to an extent). "Yeah, and guess what? Nothing, and I mean nothing can enter the gate except humans and whatever they're wearing or carrying at the time, and none of that comes out with the person on the other side. Scientists are all going crazy. The best idea we've come up with so far is that the gates were placed here by a race of aliens so far beyond us, we may as well be amoebas by comparison. But that brings up even more problems, like the speed of light and so forth."

"Has anyone been able to communicate with them yet?" Seyla asked. "The government keeps talking about it."

Russell gave a tired shrug. "How can you communicate when there's no spectrum known to man that affects them? Point a radar, radio or sound wave at them and it's like they're not even there."

"How about telepathy?" Rita asked. She believed in it; I didn't.

"You're welcome to try. Others already have. No results; not unless you believe the tabwebs." His grin turned into another yawn. "Look, guys, that's all I can tell you. I'm going to get some sleep." He drained the last of his coffee, grimaced at the taste and headed off to his room. He paused at the door and turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot. There's one more thing: the sats have pieced together pictures of all the land mass on earth now. They've counted hundreds of thousands of the damn things."

That didn't make sense. "How did the satellites manage to take pictures if the gates don't reflect light?"

"You tell me," Russell said. "I know lots of people who would be interested in your explanation." He closed the door behind him.

I poured another cup of coffee and sat back down by Rita, admiring the way the silkskin blouse clung to her breasts. Someone turned the sound back up on the screens. On one of them, I watched flames rising from the fourth world section of a large city. I couldn't tell where it was, and the graphie doing the commentary didn't say.

"What shall we do today?" Rita asked.

I nodded at the screen. "I don't know, but I'd suggest we stay inside as much as possible. People are chipping out all over the place."

"Someone has to go shopping," she said.

I leered at her silkskin blouse. "If you go out looking like that, someone is going to be shopping for you."

"They couldn't afford me," she said, smiling at the compliment.

"Still, I don't think-" My comphone spoke to me.

"Lee, are you there?" I recognized Dad's voice.

"On line, Pop." I suddenly realized I should have called and let the folks know we were okay. They must have been worried.

"Lee, I think you had better come home," Dad said. He sounded worried. I wondered if some webporter had caught a shot of one of us during the fighting around the campus gate.

"Dad, we're all fine. No problems," I said.

"I'm glad to hear it. We've got problems here, though. Please, son, come on up for a day or so, anyway."

"Are you hurt? Or sick? Is Mom okay?" I felt my heartbeat speed up. It must be an illness of some kind, maybe Dad's heart acting up again. I couldn't imagine any other sort of problem in Ruston. The worst thing I had ever seen happen there was the football team having a losing season.

"No, we're both fine."

"Then what's wrong?" It wasn't like him to be so reticent.

"I'd rather wait until you get here to explain. Just trust me, it's important."

When Dad said something was important, I had to believe him. Normally, it would take something like an earthquake to upset him.

"Okay, give me an hour."

"Fine. Drive careful." He always said that.

Rita had been listening. "Do you want me to go with you?"

I considered the idea. She had been home with me a couple of times, but this didn't sound like an occasion for a friendly get together. On the other hand, I didn't like the idea of leaving her here when there were riots taking place in Old Houston, just half an hour drive south of us. Before I could make up my mind one way or another, she noticed the indecision I was going through.

"Never mind. It sounds like a family problem of some sort. You go on and I'll do the shopping."

"No!" I said, too sharply.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"I don't care. There's too many nuts running around right now for it to be safe," I said.

"Jackson Lee Stuart, don't argue with me. Russell didn't mention having any trouble on the way home."

That was true, but that didn't mean the crazies had all gone back to their caves. I thought a moment, then had an idea. I pulled my pistol out of my pocket. "All right, but only if you carry this. And don't hesitate to use it if you have to." It was either that or stay there rather than going home. When she calls me by my full name, it means she has her mind already set.

Rita took it, reluctantly, perhaps thinking of how we had gotten mauled the day before. She thought the country would be better off if there weren't so many licensed gun owners. I disagreed. She hadn't read as much history as I had. Back before the Supreme Court finally came down solidly in favor of the amendment concerning the right to bear arms, a person couldn't even take a stroll in a park without risking life and limb. Well, a lot of places you still couldn't, but at least it was legal to fight back in most states now.

I quickly showed her how to load and unload it and where the safety was located. She found a red jirt to go with her pants and stuck it in the pocket.

"Don't go out alone," I said. I kissed her and left. I was five miles away on the NAFTA highway before it occurred to me that Donna knew how to handle a firearm and would probably be less reluctant to use it if the need arose. After all, she had been a man not long ago. I should have given it to her instead of Rita and insisted they go out together.

The NAFTA highway runs along the route of old US 59. Ordinarily, it is packed with commuters in the morning, coming in from the country to workplaces in North and Old Houston, but at this particular time, traffic was very sparse, as if it were the Sunday afternoon of a Superbowl. The highway engineers were still trying to perfect the much ballyhooed autocontrol system; I had to use manual control. I plugged my comphone in to let it charge and maybe hear something new about the gates; I left the screen off, like I always did since almost running off the road once while watching the beach patrol attempting to arrest a bevy of topless bathers on the family beach at Galveston.

The one really new thing I heard about the gates while rolling along was a report from Los Angeles South. One of the juvenile gangs there had captured half a dozen members of an opposing gang and thought it would be loads of fun to force them through a gate and turn them into girls. Three of their prisoners made the change; the other three never came out. The ganglord and his two top henchmen had been arrested and charged with murder. I wondered how that was going to work out with no bodies to present as evidence. Right after that, another voice broke in and announced that preliminary statistics were beginning to show that some types of criminals (rapists, murderers, pedophiles, enforcers, etc.) had only about a fifty percent chance of making a successful transition through a gate.

I wondered to myself if that was the explanation of why some supposedly normal, young healthy individuals never came out of the gates after entering. Rita had told me once that a recent study showed that better than ten percent of the population were restrained from violent and/or sexual crimes only through the threat of punishment. Either that, or they were already committing nasty crimes and just hadn't been caught yet.

There was some other news. Another war breaking out in Africa, but that wasn't very interesting; there was always a war going on somewhere on that ravaged continent. I couldn't figure out why; there wasn't that much left to fight over, except the chromium mines. We still had troops guarding those.

Our armed forces had been placed on alert and some national guard units had been called up (not because of Africa; they were needed to keep order in the cities here). The President's request for citizens to go back to work was being obeyed only sporadically. Martial law was being considered. The stock markets were all way down across the board with the exception of companies specializing in the teenage and youth markets. They were all up and still climbing.

I almost missed my exit by concentrating on the news rather than where I was at. It's easy to do when you're driving an electrobile. They run so silently, your mind tends to wander.

Grandpa's old house was three or four miles past Ruston, going east after the turnoff. As I drove over the ramp, I could see "downtown" Ruston, a few old buildings clustered together, with others thinning away to homes within a few hundred yards. The elementary school was the largest building in town. From above, I could see the glittering arch of a gate sitting in the middle of the ball field. Two patrol cars were parked nearby, the sum total of Ruston law enforcement vehicles if you don't consider the county sheriff. There were a few people standing around the gate, not doing anything except staring.

I was surprised to see Derek's car in the driveway. The last time I had seen him was Thanksgiving of the year before, the third anniversary of his announcement he was gay. Other than that, he had only been home for Christmas the last two years and I hadn't had much to say to him on either occasion, avoiding the issue as well as I was able.

Mom met me at the door with a hug; she must have seen me drive up. I could hear Derek and Dad talking in the den, right off the entry hall.

"You go on in, Lee," Mom told me. "Maybe you can talk him out of it."

"Talk who out of what?" I said.

"Your brother. He came home to tell us he intends to go through one of those gate things."

So that was it. I tried to imagine having a son, then being told he was gay, then having him turn into a female. I couldn't do it. No wonder Dad had sounded upset.

"Hello, Lee," Derek said, getting to his feet when I came in. I shook his hand, then let loose quickly to give Dad a hug.

Derek sat back down. He didn't look gay, if there is such a thing. He was taller and more muscular than me and had Dad's blonde good looks rather than taking after Mom like I did. I took a seat across the den from him, next to Dad.

"I heard what Mom told you," Derek said to me. "You're not going to talk me out of it, so save the effort."

"Lee, tell him how dangerous it is," Dad said.

Was it? Derek was young and healthy and didn't have any criminal tendencies, so far as I knew. "Some people have gone into the gates and not come out." I said, the best I could do.

"That's my point," Dad said. "Besides, no one knows what the long term effects might be. What if something worse happened than…" Dad couldn't say it. He would be losing his firstborn son and wouldn't be able to relate to the stranger who replaced him. I didn't think I would be able to either, not that I related very well with Derek anyway, not since he came out.

"What could be worse than being a woman trapped in a male body?" Derek asked.

"You're not a woman!" Dad said loudly.

"In my head, I am," Derek said.

"Derek, son, please don't. At least wait a while until we know more about those things."

"What happens if they suddenly disappear as quickly as they showed up? I would have missed my chance."

Dad got out his old pipe and lit it. He had quit several years ago. I could imagine what the tobacco must taste like by this time. "Son, didn't your mother and I accept it when you first told us you were gay? We love you anyway."

"Anyway. See, you haven't really accepted it. Neither has Lee." He looked over at me. I couldn't argue. I hadn't even fully accepted Don's change, and he had been normal to begin with. I turned my eyes away from his accusing gaze. How would I feel if I had been forced into a woman's body, to live a lifetime there? Would I have turned out as well as Derek had? There wasn't really anything wrong with him. He was gentle, soft spoken and earned a good living. I thought of the times when I was growing up that he had helped me with adolescent problems. I forced myself to look back at him. What would he look like as a woman? How would he act if he were free to express the femininity he had been stuck with? I didn't know, couldn't know. I felt concern for Mom and Dad. They must be as worried as they had been when Derek was drafted during the Mexican war.

Derek got to his feet. "Dad, it's no use arguing anymore. I'm going now, while the gates are still here."

"Please wait, son. I'll go with you." That was Mom. She had been standing by the entrance to the den, listening to us.

Dad admitted defeat. "All right, son, if you think you have to, I'll go, too. Lee?"

We all left together. Mom picked up one of her old wraparounds as we left.

***

The Ruston gate was exactly like the one on campus and all the others I had seen on the news. Only the few people standing around it were different; we knew most of them.

Neither Mom nor Dad greeted anyone; their faces were held rigid, telling their friends they weren't in a mood to visit. I nodded to a fellow I had known in high school, then was sorry I had when he smirked at Derek.

Mom was waiting as Derek emerged from the gate, no longer male. His short blond hair was now shoulder length. He-she-was shorter than me now and pleasantly curved, as I saw before Mom draped her with the wrap she had thoughtfully brought along.

***

Derek and I left Ruston at the same time that afternoon, each of us in our own car. There hadn't been much to say after she came out of the gate; everything after that was anti-climactic.

Dad and Mom seemed smaller and older as they stood together and waved good-by. I wondered how many other families in America were going through the same thing.

Chapter Six

I noticed there was more traffic on the way back than there had been in the morning. I guessed even with such a world-shaking event like the sex gates, people had to shop and run errands or finally go back to work in order to have money to live on. I kept the news playing, as I imagine most drivers were doing.

I caught the tail end of the major event of the day. The Pope had finally made an appearance and given a ruling. He told the masses that after days of praying to the Holy Father for guidance, it had been revealed to him that the gates were manifestations of Satan, brought to earth in order to tempt the faithful into living beyond their allotted life span, and anyone willfully entering a gate would be automatically excommunicated. He cited as proof the fact that so many gays and lesbians were opting for the change. (I got the gist of his speech as commentary; he had already gone back inside when I plugged in).

Several alliances of gays and lesbians disputed his ruling, though in different ways. One group said he was wrong and homosexuals should ignore him and go through the gates anyway. Another said any gay or lesbian person who wasn't old or sick who chose to go into a gate were traitors to their sex and probably weren't homosexual to begin with, if they were at all. Several old Cardinals and quite a few elderly priests announced they disagreed with the Pope and were leaving the church immediately. I doubted it would make much difference in America. Our branch of Catholicism usually went its own way, regardless of what orders came from the Vatican, and it wasn't much of a social force anymore, though it was still one of the largest religious denominations. Most American Catholics went through the motions, then did what they wanted to afterwards. Besides, there weren't enough priests left to give absolution to all their sins and there were even fewer nuns.

The Methodist leadership was still praying and assuring their flocks that God would soon reveal the purpose of the gates. The Baptists were split, some accepting; some calling them abominations. And as usual, the web evangelists were calling down thunder and lightning on the sinful and asking for even more donations so they could remain on the webworks and bring the very latest word of God concerning the gates to the faithful.

I didn't pay much attention to the commentary, other than thinking of what violent emotions religious convictions can evoke. There had been confrontations, demonstrations, fighting and even murder by the pro and anti-abortionists as far back as I can remember and it was still going on; in fact, it would probably get worse now since it was known neither fetuses nor unborn babies came out of the gates when pregnant women passed through.

I made a sudden decision to begin recording everything of interest I heard, knew or felt about the gates with the intention of maybe writing some articles. The webs were bound to be receptive to the subject for a long time to come, and there were always newspapers and magazines. After getting my second degree in journalism, I had some small success with a few science articles (mostly of the Sunday Supplement variety) and had sold a few short stories.

In the next ten minutes before I got back home, I switched off the news and began creating a major file on the subject of the gates, with subcategories where I thought the impact of the gates might make good subjects to write about. Within a few minutes, I had to back up and rearrange the data in my comphone; ideas were coming so thick and numerous, I couldn't talk fast enough to keep up. By the time I pulled into our driveway, my enthusiasm was running wild. I hadn't been so excited over a project since Dad gave me permission to raise a litter of intelligence enhanced pups back in the ninth grade (that hadn't worked out very well-the web hype about enhanced animals had failed to mention that most of them went crazy early on and had to be destroyed).

My comphone opened the door automatically and I rushed inside, wanting to share my enthusiasm with Rita.

Donna and Seyla were locked together in an embrace on the small lounger. Seyla's toga was down around her waist and Donna was busily caressing her breasts while they kissed.

I stood stock still for a moment. They hadn't noticed me coming in. As I watched, Donna moved her hand down to Seyla's waist and began sliding her toga down over her hips. They broke the kiss and Seyla shifted her body, intending to raise up enough to let Donna finish undressing her.

Seyla saw me standing there. "Oh!" she said. Her face was flushed, but I don't think it was from embarrassment.

Donna turned around. "Sorry, Lee, we didn't hear you come in," she said, taking her hands away. She didn't seem to be embarrassed at all. Well, if Don's male mind was still active in that female body, I guess I couldn't blame her. She and Seyla had been lovers almost as long as Rita and I had, and Seyla's mixed-blood beauty was enough to turn anyone on, including me.

Seyla pulled her toga back up over her breasts. "Well, don't look so stupefied, Lee. What was I supposed to do? Kick Don out of the house when he turned into a girl?"

"I wasn't thinking that," I said. I didn't want to tell her what I was thinking. I turned away to hide my rather obvious response to what I had seen. I wondered what Rita would think if she knew. Probably it would amuse her more than anything; one of the advanced psych courses she was taking this semester was on the male sexual response.

"Is anyone else home?" I asked.

"Russell is still asleep. Rita took his car a while ago to get some groceries. She should be back any time now," Donna said.

Two hours later, she still hadn't returned.

***

"I'm getting worried," I said for about the tenth time. Chipping hell, why had they let her go out by herself? No, why hadn't I taken her with me?

Russell came out, yawning sleepily. He had shaved and washed, but still looked tired. He came to alertness almost immediately when we told him that Rita was missing. "Did she say anything about where else she might be going other than the grocery store?"

"Oh, hell," Seyla burst out. "I remember now. She said she was going to stop by the campus and see if anything new was happening at the gate. I'm sorry, Lee. It slipped my mind until Russell mentioned it."

"You girls stay here. Come on, Lee, let's go." He always could think faster than me. We hurried outside, zapping the security system to full closed behind us. I ran for my car and pawed in the glove compartment for my spare gun. We were already on the way before I thought that maybe I should have brought the rifle from my room. Russell had never applied for a license, not that it mattered much in Texas whether you had one or not; he had just never been interested in carrying.

At first sight, I thought it was some of the fourth worlders come in again from Old Houston who were causing all the commotion around the gate, but it was just the way they were dressed in leather and a heavy variety of silkskin that confused me. There was a small contingent of radical gays who frequented the campus and they were ones causing the trouble. They were fighting with a feminine lesbian group, or I should say, they had been fighting. Several women were stretched unconscious on the grass; a few more hung back with split lips or bloody heads while only one or two were trying to prevent the Radicals from causing more mayhem

There's no telling what rad gays will do when they decide to cause trouble. Their organization subscribes to the braindrug theory of behavior. They ingest that new drug which affects subconscious thinking, but also lowers inhibitions to a level about equal to that of a rabid dog.

One of them was laughing like a braying donkey. He had a girl in front of him with her arm twisted behind her back and was forcing her toward the gate, slowly, in order to build up apprehension and terror in his captive.

Russell shouted an oath and sprang forward while I was still trying to see if that was really Rita the rad had in his grasp. Russell hit the man from the side. He fell away from the gate, carrying the girl with him. She screamed and I recognized Rita's voice even though her face was hidden from view.

I'm not very good in an emergency. I didn't even think about the gun I was carrying. I just ran toward where Rita was struggling to get away. The rad pushed her face into the grass and kicked out at Russell's legs. He went down. I got close and chopped ineffectually at the rad's head. Someone shoved me from the back and I went down. While I was trying to regain my feet, I took a boot in the belly. I doubled up, gasping for breath.

"Throw them in, too," an excited voice shouted. Hands clawed at my back while I was grasping my belly, trying to suck in some air. I felt the hard contours of the pistol in my pocket. I folded my fingers around the butt as rough hands yanked me upright by my jirt collar just in time to see Russell go down again. I thumbed the safety off and fired twice at the two rads kicking him in the ribs and head. Both went down.

Sometimes my slight stature works to my advantage. I'm slender, but I do have muscles developed painfully by regular workouts. The man holding me by the jirt collar lost his grip and staggered away as I bent forward and twisted violently sideways. I shot him, too.

Russell tackled the one who was going after Rita again, undeterred by the popgun sounds of my gun. She had managed to struggle loose in the confusion and was trying to crawl away. I ran to her and caught a glimpse of Russell going down for the third time from a wild swing. Blood was streaming from both nostrils. I fired for the last time. That rad slumped slowly to the ground. Dad had taught me to handle firearms truly and well. I hadn't missed once. The rest of the gang broke and ran after my last shot.

"Lee, thank God. Oh, thank God you came." Rita was blubbering like a fundamentalist at the rapture. I folded her in my arms. I was trembling worse than she was from reaction.

A siren warbled in the distance.

Russell got to his feet, wiping at his bloody nose. "Come on, let's get out of here," he said. A red froth bubbled from his split lips.

I would rather have just collapsed and hung my head. I had just shot four men. One of them was moaning; the other three were as still as dead fish. I put my arm around Rita, as much to support myself as her; my legs were shaking like a newborn colt taking its first steps.

Russell got behind the wheel, still spitting out blood. I looked back as he drove away. The women were still there, tending to their comrades. As the siren warble came closer, I found the energy to hope none of them had taken down my license number; either that or someone had taped the action so I could claim self-defense in case the cops investigated. Probably they would just say good riddance and leave it at that; they didn't like the radical gays any more than anyone else did.

Back at the house, Rita tended Russell's wounds. She wasn't hurt, other than a sore shoulder from having her arm twisted and abrasions on one cheek where her face had been ground into the grass. I was bruised, but not bloody. I told the other two what had happened while Donna and Seyla made a round of drinks and Rita worked on Russell. If this kept up, we were all going to wind up alcoholics.

"What in chipping hell were you doing around that gate?" I asked. "Didn't you get enough excitement the other day?"

Rita was as subdued as anyone was ever likely to see her. "I just wanted to take some notes for class. I hung around for a while, then I guess I got a little too close and got grabbed."

"Why didn't you use the gun I gave you?" I demanded.

"I tried to," she said.

"Well, what happened?"

"It didn't work."

"What!" I stared at her. I keep my weapons in perfect condition.

"I forgot to take the safety off," she said in a very small voice.

"It's a good thing Lee and Russell found you in time; otherwise you would have wound up like me," Donna said.

"I doubt if Lee would appreciate it," Rita answered.

Appreciate it? I couldn't even imagine Rita as a man. For certain, I could never relate to her like Seyla was doing with Donna. "I don't even want to think about it," I said.

"Actually, it's turning out not to be so bad," Donna said. She entwined her fingers with Seyla's, getting a pat on the thigh in return.

Later, after we had showered and stretched out in bed, I voiced the big bedroom wall screen on and began searching for something to help us relax, but there was still nothing else on except news and commentary. Saturation news coverage is fine for an unprecedented phenomena like the appearance of the sex gates, but anything gets old after a while. It made me long for the days when you kept your games, movies and mood programs at home on memory cards like when I was a kid. In fact, I still had my old computer and a lot of programs but they were all back at Grandpa's house in my old room. I left the screen on, just loud enough for us to hear in case anything interesting happened.

While we snuggled, I remembered and told Rita about the bright idea I had had on the drive back.

She gave me a peck on the cheek. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll bet most people are just watching and listening and not recording much."

"That's my thought, too," I said. "I really believe there may be a market once things settle down, if they ever do. For something besides commentary, I hope."

"There's bound to be. Think of all the fourth worlders who don't have access to the web like we do. Printed matter ought to go over big in those areas."

Right. The 'webs and 'works didn't depend on cable anymore; everything was relayed by satellite directly to comphones or home and office computers. The old internet was still in operation, but communications companies had stopped servicing the wires and cables that part of it depended on. This left third and fourth worlders unable to afford the expensive receivers, not to mention comphones, which nowadays, did everything but spoon sugar into your coffee. They had become less and less able to relate to the world. Print and what was left of the internet were their only means of communication. It left them as cut off from the modern world as political prisoners in Siberia. Besides those unfortunates, interactive webs and works hadn't come close to replacing the printed word yet, though you didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see it coming, what with the electronic ink companies growing so rapidly. Books and magazines were still being published almost as prolifically as ever, though not newspapers; they were in a steep decline in civilized portions of the world, though not so much in other places.

I guess I've been relating this account as if everyone in the world knew exactly what was happening with the gates. That wasn't true at all, or at least we didn't know if it was. Despite all the frenzied reporting, there hadn't been much definitive news from those parts of China controlled by their fractious warlords, and parts of India may as well have been swallowed by a black hole for all we knew from there. Mideast news was spotty, and of course, there wasn't much left of Africa to get news from. Disease, wars, plagues, global warming and industrial pollution had devastated that continent as thoroughly as Sherman's march did Georgia in the Civil war.

And where we did know what was going on, chaos and confusion was the rule rather than the exception, except for le belle France. The French embraced the sex gates as if they were banks handing out free money. They thought the gates were a huge joke being played on the rest of the world.

There still had not been a confirmed communication with the denizens inhabiting the gates, if they were inhabited, and nothing had yet been learned of their purpose.

Our own government was beginning to make a little sense, here and there, as if some lawmakers were beginning to think the gates might turn out to be a permanent phenomena, though as usual, politicians swam with the tide.

The FBI had been ordered to make their facilities available for positive identification of sex-changed individuals. They were doing it through fingerprint confirmation after hastily writing a new program to take into consideration the size differences of prints of new individuals, either larger or smaller than the original, depending on whether the change had been from male to female or the reverse. And, of course, DNA identification still worked, even after genetic disorders and shuffling of the X and Y chromosomes.

Congress was considering a number of new laws. The ones of interest concerned suspension of Social Security payments and Medicare to changed individuals after a six month grace period; a similar law would do the same for retirees from government and the military. For a change, something Congress came up with made sense to me. Another proposed law would make it a crime to prevent anyone from attempting to pass through a gate, similar to the old abortion clinic laws. I had my doubts that one would pass, or be effective if it did, considering what I had seen so far. Too many gates, too many anti-gate factions. Enforcement would be prohibitively expensive. Other bills being considered or looking for sponsors would never fly. Mandatory birth control? Prevention of pregnant women from passing through the gates? No chance, I thought.

I turned the screen off. It had been a long day.

Rita ran her hand up and down my chest, then brought my face around for a kiss. "I still haven't thanked you for saving me, Lee." She shivered. "I was that close to being pushed through the gate."

"It was Russell as much as me," I said. "If he hadn't reacted so quickly, you would have gone through."

"I'm glad. I'm not ready for that yet."

"Not ready? You mean you're actually considering it? Changing into a man?" I couldn't believe what she had said.

"Oh, not yet. I want to have a couple babies first, then maybe wait until they're grown." She chuckled. "How do you think you would like me as a man? Would you still love me?"

"How could I love a man?" I said.

"Oh, men! Lee, I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about love."

I guess I didn't know how to separate the two, at least with her. I said so.

"Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you. Listen, what would you do if you suddenly came down with an incurable disease? Just roll over and die, or go through a gate?"

What a choice. I didn't want to think about it. "What would you do?" I countered.

"Take a chance on a gate, of course. I'm not in a hurry to die. Besides, don't you know every woman in the world has wished she was a man, at least once in a while?"

"They have? I mean, they do? Why?" It was news to me.

"Think about it a minute. How would you like to live your whole life in an environment where almost any man who cares to can physically overpower you? Think about doing dirty dishes and diapers and cooking three meals a day and holding down a job like a lot of women do, at wages usually less than a man in a comparable job would draw. Women in America are pretty well off, but think of the rest of the world. Remember those Muslim women storming the gate? They hate the way they are treated. How would you like to have a period four or five days a month for thirty-five or forty years? Or go through the inconvenience of pregnancy or the pain of childbirth? Think about all the rape and child abuse in the world-"

"Stop, I give up," I said. Boy, she was really wound up. Did women really resent even half of what she had said? Resent being female? It seemed to me most of the things she mentioned were just a normal part of being a woman, like a man being expected to do the really heavy chores and work and to provide protection and a safe environment for a woman to be a woman in. And there were compensations.

"Everything you said might be true-"

"It is true," she said flatly.

"Still, there's another side to it. At least a woman can have a man she wants, whenever she wants, without having to go through all the preliminaries like a man has to do."

"You think so, huh? It doesn't work like that for a woman. Women don't think about sex like that: see a man, get wet, pull him into bed. There has to be some emotional involvement for a woman to even get interested, and so far as that goes, we don't get the man we want just as often as a man doesn't get the woman he's after."

"I guess men and women are different," I said, about as inadequate a statement as I have ever made in my life.

"You are so right. You just don't know how different."

Maybe so, but she was beginning to give me an idea. We didn't make love that night.

Chapter Seven

I never did hear anything about the four men I had shot. Apparently, there hadn't been anyone with a recorder nearby; either that, or the authorities were too busy with other matters to worry about a few gay rads getting killed. It didn't bother me, other than a few bad dreams; so far as I was concerned, I had just done what I had to do.

Over the next few months, the world, or at least the more advanced portion of it, gradually began getting back to normal. Or as normal as was possible under the circumstances. The gates remained as they were, hundreds of thousands of them, as enigmatic and inscrutable as ever. Nothing else of significance had been learned and there was still no communication with them.

I didn't go back to any of my classes when the college reopened, though the rest of the gang did. Once things began to quiet down a little, I began submitting articles and stories to the web and zines, without much success. Fortunately, I didn't need the money. When not writing, I added to my files, which were growing like Florida algae blooms.

The financial structures of the advanced countries teetered and tottered but never quite collapsed. I missed one annuity payment completely and the next one barely made a discernible blip in my credit balance, but after that, the amount gradually increased until now, it was up to almost half of what it had been before the gates.

Pope Luke was assassinated. The College of Cardinals almost got lynched before they finally sent the signal to the world that a new earthly representative of God had been elected. His first act was to rescind the previous Pope's encyclical, giving heavenly credence to the gates, with a few reservations: pregnant women were still forbidden to enter. Sex changed persons were no longer excommunicated if they waited until age sixty or had an incurable illness before attempting the passage. Cardinals, priests and nuns were forbidden entrance under any circumstances (more of them resigned and some churches and dioceses had to close for lack of personnel to run them).

Protestants were still divided; fundamentalist sects railed against the gates; more liberal sects accepted them. Demonstrators still protested, but were no longer quite so violent. Automatic camcorders were set up near every gate in America to record events surrounding them. After a goodly number of protestors went to jail or were executed for murder of individuals attempting to go through the gates, the violence slacked off considerably.

Almost half the population of the country over seventy years old took a chance on the gates. Most of them came through with young bodies of a different gender. More than three-quarters of those over eighty opted to try the gates, even though their chances of success diminished the older and/or sicker they were when they entered. It seemed when the black camel came near and prepared to kneel, it scared the object of its attention into taking chances with the gates instead of dying. When it got to that point, another forty or fifty years of life, even living in a body of the opposite sex, didn't stand in their way.

The medical profession suffered huge unemployment as hospitals and doctors' offices closed, and it was still increasing. The preliminary reports of perfect health of the changed individuals proved exactly correct: so far, not a single illness had been detected in a sex changed person. It was too soon to tell yet whether the new young people were aging, though a few scientists claimed to have measured a shortening of the telomeres of chromosomes of some cells after divisions, which would indicate a normal aging process. Others thought the new bodies would last far into the future. I reserved my opinion.

A large percentage of the physically impaired population; paraplegics, quadriplegics, the blind and deaf and those missing limbs or scarred by burns, opted for the gates. Almost all of them reappeared in healthy new bodies. As soon as news of this got around, parents of mentally retarded children began pushing them through the gates. This didn't work quite as well; many of them never came out again. Those who did, however, were mentally normal. Scientists and statisticians were trying to find out what the defining characteristics were.

The Supreme Court ruled (again) that same sex individuals had a constitutional right to a legally binding marriage, upholding laws already passed by most states. The court was simply accepting reality. The bodily changes did nothing to change sexual orientation, at least not immediately. Like Donna, if you were a male to begin with, you still gravitated toward females, even after changing into one, and the opposite also held true. That naturally led to a huge increase in homosexuality, though the definition of the term was no longer quite the same as it had been. In both cases, though, almost half the changed persons (if you could trust the polls) eventually experimented, or were planning to experiment, with the opposite sex. That fact, after it was discovered, was going to cause me trouble, though I didn't know it yet.

The gang was still together, even after the spring semester ended, and Seyla and Rita graduated. Seyla changed her mind about medical school and decided to start work on a masters degree in genetics. I didn't blame her; If things kept on like they were going, medical doctors would find themselves driving taxis or clerking in drugstores in order to keep dinner on the table.

Rita got her degree in Psychology. She had already been accepted for an internship at a sexual therapy clinic in Old Houston, but the gates were changing that profession, too. What psychologists thought they knew about human sexuality was evolving so rapidly, she decided to take a semester off and study the situation before going to work.

We saw little of Russell. He was still spending lots of time at school working on his doctorate. He had to start all over with another thesis after the phenomena of the gates proved his old one wrong, but he didn't seem to mind. The physics department had set up all sorts of instruments by the gate on campus and he spent a lot of time there, taking measurements (or actually, recording the absence of any), scut work all doctoral candidates are forced to tolerate. When he wasn't at the gate or in the lab or teaching, he managed to come home occasionally. We got the most reliable news on the nature of the gates from him (such as it was; negative data may be as important as hard facts, but human nature being what it is, it doesn't excite like factual data does).

I was finally comfortable with Donna. Her gender change no longer bothered me like it had at first, and her liaison with Seyla began to seem natural. What did bother me, a little, was that she began acting more and more like a woman. I guess it was natural for her to do so, but it prevented me from getting as close to her as I once had been. I couldn't talk to her about the inconvenience of having periods, or what kind of makeup went best with her hair, or how her sexual life was going. Subjects like that didn't seem to inhibit her from talking to me, but when she brought them into our conversation, I tended to back off or change the subject. Otherwise, I acted (or tried to act) as if she were a female friend with whom I had a platonic relationship. If she hadn't once been male and my closest friend, it wouldn't have been possible. Don was handsome; Donna was just short of beautiful and still hadn't learned completely what affect her exquisite body had on men.

I've never been entirely comfortable around really pretty females, especially those who seem to just naturally exude sexuality. Donna exhibited that phenomena without knowing she did, at least in the beginning, but it was ameliorated by the fact that she couldn't go long without acting out of character for a woman, bursting the illusion like discovering your favorite female webstar is really a hockey player in disguise. She got better in her female role as time passed. I found myself reacting not so platonically in the physical sense, especially as she tended to go around the house half naked at times. Mentally though, I kept my sexual distance.

We were finally getting something over the web besides news. Rita and I were tucked away for the night watching a new release. Naturally, it was about a couple who went through the gate together and their problems getting used to their new sex. We watched for awhile, then began interacting. As usual, we took turns changing the script. That's usually good for a lot of laughs and should have been this time, especially as the program had been billed as a comedy. It wasn't. I kept trying to get the new male interested in women and at the same time, sympathizing with the male mind in the new female body.

"Lee, you're going to be the death of me yet," Rita said after I steered the female character into the arms of a good-looking blond woman at a party. She changed the blond into a male who looked somewhat like me.

"Hey, wait," I said. "At least let them finish."

"You didn't let me."

Well, I hadn't, but watching men kiss puts me off, not to mention other things. I had the male character come into the room where they were hiding and break it up. Rita immediately had him start making out with his erstwhile partner.

I could watch that with no problem, so long as I didn't identify with the female, who had been male at the start of the program. It sort of spoiled the story, though. Rita could tell I was losing interest and switched the screen off completely.

"Lee, you are so provincial," Rita said, not angry but stating it like an unalterable fact of nature. She half turned in my arms so one of her breasts was pressed against my side and the other hanging free over my chest. I cupped the free one in my hand, admiring its perfection. If there is a God, He knew what He was up to when He created women.

"Maybe so," I said, "but so are most people. Look at Donna; she didn't start running after men right after she changed like you were having that character do."

"She had Seyla. Besides, for your information, she went for an implant last week when she borrowed your car."

"What!" I couldn't believe it. Or maybe I didn't want to believe it. There was only one reason I could think of for her to do that. "Are she and Seyla having problems?"

"No, silly, but Seyla isn't a lesbian, you know. Don't you think she's had time to begin missing this?" She reached down and enfolded my penis, which had become engorged as soon as her nipple touched my palm.

"I guess I thought they were just going to continue like they were before Donna changed. Is she actually thinking about having sex with a man?" I couldn't quite form the picture in my mind, despite the time she had been a woman.

"Lee, you're still living in the last century. Of course she is; any normal female would."

"She isn't a normal female," I said.

"She's as normal as I am. Or at least she's getting that way. She can't help it. Haven't you ever thought of what it would be like if you had been born female instead of male?"

"No," I said, and truthfully, I hadn't. I had always been satisfied with what I was, other than occasionally wishing I was bigger and stronger and better looking, with normal hair instead of that odd rusty color I had been stuck with. I thought if I were, I could be more like men I had known who never seemed to have a problem attracting women and making out. If Rita hadn't practically tripped me, I would probably still be admiring her beauty from a distance. I still didn't know what she saw in me.

She rolled her eyes, then relented. "Poor Lee. Maybe that's why your stuff isn't selling. You just don't understand the female viewpoint."

"I understand this much," I said, bending my head down to nuzzle her breasts.

"Mmm. So you do. Hey, why don't we collaborate on a program or two and see what happens?"

Now that was an idea. I was planning on doing a little traveling on a project I was researching and I dislike going away from familiar surroundings, and especially hate to go anywhere alone. That would suit me fine, and I said so.

"Good, I'm glad that's settled. I was planning on going with you anyway, but I'm glad you like the idea."

I wondered what Donna and Seyla would be doing while we were gone. "When is Donna planning on the big experiment?" I asked.

"Not for a week or two, anyway. She'll have to wait that long before being certain the implant is effective."

"I wonder if she'll bring her fellow here?" I said. The idea still seemed strange to me.

"Why don't you wait and see? In the meantime, be nice to Seyla. She understands, but she's scared for Donna. And herself, for that matter."

I guess I really didn't understand women. Here she had just told me that Seyla was missing sex with a man and now I find out she's scared of Donna trying it. "I don't understand," I said.

"You're impossible. Seyla is afraid she'll lose Donna. She loved him when he was male and still does as a female. Just be nice to her, okay?"

"I will. I always am, aren't I?" Seyla was easy for me to be nice to. Despite (or perhaps because of) her exotic beauty, she had never vamped around us men, not before the gates and not afterwards. She was as sweet and playful as a ten week old kitten, and the occasional insecurity she displayed made her as easy to talk to as a sister. I think her infrequent bouts of mild depression were a result of her mixed racial ancestry in a nation where race has been a divisive issue since the continent was discovered. It was worse now than ever, not counting the unrest the gates had caused. Blacks were having an especially hard time. The financial difficulties the country had gone through a few years earlier hurt them worse than other groups and a substantial minority had been classed as fourth worlders in the last census. I always felt sorry for blacks. Their race was unfortunate to have been on the downside of technological development when Africa began to be explored, partly because their natural resources were harder to get at than on some other continents and also because the whole equatorial belt of rain forests kept great civilizations from rising. I'm sure there were other factors, but the slave trade put them at a permanent cultural disadvantage, especially as in most languages "black" has negative connotations. All in all, they came out on the short end when Destiny rolled the dice and have been suffering from it ever since.

"You're nice to everyone once you disconnect your brain from your testicles. Come here." Rita pulled me over her and I quit thinking of Donna or Seyla either-for the time being, anyway.

***

We began packing for our trip the next morning. It didn't take much doing as I didn't intend for us to be gone very long. I wouldn't have made the trip at all, but the webworks were in a "spontaneous" fad at the time. They wanted live interviews and action shots away from background props. I had managed to get an appointment in Lufkin, up the Nafta highway a hundred miles or so, with a female evangelist who was making some pretty big waves in Texas and was getting ready to branch out into neighboring states.

As little as I understand the religious mind-set, this one sounded interesting. She was young, appearing to be in her teens or very early twenties, with dark red hair and a voluptuous figure. She had formed a "Church of the Gates", declaring each gate was a separate manifestation of God, and worshiping and believing in them assured a person making the second entrance an immediate transport to heaven (at the time, no one had yet come back from a second attempt to pass through a gate. In fact, there had been very few individuals who had yet tried, once it became known it was seemingly impossible.). I still don't know how she came up with the idea of the church and certainly didn't realize at the time that a few people would manage a second passage.

Seyla and Russell were both gone. Only Donna was there to see us off. She was in the study, working on math problems with an AI. It really wasn't an artificial intelligence, of course, but with that kind of dedicated program, it was extremely difficult to tell the difference. As we came in, she put a hold on the graphie which had been explaining some esoteric equation.

"Are you leaving already?" she asked.

"I thought we'd stop and see the folks for a few minutes since we're passing through on the way," I explained.

"Well, tell them hello for me." Donna (as Don) knew Mom and Dad almost as well as I did. I had long since told them of her unintentional change in sex, but she hadn't seen them since it happened. I had only been up once myself with Rita.

"I will," I said. I wondered what they would think if they could see her now. She was dressed in a pair of tight-fitting gold jeans and a satiny white top that ended well above her navel. She jiggled as she got up to tell us good-by; she never had gotten into the habit of wearing a bra.

"You be careful, now. There's still lots of crazies hanging around the gates," she said.

"Don't worry. You be careful, too. Keep the security on while you're here by yourself."

"I will," she said. She gave Rita a brief hug, then embraced me, the first time she had done so. Before I knew what was happening, she kissed me firmly on the mouth, patted me on the cheek and turned quickly back to her math problems. I felt my face get red. I was glad she had turned around so quickly, that she couldn't see it. Rita noticed, though. I could tell by her elfish grin.

As soon as we were on the way, I called home to let the folks know we were coming. Dad answered the phone. He sounded tired.

"It will be good to see you, son. You too, Rita," he added, knowing my car had a speaker circuit built into it. "I was going to call you, so this works out fine."

"Okay, see you in a bit," I said. I wondered why he had been planning on calling. Was there some sort of problem with Derek? So far as I knew, he was getting along fine in his new female form. I hadn't talked to him, but he had left a brief message once while I was out.

***

It wasn't Derek. It was Dad.

He waited until after Mom poured coffee and we were all four sitting around the old kitchen table before he made his announcement. His voice dragged, as if he were reluctant to say anything at all. He held his unlit pipe in his hand like a talisman.

"Son, your mother and I are going to go through the sex gate here as soon as you leave."

I couldn't have been more astounded if he had said they were going to the moon. I was speechless for what seemed like hours but could only have been a few seconds. "Dad, you're kidding."

He shook his head. "No, I'm not."

I looked at Mom. She nodded agreement.

"But why? What could possibly make you want to…?" I ran out of words.

Dad touched his chest. "I saw Doctor Tyson yesterday. He told me that my heart is getting worse."

"Doctor Tyson? But-Dad, you can't go by just what he says! I mean I like him, but-look, at least get another opinion."

"He already has," Mom said. "Doctor Tyson has added a consult computer since you saw him last. The North Houston Heart Center agrees with his diagnosis."

"Can't you get a transplant?" That seemed like the simple solution to me. Even a baboon heart would be better than seeing my dad change into a woman. And Mom-why her?

"Haven't you heard? Animal transplants have been suspended until they develop a way to eliminate zoonotic viruses that sneak in with the organ. And they suggest I not wait on a human replacement."

I remembered vaguely hearing something about the suspension after he mentioned it, just an innocuous bit of news I didn't think had anything to do with me. That still didn't explain why Mom was going into the gate with him.

She didn't wait for me to ask. "I can see you're wondering why I'm going too. Perhaps you're too young to understand, but we don't want to be separated, not after almost forty years." She gazed fondly at Dad.

I thought about it and maybe could see her point. My parents were as close a couple as I had ever seen. I have never heard them exchange a cross word, not even when Dad volunteered for duty in the Mideast when I was a youngster. It didn't make it any easier.

"I'll cancel my appointment and stay here," I said, the last thing I really wanted to do.

"No, son. We'd rather you not. If we come out safely, it's going to be rather confusing to us for a while. We'd rather be alone until we get used to the idea.

I protested a few times, but it was more because I thought I should than through conviction. No more hugs from Mom? No more fishing with Dad on lazy summer days?

Rita remained silent through the conversation, even though she could have added her voice if she had wanted to. The folks knew how close we were and that we were already planning a family in the near future. Or at least we had been; we hadn't talked about it much lately, what with the sex gates getting most of our attention.

We all hugged good-by as Rita and I left, the four of us pressing our bodies together as we might never do again.

"You'll call?" I asked Dad.

"As soon as we get home."

If they got home. I didn't mention that possibility and neither did they. As soon as we were out of sight of the house, I stopped the car at a little roadside park where we had enjoyed family picnics many times. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried. Rita shed tears with me. After a while, we brushed the tears away and drove on.

Chapter Eight

Over the last decade or so, Lufkin had grown from a small rural city to a fair-sized industrial center. I could see the haze generated by its factories from miles away. Many of Old Houston's plants had been moving further north for years in order to escape the floods and hurricanes which occurred there with increasing frequency as sea levels rose in response to global warming, not a theory anymore but hard fact; the Antarctic ice packs were breaking up. Eventually, North Houston might suffer the same fate as Old Houston, though the theorists differed on how far in the future that might be, if it happened at all.

It had been a few years since I had visited Lufkin. New construction and thoroughfares where none existed in the past made it hard to locate the Church of the Gates temple. I would probably still be looking if it weren't for Rita. I have absolutely no sense of direction, which is one reason I don't like to travel by myself.

We arrived a few minutes early. I had been on pins and needles the last half hour, waiting on a call from the folks. I was hesitant about the possibility of being interrupted in the middle of business, yet didn't want to miss their call. We solved that problem by merging our comphones so Rita could answer my incoming calls. I left that portion of mine muted with instructions to cancel the suppression if Rita demanded it, just in case something terrible happened, like one or both of them not coming out of the gate. They were both past sixty. If it hadn't been for Dad's heart problem, their chances would have been excellent. Mom's still were, but it was impossible to gauge Dad's possibilities. The scientists were still trying to correlate the type and seriousness of illnesses with age and the probability of success.

The temple had been hastily constructed to resemble a gate, though larger. The green colored composite material was a poor match, but a holographic projection created an eerie impression of a gate face. I was almost scared to go through it.

A young man wearing a short, neatly trimmed beard greeted us. "Yes, how may I help you?"

"I'm Lee Stuart. I have a three o'clock appointment with Messilinda," I said. That was how she billed herself: Messilinda, no last name.

"Oh, yes." He glanced up at a wall clock in the shape of a gate. "She's expecting you. Come with me."

Rita was made to wait in the lobby. Ordinarily, I would have made a fuss, but the folks still hadn't called. I asked her if she minded.

"Of course not. Go ahead." She could tell I was worried.

The web programs I had seen of Messilinda didn't do her justice. She was far more beautiful than I had imagined. She rose from a workstation where she had been manipulating pictures of a quietly worshipful crowd surrounding a gate and greeted me with her hand out. I almost didn't see it for staring at the rest of her. She was dressed in a filmy white dress, translucent on top, fading to opaqueness around her hips, then flaring gracefully translucent again from her thighs. Her hair was a glorious flame and she matched it exactly with the same colored lipstick. Her eyes were a compelling deep green color and almost mesmerizing with their intelligence.

"Mr. Stuart. How good to see you. The Church is blessed with your presence."

Huh? I didn't see how I blessed it, not with thoughts running through my mind that would have gotten an X rating on any children's program in the world.

"Uh, thank you," I managed and groped for her hand.

She squeezed my hand, then kept hold as she led me through a door behind the work station and into another, smaller room.

"Please sit down." She indicated a spot on a long couch, fronted by a coffee table and a caddy at one end. Those three items were all the furniture the room contained, other than an oversized screen on one wall. "I like for my guests to be comfortable while we conduct business," she said, noticing my surprise at the bareness of the room.

I muttered something in response.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, sitting down at the end of the couch where the caddy was located.

"Whatever you're having," I said.

She dispensed a pink concoction from the caddy, then leaned back and crossed her legs. "What would you like to talk about?" she asked me.

Not what I was thinking. I sipped at the pink fluid in my glass, then took a bigger swallow. It was better than it looked and definitely alcoholic.

"Why don't you give me an overview of the Church of the Gates beliefs to start with?" I said.

"Certainly. The gates are a direct manifestation of God in all his wonderful mercy. Only His love for humanity could possibly be responsible for the blessing of renewed life and vigor available to us now. God saw how divided and fractious we were, how males were too aggressive, females too submissive. The gates represent His desire to allow us to perceive ourselves from the viewpoint of the opposite sex so we may finally understand ourselves and at last bring peace to this tortured earth." She spoke earnestly, as if she really believed in what she was saying.

It still sounded like a sermon to me. "What about those people who enter the gates and don't return? They certainly get no chance to look at things differently."

"Oh, but they do. They are the doubly blessed. Those who don't return are united with God immediately."

"The criminals, too? You do know many of them don't make the passage?"

"That's what's so wonderful. God has forgiven them their sins, as he will all of us eventually."

"And how long will that take?" I asked.

"Why, no longer than the period until you enter the heavenly gates for the second time. All who believe will be forgiven and taken to heaven."

"Then why not immediately go through a gate the second time? Why wait?"

"Isn't it obvious? When God's gates miraculously change our gender, He is instructing us to live out another life on earth before entering heaven, and to learn to understand why He created two sexes. He also wants us to lead others to the light. Just as Jesus' disciples spread the gospel, so must we."

"Just for the sake of argument," I said, "Suppose an alien race with incredibly advanced technology is responsible for the gates rather than God. Doesn't that make just as much sense?"

"If you believe that, you must not have done your homework. Don't you know the gates have been proven to be immaterial? No physics even imagined can explain them."

Well, she had me there. However, I quoted from an old adage first formalized by a science fiction writer of the last century. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

"Arthur C. Clark." She smiled at my expression. I hadn't expected someone so young to know Clark. So young? On the webs, she had appeared to be in her mid-twenties. I examined her more closely. In person, she didn't look a day over eighteen. Suddenly, I knew she had made a passage through a gate, turning from male to female. She must have been a damned handsome guy if her female manifestation was any guide.

"You've been through a gate," I said.

She got a pensive expression on her face. "Can I persuade you not to publicize that knowledge?"

"Why do you want to keep it a secret?" Up until then, I had thought the interview was going nowhere. I could just as well have watched her preaching on the web for all she had told me that I didn't already know.

"I don't really, but I must in order to bring more souls to the light. Many people still resent and discriminate against those of us who have been changed. How did you know?"

My experience with Donna had helped. As beautiful and feminine as she was, I had unconsciously caught nuances of her former male persona in her speech and mannerisms. "It doesn't matter," I told her. "Once you began to gather enough converts to come into the public eye, it was inevitable that someone would notice. If not me, someone else would have found out very soon."

She considered for a moment, then smiled brilliantly at me. "Well, in that case, I suppose I'll have to live up to the revelation. God knows what He's doing. In any case, since you're the first to know, I grant you permission to use the knowledge."

I didn't need her permission, but it was nice of her to say so. I quickly got her former name, birth date and other biographical data. As she talked, I let her hear me tell the comphone to run confirmation checks on the data. It didn't phase her in the least, so I assumed she was telling the truth. What was astounding was she had been born over a hundred years ago, the oldest person I had heard of successfully making the change. No wonder she thought God was responsible.

When we finished, I stood up. We hadn't talked long, but I was anxious to get back out to the lobby and see if Rita had heard from the folks yet.

Messilinda took both my hands and pulled me close to her, then let go of them and put her arms around my neck. It took me only a few seconds to forget she had once been a man, if I thought of it at all. Her lips parted and her tongue darted into my mouth with an eagerness that had lots of practice behind it. My arms went around her with no urging. She held the kiss for a moment, then reached behind her. I felt the fabric of her dress go slack under my hands.

I forgot all about Rita waiting in the lobby for a call from my parents. There's nothing so imperative to a man with a hard-on as some place to put it. Or in the more commonly used expression, a hard dick doesn't have a conscience.

A soft one does, though. I slunk out of Messilinda's office feeling like a kid who spent his church offering on candy and having no idea why Messilinda had wanted to seduce me. It certainly couldn't have been because of my looks. Perhaps she was hoping the act would impel me to put a favorable slant on my exclusive, but I never found out. Not then anyway.

Rita jumped up as soon as I came into the lobby. "Lee!" she cried. "Your dad called. They made it!"

That made me feel even worse. "What did they say?"

"They sent their love and said not to call for a few days, but not to worry; they're fine. I'm so glad, Lee. I was afraid your dad might not make it."

"Me, too. Come on, I've got some stuff here that won't wait."

As soon as we got to the car, I asked Rita to drive while I plugged in my comphone and began transferring the recording of the interview to my agent, flagging it with an "urgent" icon and asking her to put it out for bids. I used the car screen to make minor revisions as it unwound. I didn't want to take time to edit it for fear of being scooped. This news was bound to be worth a lot of money.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten to turn my comphone off when the seduction began. "Whoops!" I said, feeling as foolish as a linebacker recovering a fumble, then running the wrong way with the ball. I cut the recording.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Rita asked.

"It happened so quickly, I don't remember," I said. That was partially true. It had happened quickly.

"I'll bet you don't. My, and with a former man, too. Donna may have some hope after all."

"Donna? What's she got to do with it?" I didn't understand, but I've already mentioned I don't understand women.

"Nothing, nothing. Just so long as she didn't convert you."

I could assure her on that point. As for the rest, she suggested we play the rest of the recording when we got home and in bed to see if she could learn any new techniques. I said she already had more than enough to satisfy me, and besides, I doubted the comphone had caught much of the visual since it was down around my ankles most of the time.

She laughed. I was glad we weren't living in the olden days, where something like what I had done sometimes led to a spate of dodging bullets. It still was on occasion, but not very often from younger persons like us. After the universal virucide was invented, sexual mores had relaxed to a degree that our parents still had trouble believing.

After we got home, Rita did her best to wear me out and I cooperated until she succeeded. Why is it that a strange piece of ass makes you hornier than ever for your regular partner? Between one of our couplings, I asked Rita if the psych courses she had taken had anything to say on the subject.

"They say men are rabbits in disguise and there's no cure for the condition. Shut up and fuck me again."

***

The Messilinda interview (minus the unreported portion) got a big play in Texas and the surrounding states and even a bit of national publicity. It also brought in quite a lot of money, enough to keep all of us in beans for a while without having to touch my annuity.

Messilinda didn't seem to be hurt by the revelation that she had been a hundred year old man prior to becoming the founder of a new religion. On the contrary, I think it enhanced her status. The number of her converts continued to grow, along with the debunkers, but that just helped more. As the old adage says, any publicity is good publicity.

I think Rita must have blabbed to Donna about how the interview ended. Within a few days, she began paying so much attention to me, that I became embarrassed by it. When I was tired, she offered to give me a back rub, then took so long at it, I finally had to ask her to stop. She began dressing even more provocatively than usual, sometimes changing her new clothes twice or even three times a day, especially if we were home alone. She began touching me when no touch was called for and sitting near me when Rita wasn't around. I didn't know how to deal with it. First I tried to laugh it off, then I began making an effort not to be left alone with her. I thought her actions must be obvious to everyone else in the household, but no one else seemed to take notice of it, which led me to believe I was probably letting my imagination get the better of me. I wouldn't let myself believe that she was trying to seduce me.

The whole thing finally came to a head one afternoon when everyone else was out, either at school or on some errand or another. I was in the living room, sitting down with my feet propped up and reviewing some notes on the screen there while having a small drink. I had come from the study to make the drink and stayed.

Donna must have heard me stirring. She came out of her room dressed in almost nothing and sat down beside me, closer than was really necessary.

"Hi, Donna," I said. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, I wasn't sleeping." She scrunched closer and put a hand on my thigh. "Actually, I was thinking about you."

"Me?" I wouldn't look at her.

"Yes, you, Lee. Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not," I said, a pure lie.

"Yes you are. You won't even look at me." I forced myself to turn and face her. Her eyes were moist. As I watched, a tear broke loose and trickled down her cheek.

"Donna, what is it?" I wondered if Seyla had left her or something.

She hesitated, like a kid not quite sure he wants to go off the high diving board, then took the plunge.

"Rita told you I got an implant, didn't she?"

So that was it. She was just scared and I had been misinterpreting things. "Yes, she did. Look, Donna, if that's what you want to do, you don't need my approval. It's Seyla you need to talk to."

"But I do need your approval. Don't you understand? I don't want just any man. It's you I want to try it with."

"Oh, chips in hell," I said.

"Please, Lee. Don't you see? This is a big step for me. I'm scared. Won't you help me?"

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I looked away again, trying to think of a way out of the situation. While my eyes were turned, she put her arms around me. I turned around directly into her waiting lips. For what seemed like an eternity, she kissed me while images of the old Don and the new Donna raced through my mind. I felt the beginning of an erection and drew back sharply. "No, damn it. Donna, you're my friend, not my lover!"

"Am I your friend?" she asked, her voice sounding as forlorn as a funeral dirge. Another tear escaped.

"Yes," I said, but I walked away, leaving her sitting there crying. As soon as I was out of sight, I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, telling myself I had done the right thing. I had a hard time making myself believe it.

Chapter Nine

Donna treated me so nice after the attempted seduction, I felt like a dog that had bitten its master. She didn't mention the subject again and I certainly didn't. I guess I expected her to drop the idea of trying sex with me and find another man but I saw no signs of it. She could take all her classes at home, so there was no need for her to go to the campus. Mostly, she stayed inside and studied. The main difference I noticed in her attitude was that she didn't laugh or smile as much as she had before. I knew that was my fault I but didn't know what to do about it, so I tried to just let it go, hoping she would cheer up. The one thing she wanted, I wasn't prepared to give.

This situation went on for several days. I didn't think anyone else knew what was causing Donna to be so gloomy until Rita broached the subject.

We were sitting out on the front porch after breakfast, enjoying our coffee and early morning sunshine and smoking cigarettes. I like being outside so long as I'm around my own digs, but in southern Texas in the summertime, you have to get your porch sitting done early. The heat and humidity will run you inside by midmorning.

I finished my cup and picked up the carafe to fill it again. "More?" I said to Rita.

"No thanks. Lee, I want to talk to you."

Uh oh. I could tell she was upset with me by the tone of her voice. In fact, now that I thought about it, she had been exasperated for several days.

"What about?" I said, already beginning to suspect.

"You know what about. I just can't believe you treated Donna so horribly."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You hurt her feelings. Badly. If I were her, I wouldn't even be speaking to you."

"Are you talking about the way she was coming on to me last week?"

"No, I'm talking specifically about four days ago when she asked you to make love to her and you refused. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"Do you and her talk about every damn thing that happens around here?" I said, trying to get the conversation going in another direction.

"Of course we do, with anything that matters. Didn't you and Donna used to gab about everything before the gates?"

I hadn't thought about it like that, but she was right. Before Donna changed, we had discussed almost everything that could possibly interest each other, including Rita, Seyla and whichever girl Russell was seeing at the moment.

"Well, yes, now that you mention it, but it's different now."

"It sure is. Donna has a broken heart and Seyla is about ready to conk you on the head."

"Oh, come on now," I said. "Seyla's not mad at me. She's just depressed about something that will blow over in a day or two. You know how she gets sometimes."

"Well, she's not going to get over her depression this time. Not until you make up with Donna."

"Make up with her? We haven't even had a fight."

"You hurt her. Why are you so impossibly stubborn sometimes? And so dense, I might add."

"Dense in what way?" We seemed to be going in circles. I couldn't understand what she was talking about.

"Can't you tell how Donna feels about you? Couldn't you at least have tried? Even if you don't feel the same way she does, you could have done that much for her."

"Rita, please, let's drop the subject. Don was the best friend I've ever had. We practically lived together from our sophomore year in high school on. I'd like to keep it like that."

"You sure pick strange ways of going about it."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just wouldn't feel right having sex with her. It would be like…like…"

"Like going to bed with a man, right?"

"Sort of, I guess."

"And yet you don't see a thing wrong with women making love to each other, do you?"

"I can't help the way I was brought up," I said. You didn't often run across openly gay men in the military, or in Ruston.

"Don't blame it on your upbringing. You didn't have any trouble with that hennaed redheaded evangelist, did you? She only spent about a hundred years as a man," Rita said. She was about as angry as I had ever seen her, and she nailed me good, right between the horns.

"I'm sorry about that," I told her.

"You don't have to be sorry. Any male who could resist that flametop isn't taking his hormones regularly. I just mentioned it to show you how much of an idiot you're making of yourself."

"Donna will get over it." I said the first thing that popped into my mind. Me and my big mouth.

"Yes, she will, eventually. You're just not going to be very popular around here for a while." She stood up, and turned to go back inside.

"Wait," I said. "Listen, I'll talk to Donna and explain."

"Explain what? That you have bricks in your head?"

"About how I feel. About how she feels."

"Lee, you evidently haven't got a clue about how she feels."

"Yes I do," I argued. "I've known her longer than you have."

Rita closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She stood like that a moment, then opened her eyes and stared at me like a professor would at a student who failed to grasp a problem after a dozen explanations. "You know her that well, do you? Then I guess you must know that she's fallen in love with you." She turned on her heel and left me sitting out in the sun with an ache in my chest that wouldn't go away.

***

I guess Rita really did love me. When I finally did go into the house, she acted as if nothing had happened between us. I went into the study and got on line with my agent. I had never met her in person but the big screen in the study made it seem as if we were in the same room together. Mary Wright doesn't look as if she could convince an editor to even talk to her, much less buy anything. She is a small, dumpy woman in her mid-forties and dresses as if she were just one step up from joining the fourth worlders. She had gotten a good price for the Messilinda program, though, much more than I had expected.

"You've made a name for yourself, Lee. Now we need to exploit your reputation while you're hot," she said.

"I was just lucky," I told her.

"Never mind that. Now you're marketable. What else do you have on tap?"

"Nothing much," I had to admit. The professionals were covering the gate news much better than I could. I was only a fair amateur.

"Let me give you a project then. The webs and zines have been saturated with the sex change aspects of the gates. What they're looking for now is the scientific aspect, preferably from a personal angle. You already have a few science credits to your name, so it should be an easy sell. Do you know any scientists?"

Did I know any scientists? I had one living in my house. Russell would be glad to help, I thought. "Sure do. Let me check and get back to you. Okay?"

"Great. See you later." She was already taking another call as she cut the connection.

I decided to go see Russell right then. I hesitated for a moment as I came out of the study. Rita and Donna were sitting down with their heads together. They looked up as I came into the room. I tried to act nonchalant.

"I'm going to run over to the campus and talk to Russell for a while," I said.

"Tell him to come home occasionally, will you?" Donna said.

"Sure. I will." I gave Rita a quick kiss and without thinking much about it, pecked Donna on the cheek. A smile brightened her face, but it embarrassed me. I hoped she wasn't reading anything into it that wasn't there.

Seyla hadn't been around the house much the last couple days. I hadn't wondered about it, thinking she was just busy with school. She was having to back up and take a couple of prerequisite courses in order to qualify for the masters program in genetics. I found out what she was really up to when I walked into Russell's lab unexpectedly; I hadn't called to tell him I was coming.

He was busy, but not with lab work. He and Seyla were standing together in front of a screen with their backs to me, watching the results of what appeared to be some experiment play out. There were lots of graphs, lines and symbols flashing on the screen. They kept changing and forming new patterns, none of which made any sense to me.

Russell had an arm around Seyla's tiny waist. While I watched, he leaned down and whispered something into her ear. Seyla turned her face up and they kissed briefly but enthusiastically.

Well, Rita had told me that Seyla was missing sex with a man, but I hadn't imagined she would turn to Russell, nor him to her. They had always acted much like brother and sister around the house. I couldn't find any objection, of course; it just surprised me, that's all. I found myself wondering if Donna knew. Probably. Seyla was as honest as a Jesuit monk.

Somehow, Russell sensed my presence. He turned around, still holding Seyla by the waist. "Hi, Lee. What brings you around?" he asked.

"Something you may be able to help me with," I said. "I can come back later if you're busy."

"No problem. I can go over these results later, not that it will make me any wiser."

Seyla checked her thumb watch. "And I have to get to class. 'Bye, Russ, 'bye, Lee." She picked up her handbag and undulated out.

"When did this get going?" I asked, nodding toward the door Seyla was leaving through.

"Oh, here a few days ago," he said nonchalantly, as if it were hardly worth mentioning.

"Well, you couldn't do any better."

Russell grinned. "How would you know?"

"Just speculating," I said.

"Well, as it turns out, you're right. I can't understand why we didn't consider the idea sooner after Don went through his change."

"Me either," I agreed. "Why don't we go to your office? Is it free?"

"It is until the night shift comes on," he said. He had to share the little office with another doctoral candidate.

"What's your problem?" Russell asked as soon as he had cleared a stack of books and copy paper filled with equations from the other chair.

"No problem; my agent said I should talk to a scientist, that's all."

"What about?"

"Oh, how the brains are going about exploring the gates, what problems you're having and what you're planning on next; just about anything you've found out that hasn't already been reported a million times."

Russell laughed. "You've come to the wrong department. Philosophy is the next hall over."

"Not interested. They have as many opinions as economists do, and just as contradictory."

"Physicists are fast joining their ranks. Actually, it's Seyla you should be talking to. The genetics department just came up with a prize. She was telling me about it right before you arrived."

"So tell me, too," I said.

Russell gazed at the ceiling. "A brand new projection. Average life span of sex-changed individuals should amount to a good deal more than a hundred years. And nothing but old age to slow them down."

That was about fifteen more years than the actuaries were giving us at the time, and the last decade or two was likely to be spotted with ailments of various sorts. "Nice," I said. "That's likely to induce a few extra doubters to take the plunge."

"More than a few, I should think. I'm going to have to get a new adviser. Doctor Holt went through yesterday and took off for Mexico this morning to start enjoying all that money he's saved up."

I hadn't told Russell I was recording. I wanted him to act natural. I would let him know before using any footage, of course. "That's great. Tell me more."

He spread his hands, palms up. "We still don't know a damn thing. All we can do is act like that character in the rabbit hole: believe several impossible things before breakfast."

"Such as?" I prodded.

"How about little green men from Mars? At least the color matches. Lee, when you have a phenomena you can't measure, all you can do is speculate. One theory is as likely to be right as the next one. Or as wrong."

"What's your opinion?" I was forgetting this was for potential publication. Talking to Russell was always fun.

"My opinion? Well, I don't think God has anything to do with the gates, for what that's worth. I'd rather believe in the Martians."

"Seriously?"

"No, of course not."

I grinned. "Actually, there was both a book and a movie which came out way back in the last century about little green men from mars invading earth called Martians Go Home. Those aliens were obnoxious little gremlins and they couldn't be measured, either."

"Really? What was the final explanation?"

I grinned some more. "There wasn't any. One day, they just went back where they came from."

"Maybe the gates will too. Seriously, Lee, most scientists don't like to go out on a limb without some data."

"How do you expect to get any?" I asked.

"Easy. I'll use the tabwebs for evidence." We both laughed. The tabs have been alien crazy for the last fifty years, at least, without a hint of facts to back them up.

We talked a while longer, relating stories we had each heard about the gates; me more so than him. He hadn't watched nearly as much of the news as I had.

I told him about the fundamentalist Muslim country in the Mideast which had begun executing any woman caught going through a gate. Men going through were just gang-raped as they came out, then assigned to a harem. At that, I guess it would beat the executioner's sword, but not by much.

Russell told me none of the astronomical or weather satellites had recorded so much as a blip at the time the gates appeared. If they came from outer space, it was by some means other than distortion of space or the electromagnetic spectrum.

He asked me to tell him more about Messilinda and I did. He rolled his eyes appreciatively. "Some guys have all the luck. For the life of me, though, I can't see anything special about you that would cause her to drop her panties the first time you met."

"Actually, she wasn't wearing any," I said. "Did you hear about President Forbes asking Congress to fund a new program to produce what he called an 'Operational Spacecraft'?"

"About time," Russell grumbled. I agreed with his sentiments. As a kid, I had wanted to be an astronaut, but the financial crisis a few years ago had just about killed manned space travel, for the second or third time.

"Indonesia is threatening to invade the Philippines."

"I heard about that. Muslims versus Catholics. Nothing new there. What I'm worried about is all the religious mania right here at home."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Bible Belt mentality never dies. If we just knew anything about what happens to people who don't come out of the gates, we could-"

Russell snapped his fingers. "Hey! Here's a story I'll bet you haven't heard. There was this doctor from the Temple Medical Center, a man to begin with. He had gone through a gate once, and was a woman. Then she got mugged one night. The 'worlders poured acid over her face just for fun. Blinded her. She was so depressed, she walked into a gate again."

"What happened?"

"She came out the other side, perfectly normal, except that she had changed gender again and was a man, just like he started out as."

Now that was really news. People had stopped trying a second passage because no one ever returned from the attempt. "Has it been verified?" I asked, my voice rising with excitement.

"Yup. Matter of fact, I went to school with one of his kids. I called him and he told me it's the straight truth."

"Give me his name," I said. "And his address, if you know it."

"His name is Walter Renfrow, but it won't do you any good. He's claiming he doesn't know a thing other than he's back and can see again. But..."

"But what?"

"But some of his friends think he's holding back. I'd like to know myself. Here, just don't let on where you got this from." He pulled up the name and address from his comphone and transferred it to mine.

After that, I was in a hurry to leave. All I paused for was to tell him Donna and Rita wanted to see him a little more often. He said he and Seyla were going out that night but they would be in sometime. I almost ran home, intending to pack a bag and head for Temple the same day.

No one was around that I could see. I wanted to ask Rita to go with me, but if she wasn't handy, I would just have to leave her a note. I intended to get up there and see that doctor before word got out. The first person to make two trips through a gate!

I headed for my room, which was on the other side of the one Donna and Seyla occupied. Unaccountably, my stride shortened. I halted at their door, which was standing half open. Something impelled me to peek inside.

Donna was laying on top of the sheets with her head propped up on a couple of pillows, watching a women's fashion program. She was wearing one of the new nightgowns Seyla had picked out for her. It covered her, barely, but left little to the imagination.

I don't know how long I stood there before she looked away from the screen and saw me. It seemed like an eternity and I couldn't understand why I stayed frozen there instead of backing out and leaving.

"Why hello, Lee. Come on in," Donna said.

I walked slowly over to the bed. The closer I got, the more disoriented I became, as if I were breathing in pure oxygen. My eyes took in her figure and her liquid brown eyes that watched my approach with suppressed anticipation.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. She reached out and took my hand. Her touch was like an electric shock, sending tingles up my arm.

"Donna, I-you-you're lovely. You're as lovely a sight as I've ever seen." An eager surprised expression crossed her face. She tugged at my hand. I kicked off my shoes and lay down beside her. My mind was buzzing with desire. I couldn't take my eyes away from her.

"Lee, are you sure?" she asked.

"Oh, yes!" I said. I reached out to touch her and suddenly, her body was pressed against mine. Our lips met and it seemed as if I were tasting the nectar of the gods. I searched for her breasts and found them, firmly pliant beneath their flimsy covering. Her nipples came erect against the palm of my hand, sending waves of desire coursing through my body. She was the most desirable woman on earth and I felt as if nothing in the universe could prevent me from possessing her.

She sat up and pulled the nightgown over her head, baring her body to the feel and taste of my hands and lips. I felt my erection surge and become cramped inside my pants. I stripped them off and was free, hard and erect, pulsing with exquisite expectation. She held my head and brought my lips down to her breasts and moaned softly as I took each in turn into my mouth, exulting in the feel of my tongue twirling around the hard little buttons of her nipples. My mind had no thought of resistance; it was controlled by my body, as if my total essence were concentrated in my groin.

Donna reached down and took me in her hand and I was lost in a whirlpool of exquisite sensation. From a far distance, I suddenly realized she must have taken a pheromone, one of the very few proscribed drugs, but it made no difference at all. She was my world, my utmost fantasy, the girl of a hundred adolescent dreams. She pulled me over her, thighs spread and ready, and guided me inside her. My last coherent thought was that using a pheromone on me was cheating-and I was the most grateful man in the universe that she had.

Chapter Ten

The coupling with Donna lasted hours, I'm not sure how many. I ravished her. I couldn't get enough of her. And I told her I loved her, again and again, even while I knew it was the pheromone talking. She cried. She cried out at the pleasure she was giving and receiving. She told me she loved me and I believed her in the deepest depths of my soul. It was impossible not to believe her.

Everyone knows about the pheromone drugs. They had been declared illegal almost as soon as they were discovered, but that didn't stop them from being used, especially by the affluent. They were difficult to manufacture and horribly expensive. I guess every kid has fantasized about using a pheromone on a girl or guy but that's all it usually amounted to: fantasy. I had certainly never expected to be under the influence of a woman who had ingested a dose, and most especially would never have dreamed that Donna, my old friend, would stoop so low.

I gradually came to my senses sometime in the early hours of the morning. Donna was curled up on her side, sleeping like a zombie. One of the few side effects is a deep unconsciousness lasting several hours after the drug wears off. I knew there was no chance of waking her up. I eased out of her bed, gathered my discarded clothes and shoes and crept back to my own bedroom while trying to sort out my thoughts through the film of exhausted satiation. I still couldn't imagine Donna using a pheromone to seduce me. In the first place, possession is good for some jail time and a stiff fine. In the second, I couldn't figure out where on earth she had gotten her hands on the stuff. North Houston is one of the most drug-free environs in the country. The few illegal mood changers were almost never seen here. In the final analysis, I didn't know whether to be sorry or glad she had used it on me. I hated the idea of such mendacity on her part, yet I knew the drug wouldn't have worked nearly so effectively had I not desired her in the first place. That's one of the other side effects. It will work, regardless, but the effect is greatly heightened if an attraction is there to begin with, which evidently it had been, gauging by my almost hysterical reaction.

I had no doubts now that Donna and I would become regular lovers. My prior reservations had been set aside like leftover meatloaf, never to be served again. How could I have been so stupid for so long? Just the thought now of being able to hug or kiss Donna, or tumble on the floor with her for that matter, without having to worry about her female embodiment was like having a final exam you aren't prepared for cancelled at the last moment. It gave me a great sense of relief and anticipation, like a child on the first day of summer. My chief concern now was Rita. How would this affect our relationship? Sure, she had urged me toward Donna, but did she really know how deeply I would care for her after the fact?

I tried to sneak into bed without waking Rita up, but she opened her eyes as soon as I touched the covers. She probably hadn't been able to sleep anyway with as much noise as Donna and I had made in the throes of ecstatic coupling.

"I was beginning to wonder," she said as I slid in beside her.

"Wonder what?" I asked.

She giggled. "Whether you were ever going to stop."

Even as enervated as I was, I found I wanted to talk. "You don't sound worried," I said.

"Why should I be? I told you that's what you should have done to begin with."

"Well, I have to admit you were right." I felt a welling up of compassion and love for Rita, along with a bit of apprehension. Would I have been so generous? Had she induced Donna and I to come together because she wanted some distance between us? I hesitated, but had to ask. "Do you still love me?"

She threw an arm over my chest. "More than ever, you dope. I don't ever want to be separated from you. Or Donna either."

I felt a vast sense of relief, not snapping to the inclusion of Donna in her affirmation. I sighed. "I'm glad. I feel the same way. There's something bothering me, though."

"And what might that be, Mr. Stud?"

I had to tell her. "Donna seduced me with a pheromone. I'm sure of it," I said.

"No she didn't. I slipped it into her caddy before I left. I knew she would have a nightcap before going to sleep."

I set bolt upright, forgetting all about my tired body. "You did! Why? Why?"

She shrugged as if she had done nothing worse than give Donna a back rub before leaving. "I got tired of waiting on you to come to your senses. Are you sorry, or what?"

Somehow, the fact Rita had done the deed didn't seem nearly as upsetting as thinking Donna had. I sighed again, relieved. "No, I guess not, but I wish you hadn't taken the chance. What if you had gotten caught with it?"

"Why I would have just swallowed it down, seduced the cop and made my getaway. Don't you know women will do all sorts of crazy things when they're in love?"

"I didn't, but I think I'm learning." I dropped the subject since I couldn't possibly pretend I was displeased with the outcome. "Would you like to go to Temple with me in the morning?" That was the first time I had thought of Russell's revelation since stopping by Donna's open door.

"Sure, why not? What's going on there?"

"I'll tell you in the morning," I said. "Let's get some sleep or I'll never be able to drive."

I dozed off almost immediately. My dreams were beautiful.

***

Donna was still asleep when we left the next morning and we didn't try to wake her up, knowing the aftereffects of the pheromone would probably keep her in bed until noon. Russell and Seyla weren't there, either. They must have made a night of it. I wondered if either of them had been in on Rita's scam, but decided it would serve no useful purpose to ask. I was satisfied with the results, regardless of who had been involved. I found myself wanting to get the business taken care of as soon as possible so I could get back and see Donna.

I splurged on two complete natural breakfasts for us at McDonald's, then we got on the road. Temple is way up in Northeast Texas, a couple hours on the NAFTA, then another half hour or so on a state highway. On the way, I told Rita about the doctor who had managed what had heretofore been considered impossible, a second successful passage through a gate. She was as eager as I was to talk to him, though neither of us had figured out yet how to go about seeing him.

"I should have bought two doses of pheromone," Rita joked. "That way, I could slip it in his coffee or something and get the information out of him in bed."

"We don't know he has any, yet," I reminded her.

"Just a minor detail. He's the only person we know of so far who has managed two passages. Just examining his body or talking to him ought to tell us something."

"Okay, let's make that our strategy. All we want is a little time with him. We'll even offer him payment, if that's what he wants."

"You'll have to do the offering. I spent all my money on Donna yesterday."

I grinned. "Fine. I'll offer money; you offer him your tender young body."

"Don't joke. If it comes to that, I might." I couldn't decide whether she was kidding or not.

As it turned out, it made no difference. We were too late by hours. I managed a few words with his son by mentioning we had a mutual friend (without ever giving him a name). He was too distraught to ask. During the night, a squad of federal security agents had arrived and whisked his father away, citing some obscure code relating to national security. Their lawyer had been unable to find out where he was being held.

I recorded our brief conversation, added the necessary background information, and forwarded the packet to Mary while we made the drive back.

It hadn't been a complete waste of time. I knew Mary would find me an editor who would pay top dollar for the skit, and the drive itself was pleasant. The East Texas piney woods are still relatively unspoiled; in fact, since composite materials had become so universally used in construction, much of the old logged over timber was making a comeback.

I was feeling mellow and pleasantly satisfied, so much so I decided to call Dad and Mom and see how they were doing and if they were agreeable to us stopping on the way back.

I didn't recognize his voice when he answered the phone, of course. He had to tell me twice it was really him before I got it into my feeble mind that now, he was not only young again, but female besides. He-she-laughed about it and told us to come on by.

The folks looked sort of like a couple of my cousins. They still retained a semblance of familiarity as I remembered from old photos of when they were young, but it was like a distorted mirror image, with each of them looking as they would have had they been born the opposite gender.

Dad talked enthusiastically about the change as he-no, she, damn it-puttered around the kitchen, making coffee and setting out snacks (I had to keep actively sorting out who was whom-Dad had always left the kitchen chores to Mom. Maybe he was practicing tasks women still usually did, right or wrong).

"Son, you and Rita can't possibly imagine how good I feel now. You'll have to grow old and feeble yourselves before you understand how old age drains the sap from your body."

"You always told me experience compensated for age," I said.

"It does, but retaining all that knowledge and experience in a young body is sort of like how I felt when I switched from a typewriter to a computer. It's wonderful!" She danced a little jig by the kitchen stove. "I feel like I could fight a cage full of tigers!"

"How about you, Mrs., uh, Mr. Stuart?" Rita asked, stumbling over the correct gender.

He smiled at her.and rubbed her face. "I guess I am the mister now, aren't I? But please don't call us Mr. and Mrs. Stuart. I've told you that before and it sounds even sillier now when we're younger than you are. Anyway, physically, it's like Edie says, but I'm still having trouble adjusting to this body."

"Edie? Are you changing your names, too?"

Dad shrugged her youthful shoulders, then grinned. "Take a good look at me and see how you would like being called Ed."

I did. He resembled nothing so much as a young girl just ready to graduate from high school. I looked at Mom, a solid young man dressed in new jeans and long-sleeved work shirt with rolled up sleeves, just the way Dad used to dress. "Are you taking a new name too, Mom?"

"Yes. I guess we were lucky already having names that were easy to change. You can call me Bert now instead of Bertha or Mom." He smiled gently at me, as if knowing how disoriented I must be. I wondered how Grandpa would have felt about all this had he still been around.

Edie poured coffee and set out a plate of old-fashioned molasses cookies. (I began calling the folks by their new names during that visit and gradually grew comfortable with the idea; they no longer seemed like my parents, but rather like a brother and sister who were very close to me).

"What are your plans now?" I asked. Of course Dad's military retirement checks would stop after six months, but that still might leave them short before too long. Grandpa had left them a lot of money but not enough to support them through another whole life, especially with the way the markets were reacting to the changes wrought by the sex gates.

"We're thinking of going back into the military if they ever decide to accept sex-changed persons."

That made some sense. The military had been Dad's whole life until he retired, and being female would present no hindrance. He had worked in weapons testing at first and later, as he rose in rank, procurement.

"Sounds like a good idea," I said. "Will you sell the house?" I hoped not. Every time I came back to visit, it was like leaving the twenty-first century and traveling back in time to a gentler, more reasonable society.

Edie rubbed her chin as if feeling for whiskers. "I hope we don't ever have to. In fact, we've been talking about asking you and Rita to move back here after you've finished with school, whether we go anywhere or not. Let me show you something." She got up from the table and brought a magazine back from her study. I recognized it at once: National Geographic, the one national magazine which never seemed to falter, regardless of how media reporting changed. I had grown up with it, and part of my interest in general science derived from it.

She thumbed through the pages until she found the article she was looking for, then handed it to me. Rita bent her head to study it with me. It was another piece about global warming. I read through it quickly, noting how the author emphasized the prominence of the scientists he quoted. There were maps, projecting the prospective new coast lines of the world at various times in the future, including America, and her personalized issue showed a localized section of the gulf coast.

The map displayed the Gulf of Mexico grown larger, with fingers extending well into Old Houston, and even took in bits of North Houston, like amoebic pseudopods searching out new territory. The date at the top of the map was not that many years in the future.

"The sex gates have sort of obscured this kind of reporting," Edie said, "but that doesn't mean the problem is going away. You kids-" she smiled when she said that, looking over at her young partner-"might be much safer here than North Houston before too much longer."

I could just imagine. Where would all the fourth worlders of Old Houston go when the waters covered their part of the city? How would they feed themselves or earn a living? The city was already at the boiling point with unrest caused by high unemployment and diminution of government handouts.

Rita looked very thoughtful. I don't know if I did or not, but I was. "We'll certainly consider it," I said. "If we do, there might be more than just, um, Rita and I."

"No problem. I'm planning on renovating and enlarging the place anyway, while money is still worth something."

"Do you think there's going to be another financial crisis?" Rita said.

Edie rubbed her chin again. "I don't see how we can avoid it. The sex gates have the whole world in an uproar, despite all the good they do." Dad had always been very smart with money; I saw no reason to disbelieve him.

We visited a while longer, then got back on the road. "Funny," I remarked after we turned onto the NAFTA highway and headed south. "That was like meeting old friends you haven't seen for a while. It's going to take me some time to get used to them as they are now."

"Just remember that you're not alone," Rita said. "People all over the world are going through the same adjustments. It's probably just as strange to them as it is to you."

Mary certainly worked fast. As we left Ruston, my program came up on the webs, almost all of them. Rita hugged me as if I had just won the Pulitzer Prize. She was a little premature with her congratulations. The program was abruptly cancelled and replaced with other reports, and the secret service was waiting on us when we pulled into the driveway.

***

Neither Rita nor I had ever been arrested, so it was a new experience for both of us, even though the agents didn't call it an arrest. Their spokesman said it was "protective custody". They hustled us into a government electrovan while Russell, Seyla and Donna watched from the front porch. There wasn't even any time to speak to them.

"I want a lawyer," I said to the chief agent, who had introduced himself as Whitney Hortz. He was seated in the captain's chair right in front of us. I twisted my wrists against the unpleasantly tight plastic bonds.

"Mr. Stuart, let me inform you of something: under National Security Directive 3011-4A, signed into law this morning by President Forbes, you are not entitled to legal representation. We are allowed to hold you sixty days before taking you to court and another sixty with a judge's concurrence."

"That's not fair!" Rita cried.

Perhaps not, but I decided not to argue. Besides all the laws passed after the constitutional amendment to the bill of rights (which was supposed to make fighting terrorism easier, but didn't), so many other laws were being passed and signed by the President concerning the sex gates in one fashion or another that a body couldn't keep up with them all. And that doesn't even count the old Homeland Security laws still on the books, which were being used in ever more tortured interpretations. Governments pass restrictive laws in direct proportion to the probability of threats to their power and possibility of being thrown out of office. And I already was sure of the reason we had been arrested: Doctor Walter Renfrow, the first person known to have passed successfully through a gate twice.

I used both my bound hands to touch Rita for reassurance. "Don't worry, hon. We haven't done anything wrong."

"That remains to be seen," Hortz said. He wasn't smiling. No one said anything else.

The drive didn't take long; just to the new federal building near the center of North Houston. We were separated almost immediately. I protested and was told to shut up.

I was placed in a small holding room and left alone for an hour or so. There was nothing else in the room except a hard, wooden bench. I sat for a while, then got up and paced, gnawing nervously at the plastic cuffs still holding my wrists together while I wondered and worried about what they were doing to Rita.

An ordinary looking young man in a white coat finally came for me, accompanied by two huskies dressed in business suits. I was led into another slightly larger room and strapped into an upright chair which looked as if it might have been used by a Spanish Inquisitor sometime in the past. Fortunately, there are less painful methods of eliciting information nowadays. The man in the white coat attached wires and leads to various portions of my anatomy with clips and tape. He started an I.V. in my right arm, adjusted the drip, then injected a syringe full of something into the drug port. "Veronal Plus," he said, the last thing I clearly remember.

I have a vague impression of questions being asked but can remember very little of what I said. An indeterminable time later, I became aware that my thoughts were becoming clear. I focused my eyes on a figure standing in front of me.

Hortz stared at me like a bug under a microscope. Government agents weren't very polite back in those days, not after all the constitutional amendments had been ratified that favor law enforcement officials-not that security people ever paid that much attention to the constitution in the first place.

"Mr. Stuart, It is my determination that you and Miss Hernandez present no threat to the country at the present time. Let me be very frank, though. There will be no more information distributed by you to the webs concerning Doctor Renfrow; not now, nor in the future. In fact, you are instructed under the provisions of Security Directive 3017-7B to cease all investigation of persons now or in the future who may successfully pass through a gate for the second time. Is that clear?"

"But why? What in the Big Chip's name would it hurt to write about it?"

"Is that clear?" he repeated, ignoring my question.

"Yes," I said, about the only possible response under the circumstances. Besides, I knew the information couldn't be suppressed long, not once it was on the web.

"See that you remember." He turned and left without another word. Someone had already unstrapped my arms and taken off the instrument leads. I got unsteadily to my feet, still feeling the effects of the truth serum I had been injected with. Another agent opened the door.

"Come with me," he said. I followed docilely. He walked with me back by the route we had followed on the way in and wound up at the entrance to the federal building. Rita was waiting for me there, half-supported by a female agent. Her eyes were as glassy as new marbles.

"Lee!" She came into my arms and began crying. I patted her back and kneaded her shoulders.

"If you feel stable enough, you're free to go," the female agent said. She didn't have to tell me twice. There was nothing I wanted more in the world right then than to get away from that place and back home to my family.

I think it was that point where I began thinking of my friends and lovers as family. Just the thought of seeing them and getting Rita safely back home made me feel like a combat soldier suddenly being told his suicide mission had been cancelled.

It took a few minutes to catch a cruising taxi. I held Rita in my arms and let her cry herself out as the driver followed my instructions back to the house. On the way, we passed a gate sitting like a lonely artifact on the turf of Central Park, sparkling in the westering sunlight. There were only a couple people approaching it as if they intended to enter. Nearby, a delegation of several young men and women in conservative white dress smiled and encouraged them. They wore bright red circular emblems on their chests with a neat CG in white letters centered inside the circles, the icon of Messilinda's Church of the Gates. Her religion was really catching fire.

Homecoming was like the first day of semester break after you've been assured you passed all the final exams. We partied, all five of us, late into the night. When Rita and I finally called it quits, we each took a Nohang pill and staggered unsteadily into our bedroom. Donna followed us inside as if she belonged there.

Chapter Eleven

Alcohol increases desire and lowers efficiency, as the old adage goes, but there weren't any Nohang pills back when it was first quoted. It took the pills a few minutes to begin working, leaving the residual desire intact, but bringing back the ability.

I'm afraid I acted like a kid with a brand new baseball mitt he can't wait to try and Rita, like a girl who has been given a new doll for Christmas. Donna happily accommodated us both, separately and together. How long had Rita had the hots for Donna? Or had our session together just provoked her desire? Or did the fact Donna had once been a male incite the desire? I made a mental note to ask Rita the first chance I got, then immediately forgot about it.

During one interval, I watched in fascination as Rita eagerly accepted Donna's ministrations, then returned them in kind. The one incident I knew of where Rita had been to bed with a woman was the one I mentioned earlier and she had never expressed a desire to repeat it, though admitting to liking the experience. Now, she couldn't seem to get enough. She especially seemed to enjoy every chance she had to get her hands and mouth on Donna's breasts, fondling and kissing them and taking the nipples into her mouth like a hungry baby.

In case you're thinking I was left to my own devices most of the time, that wasn't true. Like any man, I had to pause and recover from time to time while they had no such problem. Donna still hadn't gotten rid of a lot of her male mannerisms, even in bed. She tended to be more aggressive than most women I had been with (not that many, I hate to admit), and tended to assume the dominant role more often than not, both with Rita and myself. I can't say I minded. Given my mediocre looks, I've never been big on the male macho thing. Even so, what male wouldn't enjoy an extremely attractive woman practically raping him? I submitted to whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and Rita usually joined in. Rita had never been one of those submissive little southern belles who always waited on the man to make the first move (an obsolescent character trait anyway), but I think even she was learning things.

When both of them attacked me at once, it made me think there really might be a God; with Rita moving her lips slowly and sensually down over my penis and Donna laying on my chest with one of her breasts tucked in my mouth and the other in my hand, I could almost believe I had died and gone to heaven. When I finally fell into a thoroughly satiated sleep, they were still going at it.

***

We had all been so glad to see each other the night before, we hadn't discussed much about our arrest, other than the mechanics of it. Around the breakfast table the next morning, Russell tried to help me remember some of the questions I had been asked. All I could recall was vague voices coming to me from what seemed like a great distance.

"There's something peculiar going on," he said, as if we hadn't already been given ample demonstration of the fact.

"Yeah. They're treating Doctor Renfrow as if he had changed into one of your little green Martians while he was in the gate," I said.

"What little green men?" Rita and Seyla asked at the same time.

"Science fiction reference," Donna said. I had let her borrow the book from Grandpa's library after I read it, back before the gates happened.

The two other women exchanged a look as if a jock had tried unsuccessfully to explain an arcane sports rule to them.

Russell's brow creased in a frown. "You know, maybe that's what they do think."

"That he turned green? Come on, Russ, be serious," I said.

"Not green, but I am being serious. I'll bet there's something about him that has the government upset. Maybe they believe he turned into an alien after that second trip through the gate."

"He looked normal, according to his son," I reminded him.

"A spayed cat looks normal on the outside, too, but that doesn't mean it is."

I shrugged. "Whatever, I've been told to leave it alone. That's enough for me; I don't want to ever go to jail again. One experience was enough to last me a lifetime."

"They won't be able to keep it secret," Russell declared. "Scientists talk. I'll find out what it's all about before the week is out."

I had to agree with him there. The government may be able to cancel web or network programs they disagree with, but web communications between individuals are impossible to control, let alone censor.

***

Russell was on campus the next several days. Seyla was with him part of the time; either that, or attending her classes. It gave Rita, Donna and I a lot of time to explore our three-way relationship. I asked Rita once what it was about Donna which had induced her into the sexual relationship.

"Don't tell me you're against it," she said, smiling at me.

"Not at all. Just curious." I was, too.

"Well, I probably can't satisfy your curiosity, but let's put it like this: I always cared about Don, partly because I loved you so much and he was your friend, but mostly because he was such a nice person in his own right. Then, when Donna changed her sex and fell in love with you, I naturally got even closer to her."

"Why closer?"

"I told you once, women in love will do crazy things. Two women in love with the same man, who happen to be close friends, are more likely to become even friendlier rather than fight over him like men would do in the reverse situation. Besides, it's not all that unusual a thing nowadays."

Well, I knew that. Once the threat of venereal diseases lessened so much, a hedonism not seen since the halcyon days of the flower children of the last century had come into being. Three-way relationships engaged in openly weren't that uncommon, and were perfectly legal, though still fairly rare.

"I just never suspected you were inclined that way," I said.

"Oh, chips. I'm not 'that way', as you put it. I just love Donna, that's all."

"Doesn't that amount to the same thing?" I asked her. It seemed to me it did.

"No. I'm talking about one woman, not women in general. Besides, women have been loving each other since we came down out of the trees. It's just that recently, our culture reached a level where it can be expressed more or less openly, and not necessarily in a physical sense. Why do men always have to think of women in terms of sex?"

"Because you're sexy, I guess," I said.

Rita bowed her head with laugher. "Lee, you're so typically male, I should write a paper on you." She put an arm around my neck to let me know there was no approbation to the statement. Thinking how lucky I was, I touched her lips.

My curiosity wasn't quite satisfied, though. Thinking quickly over what she had said, I asked, "What about Seyla? Are you going to fall in love with her, too?"

"Now what brought that up?"

"Well, you know Donna slept with Seyla night before last when Russell was gone," I said. Russell and Seyla's relationship had quickly developed into openly displayed affection around the house. They slept together when he was there. Yet Donna had gone to her own bed last night. Did Russell know? Were Seyla and Donna still in love as they had been when Donna was male? I couldn't figure out all the nuances of the various relationships, especially the way they had changed so rapidly lately. It wasn't that I minded; I just didn't want to see either Russell or Seyla get hurt, not to mention, Donna or Rita.

Rita mussed my hair and smiled enigmatically. "Don't worry about it. One of these days when you're old and gray and decide to go through a gate, you'll discover more about women than you ever thought possible."

I left it at that. I didn't tell her that I wasn't planning on going through a gate when I got old. I liked being male too much, especially right now.

***

It worked out just as Russell said it would. One evening, ten days or so after our arrest, he came home from school with a big grin on his face. He grabbed Seyla, kissed her thoroughly, then still keeping an arm around her waist, said, "Gather 'round, folks, I've got some news!"

He drew Seyla into his lap as he sprawled tiredly into the depths of the big easy chair. He took her drink from her and drained it.

"Must be important," I said. I refilled Seyla's glass from the pitcher of Rum Whatnot we had been drinking, added one for him and topped off mine and the other girls' drinks. We all leaned forward eagerly.

"Remember that doc who went through the gate twice, then got arrested by the Secret Service?" He paused dramatically, then went on. "They didn't get a damn thing out of him! Veronal, scopolamine, pentothal, hypnosis, you name it, they came up blank! And it finally got out, just like I told you it would. The web is warping with the story!"

I didn't get it. "What's the big deal if he doesn't know anything, other than he managed to come out of a gate twice?"

"The big deal is none of the drugs had any effect on him. It was like trying to question a catatonic. He never said word one. Not only that, some government lab he was taken to tested him physically forty ways from zero. He's perfectly normal and human; gene analysis matches his previous identity exactly, allowing for the elimination of some detrimental recessives, which probably happened during his first transition."

"Have they let him go?" Maybe I could get that interview now.

"Nope, but they probably will, eventually. The private lines are talking about a couple of other similar cases. One of them was kinda cute. This Arab woman sneaked out of her house, bribed a guard and went through a gate. Naturally, she turned into a male. The way the story reads, her husband got so chipped off, he grabbed her and tossed her back into the gate. She came right back out, a woman again."

"I'll bet she's mad as hell," Rita said.

"That's not the story we're getting. She didn't seem to mind at all and went right along with the questioning; no resistance, just like our case. She didn't talk, either."

"Could this be the beginning of a trend?" Donna asked. She seemed interested but not anxious. I think she was beginning to enjoy being a woman by then.

"I doubt it, though it's a little early to tell yet. Statistically, ninety-nine point et cetera percent of everyone who has tried a second passage never comes back. Even if it is a trend, at this rate, it will take years to gather enough of a statistical universe to understand why a few make it but the vast majority don't. Shucks, we don't even know why some don't come back from the first attempt."

"There's still something peculiar about this," I said. "Whoever heard of a person able to clam up under Veronal Plus? I sure couldn't!"

"Name me one thing that isn't peculiar about the gates," Russell challenged. "This is just one more puzzle to add to all the others."

I nodded my head, conceding the fact. "So what else have you heard?"

"Probably not much that you haven't. Our funding got cut, though."

"How come?"

Russell waved the hand holding his drink. "Something about Congress not being able to come up with the money next year. We're going on half rations now so we can keep operating if that turns out to be the case."

"I would think the government would have plenty of money right now, what with not having to pay out so much in Social Security or Medicare," Seyla said.

"You haven't been keeping up with the news," I said. "What they've saved, they've spent on the military, gate research and the space program."

"Yeah, isn't that great?" Russell said. "After all this time, they've finally decided to fund every kind of space research and production imaginable. Hell, they're even talking about reviving the Nerva and Orion projects."

None of the women knew what he was referring to. I might not have if I hadn't been such a science fiction buff. Nerva and Orion were both nuclear propelled rocket projects cancelled way back in the last century because of "safety" concerns, just like the environmentalists and penny pinchers had managed to kill the Supersonic Transport plane and the Super Cooled Super Collider project-even while spending billions upon billions for useless programs that never worked, or giving it away to other nations in the name of security.

"If that's the case, Washington must really be swinging toward the alien origin of the gates," I said.

"That's what I hear, though what purpose our dinky little space programs will serve compared to the gate technology, I have no idea."

"Can I quote you as an 'informed source' on this?" I asked. Mary was agitating for another piece from me after the last one had been pulled.

"Hell, you can quote me by name if you want to. Scientists are webbing all over the place about it, for and against."

"Which position do you favor?"

"Oh, well, I say go for it. For all we know, the gates may disappear tomorrow and we'd be that far ahead at least. If the damn dumb politicians had spent the money in the first place, we'd have so much industry in space by this time, we could support every fourth worlder on earth, whether they ever worked a lick or not."

I agreed. Democratic representation may have many good things to be said for it, but foresight isn't one of them.

Russell poured himself another glassful of our rum mix. "Well, that's my scoop for the day. What are you folks hearing?"

I wondered whimsically whether anyone in the physics department ever turned on anything other than science programs. If they did, you couldn't prove it by Russell.

"Men are beginning to outnumber women, in this country anyway, and probably in most others, regardless of what they're saying. If that keeps up, the gates may wind up solving the overpopulation problem," Rita said.

"Messilinda's Gate Church is still gaining converts. They've gone national and are beginning to pick candidates to run in the next election," I said.

"I wish they'd go duck their heads in a bucket of water," Russell commented. "How can people believe in that nonsense?"

"The same way they've been believing ever since the Neanderthal age," Seyla said gently. "Everyone isn't as rational as you are, dear." She leaned further back in his lap.

"Or lack the belief gene," Rita added.

"Yeah, but damn all-"

I laughed. "Russ, we must have gone over this a thousand times since we were kids. It's just that most people can't accept the fact of their own demise or live without thinking there's a purpose or reason for their existence. Why bring it up again?"

"For one thing, if those damn Gaters have their way, there wouldn't be any more scientific research. They think the gates have all the answers to the inscrutable."

"I doubt it will go that far," I said.

"I hope not," Russell said. He yawned. "Tell me the rest in short sentences. I'm ready for bed." He finished his drink, emptying the pitcher in the process. He didn't go to bed, though. Rita made another batch of Rum Whatnot. We wound up finishing that pitcher and polished off two more as well. Nothing uses up alcohol faster than a gab session by college students.

It would seem as if the country (and the rest of the world) should be learning to live with the presence of the gates by this time, but that wasn't the case, anymore than the country had ever compromised on the abortion issue or the everlasting racial problems, not to mention, religion and politics. We have always been a fractious country and the gates just gave more ammunition to the divisions.

There were several main factions contending for control of the gates (or for the power to form policy about them). First, there was Messilinda's rapidly growing Church of the Gates (though it took her a few days to come up with an explanation of why God had rejected a few of the heaven bound). They wanted us to worship the sex gates and ascend into heaven after the first rejuvenation ran out. They were opposed to any form of research on the gates and most other forms of research, especially of a scientific nature. Then there were the other religions, where varying beliefs about abortion, birth control, homosexuality and whose prophet was right kept them at one another's throats.

There was the thirty or forty percent or so of the elderly who wanted nothing to do with the gates and used the wealth and power they had accumulated over their lifetimes to try and restrict access to them, or at the very least to circumscribe the rejuvenated youngsters' legal rights.

The fourth world population was hungry and penniless and getting more so each day. They were demonstrating (or rioting) for jobs and a return to government handouts.

The military continued their build-up, expecting war at any moment with various countries opposing our official gate policy, which amounted to not much more than leave the theoretical aliens controlling the gates alone, and maybe they will leave us alone; that, plus the guarantee (which was getting rather shaky) of access to the gates for everyone who wanted to try and pass through.

The local militias, both official and unofficial, were arming anew against an invasion or uprising; whether by aliens, Arabs, Chinese or our own citizens depended on the local viewpoint and political philosophy they adhered to (I should have paid more attention to that last item).

Daily, the tabwebs got more and more hysterical about the supposed alien menace behind the gates. When the news got out about the extremely rare second passage individuals being resistant to drug interrogation, they really went wild.

Unemployment in the medical professions and allied industries was eating into the Banking Institute's cash reserves as jobless persons drew out their savings or borrowed against their credit limits. There had already been a number of bank failures.

Taxes were being raised locally and nationally to pay for added security. Nothing new there. That sort of thing started somewhere around the time of the Roman Empire, or perhaps earlier.

North Mexico, Puerto Rico and Hawaii were all threatening to succeed from the union and the Texas legislature was close to having enough votes to exercise their constitutional right to split into five states.

To top it all off, the National Geographic article Edie had shown me finally began getting a lot of play on the webs and 'works. Most of the governors and mayors of threatened areas were demanding the national government begin building inland cities for the population threatened with displacement.

That last item was what used up most of the rum. I told the others about Dad's offer for us to move into Grandpa's house as soon as the renovation was finished.

"I'm for it," Donna said immediately. She was stretched out on the long lounger with her head in my lap while Rita sat upright next to me. I was resting one hand on her breast and squeezed it gently in appreciation. I had already thought a great deal about moving and had come to the conclusion it was probably a good idea.

"Me, too," Rita said. "I don't like the mood the country is in, and I think it's likely to get worse before it gets better. That's not even considering the rise in sea levels, and we know that's going to continue."

"How can you be so sure?" Seyla asked. "Lots of scientists say the worst is over now and they won't rise much further."

"That's just government propaganda," Russell said. "The ice caps are still melting. You've been listening to too much political comment. None of the inland Congress critters want to spend their tax money supporting a bunch of fourth worlders."

"It won't just be the fourths," Rita contradicted.

I knew more political theory than she did. "You're right, hon, but most of the first and seconds can afford to move themselves when the time comes, and the thirds at least try to support themselves. Russ is right. Any inland politician who advocates spending anything more than token money on relocating the fourth worlders would get kicked out of office."

"So what?" Seyla said. "It's the right thing to do. They should realize that."

How do you explain to a political novice that representatives, given a very few exceptions, always vote in a way that assures them of re-election? It's just human nature to protect your livelihood, like the territorial instinct of the male half of our species, and even the female, to a lesser extent. Take a walk through any middle class neighborhood and observe how carefully fences and hedges delineate each individual home, or think how women so often dominate the decor and arrangements inside a home. It's all due to our territorial instinct, hard-wired into our genes.

Rita spoke up. She may not have understood politics, but she knew how contrary human nature could be. "Seyla, hon, Lee is right. There won't be any moves until the last moment and God's Chip alone knows what will happen then."

"I sure would hate to leave school," Russell said. He yawned.

"Better that than get killed in a riot when Old Houston starts moving north," I said.

"I suppose you're right. How will we support ourselves, though? It's not like Ruston is advertising for professionals to come to work there."

"I'll put some of my money with Dad-Edie's," I said. "We'll build a big enough home office so we can all work from it. And there's always farming."

"Ugh," Donna grimaced.

I molded her breast in my hand. "If things get bad, it might come to that. Better a well-fed farmer than a hungry mathematician."

Russell covered his mouth as he yawned again. He never seemed to get enough sleep. "If we're all agreed, I'm for bed." He got to his feet and Seyla followed him into his room.

The three of us finished our drinks and followed suit. As we were undressing, Rita remarked, "Poor Seyla. She is such an optimistic, trusting person. I'm afraid she is going to be in for a rude awakening before it's all over."

None of the three of us imagined how soon that awakening would come.

Chapter Twelve

Over the next several weeks, the country remained in more or less the same shape: shaky, but still holding together, although when the stories Russell had related broke, there was some localized insanity. After the webs began playing the second passers, I called Hortz at the federal building to see if I could do some pieces of my own, much as it grated me to have to ask for permission. I had a devil of a time tracking him down; he had left North Houston for Washington. I finally located him there and got his permission, subject to censorship by the local office. Democracy and freedom of the press at work. Right.

The locals didn't bother me much and Mary placed a couple of stories. I sent the money to Edie with instructions to use it to begin construction of a home office. She was tickled I was planning on moving back to Ruston. I hadn't mentioned yet that there might be five of us, or possibly just three or four. Seyla was still debating about the prospective move and I couldn't see Russell leaving her behind. I couldn't imagine myself doing that either, especially after the incident that took place a couple of weeks after our rum-laced conference.

Russell was at his lab, doing some more of what he called "useless damn measurements". Donna and Rita were off shopping for something or other. I was sitting on the small lounger, thinking amusingly to myself of how Donna had taken up the female habit of shopping as quickly as a hound dog snapping up a hushpuppy. When she was a male, she practically had to be forced into a store.

Seyla came home from class and dropped her briefcase by the door. She let loose an exasperated sigh.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey, Lee. What are you drinking?"

"Nothing right now," I said, "but I'll fix us one if you like."

"I like. Make it a strong one. This hasn't been a good day." She plopped down on the same lounger I had been using.

"What went wrong?" I asked from the bar.

"Our regular lab instructor went through the gate and we had to get a substitute. She programmed a wrong equation into the computer and fouled up everyone's experiments." She pointed to her briefcase. "That's why I brought that home. I can do them here, I think."

"Sorry," I said, handing her a full glass of my own special tension-relieving concoction. I sat down beside her.

"Thanks." She leaned her head against my shoulder. Strands of wavy brown hair tickled my upper arm. "Where's Rita and Donna?"

"On the perennial female quest: shopping for new clothes. At least I think that's what they're after."

She smiled. "You should try it occasionally." She fingered the worn threads of my shirt, then chugged her drink down and held out her glass for a re-fill.

"Better take it easy," I warned. "This stuff packs enough punch to make a mouse chase a cat."

"Good. That's just what I need."

I shrugged and poured us each another. She took the next one a little slower, but not by much. My bar expenses had increased considerably since the sex gates arrived.

"Is Russ on the way home?" I asked.

"No, damn it, he's staying at the lab tonight. Someone thought up a new instrument and they're going to run a test on the gate tonight. Not that it will do any good. I wish he would just forget it. I hate sleeping alone."

Seyla was obviously in one of her moods. "Sorry," I said.

"Not your fault. Excuse me a minute. I want to change." She departed for her room, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. She returned a few minutes later, wearing a short black wrap with a row of tiny white touchtabs down the center. It looked good on her, accenting her light brown skin and short enough to display most of her nicely-shaped legs.

"That's something new, isn't it?" I asked. It really did look good, and even as young as I was then, I had sense enough to know women liked to be complimented on new clothes.

"Yup. First time I've worn it." She fingered the hem of the material between two fingers. "Here, feel. It's made out of that new velvetin stuff."

I bunched a fold of the cloth covering her upper thighs in my hand and rubbed it between my fingers. It felt like the thinnest and softest velvet ever devised.

"Nice. I'm sure Russell will appreciate it."

She finished her drink and leaned all her weight against my side. "You can appreciate it too, if you like, Lee." She ran her hand up and down the soft fabric of my old pair of jeans, stopping each time just before the point of no return.

Even so, I began to feel a rising excitement, wondering if she meant what I thought she did. An image formed in my mind of her and Donna in bed together, stimulating me like a trip to the topless beach at Galveston always did. She curled an arm up around my neck and drew my face down to hers. She parted her lips as I followed the pressure of her hand and brought my lips down to meet hers.

Her tongue was hungry in my mouth, frankly exploring with an eagerness I hadn't expected. She was usually so quiet and small and unassuming, I unconsciously expected her to react the same way when I embraced her. I was fooled as badly as Brer Fox with the Tarbaby. She caught my hand and brought it to her breasts. I hesitated for a moment, feeling guilty for making out with Russell's new girlfriend, but I'm just not built to resist an overture from a pretty girl, especially since I've had so few of them. I began exploring her breasts like a boy scout on his first trip into the mountains. The sensual softness of the thin velvetin clinging to her breasts like a film of warm, soft gauze enhanced the excitement. She was small and delicate, but perfectly proportioned. I fumbled open the first few touchtabs of her wrap and slid my hand inside, curling my hand around her breast as if I were holding a holding a fine piece of jewelry.

Seyla broke away from our embrace abruptly, as if she had suddenly changed her mind. I was shaking with the unexpected desire, but I let her go reluctantly, thinking she had just gotten carried away and now wanted to stop. She stood up, while I remained where I was, surprised and frustrated, and beginning to feel that little tinge of guilt again.

I needn't have worried she wanted to stop. She reached for my hands and pulled me to my feet. "Come on. Hurry," she said, tugging me toward her room with one hand and running the fingers down the tabs of her wrap with the other. It dropped away from her and floated to the floor like a discarded handkerchief.

***

We were still in bed when I heard movements and voices from the common room. I suddenly realized we had been in bed for a long time.

"Uh oh," I said, feeling my heart jump. I had recognized Russell's bass rumble and began trying to think of a logical explanation, even though it was Seyla who had seduced me rather than the other way around.

Seyla stretched like a cat in the sun. "What's wrong?"

"I think the others just came home," I said, watching her eyes to see how she was going to react.

"Rita said you were conventional about sex," Seyla said. She sat up in bed, apparently no more concerned than if we had been playing spin the bottle.

"No I'm not," I said.

She leaned over and kissed me. "In some ways you're not. You just proved that. Come on, let's get up; I'm hungry. Maybe they brought something home to eat."

She was out the door before I was. Of course, all she had to put back on was her wrap. I got into jeans and shirt and followed her out a minute later.

Rita raised her brows at me when I came into the room, but didn't act as if she were upset. I think I blushed. In fact, I know I did.

I helped myself to a slice of the pizza they had brought back and sat down by Rita. She gave me a peck on the lips, then patted my thigh affectionately, as if I had done something nice for her. I wondered if I would ever learn to understand women in general and Rita in particular.

The big screen was already on. We had all become news junkies since the sex gates had appeared, like most of the population. China was in the news this time, or at least pieces of it. It had become balkanized several years ago, with various warlords and strongmen in charge of different areas. The old policy of one birth per family was still being enforced in some places; amended in others and abandoned completely in most of the country. In this case, we heard that if the first child was a girl, a family could try a second time for a boy, but only once. Gender selection was still almost unavailable, unlike our own and other countries, and second (and many first) girl children were being forced through gates in order to produce boys. Given their culture, I believe sex selection was happening even before the advent of the gates, and the breakup of the central government was due in no small measure to the misguided policy of forbidding it. An overabundance of men always leads to unrest, unlike the reverse-at least in our country. So far. In China, I had a vague image of ravening hordes of males invading neighboring countries in search of females a few years down the line, as well as tremendous future changes on the whole Asian continent.

"They are being ridiculous," Seyla said indignantly, listening to a warlord explain the new policy. "What's wrong with girl babies?"

I knew something about the reasons from my history studies. "Nothing, except that better than half the population of Asia are still forth worlders, even peasantry. A son is the assurance the parents will be taken care of in their old age."

"Don't they even have Social Security?" she asked, as if fourth worlders in Asian countries were identical to our own, even though Social Security was just about then reaching a historical minimum. The influx of so many illegal immigrants, and the periodic granting of citizenship in return for potential votes to keep politicians in office, had upset many of our government institutions.

"They don't have Social Security as we think of it," I told her.

"Well, I still think it's horrible. What will all those boys do when they grow up?"

"What they're doing now. Jockeying for power so they can compel women to come to their neck of the woods."

"Think of the girls. They'll certainly have a choice," Donna said.

I shook my head. "More likely, we'll see more sex slavery there since Genghis Khan went on a rampage, not to mention, invasions of their neighbors. Anyway, it's nothing to worry about now."

"Yes, let's change the subject," Rita said. She confiscated the last two slices of pizza and brought one back to me.

She didn't get a chance to say what she wanted to talk about because another program broke into the news. It showed a series of mob scenes, blacks and Hispanics with a scattering of whites, overrunning the few federalized guards near a succession of gates, posted there to guarantee passage. The female guards were taken prisoner; the male guards were tossed into the gates, then taken prisoner after they emerged as naked females. There were sporadic attempts at censoring the rape scenes that followed, mostly unsuccessful, as if the technician couldn't keep up with events. It was several moments before the city was identified. Los Angeles again. That polyglot city would riot at the drop of a hat.

"What on earth do they think they're doing?" Rita asked.

No one said anything. The newshead answered her question. It was a citywide fourth worlder uprising. They were attempting to capture all the gates in the city and control entry for ransom. Food and jobs were their main demands. Food, the country could manage, but I wondered where they thought jobs would come from when they had no skills an employer needed. The gap between fourth worlder knowledge and education and that of the rest of the population was as wide as that between a feudal baron and his serfs. The problem had been growing for decades and there was no solution in sight. There was certainly no money for make-work jobs. The country had supported too many elderly and supposedly disabled for too many years, until it came near to going completely broke. We were still suffering the pains of the financial crash that resulted. Facts wouldn't stop a mob though, and never had. It would just have to play itself out.

As we watched, the scene flicked to another city. I recognized the Denver City Center immediately. Fourth worlders had caught the mania there, too, though they didn't seem to be quite so organized as the ones in Los Angeles, which made sense, since their gangs weren't nearly so monolithic as those in the bigger city.

Seyla watched with an expression of a child who had just been wrongfully spanked. "Those poor people. Don't they know they can't possibly win? They will just make things worse for themselves."

"It's frustration and resentment," Rita said, answering her own query of a moment before. "When you don't have anything and see little chance for improvement, yet can look around and see how much better off others are, you're always ready to lash out."

I tended to agree with her. If I had been raised in the fourth world, I might be out there rioting myself, even if I knew it wouldn't lead to any solution.

Russell came in, looking not nearly so tired as the last time I had seen him. He saw us all staring raptly at the screen and didn't say anything until after he had rummaged in the cooler and made himself a sandwich.

"I thought you were going to be gone all night," Seyla said.

"Problems with the instrument. Dr. Jones doesn't know as much about gravity as he thinks he does." He sat down by Donna. "I heard there was rioting in a couple of cities," he added.

More than a couple. Baton Rouge was the next one we saw. That city's population had been hugely 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 involved. There, though, they were being battled by recruits from The Church of the Gates. We saw a brief flash of Messilinda urging her followers to help the police and militia. If Baton Rouge was an example, the Gaters were turning to with a will.

President Forbes used the national webwork to break in with a ten minute exhortation, pleading for calmness and consideration, coupled with the announcement 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 a hell of a lot of chaos."

"And a second chance at life for a lot of old people," Rita said.

"Not to mention a chance for a lot of women in the world 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.

"Good and bad," I said. "A lot of life, a lot of death. And change. This old globe hasn't been so upset since the great depression or the war years."

"Yeah, and whoever or whatever put the gates here must have known this was going to happen," Russell said.

I disagreed. "How can you say that? Maybe this is a game to them, like Chaos Calling." That was a popular web game at the time, where the idea was to dream up a random factor and toss it into a given social situation, scoring points for the most change you could induce, either by violence, political machinations or other means.

"Whatever. You're right, Lee. We still don't know a damn thing. That's a good analogy, though."

I felt a lot of sympathy for Russell. It must be frustrating to have everything you have been taught in your chosen field tossed upside down and not be able to get a handle on how or why. It must have been for him like it would have been for a deeply religious person to have it proven beyond doubt that God either didn't exist, or didn't care. I don't know which would be worse to a believer.

"I still think God must have something to do with them," Seyla 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 to know what God is thinking. I do believe in a God, though, and I can't imagine aliens so far beyond us, they could be responsible."

"Here lately, I'm having trouble imagining the same thing," Russell admitted. "Damn it, we can't discover anything about them, other than how they affect humans. And why only humans, for that matter. Why not chimpanzees, or Chihuahuas?"

I laughed, but Rita didn't. "That fact alone makes me think it must be an alien race of some sort. The gates are aimed specifically at humans, the only self aware species, if you don't count the crazy dogs and cats the gengineers are fooling around with."

"Maybe they found us and didn't like the way we were developing as a species," Donna said quietly.

"In what way?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Maybe they think separate sexes are so weird, they're giving us a chance to see both sides of the equation. Maybe they think that will steer us in another direction."

"It certainly will do that. In fact, it already has," Rita said from beside me. She winked fondly in Donna's direction. "Whether that's 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 all 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, less than half the population will ever be made up of gender-changed individuals. Haven't you noticed there's still almost forty percent of the oldsters who 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'll ultimately wind up controlling our destiny, just as the financially well off influence it so heavily now."

Donna got up and stirred together a pitcher of Rum Whatnot. See where political discussion leads? The brewers and distilleries certainly weren't going to go broke.

After a while, the news got old, especially when the ubiquitous commentators, pundits 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 discussions gradually turned into an impromptu party.

We turned the sound up once in order to listen to a raging Arab mullah from one of the destitute Mideast countries threatening to call a jihad, or holy war, against the United States because of our policy on the gates. It was good for a laugh. Since the geological engineers figured out ways to recover virtually all the oil still left beneath old wells, not to mention the cheap coal conversion technology still growing by leaps and bounds, and most importantly, the plants multiplying all over the country that turned almost any kind of waste into oils, the Arab world had sunk back into third world status and was still heading down. They were always calling for jihads against some country or other now that they couldn't sell their oil for much more than production costs. Besides, they were so busy fighting amongst themselves that I didn't see how they could afford the time off for a war very far from home. Our only danger from Muslims was the fanatical terrorists, still active after years and years of trying to destroy western culture. There appeared to be no end to the number of suicidal Arabs they were able to recruit.

The party almost degenerated into an orgy. Well, not too many years in the past, it would have been called one. It didn't surprise me that much. Somehow, the sex gates, and especially Donna's change in status, had drawn us all even closer together than we already were. We were beginning to function as an enlarged family. I like to think that eventually it would have worked out like that, even without the gates, but there's no way to be certain. I suspect it was Rita, taking advantage of our inebriation, who orchestrated the matings, though by that time, I had enough to drink that it wasn't important to me. Whatever, if she was the director, the only combination she missed was me with Russell and I think she would have tried that if she had thought we would go for it. I certainly wouldn't have. I don't know about Russell. We didn't talk about sex with each other as often or as naturally as Don and I had.

That night was the first time (that I know of) where Donna went with a man other than myself. At any rate, she certainly seemed to enjoy herself. All the bedroom doors were left open and anyone was free to watch anyone else if they weren't busy themselves. 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 went to the bar where the Nohang pills were kept. 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-and to the liquor store.

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 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 just repeats of what we had heard the previous evening.

My comphone beeped. "Lee," I said in a croaky voice.

"Lee? Is that you?" I didn't recognize the person speaking.

"Yes it is," I said.

"This is Edie. Are you sick, son? You don't sound good."

"Hi, Dad-Edie, I mean. No, I feel fine. Just 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 five of us coming up. We've sort of formed a, well, a family," I said.

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 sort of know how you young people feel now."

We talked for a few more minutes before I broke the connection. Just as I clipped the comphone back to my belt, Rita put her arms around me and nuzzled the back of my neck.

"Good morning," I said, twisting 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. He couldn't have picked a more appropriate time to ask. The mayor's image replaced a shot of a mob running through the downtown streets of Old Houston. She looked tired 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 and Seyla.

Chapter Thirteen

Rita put her arms around me and hugged me silently. I could feel the wetness of her lashes as they brushed my cheek. Seyla and Donna stared at each other like just reunited twins who had been separated since birth.

I patted Rita gently. "Don't get so upset. I think the mayor is just 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 pet which has been left out in the cold and was now trying to get warm again.

"There's no way to get out of it," I said. When I applied for my license, militia service had been the farthest thing from my mind, even though I knew it made me subject to being called up, if the need ever arose. City and County militias had been legalized by the Supreme Court shortly after Orange County out 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, naturally. If it didn't pertain to sex or physics, he usually wasn't interested.

I shrugged, or tried to; Rita was still clasping me too close to make it very obvious. "As soon as the captains get their orders. Maybe today, almost certainly by tomorrow. I guess we had better start packing a kit." Being in the militia reserves required a person to keep a few standard items on hand, like medicines, a basic minimum of ammunition for the firearms you were licensed for, and a few other items I couldn't bring to mind immediately, but they would be listed in my computer files.

Seyla got up and began scrambling eggs and making toast. She broke eggs into a pan, set them on the range and turned to ask, "What's that going to do to our move?"

Oh, chips! I had forgotten all about Edie's call. "Thanks for reminding me," I said. "The folks called just a little while ago. Dad-Edie-has just been called back to active duty. He wanted us to come on up and keep the house open while they're gone."

"Gone? Where are they going?" Seyla had about as much knowledge of military affairs as a cricket did of toaster ovens.

"El Paso," I said.

"El Paso? Is Mexico really going to try to succeed?" Rita had a personal interest in the question. Her folks had retired there.

"I think the government is just doing some troop movements to discourage the idea. A state can't succeed once it's in the union." I didn't think it could, anyway. The Civil War had settled that, but strange things were happening all over since the gates were placed on earth. "Anyway, we still need to take care of the house."

"I'm not going to leave you," Rita said immediately.

"I'm not going to run off and leave Seyla, either," Russell declared.

Donna looked thoughtful and didn't speak up one way or another. I wondered what she was thinking. She had gotten her license while still a man. The idea had appealed to her then, even the possibility of perhaps one day serving in the militia. The old male territorial instinct again, along with a young man's hormones.

I disentangled myself from Donna and tried to think. I certainly didn't want to be called up. The idea was just beginning to hit home. Would I have to fight again, like at that time by the gate? My stomach turned over at the thought, as if I were being asked to attend an execution. That had happened to me once; I had declined. Anyway, it was a moot point. I would be getting my orders very shortly.

I spoke, trying to sound sensible. "Hey, look, guys, we were planning on moving anyway, weren't we? This just hurries it up. You don't have to stay here."

"How can this hurry it up when we're in the militia and can't go anywhere?" Seyla asked as she brought eggs and a plate of toast to the table.

"Well, there's no reason Russell and Rita can't go on up," I said, looking at Russell and avoiding Rita's eyes. "The rest of us can follow just 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 half a dozen large cities.

"You know it won't last all that long. Riots never do." I think 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 can't come along with us, and regardless, I would feel a heck of a lot better knowing you're safe in Ruston than this close to Old Houston."

Russell rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "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 all released." He sat down by Seyla at the table and clasped her hand. Seyla brought it to her cheek and rubbed it back and forth. If I didn't want to go, Seyla must be even more reluctant. Soon after we had met, she told me that she had gotten her license only reluctantly, after being almost raped in Old Houston where she had lived until she got her scholarship. She wasn't really militia material.

I shut up after that and gradually 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, the decision had finally been agreed upon. Russell and Rita would leave as soon as they could after the rest of us got our call.

Russell left to round us up a rental truck if he could find one while Donna, Seyla 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, and it was almost as bad with Russell. He was turning into as good a friend as Don had been, or actually, more like a brother. You can't share the same woman with another man without caring a whole lot for him, I thought. For the first time since I had gotten up, I probed the memories of the previous night. If anything, Russell was now my cohort in an expanded family, even if it couldn't have any legal basis. Not yet, anyway. The Supreme court had overturned the bigamy laws, but the question of multiple partners for both sexes in a marriage had yet to be settled.

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 him and I 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 and through the den and kitchen to the outside.

The regular army, with what troops could be spared, 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 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), and in 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, though, and just 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, just as a male pilot wearing a silk scarf looks more masculine than ever.

One of Seyla's parents had been Vietnamese. She had introduced the group to that kind of cuisine after McDonald's added it to their menu at college outlets. They were making a bundle, I'll bet. Orientals have made up a disproportionally high percentage of students ever since they began arriving in substantial numbers the century before.

We still hadn't gotten our militia call-up, but I was expecting it at any time. The situation in Old Houston was deteriorating rapidly. The police and Gaters were badly outmatched and outnumbered by the fourth worlders. I wondered what the mayor was waiting on.

***

My comphone and Donna's beeped almost in tangent, waking me from a dream where I was being smothered by feather pillows. The receiver didn't hear me the first time and I had to speak up again before light brightened the room. No wonder. I was sandwiched between Rita and Donna like the filling between the bread of a grilled cheese, and felt just about as toasty.

I reached over Donna's recumbent form and plucked the comphone from the caddy, knowing even before I answered who it was. The North Houston Militia was calling. I sat up and handed Donna's comphone to her so she could stifle its noise.

We were both ordered to report to a marshaling 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 dressed hurriedly in our improvised uniforms and boots and carried our kits out into the living room. Seyla was already there. She looked small and lost wearing undecorated green jeans and matching blouse with the outline of the liberty bell stitched fore and aft. There was a barely perceptible tremble to her lower lip.

Rita and Russell followed us outside, only they were dressed more casually. I tossed our gear into the trunk of my car and shut the lid.

Rita hugged me fiercely. "Please let us know what you're doing as soon as you can. Please," she whispered. I could barely hear her.

"I will," I promised, though I had no idea when that would be. I knew that as soon as we reported, a military suppressor program would be placed in our comphones, requiring a code before communication outside the militia channels was possible. We parted and a minute later, I drove away, feeling as if I had just been orphaned.

***

Captain Rhymes was well-organized. Our comphones were adjusted and mission orders inserted as we and other students and faculty were funneled through the one geodome entrance left accessible like sand through an hourglass.

Inside, tables with mounds of sausage biscuits from McDonald's had been set up. I thought it was a nice touch, but Medford Rhymes was an old, retired Marine colonel. He probably knew exactly what he was doing. We each grabbed a handful of biscuits and wandered over to seat ourselves in the stands among the troops, greeting a few here and there as we recognized classmates and professors. After we were seated, I glanced around curiously. There were individuals there whom I would never have suspected of being licensed gun carriers, and others were missing whom I had thought surely were.

We were all reserve militia, of course. The regulars, the ones who trained on a regular basis, were probably already on duty somewhere. I wondered what they would find for us to do. It didn't take long before we were told.

Captain Rhymes glanced at his old-fashioned wristwatch and decided it was time to begin. He stared up at us, standing with his feet planted apart and hands on hips, resplendent in a crisply pressed militia uniform like our own, except for twin silver lightning streaks painted on each shoulder of his shirt. His weathered face held not even a hint of humor. "Give me your attention," he said abruptly. His voice was deep and vibrant. The talking among us lowered but didn't cease. Abruptly, all the comphones screeched with an undertone of vibrations like a fingernail scraping a blackboard. We shut up. I didn't know how he made the comphones make that sound, but it certainly got our attention.

Rhymes pretended as though nothing untoward had taken place. He immediately began speaking. No greetings, no homilies.

"You people have been called in as backup for the regular militia. Those troops are already on duty along the border between the Old and North Houston. Our primary mission is to guard the campus of North Houston College and vital installations nearby in order to prevent damage, should the rioters make it this far. Our secondary mission is to preserve access to the s-the gate located here on campus." That was the only miscue of his short statement. Almost certainly, he had started to call it "the sex gate", then reconsidered. I don't know why; everyone else was calling them sex gates.

He continued, "Our tertiary mission is to preserve order within the confines of our assigned areas." Here he paused for a moment to transmit a map of the area we would be responsible for to our comphones, then went on.

"I have selected squad and platoon leaders based on a previous review of your personnel files." At the words "squad" and "platoon", a dozen or so comphones among the crowd notified the honorees. To my surprise, my comphone beeped, then said, "Jackson Stuart. Squad leader, third squad, third platoon." I glanced at Seyla and Donna seated on each side of me. They grinned. I squirmed. I had only a vague notion of military organization, gleaned from the data given to me after I got my carrier's license. I made a note to pull up the file and review it at the first opportunity.

Rhymes then said, in a slightly rougher tone of voice, "I am your company commander. As commander, it is now my duty to remind you that you are all under military discipline. Orders from squad and platoon leaders are to be obeyed without question. Failure to do so may result in summary courts-martial. Conviction carries the penalty of being shot by a firing squad or such other punishment as I may direct."

The crowd sobered like someone had just died at a family reunion. Firing squad? God's chips, what had I gotten myself into? I decided immediately I would pay very particular attention to anything said by him and whoever my superior in the third platoon was. I wondered what kind of orders a squad leader was expected to give, but decided to save that question for another time. Right now, the captain was speaking.

He pointed forward to entrances below the stands, out of sight from where we were sitting, and sounded off. "First platoon, muster at entrance A, second platoon, entrance B, third platoon entrance C, and fourth platoon entrance D. Now. Dismissed." A medley of comphone voices sounded.

Donna and I were both assigned to the third platoon, though in different squads. Seyla was put in the second. We gave her a quick peck and squeeze and hurried down the steps, looking for entrance C. So far as I was concerned, I had just heard an order and I wasn't about to be delayed until it had been carried out.

I knew our platoon leader, though I didn't recognize him immediately; he had been a female the last time I looked. It wasn't until after he had led us up a ramp and into the alcoves of an abandoned refreshment stand that it finally dawned on me, and then only after he introduced himself. Randy Grayson, formerly Randi Grayson, had been in several classes with me. I remembered her as a tall blond girl with a plain face and slender, curved figure. She had been an outstanding student in every class. I hoped that wasn't the only thing they were using as criteria for leadership positions.

While he outlined our platoon's area of responsibility, I wondered what had induced her to change her sex. Lesbian? Illness? Accident? Impromptu bravado such as Don had shown when the gates first appeared? I decided not to ask.

Third platoon was tasked with guarding the gate located on the edge of the campus, McDonald's, a few other nearby businesses, and several blocks of rental homes adjacent to them. We headquartered in a row of commandeered homes on the outer perimeter of our area, not as fancy as I was used to, but probably better than most lower-ranking soldiers enjoyed. Randy kept us all together in the front yard of the home he had chosen for our headquarters for three hours, giving us rudimentary lessons in squad and platoon tactics, probably learned just hours before from Captain Rhymes. The instructions were at about the level of strategy that kids might use when choosing up sides for a snowball fight-if we ever had snow in Houston, which we didn't. After that, he told us which houses were to be occupied by which squads and told the squad leaders to report back to her-him-in half an hour.

I had twenty-three men and women assigned to me, and had about as much notion of what to do with them as a kid with a set of toy soldiers. About the only thing I managed to accomplish in that half hour was breaking up a couple arguments about who got to sleep where. Five minutes ahead of time, I hurried back to see what the new Mr. Randy Grayson had in mind.

Not much, it turned out. He simply wanted to meet us personally and get the guard posts entered in our comphones. Grayson told us to call him Randy (for some obscure reason, there were no militia ranks in the reserves below captain), then told us official guard duty would begin at 0800 hours (eight in the morning in civilian terms). My squad drew the third rotation, naturally, which would put us on from midnight until eight the next morning. One squad rotated as reserve, on call as needed, and was to be inserted into the rotation so each squad's hours of duty would change every couple days.

That being over with, I hurried back to our house, brimming with responsibility and no clear idea of how to carry it out. I used the next few hours trying to get acquainted with my troops and trying to study the mess of military lore which had been downloaded into my comphone.

***

That first night on guard duty, I stood with my weapon and started at shadows and barking dogs. I damn near shot Captain Rhymes as he was making rounds before he identified himself. He didn't get angry; pleased was more like it. He spoke to me for a couple minutes, then squeezed my shoulder and went on. The four hours seemed endless.

The next morning, I was called on the carpet by Randy. It seems squad leaders weren't required to stand guard duty themselves. Their responsibility was to pick a "Sergeant of the Guard" and have him make rounds to ensure that everyone else was awake while squad leaders were supposed to remain at their headquarters waiting for trouble. Apparently, this little item had been overlooked in the hurry to get us organized.

***

As it turned out, Captain Rhymes wasn't nearly the martinet he first appeared to be. He had simply wanted to establish his authority. Once that was settled, he was friendly, but maintained a definite distance and never let an opportunity pass without emphasizing in little ways how important strict obedience and quick reaction to orders could be. He was a real commander. He learned all the names of my squad members before I did and began greeting us by name. He only made a round of the outposts once each night; during the day, he gave classes in military tactics to the off squads. I don't know when he slept. Some of the troops grumbled, but I didn't mind; it offset the boredom. There weren't any live computers in the commandeered homes, whether by accident or design, I never found out, but it made for long days and nights. What news we got was dispensed at the head of Captain Rhymes' lectures or demonstrations, or at squad and platoon briefings each day.

I wondered several times how soldiers could spend years doing this sort of thing between wars, which showed just how little I knew about the military. Several days passed with nothing else to break the monotony. I couldn't even read; the suppressors blocked all the personal data in our comphones, including books I always kept in mine to read at odd moments. And the house where we were quartered didn't even have a magazine in it, much less a paper book . Then just when I began thinking the rioting must be about over, all hell broke loose.

Chapter Fourteen

Perhaps there was a reason for not letting the green troops listen to any news, but if so, I think it was a mistake. We might not have been taken so utterly by surprise if we had known what was happening in Old Houston. The rampaging fourth worlders made up a majority of the population of Old Houston, and without the army or National Guard troops there to back them up, the police, Gaters and even the regular militia troops were gradually overwhelmed, chased off, taken prisoner, or simply executed after surrendering. Within a couple days, they controlled all the easy accesses and most of the territory in the city. It might have been possible to negotiate with them had they stopped while they were ahead; it had happened before. They didn't stop, though. Flushed with success, their leaders decided to invade North Houston and capture it as well, knowing the loot would be much richer there. There must have been a scattering of former military experience among the leaders. The invasion was well planned, with picked objectives to capture, like the power plants, police headquarters, the polymerization centers and the university grounds, but all I knew at the time was my own little piece of the action.

My squad was on the four to midnight shift. The first indication of trouble was a popping noise in the far distance, sounding like an erratic drumbeat. It was several moments before I realized I was hearing gunfire. I thought about reporting the noise to Randy, then decided not to. Surely he could hear it as well as me. I didn't stop to think he might be sleeping. Apparently, the other squad and platoon leaders reacted just like I did. It wasn't until shouts began coming in over my comphone that I realized trouble was brewing.

"Movement, post five!"

"Movement, post seven!"

I didn't know what I was supposed to do. All I could think of was to get in touch with the Sergeant of the Guard. I got his circuit up. "Bill? Bill?"

There was no answer. He must have already been dead. A rattle of gunfire overrode the distant drumming, then a voice shouted, "We're being hit! Danny-ugghh." His voice faded away.

I finally remembered what I was supposed to do. The reserve squad! They were for backup and were supposed to be awake and on duty with Randy. My voice jittered so badly, it took three tries to get the right circuit. "Randy, squad three! We're being attacked!"

"Get on it," he said. "Stay in contact and report back. I'll have the reserves ready."

He should have already been sending the reserve squad forward, but he was no more a soldier than I was. I thumbed the safety off my rifle, checked to see that my little handgun was in its holster and ran out the door. Posts five and seven were the only ones which had reported in, but loud, sharp cracks and muzzle flashes told me at least some of the other guard posts were seeing action. Not knowing what else to do, I ran toward post five, a house on the corner of one of the blocks of homes.

I was across the street, running upright as if I had good sense, when a shadowy figure emerged from around the corner of the house and stumbled in my direction. I skidded to a halt and saw the figure abruptly fall to the ground as if it had been pole-axed. Moonlight illuminated four or five more. One poised, aimed a pistol point-blank at the prone figure and fired twice. If the night hadn't been lit by an almost full moon, I would probably have died right then. As it was, I could see they weren't dressed as the militia. I raised my rifle and fired blindly, emptying a whole clip. One of the figures fell while the others dropped to the earth seeking cover. I ran back the way I had come, got behind a house across the street and began running through the backyard parallel to the street, looking for any of my squad. I think I was seeking company as much as anything else.

I collided with someone as I broke through a hedge into the next yard. We struggled briefly, then recognized each other. It was one of my guards. I pulled him down beside me behind the hedge. "Gil, where is everyone?" I asked, as if he might know. More gunfire erupted, all up and down the street.

"Don't know. Francis is dead. What do we do now?"

I didn't know, but luckily, Randy's voice came over my comphone just then. "Third squad, report!"

I took a deep breath, then said, "I have at least two dead. I think five, six and seven have had it. I'm at, uh, nine, I think. One survivor here."

"They're trying to roll you up from the end. Pull your men back toward the higher numbered posts and try to make a stand. Reserve squad is on the way."

Higher numbered? With two guards per post, we only had twelve. Were the others all gone already? "Okay," I said, then touched Gil on the shoulder. "Come on. Back this way."

We ran hunched over. I heard buzzing noises passing uncomfortably close to my head as we angled for the alley. I peeked from behind a garage, saw no one in sight and began running again, trying to remember to count houses so we could stop at each post. Ten was deserted. I picked up the guards at eleven and we joined the other two at twelve. The entire time, the crackle of gunfire rose and fell, coming in erratic waves of sound. I arranged us in a semblance of a firing line behind a rock garden and gazebo, then reported back to Randy.

"We're at twelve. I have five effectives."

"Okay, hold tight there. You'll have company in a moment. Remember the password."

I thought frantically for a moment before it came to me. Just in time. I heard a stampede of boots hitting the pavement behind us and shouted it out into the dark. I raised my rifle, getting ready to fire if the proper response wasn't given. Lucky for all of us, it was. The reserve squad spread out on either side of us just in time to respond to a burst of gunfire from in front of us. When I tried to fire back, all I got was a click of the firing pin. I had never replaced the empty clip.

I don't want to describe too much of what went on the next day or two. I found out that I'm not a very brave person, nor a very good leader, either. After Captain Rhymes took command of the situation, there wasn't much doubt as to the outcome, but that didn't keep my gut from curling up inside me every time he ordered an advance, nor did it stop me from having to force myself to relay his or Randy's orders to my squad members, knowing death lurked in every sentence.

I vomited twice as we pushed back up the street and found the bodies of men and women I had been talking to only hours before, laying where they had fallen when their posts had been overrun. We found only two more of my squad alive; a man and woman who had holed up in the top floor of a two-story home and fought it out from there.

Seeing the bodies sprawled like bloody, broken dolls angered most of the militia members, turning them into merciless killers. I only remember thinking of Donna and Seyla when I saw the bodies and trying to bury the thoughts of whether they had come through the fighting unharmed or not. When I did see each of them, a peculiar sensation uncurled in my chest, one I hadn't even known was there. If either of them had been killed, I wasn't sure I would have wanted to live.

Captain Rhymes ran by once. He halted for a moment to point out a center of resistance we should be firing at, then went on. I shouted at his back, thinking he must know if either of the girls had been hit since I had seen them last. He went on without answering, ducking and weaving.

Our company contained, then slowly enveloped the invaders in our area with flanking attacks orchestrated by Rhymes. By midmorning, we had them in a pocket where they couldn't retreat. Most of them surrendered, leaving only a few holdouts. Rhymes called in a police helicopter with sound-bombs. It only took one to finish them off. My ears hurt for days afterward.

It was late afternoon, nearing dusk, before I was able to find out anything about Donna or Seyla again, even though they were part of the militia company.

Half the company was relieved, third and fourth squad, while the rest remained on alert in case of another incursion. We could still hear fighting not too far away. I barely took the time to order the four men I had left to replenish their ammunition and get something to eat. I scooped up some more clips for my rifle (I had never fired the pistol) and went looking, dreading what I might find.

Neither of the girls were with the relieved squads. I ran back toward the front, my heart trying to come out of my throat. A few inquiries told me they weren't on duty, either.

"Try the treatment area. If they're not there, check the morgue," Dr. Rawlings, one of my old professors suggested tiredly. His beard was matted with blood, whether his own or the enemies, I couldn't say.

Oh, Lord, no. The idea wouldn't stick in my mind. I stood there, stunned, rifle drooping from my hand like a an overused broom. "What, I mean, where-" I couldn't say it.

"The Geodome," Rawlings said, seeing my confusion. I left at a fast walk, without even a thank you. Soon, I began to trot, then run. I was gasping for breath by the time I made it there..

I recognized Donna from the back among a row of cots. She was hovering over Seyla's still body. Her face was as white as paste and I knew that surely she was dead. Tears sprang to my eyes, blurring my vision. I knelt gently beside Donna and put an arm around her. She turned.

"Lee! Oh, Lee! Thank God! I heard you were dead." She embraced me fiercely, her tears matching my own, then let loose and grinned like a Cheshire cat. It confused me. I couldn't see anything funny about being alive while Seyla lay so still and white. I reached out to touch her face. She blinked, then focused her gaze on me.

"Lee? Is that really you?" Her voce was barely audible. She reached out to touch me, making a visible effort to do so.

"Yes, yes," I sobbed, openly and unashamed. Seyla withdrew her hand and closed her eyes again. I looked at Donna questioningly. She stood up and drew me a short distance away.

"It's okay, I think. She's just in shock. The doctor gave her a shot a few minutes ago."

"What happened?" I asked.

"There was some close-in fighting in her squad. She shot one of her old friends from the neighborhood where she grew up."

God's chips. I had never stopped to think after the militia call-up that Seyla would be opposing the very people with whom she had lived before studying her way out of Old Houston and into NHU. I couldn't even imagine the trauma I would feel if I had shot one of my old high school friends.

We checked her again before we left. She had slipped into a deep sleep from the shot. I shifted my eyes away from draped figures laying on the turf in another section of the Geodome. The bodies didn't look big enough to be human, but I knew they were.

***

Our company didn't see any more action, but we were held ready for two more days until the army finally arrived and began pushing into Old Houston. The day after that, we were discharged. I called Rita as soon as the militia program was purged from my comphone and told her that we were fine and would be there as soon as we could.

We had to wait around one more day until Seyla was discharged from the makeshift hospital. We spent most of the time with her when she wasn't sleeping, trying to reassure her that she had only done what she had to.

"It doesn't matter," she told us. "I'm going to turn in my license. I'll never be able to forget how Mikka looked at me before she died. I didn't even know it was her until after I had already shot her. It was awful." She burst into tears and clung to Donna like a hurt child to her mother. I felt helpless, like I usually do in those kinds of situations. I promised myself that I would spend as much time as I could with her when we got home, and make sure everyone else did, too, not that I would have to encourage them.

We left around noon. Luckily, the power was back on and I was able to get a fresh charge for the car. Smoke was still rising from the boundary line between North and Old Houston where we and other militia companies had fought, and bigger palls of smoke darkened the sky farther south. I took one long look at the twin cities, trying to imagine the damage, then left it behind and concentrated on getting us away from there. I didn't think I would want to go back, ever.

***

There was a wild reunion when we arrived in Ruston, tempered only by Seyla's still evident despondency. Rita and Russell took turns hugging and kissing us as if we had been revived from the dead, which in a sense, I suppose we had. Between embraces which smudged them with our dirt and grime, I looked askance at the old homestead. I hardly recognized the inside of it. The den had been expanded into a reasonable facsimile of a big living room with more loungers and chairs moved in, placed so as not to block the lower portions of the bookshelves filled with Grandpa's old books. A large, extra screen had been hung on one wall, replacing a portion of shelves there.

As soon as I could get my breath back from Russell's embrace and back-pounding, I held up my hands. "Hey, let us go wash some of the crud off, okay?"

Donna and Seyla headed into one room and I made tracks for another, peeling off my clothes as I went. Rita followed me inside and right into the shower. For one of the few times in my life, I didn't do anything about an erection. I just ignored it until it went away, which wasn't until Rita got back into her clothes. I was too anxious to get back outside so we could all be together to think about sex, regardless of what my dumb body was telling me.

I guess it's true what they say about combat veterans not wanting to talk about the action they've seen. I avoided answering leading questions, just as Donna, and certainly Seyla did, until the others got the idea that we would rather talk with some Rum Whatnot inside us. Rita mixed an extra-large pitcher. She brought a brimful mug to the lounger where I sat with my legs outstretched and put it into my hand. I drained half of it, then coughed. Whew! She must really have wanted to celebrate.

It took two drinks before we all began to settle down, then Russell asked, "What's the latest in the cities you know of? Does it jibe with what we've been hearing?"

I laughed out loud, knowing he was referring to Houston. "Are you kidding? We haven't heard a thing except rumors since we were mobilized. The only thing we know for sure is what took place right near the campus."

"Was there any damage there?" he asked anxiously.

"None to the school that I know of."

"Good. That's what the news was saying, but I wanted to be sure. We lost contact for two days while the power was out there. We knew what was happening in the rest of the country, but the only thing coming in from the cities was from individuals and it was hard to judge anything from that."

"So what has been happening?" Donna and I asked simultaneously.

Russell got up and poured more drinks before answering. "Well, just as an overview, the reserve militias kept the mobs in place until military units arrived. Most of the rioting has been put down and the army is busy turning things back over to locals and sending a lot of troops to Mexico. There was a tremendous number of casualties, mostly to fourth worlders and the Gaters. Congress is calling for an investigation of President Forbes because of the delay in sending troops to our area of the country. There's some talk of impeachment, but the political commentators say there aren't nearly enough votes to make it stick."

I could have told him that. Forbes controlled a plurality in Congress and I doubted either of the other two parties could agree on whether the sun would rise the next morning or not. "What about the markets?" The thought came suddenly. I had spent a lot of my credit on remodeling this place.

Rita answered, knowing Russell never paid attention to his own finances, let alone the rest of the world. "The stock market is way down, almost by half. The web markets fell the first couple days after the riots started, but they're back up now."

That made me feel better. Grandpa may have been old, but so far as the web went, he had been as modern as a kid playing virtual sex games. Most of the credit my annuity derived from was held in the web.

Rita continued, "As soon as you get around to checking the backlog on your comphone, you'll find a message there from Mary. She wants another story on Messilinda soonest."

"What kind of story?"

"The church's reaction to all the casualties they suffered during the riots. And another on the definitive Gater position on second changers."

"Ok. I'll start trying to arrange it tomorrow," I said.

"We will," Rita said. She pinched my thigh. Oh well.

I turned back to Russell. Since he had elected himself bartender, I held out my glass for a refill. While he was pouring, I asked, "What about the rest of the world?"

He shrugged. "Ask Rita. She keeps up more than me."

Rita began. "Same as usual. National policy everywhere still centers around the sex gates. In South America, they've taken to rounding up what second passers they can find. No one seems to know what they're doing with them. In the parts of Asia that haven't gone Muslim, they're worshipping them. In the Mideast, they don't seem to care one way or another, unless they come back as women; when they do, they get thrown into a harem. The femweb is calling for a boycott of exports from there. The Buddhist leadership has decided the gates just represent another aspect of the wheel of life. Here, I think the second changers are just being watched and monitored. All of them still claim they don't know anything. Anyway, the world is still split about evenly; half the people think aliens brought the gates, the rest attribute them to God."

"Religion!" I said it as an epithet, drawing a rebuke from Seyla, who had been sitting quietly beside Russell before that.

"People need hope, Lee," she said gently. "Everyone can't be as strong-minded as you."

I nodded agreement, even though I have never understood how people are able to rationalize the myriad contradictions the various religions of the world present, even if most of us do carry the religious inclination genes. The mind-set which could ignore logic was incomprehensible to me, and I never considered myself to be particularly strong-minded. On the other hand, it was possible I didn't carry the genes, or all of them anyway. I had never bothered to have myself tested. Besides, their expression seemed to depend so much on environmental influences, it didn't make a difference in many cases, one way or another.

"What else?" I asked.

"Well, there are still several wars going on, but I guess that's nothing unusual."

"Just so long as I don't have to fight," I said emphatically. I wasn't at all sure I could go through anything like that again.

"We're not at war with anyone, if that's what you're worried about, unless you want to count Mexico, and that's a rebellion, not a war. There's been some fighting there, but the army is trying to keep it quiet."

"Haven't they learned yet?"

"That kind of mentality never learns," Rita said. "If there had been only a few sex gates, they would have them surrounded, covered up and making anyone who ever saw one take an oath of secrecy never to tell under pain of execution."

I turned to Russell. "Speaking of the gates, have you learned anything more about them. Anything at all?"

"Not a blasted thing," Russell said disgustedly. "There they sit, turning the world topsy-turvy and we don't know anything more about them than we ever did." He paused, reflecting. "I do have to say one thing, though. Just trying to figure them out is generating a lot of serious thinking and speculation into new areas. If nothing else, there's bound to be lots of spin-off from the study and observation. As a matter of fact, I've come up with a couple ideas I want to explore. Rita is interested in them, too."

"Rita?" I turned and stared at her. "What do you know about physics?"

"Not much, but the implications of one or two of his ideas might have a lot to do with psychology, or sociology, to be more accurate."

"What are they?" I asked, looking from one to another. I was intrigued.

"Too soon to talk," Rita said. "Let it be for now. I will say, if even one of them pans out, it might do something for the fourth world problems."

"Really? That would be wonderful!" Seyla exclaimed, her face brightening for the first time that evening. She grabbed Russell and kissed him enthusiastically.

Russell wouldn't give us even a hint about the direction of his thinking and Rita clammed up, too, as if the old adage about speaking your wish would keep it from coming true. We let it be, but I think that was the first time I realized just how brilliant Russell really was.

It's a good thing someone invented Nohang pills, otherwise I'm afraid we would all have fallen into a drunken stupor in the living room before the evening's celebration really got started. As is, we took just enough to keep a buzz going while enjoying the Rum Whatnot and letting our hair down.

When we did finally call it a night, Donna took Seyla into a bedroom and pointedly closed the door. We understood. She needed a feminine shoulder to cry on. Russell would probably have come to bed with Rita and I, but the NHU web came back on line before then. He took some extra Nohang and stayed up discussing developments with his colleagues, as happy as a ten year old boy with a new Playcard.

If it is a fact that combat veterans don't like to talk about their experiences, another observation I remembered from one of Grandpa's old books is probably true as well: there's nothing like being shot at and missed to kick up the old biological urge. Rita and I didn't stop our frenzied lovemaking until near daylight.

Chapter Fifteen

I managed to arrange another interview with Messilinda on Wednesday of the next week, which made Mary happy when I told her. I wasn't that enthused myself, because Messilinda insisted it be in person at a sex gate near the boundary of North and Old Houston. Mary told me she wouldn't say why. I figured she probably intended to preach a sermon about unity, charity, brotherly love and that sort of stuff. It made sense in a way, because the destruction caused by the riots in so many cities finally caused Congress and President Forbes to begin amending the nation's love affair with fiscal conservatism and self-responsibility, which had worked well for the middle and upper class but only enlarged the numbers of the third and fourth world population.

They didn't propose going back to the wildly extravagant handouts which politicians from the latter part of the twentieth century had been so prone to, but he and his party did make what seemed to me, to be some sensible recommendations.

The secession movement in Mexico collapsed and died a natural death that week as the firebrands realized the government was prepared to use as much force as necessary to suppress it. That freed up some money from the military (over their objections).

Basically, Forbes proposed a minimum national medical care system for everyone, using the old veteran's medical facilities as a basis to care for those with no money. In addition, he suggested construction nationwide of minimum shelters for the homeless, hiring them (under professional supervision) to do the construction. The old food stamp scandals had been so ugly, he didn't dare bring them back, but he did propose hand-outs of very basic foodstuffs, purchased by the government for the unemployed and those earning a minimum wage. It wasn't all that much, but it was a hell of a lot better than what the fourth worlders had been getting, so no one expected them to complain that much. The national sales tax was raised a half percentage point to keep the budget within the constrictions of the amendment mandating balanced budgets, which the last state had ratified a year or so before.

Messilinda threw the weight of the Church of the Gate behind Forbes' proposals and the independent party fell in behind her and the President. I think there must have been a lot of conferences behind closed doors which the public never learned of. I also think the country must have really been on the very verge of collapse during the riots for such a radical change in policy to be proposed almost overnight, although one of the other parties had been agitating for changes for years.

After Seyla had listened to a network presentation of the proposed programs, she cheered up considerably. "I never thought any good could possibly have resulted from all that horror," she said. "Oh, I just pray it will all come to pass. If the fourth worlders know they can count on just the basic minimum of services, I believe more of them will begin thinking of education and working rather than fighting and stealing and drugs."

"I think so, too," Rita agreed. "We went too far once and killed most incentives to work, but this sounds about right to me. Just enough services so they don't go hungry or without some kind of shelter. They will know the rest of the country cares, but it's still not enough to make it worthwhile to stay home and loaf."

I surely hoped it would work out like that, especially for Seyla's sake. Hell, if I thought it would help, I would join her in prayer, but my contrary mind kept harking back to the days when illegal immigrants poured over the borders almost unchecked, trying desperately for even a marginally better life. I hoped that didn't happen all over again. But the borders were farther south now, so maybe it would work. I did know that the few times Seyla had spoken of her upbringing in the old city, I had been dismayed at the number of obstacles she'd had to overcome to get to where she was now. Had I been born into those circumstances, I don't know whether I could have risen above them or not.

***

Rita and I watched Messilinda as she preached to a large crowd clustered in a semi-circle, looking down upon her from the side of a low hill. The shining green gate was immediately behind her, sitting at the bottom of the slope like the stage of a natural amphitheater. It gave an appropriate setting for her sermon. She stood on a green pedestal, with the 'porters scattered through the throng, some concentrating on her; others going for individual reactions. We stayed on the outskirts while we recorded, not wanting to get caught up in the crush sure to come after she finished speaking.

Messilinda had perfected her technique since I last watched her. Her white robe fit her superb figure with a closeness little short of skin, yet it concealed most of her body, giving an impression of suppressed sexuality that had most of the men in the crowd drooling. She spoke quietly, leaving the amplifiers situated here and there to bring her words to the people. The effect was electric; it was as if she was speaking to you personally, which was what was intended. Her gestures were restrained, yet emphatic as she endorsed President Forbes's program, giving credit to God for inspiring him. She spoke of the heavenly benevolence of the gates, calling them a gift of divine love from the Supreme Being. She seemed to believe utterly in what she was saying.

Messilinda finished her sermon and bowed her head. Just as she began to pray, a red splotch blossomed like an ugly weed just above her left breast. She was thrown off her pedestal by the impact of the high-velocity slug and fell into the misty green portal of the gate. She blinked out of existence immediately.

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 find 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?

"I hope it's a girl," I said. "If it is, I want her to look just like you."

If the implant hadn't been working, we surely would have conceived that night, if numbers mean anything.

Chapter Sixteen

Three days later, the story about the third-passer 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 prospects of immortality that Congress, paying attention to the polls, passed a bill appropriating even more money for gate study, along with a "Sense of Congress" resolution urging all Seconders and third passers (also beginning to be called by the generic term "Seconder") to cooperate with scientists in the studies. The bill was hardly opposed at all in Congress, and not much opposition could be generated by the dwindling number of oldsters who were determined to die naturally. General public opinion held that if enough money and scientists were hurled into the research seeking to find out why so few individuals were able to make a second passage through the gates, the problem was certain to be solved. With all the hoorah about possible immortality, I don't remember a soul bothering to ask whether the gates would always be around. It seemed to me that if they appeared suddenly, they could all disappear just as quickly. I wrote a story about the possibility, but it didn't sell. No one likes to have their daydreams punctured by reality.

The scientists, of course, weren't certain what it all meant. We got their opinions from Russell through the clandestine web most serious scientists were party to.

It was a great story and held the public interest for weeks. I wasn't in on the first of it, still being under Horst's injunction not to print or write anything about Seconders without first getting his permission. I got really annoyed and spent some credit on a good lawyer. He had a federal judge in his pocket, but even so, it took three days before Horst capitulated. It shouldn't have taken him that long; after all, it seemed like every reporter in the world was doing the stories Mary was crying for me to produce. Bureaucracy can sometimes be as mindless and stupid as a flatworm.

Once I got my final and total release from the NSA, I used Russell's source (without naming names, of course) to get in on the action. Fortunately, Mary had been building me up enough so my pieces had no trouble selling, other than the one I mentioned.

By this time, I was really beginning to enjoy being a webporter, and seemed to have found my niche in offbeat stories about the sex gates. After the carnival atmosphere about the Seconders began to die down (which was quickly, once it was pointed out how very few of them there were), I started using my time to search out sociological and psychological trends resulting from the presence of the gates on earth. Those pieces took Rita and I on several trips together. She was back in school, but not taking a heavy load and rarely had to go into North Houston for classes; most of them she could do anywhere, at home or while we were on the road.

I still didn't like traveling and positively 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 piece out an interview from a thousand miles away and make it look as if it were taking place in the next room. I had trouble telling his graphies from real people, even when I knew who was what.

One of the major stories I did (with Rita's invaluable help) was the sudden drop in the birthrate. I was ahead of everyone else on this story and it made me a bundle. I didn't even have to pay a commission to a stringer.

The gates had been around for less than ten months 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 from there to Ruston without taking a few secondary roads.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, glancing 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 oldsters, but there's a substantial minority of younger ones who have gone through, too. Homosexual men and women. Young people with debilitating diseases or who have been crippled in accidents. Those forced through during the riots. And others of one ilk or another. Half of them made the change from male to female."

"So?" I still didn't get it.

"So how many of those 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? How quick would you be to consider the idea?" She turned her head and gave me a know-it-all smile.

"Not very," I said. "If ever."

"See? Let's face it; all those new women still retain most of their male outlook. They've all either heard or seen the pain women go through during childbirth. Most of them will be scared chipless to even think about it."

I didn't comment until I had thought it over. My conclusions weren't very complimentary toward the male sex. "I think you're probably right," I said slowly. "That doesn't speak very well of men, does it?"

She reached over and patted me on the thigh. "Don't let it bother you. Men can't help being what they are. What really concerns me is what it's going to mean down the road a bit after our generation starts aging and going through the gates. If they're still around then, that is."

"Maybe they'll get used to the idea," I offered.

"Maybe. I have my doubts, though. The mothering and nurturing instinct isn't exactly a straight-line genetic thing in humans. The way it's expressed depends a lot on environment, in this case, on the cultural stimuli girls receive almost from birth. Without that, the genetic influence won't be very dominant, regardless of the males becoming females.

"Hmm," I said. "This bears some thinking about. In the meantime, are you confident enough with your reasoning for us to do an article in advance?"

"Sure. We can be impartial, too. We'll be having ours next year sometime."

"Has your implant expired yet?"

"I think so. It feels smaller to me now, like it's beginning to be absorbed. I may already be vulnerable."

I put my arm around her and nuzzled the side of her neck. "Good," I said.

"Hey! Don't make me wreck the car!" She grabbed my knee and shook it, laughing.

I didn't mind the rest of the drive at all, country roads or not.

***

We made the announcement of our intentions to the rest of the family that night while Russell was there. We had been waiting the last couple days on him.

We both got enough hugs and kisses and congratulations to last for the next ten years.

"Hey, I wondered why y'all have been so exclusive lately. No wonder!" Russell was all smiles now, using the happy face to replace the slightly puzzled look he had been carrying around the last week or two when he was home. I had wondered about it, but only vaguely, and certainly hadn't associated it with him feeling left out of anything. Donna and Seyla had been giving him plenty of attention, so I hadn't worried much. Now I got it. Rita had been way ahead of me, as usual.

We really had a celebration that night. No one bothered to cook and eventually, we sent out for loads of pizza to soak up some of the Rum Whatnot. It was cold for our part of the country and I built a fire in the big fireplace that dominated the expanded den. We threw thick comforters and blankets and rugs in front of the flames and laughed and talked and drank most of the night. We even all managed to agree on an entertainment program, a modern remake of an old film called The Pet Plague, about genetically enhanced pets and the havoc they wreaked on earth. It seemed rather tame now in comparison to what the sex gates were doing, but there were some good rousing sex scenes, including one really good, sensuous lesbian interlude which revived Russell and I just when we thought we were finished for the night. It may even have done something for the girls. They giggled and tried to reproduce it for our benefit (though Black Spot and Black Dot, the resident cats, didn't think highly of being in the show like the kittens in the movie did), but then got carried away for a while and ignored us almost as if we weren't there. Finally, we parted company, Rita and I to our room, the other three to another.

We both took Nohang pills and showered together while the pills worked overtime neutralizing all the alcohol we had absorbed. Afterward, we lay side by side and made slow, easy love for what seemed like hours.

"I love you so much, Lee. I wish this could go on forever," Rita murmured, stroking my back in time to my short, easy thrusts into her body.

"Mmm, me too." I leaned up away from her far enough to bring my hand to her breast. She pulled me back to her, leaving my hand where it was.

I think we went to sleep in that same position. That was the last night Rita allowed herself any alcohol.

***

I remember the following weeks as one of the happiest periods of my life, especially after Rita told me that she had conceived. I like to think it was the night of the celebration, but it could have been a day or two later. No matter, I was as pleased and proud as a politician coming from behind to win his first election, and the others shared my feelings wholeheartedly. We had agreed long ago that when the time came, we wouldn't select the sex of our first progeny, but just take what came. As soon as Rita told the others, good-natured speculation began, as well as a friendly pool which included the possibility of twins or triplets, with avoidance of yard or garden work as prizes.

We even began talking about names. I favored Junior if it was a boy, even though I disliked my first name, much preferring to be called Lee. Rita wanted to name her Rikki if it was a girl. She always thought ahead. If the gates were still around when the child got old, there wouldn't be any problem about names when and if she changed sex. She could become Ricky and still have her name pronounced the same.

While the friendly bantering was going on, Mary called again. Now she wanted me to try some more humor. She already had a contract ready for me, a series which would reenact amusing anecdotes and pratfalls concerning the sex gates. It appealed to me and I okayed the contract and promised her to get started on it in a few more days, just as soon as the opening day festivities of the Ruston shelter and food center were finished.

***

"You will all be seated right down in front with the mayor and police chief and county commissioner," Seyla announced early that morning. She was all bubbles and excitement with anticipation. She had a right to be. She had put in a lot of hours during the construction of the center and added even more of a helping hand to organize the opening, which was going to be one of the first in the country to be completed.

"How big of a crowd are you expecting?" I asked, not really caring but wanting to give her something to talk about to help ease her nervousness.

"Oh, well, all the fourth worlders in the county will be there, of course, along with the school board and the Chamber of Commerce and oh, lots more. All our neighbors, and the ranchers and farmers are all coming in to see; they like the idea of providing commodities to the indigent rather than money. And of course, the churches and their congregations will be there. It's going to be wonderful!" She twirled in a circle, sending her skirt flying up around her thighs and giving us a glimpse of her panties.

"Don't do that at the ceremony," Russell said. "You'll stop them in their tracks." He was joking, of course. If it was wonderful for her, it would be for us, too. She was such a sweetheart. She hadn't had a down day since getting involved with the project.

I was kind of proud of our little city, too. Businessmen and laborers alike had volunteered their time and money to make sure it was a success, and the churches had contributed even more. Of course, the churches had a vested interest; in the last decade or two, it had fallen mostly to their charity work to keep the destitute fed and sheltered and provided with emergency medical care. It would be a load off their shoulders. Nevertheless, I couldn't fault the effort they contributed. According to Seyla, they had done more than their share.

"When should we head out?" I asked. I wanted us to get there a little early. Mary had told me she could probably sell a piece on the opening since it was one of the first.

"I have to leave now. You guys can come along in about an hour. Don't be late, now." She gave us each a quick kiss and ran quickly out the door, like a young doe at her first mating call.

"I wish I could tell her now, but I'm afraid she's already excited enough," Russell said, watching the dwindling figure through the still open door.

"Tell her what?" I asked.

Rita answered, "Russell thinks he may have made a breakthrough with some of the work he's been doing. It may turn out to help the fourth worlders as much as anything the government is doing."

"What? Have you found out something about the gates?" After all this time!

He quickly disillusioned me. "No, the gates themselves are just as enigmatic as ever. But you remember me telling you how studying them was inciting some really wild thinking? Well, we may have one of our first payoffs, if everything goes like we think it will in the lab next week."

"Great. Can you tell us what it is?"

"Not the theory; that involves too much math, and I don't want to get into trying to tell you in English until the experiments are over. It's looking good, though." He glanced at his watch. "Shucks, I can't stand waiting around here on pins and needles. Why don't we go on?"

"Suits me." I raised my brows at Rita and Donna.

"Give us a minute or two," Rita said. They disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

A few minutes later, they returned, both wearing dress togas with shoulder wraps. The ceremony was going to be held outside. The shelter was actually a grouping of many small family units, not like the old high rise apartments built for the poor, or "the disadvantaged" as they were called then. It had been built at the edge of one side of the sports field, only a few hundred feet from where the Ruston gate still stood and maintained its secrets. A local businessman had donated the land, even though the government would have bought it from him. His reward was having the facility named after himself.

Ruston didn't have near as many fourth worlders in proportion to population as the larger cities, but we had our share, mostly legal day laborers up from Central America, and it looked as if they were all on hand. A few of their number had been picked as representatives to sit with the other dignitaries on the small raised platform from which the speeches and announcements would be made. The rest were scattered through the crowd, clustering together in little groups.

We four mingled with our neighbors for half an hour or so, then began working our way forward to the reserved seats in front of the stand. Seyla spotted us and came down.

"Hi, guys! Isn't this great? I think nearly the whole county is here." She was dressed in a simple conservative white suit with bright pink piping along the seams and looked as pretty as a spring flower.

The band struck a chord. "Oh, we're getting ready to start. You sit down and I'll join you as soon as my part is finished."

"Don't you want to stay up there with all the nabobs?" I teased.

"Of course, but there's too many of us. We have to rotate. 'Bye for now." She was right. Some of the dignitaries were sitting in the first row, right in front of us. The empty seats presumably belonged to individuals already seated on the platform. They should have built it bigger, I thought.

The high school band struck up a tune. It wasn't all that good, but it was enthusiastic. Most of the band members were fourth worlders, as were most of the students. Parents who could afford it had their kids educated through the web and with private instructors when necessary. Public schooling was pretty much a joke anymore, but it was all the third and fourth worlders had. Taxpayers had long ago gotten fed up with the lack of results and quit voting for anything other than minimal funding for public schooling at the undergraduate level.

The mayor made a speech, mercifully short, followed by the commissioner, the police chief, the high school principal, a dignitary from Washington and a host of others, most of which were as forgettable as a dull Sunday sermon. Then came an interlude where the volunteers were introduced. At last Seyla's turn to speak came.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "Thank you all. I hope and pray that what we have begun here today will be only the beginning of a new era in our beloved country, an era where everyone will have a chance to participate in society to the full extent of their abilities. Please, all of you, hold in your minds the memories of how we have worked so hard together these last few months." A tear trickled slowly down her cheek. A hard knot of emotion grew in my throat until I thought it would choke me. I felt tears began to gather in my eyelashes, blurring my vision. From beside me, I heard Rita sob happily.

She couldn't go on. "Thank you. May God bless you all." She wiped her eyes and hurried off the stand and began working her way down the second row of seats where we were waiting. She looked down at a scruffy white male with braided hair, one of the fourth world representatives. I remembered him vaguely as a groundskeeper who had recently been laid off.

"Excuse me," I heard her say. The man moved his legs to let her pass. Just as she stepped past him, he rose quickly to his feet. I saw something glinting in his hand as he brought back his arm, then swung it forward.

"Bitch! Traitor! Motherfucking uppity cunt!" He buried the knife up to the hilt just under her left shoulder blade.

"Seyla!" Russell screamed. He swung both fists and trampled intervening bodies indiscriminately in his rush to get to her side. I followed in his wake, feeling as if my body had been invaded by an ugly, vicious monster. Blood was already gushing from Seyla's mouth by the time we got to her. Someone bent over her, blocking Russell's vision. He turned and kicked him in the side, sending him sprawling.

"Doctor, let the doctor through!" someone shouted.

A lane parted as spectators shoved away overturned chairs. Old Doc Tyson, who ran the local clinic, ran down the lane. Russell almost slugged him, too, before he saw who it was.

Tyson bent over Seyla's body. Blood was still pouring from her mouth and nostrils. She was already turning white.

"I can't save her," Tyson said after taking one look. "It's in her heart. She'll never make it to the hospital." Nevertheless, he bent over her, yanked the knife loose and gathered folds of her blouse to try to staunch the bleeding.

I heard his words hit and surround me as if I were the only person present. I felt gorge rise in my stomach. Seyla retched and more blood poured out of her mouth. I looked up in anguish, not being able to stand the sight. The glittering green facade of the gate came into my vision, no more than two hundred feet away. For once in my life, I acted quickly and decisively.

Russell was trembling and looked as if he were about to collapse on top of Seyla. His eyes were darting wildly around, looking for her assailant. He spotted him, being restrained and cuffed by a pair of policemen. He uttered a strangled oath. I knew where he would head in the next second, but I had already made my decision.

"Russell! Help me!" I bent and shoved my arms under Seyla's legs and back and lifted her. Her head lolled forward as I picked her up, pouring a swath of blood down my chest. I thought I felt her go slack, but then she retched again and sprayed more blood over me.

"Russell!" I shouted again. "The gate! We have to get her to the gate! Help me." I began to run with her in my arms.

Russell came to his senses and moved to take one end of her so we could hurry. Just then, I felt her body go slack. "She's stopped breathing!" I cried. "Help, her, Russ, help her breathe." I didn't slow down. Russell tried to breathe for her as I ran but he couldn't keep his mouth on hers.

"Please, Seyla, don't leave us, don't leave. Hang on, please, just a few more minutes." That was Rita, running beside me, with Russell on the other side of her, but I didn't slow down. Even if she had stopped breathing, there was still a chance. Her brain wouldn't die from lack of oxygen in the few minutes it would take me to get to the gate. I felt my heart and lungs straining with the effort of carrying her body, but I could no more slow down than a runaway train going down the side of a mountain.

I staggered the last few steps to the gate on legs which felt like overcooked spaghetti. I gasped and stopped, intending to release her legs, then shove the rest of her into the gate. I was covered with blood. It had run all down the front of my body and covered my boots with a sticky red film.

Some of the Church of the Gaters had built an attractive little flagstone walk the last few yards, pointing the way into the entrance side of the gate. I gasped and tried to hold Seyla upright so I could give her a shove. Her upper body was a dead weight in my arms. I looked frantically for Russell and saw him sprawled yards away where he had tripped in his hurry. Rita moved beside me to help.

Just as we were getting Seyla in position to give her a shove forward, my foot slipped on the bloody flagstone underfoot. I felt my feet begin to slide out from under me. Seyla pitched forward as I lost my grip on her and fell against Rita. Seyla disappeared into the gate and Rita also began to fall backward toward it. Rita reached out a frantic hand and I grabbed at it to keep her from falling into the green nothingness behind her. My wildly reaching grasp caught her hand and closed on it with a death grip. She continued her backwards fall, dragging me with her. She blinked out of existence. I tried to regain my balance but a shimmering green mist rushed toward me as I fell. I closed my eyes in horror as it enveloped me.

BOOK II

VENUS

Chapter Seventeen

First, I was falling into that shimmering green face of the gate and the next instant, I was standing upright, stunned into immobility. In front of me, a tall, brown-haired naked man was twisting his head around to stare at me. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I wasn't concerned with him; Seyla was the only person on my mind.

I heard running steps behind and to my right. I turned and saw Russell racing toward me from around the edge of the gate where I was standing. He looked larger than life.

"Russell! Where's Seyla?" I shouted. My voice came out shrilly, as if something was wrong with my throat, though I felt no pain from it.

Russell scanned the area with frantic eyes, then turned his gaze on me; then to the man behind me. "Oh, God's chips!" he cried. His body slumped as if he were an oversized doll losing its stuffing.

"Where's Seyla?" I demanded again, taking a step toward him. I felt the bounce of twin weights at my chest when I moved. Behind me, the naked man said, "Oh, no! Lee, is that you?"

I turned around. The man was holding a startled hand to his mouth. His eyes were opened as wide as saucers. He stared unbelievingly. I felt goose bumps popping up on my body and suddenly realized I was cold. I wrapped my arms around myself, and then I realized the twin weights protruding from my chest were breasts. I looked down at the pink nipples and almost fainted as I remembered falling into the gate. My God, I had been changed into a woman!

Russell began running around in circles, searching for Seyla and trying to find someone who had been on the other side of the gate when we fell through.

I think my concern for Seyla was the only thing that kept me sane just then. She had gone through the gate in front of Rita and I. Where was she?

"I was standing right here and I didn't see anyone but that naked man and lady come out, Mr. Borderlon," I heard an adolescent voice say.

"You're certain? No one else came out?" Russell was holding a teenaged boy by the shirt collar while he shot frantic questions at him. The boy was frightened by Russell's intensity, but he stuck to his story.

"No, sir, I didn't see anyone else, and I was looking right there when those two came out. He pointed to me and the man I presumed had been Rita. He blushed as he pointed in my direction and hurriedly averted his eyes. I became aware that I was completely naked, but it was of little concern right then. It didn't seem to bother the man, either. He began questioning bystanders while he shivered, and I did the same. While I was talking, someone threw a cloak around my shoulders. I pulled it closed, not from embarrassment, but from the chill air. I murmured a thanks without stopping my quest.

It soon became obvious that we had been too late; either Seyla's injuries had been too severe for even the gate to cure, or it wouldn't transform a person who had stopped breathing. The man who had been Rita put one arm around my shoulders and another around Russell's, who was crying inconsolably. I noticed in passing that someone had loaned him a jacket. He had it tied around his loins but was still shivering. "Come on," he said. "There's nothing more for us here. Seyla didn't make it." He urged us toward where my car was parked.

I stumbled along. The sidewalk was level, but it felt as if I were on the deck of a boat in choppy waters. I rolled, or seemed to, as I walked, feeling the unusual motion coming from inside me, localized in my hip joints, but spreading over my entire body. My breasts jiggled. I leaned backward with each step, trying to keep them still. I felt insects crawling on my neck and reached up to brush them off. My hand met wavy tresses of hair hanging around my shoulders.

Staggering along on the other side of Donna, the man who had been my Rita appeared to be having similar troubles, though of a different sort. Tears were streaming down his face. I felt like crying myself and was barely able to hold back the sobs. Poor Seyla. Just at the moment of her triumph, she had been struck down. Why couldn't it have been me? Please, please, let there be something for her inside the gate, don't let her be gone forever, without a trace remaining. I think it was the first sincere prayer I had uttered since childhood, and I didn't even know to whom or what I was praying.

Donna handed us into the car, insisting I sit up front with her. Why, I don't know, unless it was so I could look at her and remember that she had gone through the same experience. It didn't matter. I didn't want to be a woman. I felt lost, as stranded in my mind as a man might be if isolated physically on an island in the middle of the ocean.

Donna reached over to touch my leg; trying to comfort me, no doubt. I brushed her hand away. In the back seat, Russell's crying finally tapered off into an occasional sob. I stole a glance at Donna. There were dried tear streaks on her cheeks. Her face was pale and drawn with her lips set in a grim line that was an attempt to keep her emotions under control. I realized with a start it was not just me who had reason for grief. Russell and Donna had loved Seyla as much, if not more, than I had. I reached over and squeezed Donna's hand to show I understood. I let it loose quickly. My grip didn't feel right. It was weak and small. I leaned over the backseat and said something to Russell and Rita, I don't remember what. All the way home, my thoughts skittered back and forth between sorrow at Seyla's death and to how much larger everything near me appeared to be.

Donna parked the car and got us inside, like a mother hen herding her chicks. Just as she closed the door, her comphone beeped. She answered, but with voice only.

"Yes, what is it? No, none of us know why he would have done something like that. Please, let it wait until tomorrow, can't you? In the morning? No, wait until the afternoon, please. Call me back and we'll set up a time. You will? Thank you, Chief. Good night."

She explained. "That was Chief Martin. He needs a statement from all of us, but he said we could give it over the web. Come with me, Lee, and let me get you something to put on. Rita, you go with Russell."

I was glad to let her take charge. From grief, I was already retreating into a surly resentment at my fate. And at Rita's. God's chips, we had just been celebrating her conception and now she was a man!

Donna pulled a silken robe from the closet and helped me into it. Did she choose the slithery touch of silk deliberately in order to hurry along my acclimation, or was it accidental? I didn't dare ask. I avoided looking at my image in the mirror. Why would I want to see the female body I was now trapped in?

"Come on, dear. I think we all need a drink." She took my hand and I let her lead me back into the den. Rita the man was already there, wrapped in one of Russell's old robes. He looked at me and smiled tentatively as I entered the room. I tried to return it, not very successfully, I'm afraid, but I did try. It wasn't Rita's fault, and she must have been feeling as lost and disoriented as I was.

Donna led me to the same lounger Rita was on. I sat down at the far end from him. Donna left us and went to the bar to fix drinks. No rum this time. She poured Jack Daniels into short fat glasses, added a couple ice cubes to each and distributed them. I drank half of mine in three gulps.

Donna took a seat by Russell and took his hand, holding it as she spoke. "Lee, I can help you by telling you how it was for me, but Rita, you had better get your advice from Russell. I've gotten accustomed to being a woman. He can probably help you better than I could."

I downed more bourbon. "Damn a bunch of help! What about Seyla? Don't you feel anything for her?" That was a cruel thing to say and I regretted it immediately. "Sorry," I murmured, "I didn't mean that."

The beginning of a hurt look on Donna's face disappeared. "I know you didn't mean it, dear. We'll all be grieving for Seyla for a long time to come." She got a pensive look on her face. "The poor girl. I just hope she's someplace where she will be as happy as she was today."

"Amen," Russell said. He brushed at his eyes with his shirt sleeve.

I thought of the prayer I had voiced to the heavens and nodded. Surely, if there was any reason to the universe, she must still be somewhere. I finished the first bourbon and got up to make another. I felt the disconcerting sway of my breasts beneath the silk wrap as I crossed the room.

I caught Donna eying me as I poured my glass almost full. She smiled faintly. "Careful. Remember your body mass."

What? Oh. I didn't know what I weighed now, but it was certainly a good deal less than I had as a man, and I hadn't been big even then. The same volume of alcohol would hit me harder. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. "I'll worry about it tomorrow, not tonight."

I didn't, either. I had several more while Donna did most of the talking, trying to soothe us in our new bodies. Once, I had to excuse myself to use the bathroom. At first I stood up and remembered just in time through the fog of the bourbon that I had better sit down. I did, and in a few seconds, discovered why females need to use tissue after peeing. I felt the wetness but didn't look down when I wiped. I felt my face flush as I came back into the room.

"I guess one of the first things for you to do is to pick new names for us to call you by," Donna said as I sat back down.

"I don't want a new name," I said, then added, "In fact, I think tomorrow I'll just go back through the gate and see if I come out. I want to be a man again."

"No!" All three of them exclaimed at once. Russell sounded especially emphatic.

"Why not?" I said belligerently.

"Because of the odds, you idiot!" Rita almost shouted. "We just lost Seyla and our baby! I don't want to lose you, too!"

For the first time since arriving home, I remembered we had just discovered that we had been expecting. We had been so enthralled with the idea! That was gone now, unless I-no, damn it, I didn't even want to think of that possibility. Nor, I admitted to myself, did I really want to risk thousands to one odds on the chance I could pass safely through the gate again. I wasn't that brave, which didn't leave a whole lot of options.

"Well, I still don't want a new name," I said, conceding without really saying that I wasn't going to chance the gate.

"How about if we just keep calling you Lee like we have been? You can spell it like the Chinese do, with an i instead of two e's?" Donna suggested.

I shrugged my assent. Li. At least it would sound like my regular name.

"How about you, Rita?"

He made a motion as if to brush his hair back behind his ears, then looked annoyed when his fingers met thin air. He thought a moment, then his expression brightened. "How about Ruez? That has a Spanish sound to go with Hernandez, and it's alliterative besides. You can call me Rez for short."

Ruez. Rez. I rolled the names silently on my tongue. They seemed to fit, not only with his last name but with his Latin countenance. For the first time, I met his gaze directly and saw he was as handsome as Rita had been pretty, with the classical straight nose, short, straight dark brown hair and long-lashed brown eyes. He winked at me solemnly. "It sounds fine to me," I said, dropping my gaze. I think I blushed again.

"Good, that's settled. What next?" Donna asked.

I sure as hell didn't know, so I got up and poured another glass of bourbon. By then, it was beginning to taste like soda pop and I was wobbling when I walked.

Donna pinched her thumb to check the time. None of us had even suggested turning on a screen; there was too much of a possibility that Seyla's assassination would show up and none of us wanted to see that, for sure. "It's getting late. Why don't we all take some Nohang and start over in the morning?"

That suited me. I got up and began moving toward my regular bedroom, then stopped. God's chips, Rez would be in there, too. I stopped and Donna caught my eye.

"Why don't you sleep with me tonight, Li? Russell and Rez can bunk together. That way, each of you will have someone of the same sex near to help you along."

I agreed immediately. Rez hesitated momentarily, then went along with the idea, though he appeared disappointed. We went off to our rooms.

Donna made sure I took a double dose of Nohang; my voice was slurring badly by then. I unwrapped myself from Donna's silken gown and fell into bed. It spun dizzily for a few minutes until the pills began taking effect.

Donna was a familiar body. A soon as my head began to clear, I snuggled up next to her. It was comforting, except that my breasts kept getting in the way.

***

I woke up the next morning with my back up against Donna's body. Her arm was curled comfortably around my waist. I heard her soft breath and felt the gentle waft of each exhale tickling my neck. For a moment, I didn't remember what had happened. I thought about turning over and waking her in the best way, but there was no affirming pulse from my penis. What? Oh, damn. Damn it all. I would never feel that welcome, expansive surge of blood flowing into my organ again.

I eased myself gently out from under her arm and tiptoed away from the bed and into the bathroom. I flicked on the light, not looking at anything except my head at first. I ran my fingers back through the waves of hair hanging to my shoulders. It felt loose and springy and soft as a curly-haired kitten's fur. I lowered my eyes slowly down over the reflection of my body in the full-length mirror, then examined it again as my gaze traveled back up, all the way to the top of my head. I stared at myself.

God's chips! Why, I was beautiful! If it had been possible, I would have gotten a raging erection just looking at myself. The rusty, off-color hair I had always hated was replaced with a crown of long wavy locks of purest auburn, or mahogany maybe, shining with sparkling bits of reflected light. The face I thought only tolerable as a man had been transformed into a whole new look. My eyes were no longer a pale blue, but a bright new color, like the deep blue of northern seas, set beneath brows that matched my hair, differing in color only enough to provide an arresting contrast. I blinked and long, pretty eyelashes made my eyes seem to snap and sparkle. My nose was just thin enough to go nicely with my cheekbones and there was a faint, just discernible sprinkling of freckles across my nose and cheeks. My lips were full without being overly sultry, and there was the faintest of dimples showing when I smiled at myself, revealing rows of perfect white teeth. I had a graceful neck and rounded shoulders.

I stared at my breasts. They were full and firm without being overly large and each was tipped with dark pink virginal nipples. As I examined them with all the admiring fascination of a newly discovered treasure, the nipples slowly hardened into erectness. They tingled with a warm, sensual pleasure. My waist was small, flared into moderately curved hips that tapered back to long, slim legs. My pubic hair was a darker colored auburn triangle of tight curls nestling at the junction of my thighs, emphasizing once and for all that I now inhabited a woman's body, and a damned attractive one at that. Just staring at my reflection made me want to crawl through the mirror and jump my bones.

I took care of the first necessities, then stepped into the shower. Just bathing was a new experience. I didn't know how much or how far in to wash the squoosy area between my legs and hurt myself a couple times bumping those protuberant breasts while I scrubbed. This was going to take some getting used to, to put it mildly.

I was toweling myself dry when Donna knocked on the door, then came on in without waiting for me to answer. She smiled at me. "Good morning."

"Good morning, if you can call it good," I said, holding the towel up like a barrier between us. I felt my face getting red.

"Poor Li. You look as if you've lost your last friend."

"I feel like I've lost myself," I said.

"You'll get used to it. Why don't you go on and get dressed? I think most of Rita's clothes will fit you. I'll be out in a minute."

Just dressing was a chore. I felt like a transvestite while I poked through Rita's drawers and closet, especially when I got into the lingerie. I thought for a moment I would just wear my own shorts, but I could see immediately they wouldn't fit, and besides, it was a silly idea. I chose a pair of her plain panties and put them on. They hugged my hips instead of my waist. I kept tugging at them; they felt as if they were going to fall off. Her jeans were a size or so too large, but they would do for now. I held up a bra, looked at it and flung it down on the bed without even trying it on, not that I would have known how to adjust it if I had. I pulled a blouse from her closet and was just putting my arm through the first sleeve when Donna came back into the room.

She took one look at my bare breasts, then her glance shifted to the discarded bra, crumpled on the bed like something designed for the Salvation Army box.

"So, you decided against a bra, huh? Well, it looks like you can get away without one most of the time. You'll have to wear one on occasion, though." She began pulling on casual clothes.

I had trouble buttoning the old-fashioned blouse until I realized the fastenings were on the wrong side. I decided right then I would wear touchtab clothes from now on. I sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking gloomy thoughts until Donna finished dressing. I wondered how Rez was making out. Probably better than I was. Rita had always been a practical person and she still retained the same mind, just as I did. I doubted she-he-would be in the kind of funk I was in.

"Ready?" Donna said.

"I guess." I got to my feet but was reluctant to go out and face the others. What had Rez and Russell done last night? Had they just slept, like Donna and I? Probably. Grief over Seyla's death, if nothing else, would have kept them apart. Besides, I didn't think Russell was that way.

I stood in the same place by the bed until Donna came over and put her arms around me.

"Li, please don't take this so hard. I promise, it's not all that bad."

"I'll try, but I don't think I'll ever get used to it," I said.

"Of course you will. I'll help. Remember Don, your old friend? I'm still in here, just like always. Now that we're both women, I think you'll find it's easier to share your thoughts with me, like we used to do. We can let our hair down and talk men-talk, just between us girls."

I had to laugh at that, and felt better for it. I returned her embrace and kissed her, just as I had been doing for months. She responded enthusiastically for a moment, then broke away from me.

"Let's save this for later, huh? Boy, have you got some revelations coming!" She smiled like a student who knew all the answers to an exam in advance.

I wondered what she meant, but didn't give it much thought at the moment. We left the bedroom.

***

Breakfast smells brought Russell and Rez out into the den. Rez was dressed in some of Russell's old clothes. They fit him no better than Rita's did me.

"Good morning," Rez said, looking at me tentatively, as if I were an old lover who had unexpectedly appeared from out of the past.

Talking with Donna had helped my attitude some. I went over to him and put my arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips. "Good morning," I said. God, I felt short. He towered over me. I didn't linger in the embrace, stepping away just as I felt his hands touch my waist.

Russell was dry-eyed, but he was still haggard-looking, as if he were just returning from the lab after a week of no sleep.

The first thing we did after breakfast was to go back to the gate where Seyla had died-or at least not come out of the gate. There were a couple reporters hanging around, but we ignored them, or tried to, but they were persistent. I felt for my gun, intending to use it to wave them away. The damn female blouse didn't have pockets, so I couldn't get to my little automatic easily; it was tucked into the back pocket of my jeans and I sure as hell wasn't carrying a purse. Or not yet, anyway. Donna pulled hers out just enough to show them that we didn't intend to be bothered. They retreated, but I suppose they were still recording. We laid a wreath of flowers nearby and cried together until we could no longer stand it. After that, we went back home.

None of us wanted to catch the news; we were too afraid we would see Seyla in her last moments. Instead, we had a light lunch, then Russell and Donna excused themselves and went into his bedroom together. I think they left Rez and I alone deliberately, to let us begin getting used to our change, but I'm sure that wasn't the only reason. Donna had learned how to comfort a man, and Russell was in dire need of it.

I sat down by Rez on the small lounger. His eyes were wet with unshed tears.

"Are you still thinking of Seyla?" I asked.

"Yes, of course, but that's not the only thing. I was thinking of our ba-our bab-" He burst into full-blown tears. "Oh, Li."

My immediate reaction was to do what I would have done the day before: pull him into my arms. That didn't work too well; I had forgotten the disparity in sizes again. We fumbled for a moment and he wound up with his arms around me. I felt small and vulnerable and helpless. What do you say to a woman who has just lost a baby, especially if the woman has suddenly become a man?

Eventually, he wiped away the tears and let go of me. "I'm sorry, Li. I won't do that again."

"It's all right," I said. "I feel the same way."

"It's not all right, but I'll get over it. Just please, be patient with me."

"I will," I assured him, thinking I didn't even know how to assure myself.

"I hope so. I need you now more than I ever thought I would need anyone."

Well, I needed him too, but it was Rita I wanted, not Rez. I couldn't reconcile the man sitting beside me with Rita, even though I knew she was still there, inside that male body. I didn't know what to say, let alone what to do.

"This is hard on you, isn't it?" Rez said, looking inquiringly at me.

"No more so than it must be for you." I said.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I'll get used to it quicker than you will." He patted one of my shapely thighs. "It will come, though. Spend some time with Donna. She'll help you along. Just don't forget who I really am, though. Rita. And I love you just as much as ever."

That was the thing. I still loved Rita, too, but I couldn't feel her presence like I wanted to, not in that big male body. It was like a kid seeing his dad dressed up in a Halloween costume.

We spent the afternoon just talking and walking around the house, trying to get adjusted to our new bodies. I got to where I could converse a little easier with Rez, especially after he had laughed at me a few times when I made mistakes, like having to jerk forward an extra few inches when reaching for something in order to compensate for shorter arms than I was used to, or suddenly being blinded by my long hair when I leaned forward, or making moves that caused my breasts to get in my way. All my reactions were still geared to a larger male body, and I had come out small, even for a woman. I wasn't much more than five feet tall.

The third or fourth time Rez laughed at me, I glared at him, trying to look angry. He just laughed harder. "Think of me," he said through a fresh burst of giggles. "I woke up this morning with an erection and didn't know what to do to make it go down."

That almost floored me. "What did you do?"

"What do you think?" She giggled again, almost like a woman. "I haven't learned to aim straight yet, either."

Now I had to laugh. I wasn't the only one having problems. Besides having to get used to a penis, he was having the same problems as I was, except in reverse. He tended to reach too far, and hold household items too tight, and after I got used to looking at him, I could detect a faint sway of his hips when he walked. He was going to have to correct that or gay men would start following him around in droves.

Russell and Donna rejoined us after a few hours. Russell looked much better. "I'm going back to the lab," he said.

"Do you have to leave so soon?" I asked.

"I want to. It will get my mind off Seyla and there are things I need to check up on. I'll be back in a day or two."

He left a few minutes later after giving me a hug that was friendlier than I was used to from him. I didn't let it last long. Every time either he or Rez hugged me, I could feel the yielding pressure of my breasts against their chests, a sensation I still wasn't comfortable with.

Rez went to bed early. I think he did it deliberately, especially remembering his remark to me about "spending time with Donna". Besides, he knew as certainly as the wind blows from the north in winter that I wasn't ready to sleep with a man yet. I didn't know if I ever would be.

Chapter Eighteen

I woke up the next morning in the middle of a dream. I was a man again, and just getting ready to make love to Rita. As I came to awareness, the dream dissipated when I recognized the body next to me. Donna had her back up against me. I had an arm around her and my hand was cupping her breast. I think that was what woke me. It felt larger than it should and I couldn't figure it out. Donna's breasts were bigger than any of the other girls and I couldn't imagine who else would be in bed with me. It took me a few seconds to realize Donna was the same size as ever; it was my hand that was smaller.

If I hadn't needed to get up and go to the bathroom, the dream might have progressed on into reality. As it was, I slid my hand away and rolled out of bed. As usual, I was the first person awake. I stood there for a moment, looking down at Donna. The sheet had slid down around her hips and her upper body was bare. I felt a sexual arousal surge through my body, making my breasts and thighs feel warmer than they should. Just looking at her told me that my male mind was still working fine, but I couldn't help wondering if Donna found me attractive as a female. I thought it probably wouldn't be long before I found out, but right now, I had to go.

Donna was still making the decisions. After breakfast at McDonald's, Rez wanted to go on into North Houston to see Russell about his project, but Donna insisted we go shopping for new clothes and accessories before he left.

Rez took longer to pick out clothes than any man I have ever met, but I guess he came by it naturally, seeing as how he had spent all his previous life as a female. Donna gave help and advice from her perspective of last year when she had been male. It took three times longer to get him outfitted than I thought it should. I got impatient, then annoyed at the time they spent selecting a few pairs of jeans, shirts and jirts. There wasn't that much difference in most of the items, but apparently, they thought so. Finally, it was over and I breathed a sigh of relief when Rez left her bundles with us and took off for North Houston. I thought the rest of the shopping expedition would only take a few minutes. That just goes to show how little I still knew about being a woman.

After the booth took my measurements, Donna insisted on paying for a graphics program, then examining my image on the screen while it tried on every single garment we selected.

I tried to keep it simple, but Donna wouldn't let me. She kept saying, "No, no, Li. That won't go with your hair," or "No, those don't match. Let's try another set."

She made me buy some frilly things in silkskin and velvetin and clingtight, even though I kept telling her I would never wear them. "Yes, you will," she insisted, and I finally let her have her way. It was only money, and I had plenty of that, but I still didn't intend to wear them.

I did enjoy the lingerie selection,, simply because I still couldn't identify the auburn-haired beauty on the full-length screen with myself. I enjoyed seeing her clothed and unclothed again and again while Donna made the decisions. Again, I tried to pick out simple things, but she wouldn't let me. "Oh, no," she would say. "This is much sexier," or "Wow, wait until Rez and Russell see you in this!" I didn't tell her that I wasn't intending to walk around in front of the men wearing the few ounces of next to nothing she picked out; I knew how they would react, and I wouldn't blame them if they did. I knew exactly how men thought when they saw scantily-clad female bodies and I didn't intend to let them get bothered, then be unable to do anything about it. I have to admit, though, Donna knew what she was doing. Every single garment made my image a walking invitation for sex no man could resist..

That gave me pause for thought. God's chips, I could be raped now! It made me shudder to even think of it. I made a mental note to myself to never, ever forget to carry my gun, and to devise a quick way to get to it.

As soon as the garments were put together, we sent them all back home by courier since Rez and Russell had both cars with them. We began walking toward home, then Donna turned off on another street.

"Where are we going now?" I asked.

"Last stop before home. We have to get you an implant."

I stopped dead on the sidewalk. Implant? I hadn't even thought about such a thing. "No," I said. "I don't think I'll be needing one."

"You might surprise yourself. Besides, what if you got raped one day?" she asked, mirroring my previous thought. "Or what if someone slips some pheromones into the punch at a party? It happens, you know."

I had already thought of the possibility, but not in those terms. I shuddered. What if it did happen and I got pregnant? There were abortion pills of course, but would I want to go through the bother they entailed? I followed Donna to the clinic.

It was very embarrassing, since old Doc Tyler, whom I had known all my life, insisted on a pelvic exam first. It was probably just habit on his part, old practices which were so ingrained in him that he couldn't quit them all at once. No new female just out of a gate needed an exam; they were invariably as healthy as an Olympic athlete.

While I was in the stirrups, Donna was in the examining room with me, holding my hand. I was glad she came along. Knowing she had gone through the same procedure made it a little easier, though there was nothing at all fun about it. Right then, I would have liked to have words with whoever was responsible for designing the female body. That damn speculum was as cold as an ice cube and it seemed as if it was in there for hours. Tyson didn't talk much during the proceedings, except toward the end.

"Would you like me to remove the hymen while we're here?" he asked.

We? Where did he get that we from? "No," I said. I just wanted this to be over with.

"Yes," Donna said. She squeezed my hand when I started to argue with her. When I didn't speak up again, he took my silence for assent. I felt a sharp little prick of pain, but not enough to really bother me. After that was over, he used a little hand-held injection gun to insert the implant. He held it against my outer thigh. There was a snap like the sound of a rubber band thwacking a piece of paper.

"Ouch!" I said. "That hurt."

"It's all over with. Don't have intercourse until after your next period and you should be as safe as a baby girl." He laughed as he left the room. I didn't see anything funny, especially when he mentioned my next period. Next? I hadn't even had my first one yet, and I damn sure wasn't looking forward to it. I decided no matter how much it embarrassed me, I had better ask Donna about the mechanics of coping with it before it snuck up on me and embarrassed me even more.

***

Donna bought a few things of her own while we were shopping, and after we got back home, she insisted we try on our new clothes. I have to admit that I was curious about how they would fit and feel, even the exotic (to me) things, and how I would look in them in the flesh rather than as a graphie.

Donna laid the clothes out on the bed. We undressed down to panties and began putting on and taking off clothes. The silkskin items surprised me the most. I could see where the name originated from. The blouses and dresses and pants melded to my body like a second skin, outlining the contours and curves of my new body like a perfectly fitted glove. When I ran my hands over my body, it was almost like touching my own skin.

The velvetin tops and trousers didn't cling quite so closely, but the feel of them where they did touch was like downy feathers caressing my body. I wondered why they never made men's clothing from those materials. Was it some macho thing that men wouldn't wear anything slinky or silky? I had no idea, but it gave me the subject for another story.

I put each item of clothing away after trying it on, either in a drawer or hanging in the closet. I think I blushed when it got to the nightgowns. I felt like a transvestite again, especially with Donna whistling or making cute remarks when I tried them on. She had long since finished with the few items she had bought, but hadn't gotten dressed yet. There was only one thing left to try and that was the bras Donna had insisted I buy, in several different styles and colors.

"Now, let's see how you look in these," Donna said, plucking one of them from the bed. I put my arms through the straps and tried to hook it in back. I quickly found that there was a definite technique to getting in and out of the damned things. She showed me how to adjust it, then guided my fingers and arms through several repetitions until I thought I could do it by myself.

"You're doing fine," Donna said. She picked up the last bra. "Now this one closes in front. It should be easier to handle."

Well, at least I could see what I was doing. I wondered why they didn't make them all like that. I thought there was probably some arcane female reason, but decided not to get into it.

"You look good enough to eat," Donna said, stepping back to admire me in the new undies. I didn't quite know how to take that.

"It needs just a wee bit of adjusting." She stepped around behind me and did something to the straps in back, then came around to stand in front of me. "Perfect. Now let's see you take it off."

I unhooked it. Donna was standing very close. All the time we had been dressing and undressing, I had slowly began to feel a desire to hold Donna in my arms again, and the way she looked now only increased the desire. There's nothing so stimulating to the male mind as a woman dressed only in a pair of low cut panties with breasts bared. She saw the way I was looking at her, standing there with the bra dangling from my hand like a used dishtowel.

She took a step closer. Our breasts brushed together and I felt my nipples hardening, a sensation somewhat like two tiny erections at the tips of my breasts, and spreading a suffused warm fullness into them. I felt the muscles in my belly tighten and the insides of my thighs quiver. I put my hands around her waist and pulled her to me. Our lips met, hers already open and willing, an invitation to the liquid dance of her tongue.

Donna let me lead, understanding perfectly that my mind was still completely male-oriented. I eased her down onto the bed and began making love to her just as though nothing had changed between us. I kissed and fondled her breasts and ran my hands over her body until she was moaning with anticipation. I slid her panties off and removed my own. I let my tongue wander down the smooth length of her body and stopped at the juncture of her thighs. She spread her legs eagerly. My tongue touched the little button buried there. I felt her fingers moving through my hair, then grasping at my neck and shoulders as her hips rose to meet my mouth, every muscle in play. She held, then went rigid and cried out again and again.

Donna's cries seemed to echo through my own body, sending undulating waves of tense, excited expectation coursing through me. As she sank back down, I moved up over her, between her legs. I was breathing as heavily as if I were running a race. Waves of pleasure rose from my groin as I rubbed against her, rising and rising until I could hardly stand it, but still no orgasm came. I became frantic for release, grinding my hips harder and faster against her, almost crying with the need to complete the act. Donna had her arms and legs locked around me. Her fingers dug into my back. She cried out again and I almost went crazy with frustration.

Finally, exhausted, still unsatisfied, I collapsed on top of her.

"Let me," she whispered. She rolled me off and began the same way I had, but she didn't spend nearly as much time. I had barely begun to thrill to the unusual sensation of having my breasts handled and caressed and feeling my nipples being sucked into her mouth when she left them and worked her lips down my body. I spread my legs open for her and a moment later, felt the exquisite touch of her tongue. Again I felt the rising, barely endurable excitement but this time, it went to completion, like a racing car finally topping a hill. I screamed like a panther as my whole body was engulfed in a shuddering, muscle-locking orgasm that seemed to go on and on and on. I lost track of time, of light and darkness, of the whole universe and everything in it.

When I came back to my senses, Donna was up beside me again, gently caressing my breasts with feathery soft fingers.

"Wow," I said. "That was like going over a cliff backwards and falling a thousand miles."

Donna leaned over and kissed me. "Wait until you try it with a man. It's even better."

"It couldn't be," I said.

"Mmm. You'll see." She laid her head on my breast. I ran my fingers through her hair, thinking it couldn't possibly be any better. The best way I know of to compare the female orgasm to the male is that it's like laying on your back and having the best blowjob in the world given by the most talented woman in the world, with both of you in love with each other. A blowjob involving the whole body, whereas the regular male climax is more centered in the penis and groin. I think the difference is with a regular orgasm, the man is doing the giving, so to speak, and the other way, he's completely on the receiving end, like a woman must feel.

Later, we did it again. And again. I wished briefly I could experience it with Rita as a female, then put it out of my mind. It could never happen. She was male now.

The thought wouldn't go away. What would it be like with Rez? Could I do it? I didn't know, but I decided then that eventually, I would have to try it, if for no other reason than that I loved Rita, her mind and personality, even if it was locked in a male body now. I owed her-him-that much anyway.

Late that evening, Chief Martin called. We had to get dressed and turn on vision so the recording would be legal. It didn't take long.

***

Seyla's assassin was executed in the town square two weeks later by a militia firing squad. He never gave a coherent reason for his actions, which was probably just as well. Nothing he could have said would have brought Seyla back, nor given Rez and I back our own bodies. None of us went to watch the execution.

During those two weeks, I gradually began getting used to the body I was wearing, learning how to walk and reach and eventually becoming accustomed to the sensation of everything being larger and heavier than usual (that's how it felt to me: the world grown larger rather than me grown smaller). I had my first period. I hated the whole messy proceedings, but it wasn't as if I was alone in the world; half of humanity had the same problem, although those of us with access to modern medical care could skip many of them. I slept alone those nights, insisting to Donna that I was fine and she spend some time with Rez, and Russell when he was there. I knew Rez would have sex with Donna. They had enjoyed themselves when both were female and Donna liked swinging in either direction. Besides, if I ever decided to have sex with Rez, I wanted him to have some experience first. No use having us both fumbling around at the same time.

Russell was seldom home; he was still spending much of his time on campus, working on that project which Seyla had been so enthusiastic about. Rez made occasional trips in to check with him, and Donna managed to attend all her classes over the web.

I began watching the news again, gathering data and anecdotes about the gates for possible stories to sell. There wasn't much new. The world was adjusting to their presence, in one way or another, with politicians, religions, and the military vying for control of them in most countries.

I think the United States, France and Australia were the only countries where the majority of the population (other than the religious fundamentalists) accepted the gates with hardly any strings attached, and tried to guarantee unimpeded access, the nationwide riots in America notwithstanding. That had just been fourth worlder frustration and racial tensions breaking out into the open. In most other countries, control of one sort or another was attempted, without much success. The Germans, with their usual Teutonic thoroughness, tried a unique solution: they began building cement walls around each gate, then wiring them with powerful electric currents. As each barrier was completed, permits were required to enter. For once, the Germans revolted against their bureaucrats. Organized mobs went from gate to gate, overcame the guards, and blew holes in the barriers. Finally, the government gave up and simply required permits, "in order to record sociologically useful statistics". The citizens quickly went back to their usual obedient ways, paying the permit fees with no objections.

I did a story on that last item from the ordinary citizen's viewpoint and it sold pretty well, though my German stringer held Mary up for a hefty percentage of the royalties.

In Russia, a bloody struggle was still going on between the Mafia, the government (such as they had) and the citizenry for control of the gates. It was beginning to look as if the Russian Mafia might at last have met their match. There were as many of them being murdered by citizens as they were murdering police officers and tax collectors.

Russell, on the occasions when he came home, began to look tired again, and discouraged. His project, whatever it was, wasn't working out as quickly as he had predicted. One evening, he came in just as we three had finished dinner. He threw his jacket into a corner and slumped down beside Donna on the big lounger.

"Damn it, something is wrong and I can't figure it out!" he said, his voice almost growling with frustration.

Chapter Nineteen

"Don't you have any ideas at all?" Rez asked rhetorically. I had been sitting beside him on the small lounger. As he asked his question, I got up and went over to Russell.

"Turn around," I said. He presented his back to me while Donna began stirring up a pitcher of Whatnot. I began kneading his shoulders and back. His muscles were knotted as tight as a sailor's half-hitch. As I worked my fingers into the hard lumps of tension-contracted muscles, I couldn't help thinking of how big men still seemed to me.

"Ahh. Thanks, Li. That felt good." He straightened back up and accepted a drink from Donna. "As to your question, Rez, no I don't have a goddamned clue. According to all our calculations, the experiments we've been running should have worked, but they haven't, and we can't figure out why."

"What are you going to do now?" Rez asked. He put a friendly arm around me when I went back to sit beside him. I had been forcing myself to get used to casual intimacy from him and from Russell, when he was there. It wasn't easy, especially with the way both of them stared surreptitiously at my body whenever they thought I wasn't noticing. I knew I would have to get used to it, though, especially since I was planning on traveling again, once I thought I could go out in public without embarrassing myself.

Russell tilted the drink to his mouth and shrugged. "What can we do? Back up and punt. Start all over and see where we made our mistake, or mistakes. There must be some error in the calculations, or maybe even the theory itself."

"How long will it take?" Rez asked. He was gently kneading my shoulder. I leaned against his arm and thought his hand felt as big as my dad's had when I was a little boy and he led me across streets.

"Well, we've been working six months on the theory. Give us another three or four to go back over everything, then rebuild the apparatus and check it for errors. Six months? A year? I just can't say right now. Sorry, Rez. I know you were hoping for faster results, but that's how science goes."

"Neither of you has ever said just what it is you've been working on," I said. I leaned forward to pick up my glass and sip at my drink. When I sat back, Rez's hand came down over my shoulder and rested tentatively on my breast. I tensed, then gradually relaxed when he made no other move, just letting his hand rest there as if it had naturally fallen into a comfortable position, which I knew from my own experience it had, even if it was a deliberate act. Donna smiled in our direction from her seat beside Russell.

"We wanted it to be a surprise, especially for Seyla," Rez said.

"I guess it can't hurt to tell you something about it," Russell said. "Basically, it's a new theory of light and how it can be manipulated, or how we thought it could be manipulated."

"How was that going to help the fourth worlders?" I wanted to know. I couldn't see where a new theory of light would provide jobs and education or financing for their entry into the vast web resources of information.

"We were hoping for a completely new line of comphones, with receivers so cheap, anyone could afford them, and solar powered so there wouldn't even be an expense for batteries. And other things, of course; it wouldn't stop there by any means."

I thought about it. Fourth worlders got that designation because they had been left out of the information age. In our country, part of the blame lay with the near-collapse of public education after the financial crash (not that it was worth all that much beforehand). The fourth world population in other countries came about from various causes; in Europe, wars and the refugee problems used up most resources. Japan had never recovered from the crash and loss of export revenue. Other countries had either never developed or had lost the infrastructure to support the costs of web information after it switched from phone lines to beamed broadcasts and the new, expensive receivers. But would cheap comphones for everyone (and the money to support them) really change the world that much? It would depend on what they were used for. I thought Russell and Rez were being overly optimistic, but perhaps not. Anyone could get an education over the web, but first you had to be able to afford the costs of accessing it, and that wasn't nearly as cheap as it once had been.

I felt Rez's fingers curl underneath the slope of my breast, his fingers warm over the thin cloth of my blouse. I hurriedly got to my feet for another drink. Chips in hell, I just wasn't ready for a man, no matter what Donna had told me about it. I brought my drink back and quickly entwined my fingers with Rez's to keep them where they belonged. For now, anyway.

Russell yawned. "I've got to get a shower and some sleep. I'm exhausted." Donna poured a couple of drinks for them and followed him into their room, leaving Rez and I alone. I stirred up another pitcher, reminding myself to remember my weight now, not much over a hundred pounds.

I refilled Rez's glass and my own, then sat back down, drawing a knee up onto the lounger so I was half-facing him. He sipped meditatively at his drink while I watched him. Rita had certainly turned into a handsome man. Unfortunately for him, I was still inclined toward pretty women. He seemed to realize what I was thinking.

"You're still scared of me, aren't you?" he said.

"No, I'm not scared of you. I just can't get used to your body, that's all."

He shrugged, then grinned at me. "How about your own?"

"I don't have a choice about that," I said.

"Neither do I. I still love you, Li. In fact, I think I love you even more now. You're beautiful."

"That's just sex talking," I said. I knew that was partially it. I was beautiful, and he had to be reacting to it, even if his mind was still female. I was the person he had loved, and besides, Rita had always been liberal in her attitudes about sex.

"Please don't say it's just sex, Li. Sure, sex is part of it. You can't separate it from love between a man and woman, but that's not everything. I want your mind and spirit back, too. You're still treating me like a friendly ogre, harmless so long as you don't provoke him."

"Damn it, I've been trying," I said. Unaccountably, I burst into tears.

Rez moved my knee from the lounger and put his arm around me again. I put my face against his broad chest so he couldn't see me crying, not that it did much good.

"Poor dear, I know you have. I'm sorry. I guess I'm trying to rush you."

I sniffed and lifted my head. "Damn, I don't know why I'm crying. I never used to cry."

He patted my back. "I can tell you something about that. The sex gates have given us a bit of an answer to that old question. Tears are at least partially a physiological phenomena. You cry easier than you used to; I don't cry as much. Same for other sex-change subjects who have been studied."

"Really? I don't feel so bad, then." I got up and finished the pitcher off with refills, pausing for a tissue to blow my nose first. I felt rather ashamed of myself. Rez was being so patient with me and I was giving him hardly any encouragement at all.

"You want to watch anything?" he asked, nodding at the screen.

"Not any news. Maybe a movie, but I'd rather watch movies in bed, so I can nod off when I'm sleepy."

"That can be arranged," he said.

I realized what I had said and countered, "I don't think that would be a good idea. I know what you would feel like, sleeping with a woman who isn't interested in sex."

"Well, I could always jack off," he laughed.

I giggled. The rum was beginning to affect me. I had forgotten my body mass again. "Seriously," he continued, "I'd rather watch entertainment in bed, too."

I didn't say anything.

He still had his arm around me. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. "I promise not to rape you."

I didn't answer. After a moment, I got up and made another pitcher of Whatnot to take to the bedroom. He raised his brows when I brought fresh refills over.

I was beginning to change my mind. I really didn't want to sleep alone, but I wasn't sure Rez would behave. On the other hand, I could always ask him to leave if sleeping together made me really uncomfortable, and I still wasn't planning on having any sex with him. I wished suddenly that Russell hadn't come home, then I could have asked Donna to join us.

"A penny?"

"What? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking."

"Keep it up. Women should have brains as well as looks."

"I've always thought so, too," I said and laughed. I leaned back against his shoulder, feeling the ethanol warm my body. He put his am around me again and his hand settled on my breast. I reached up to remove it, then just held it there.

"This feels so odd," I said.

"How so?"

"I just can't get used to being so much smaller than you."

"Why not just relax? I used to enjoy being held by a man. I still miss it."

"You do?"

"Of course. Remember, I've still got a female mind. I'm just trying to act like a man, since that's what I am."

I leaned closer into his embrace. "Perhaps that's what I should do." I had to admit to myself that having a strong arm around me and a broad chest to lean against did give me a comforting sense of security. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad when the time came.

We talked a while longer about the differences we were both having troubles with, me more so than him. Finally, he held up the half pitcher of Whatnot still left. "Why don't we take the rest of this to bed and watch a movie?"

"Oh chips, all right. Just be nice." My mind was getting fuzzy enough that I thought it was time to be going to the bedroom, and to lay down before I fell.down.

I went into the bathroom first, carrying a nightgown carefully picked for its opaqueness. It wasn't until I undressed and slipped it on that I noticed how well Donna had chosen. The soft velvetin fabric clung to my breasts and thighs in a way that was more provocative than something transparent would have been. Too late. I left it on and came out and gave the bed instructions to make us a back rest while Rez undressed down to his shorts.

We leaned back against the pillowed supports. He already knew some of my favorite programs, so I didn't get asked what I wanted to watch. He turned on The Pet Plague Universe. The old tom that hung around the house and accepted shelter and food on cold nights was almost a duplicate in color of one of the intelligent cats in the story.

"Do you want to interact?" Rez asked.

"Mmm. I think I've had too much to drink to bother. Why not just make it a random program and let's see how it comes out this time?"

"Suits me." He started it going. I still think he cheated. The two chief female protagonists didn't lose any time getting involved with each other, and the male protagonist didn't make an appearance until I had already gotten horny watching the women. I guess the alcohol helped. I hadn't thought to take a Nohang and it was still affecting my judgment.

As the story progressed, it was as interesting and sexually stimulating as ever, if not more so. Once we finished the last of the pitcher and didn't need to reach to the bedside caddies to sip at our drinks, I let Rez pull me over to him. I leaned against his shoulder with my left hand on his bare thigh. His arm was around me again and I didn't try very hard to prevent him from covering my breast with his hand.

I glanced down from the screen and saw an erection had built a tent beneath his shorts. Oh, chips. Now what?

Would he really go jack off? I looked back up at the screen. An action scene new to us was being played out, but I couldn't seem to concentrate on it with Rez's hand molded around my breast, squeezing gently and rhythmically.

"Rez-"

"Hmm? He twisted his upper body toward me. He face held a serious, taunt expression, hovering close to my own. His eyes flickered with warm highlights reflected from the screen. I intended to tell him to stop, but he put his other arm around my waist and lowered his lips to mine before I could say anything. It wasn't the first time we had kissed, but it was the first one that was overtly sexual. I tried to relax into the embrace, thinking I would break it in just a moment, but somehow, I couldn't. I slid my hand around his neck and parted my lips, deciding this would just be a good night kiss and then we could go on to sleep. He deftly parted the fabric of my gown and slid his hand inside. His hand closed over my bare breast and suddenly, I didn't want the kiss to end. It was pleasant and his large male hand roving my breasts didn't seem nearly so threatening anymore; in fact, it wasn't threatening at all.

"Oh, Li, I want you so bad," he whispered against my lips when he finally broke away for a moment. At the same time, the screen shut off with the end of the story. The bedroom lights dimmed.

I didn't know what to say or do. The rum was blurring my thoughts. In a way, I wanted the lovemaking to continue, but in another, I was thinking in a residual homophobic manner, asking myself how I could be doing this with a man. While I was debating with my schizophrenia, he told the bed to make the backrests into pillows again, and as they lowered, his lips descended again. I let it go on. He parted the rest of the gown's touchtabs and ran his hand over the curve of my hip and along my thighs and back to my breasts, bared completely to his touch. I could feel myself beginning to respond, then the sensation would fade as I thought of what was happening.

On the next upswing, while I feeling a surge of desire, I moved my hand down the length of his body without thinking of what we were now, acting as if I were searching a woman's thighs with the intent of parting them. My hand met the bulge beneath his shorts. He reached down and pushed them over his hips, freeing his penis. It sprang up, hard and erect.

Curiosity killed the cat, as the old saying goes. It got the best of me, anyway. I wanted to see if it felt any different than when I handled my own. It did. It was an alien object, the skin stretched to a satiny smoothness almost like the velvetin which had been covering my body. I ran my fingers over it, thinking how odd and different it felt when attached to another person. I curled my fingers around it. The night light was still on and I could see how large it appeared in my hand. I made a sudden decision to go through with the act, even though my desire was ebbing somewhat. I wondered if I was wet enough for him to enter me easily and the thought came immediately that there was a sure cure for that.

I took a deep breath and slid down on the bed, feeling the waves of my hair brushing his belly as it trailed along with me. Chips, it can't be that bad. Billions of people have done it before and all I intended was to lubricate it a little. I raised my head and slid my lips down over his erect penis. I heard him gasp at the initial sensation of it entering my mouth and knew exactly how he felt: like a sudden deliciously damp warmth was enveloping him and exploding into his groin.

I intended to just get him wet but I got carried away with new thoughts and sensations. It seemed amazing at what a perfect fit it was, pressing against both my tongue and the roof of my mouth, as though nature had designed the mouth as well as the vagina for intercourse. It felt both soft and rigidly hard, a double sensation both curious and compelling. I moved my lips back up, then slowly down on him again, feeling the bumpy ridge of the crown part my lips wider for a second as they slid past it, then the fullness of it crowding inside. I became so intrigued with the mechanics of the act, I completely forgot what the end result was bound to be, and I didn't even consider that he might not have learned to hold back yet. I felt it jerk in my mouth and heard him cry out at the same time. A sudden surge of warm semen filled the back of my throat, startling me almost silly. His hands were grasping my neck and shoulders, holding me there. More semen flooded into my mouth and I swallowed involuntarily, tasting the saltiness now and feeling it spreading to the inside of my lips and onto my tongue like a film of warm brandy. I started to withdraw, then remembered how often Rita had done this for me. I knew exactly what the sensation was like and how awful it would feel to have it interrupted. I let him continue to come while I sucked and swallowed and listened to him crying out his pleasure. It seemed to go on and on until I wondered if it would ever end, or if I could possibly keep up with him, but finally, it tapered off and I could catch my breath.

I held him in my mouth a few more moments while I swallowed the last of his semen and his cries died down to long, drawn-out moans of relief. I let him go and crawled up beside him. He hugged me to him so tightly, I could hardly breathe. I think it was the alcohol that made me do it that first time, and I didn't stop to think until a little later that I had gone and given him a blowjob before I ever got laid.

That was remedied before the night was over, of course. Having gone that far, I couldn't see any point in not going the rest of the way.

The first time I was sill apprehensive, even though I had tried to relax and enjoy the foreplay. I guess I was concerned with what it was going to feel like having him inside me, and then I became so analytical after it happened, I failed to reach an orgasm. It wasn't unpleasant, though. Somehow, even the disparity in weight wasn't uncomfortable when he was on top of me, even though the unaccustomed size of the body covering me made me feel somewhat like the bottom man in a football pileup.

The second time was everything Donna had said it would be. I was more relaxed and enjoyed the slow beginning thrusts, meeting each one with an upward surge of my hips, using my legs and arms locked around him for leverage. When his rhythm increased though, I could no longer match it and simply held on while he pounded into me faster and faster until my whole body was vibrating in tune to the beat of his body drumming between my legs. I heard a shrill screaming noise and realized it was my own voice calling out as waves of incredible pleasure swept through me and carried me to a height I had never dreamed or imagined was possible. I don't even know when it ended. I was in some other land, some other universe, until I gradually became aware of his weight pressing me into the bed and the slickness of sweat between us. I was still locked around him, breasts flattened against his chest with my nipples still partially erect and tingling with a residue of pleasure. I sighed, wondering why on earth I had waited so long.

Rez raised his head from where it had been buried in my neck. He kissed me and said, "I love you, Li. I'll love you forever."

I murmured the same words to him. They sounded fine to me.

Chapter Twenty

If it seems like all of us were obsessed with sex in those days, the impression would be right. All over the world, sex became even more of an abiding interest than it had always been. It was the sex changes, of course, in others no less than our family, and the fact there were so many more young, healthy bodies with hormones surging through them than there had ever been before, mine among them.

I never lost my former male orientation so far as being attracted to women went, and Donna was always happy to oblige. The funny thing is, I didn't develop an urge to experiment with any men other than Rez and Russell (though on a couple of trips by myself, I did spend a night or two with another woman), and Russell wasn't home often enough for me to get to really know him in bed for a long time. It was over a month after my first congress with Rez before we slept together. It was fine, and I enjoyed him, but it was still Rez who was my first love. We became even closer than we had been before the change and he never minded that I often wanted Donna in bed with me, or us. She was just as sweet and compliant as ever, my best friend and my female lover. The only bone of contention between us was that sometimes we had trouble with us each wanting to assume the dominant role.

I still hated to travel, but some stories Mary contracted for me required it. Rez usually went with me. One piece we did was about the fourth worlder reaction to the new Federal Welfare Program. That one didn't sell so well; once things quieted down, the upper class didn't much want to hear about their problems and the fourth worlders had only limited funds to spend on entertainment, so not many of them watched.

Forbes lost the election and the party which had split off from the old Democrats won a plurality, but not enough electoral votes to win. The election was thrown into the house and it took a number of votes before Denton Jones was finally chosen as our new President.

Jones was strong on the space program and it began to advance by leaps and bounds. An Orion was launched, over many, many protests by environmentalists, but they were ignored. Construction of a second Orion was begun, and combined with the small Space Clippers rolling off the assembly lines, a manned presence in space began to seem like a permanent possibility. The government never really made clear the purpose of all the expenditures on the space program, but there were hardly any complaints. The majority opinion, believing the gates came from an advanced alien technology, was firmly entrenched, what with the decline of the Church of the Gates (though they remained a force in politics), and it was believed the space program would allow us to "catch up". It didn't matter how many times scientists tried to explain how far beyond us the gate technology was; the majority of people just wouldn't understand. They were satisfied that we were doing something to compete. The tabwebs helped; they were always coming out with "scientific" explanations of how we were learning to understand the gates and how we would soon meet their creators out in space. It is always amazing when you learn all over again how ignorant the general public is about science, or even how little they know of what "science" really is.

The first time after I went to bed with Russell, I got up the next morning and called Derek, my brother (or sister now). I apologized for the way I had treated him in the past. She laughed at hearing my throaty soprano voice explaining I understood her better now that I had a woman's body and had been to bed with men myself. She said she would come up for a visit and bring her fiancé soon.

She did, and I found I liked her better as a woman than I ever had as a man. Bert and Edie managed to get leave at the same time, so we had a full house. I didn't mind; all that meant was the four of us who lived there spent the night in the same bed.

***

Three years passed while our family grew ever closer. We were happy, prosperous, and had interesting work to occupy our time. Rez and Donna each got their advanced degrees in psychology and mathematics. I couldn't make heads or tails of Donna's thesis, but Rez's was interesting. It concerned more speculation on the coming steep decline in the birth rate and the psychology behind the male psyche which was causing it. His thesis attempted to prove that the nurturing instinct was grounded much more in the physiology of the body than the mental portion of it, and that males in female bodies simply weren't going to have babies in any great numbers. If he had asked, I would have been honest: as a female, I had no great yearning to get pregnant. The only time the subject came up in a serious discussion between Rez and I, my offer to contribute an egg for a host mother was refused, but he didn't make a fuss about it.

If it sounds like the world was settling down into a peaceful coexistence with the sex gates, it is only because the gates were mentioned less often in the news. They were still as controversial and as unexplainable as ever, and continued to be the proximate cause of wars, rebellions, and social unrest enough to make the last century seem like a child's game of paintball. Nothing new was learned about them. There they sat, in their hundreds of thousands, with no clue as to their purpose or origin. They were certainly changing the world though, if that was what the controlling power intended-if there was a controlling power. Even that couldn't be proved.

The gates did unleash a bonanza of new inventions and innovations, simply by upsetting conventional notions and turning thoughts and speculations into new areas. The new technology generated a slow financial upswing in the markets but left the fourth worlders little better off, or anyone else for that matter. Global warming continued and the ice sheets at both poles were still melting. Much of the added revenue governments gained from increased employment went toward relocating seacoast residents. The North Houston and our local militias began to drill regularly as more and more of Old Houston became uninhabitable and many of the fourth worlders began moving north, but only as far as they had to. I can't say I blamed them much. The Midwest relocation camps were getting a bad reputation. I made sure we had plenty of arms and ammunition on hand and we all got a lot of exercise fireproofing the old house and building and then prettifying revetments around it. I didn't like having so many fourth worlders near Ruston or Russell's lab at the college in North Houston, and I didn't trust the Luddite philosophy of the Gaters among them-and there were plenty of them. The Church Of The Gates appealed more to the uneducated than to the elite.

Occasionally, word would get out about another person becoming a Seconder but they were few and far between, and according to all the data I could gather, they had no more idea of why they could pass repeatedly through a gate than anyone else.

Really, the only thing which marred our happiness those years was the fact that poor Russell was still working on his theory as tenaciously as a bulldog with its teeth locked in the throat of a larger opponent, hanging on but unable to bring him down. The theories his group had come up with had been reviewed again and again and never a flaw found; yet each time an apparatus was constructed to test their ideas, it failed to work. It was driving him to distraction. Almost always, when he came home, he was haggard and took pains not to transfer his irritability onto the rest of us. We took care of him as ably as we could and usually managed to send him back to the lab refreshed and ready to work even harder.

One afternoon in the spring, almost three and a half years after he had said, "six months, maybe" he returned with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He greeted us with hugs and kisses, practically oozing confidence.

Rez threw an arm over his shoulder. "If you don't have good news this time, you can't tell it from the way you're acting. Something must have worked right on that last contraption you built."

He grinned. "Nope, it failed again, just like always."

"What's all the joy about, then?" I asked, rubbing my cheek against the three days growth of whiskers he was wearing. He smelled strongly of sweat and burnt coffee.

"Because I know what's been causing the problem now. Next time, it will work, believe me."

"What was it?" Rez asked, his face brightening like a Christmas tree being lit up. His enthusiasm for the project had gradually faded after so many failures and he had finally returned to his own research.

Russell looked around as if a squad of 'porters was in the room with us. "I don't want to say anything else about it right now. I'll tell you once we've rewired everything and tested it again. I just wanted to come home and relay the good news and spend a few days relaxing before starting over again. Who's making the Whatnot? I'm ready for a drink. Or maybe two or three."

Donna let go of him and went to the bar and began stirring up the usual concoction. Russell gazed around happily. "Hey, you girls look great!" he exclaimed.

Even after that long a time, I found myself looking around to see what girls he meant, then laughed to myself. I was wearing shorts and a clingtight sleeveless blouse. I looked down and could see my nipples making little tents where the fabric clung to my breasts, outlining their twin forms so perfectly, the blouse might as well have been painted on. I went over and hugged his neck again, feeling the pleasant little sway and jiggle as I moved. I had gotten almost completely used to having a female body and no longer worried about showing it off; in fact, I had begun to enjoy it. I never had gotten to where I had much use for a bra, though. The damn things felt like a straight jacket on me.

Once the Whatnot was ready, I plopped myself down in Rez's lap. He nuzzled my neck and began exploring my breasts as shamelessly as a cat in heat. I bit his ear to make him stop, then whispered a promise for the night to come, thinking of how far my orientation and personal beliefs had progressed since my change. He certainly didn't object to my suggestion.

"So what's new here?" Russell asked. As usual, he depended on us for news from the rest of the world. Donna didn't seem to mind him toying with her breasts. She lay across his lap with her feet propped on the end of the lounger and one hand strung out on the caddy where her drink rested. Russell had already slipped a hand inside her blouse. The change in him was remarkable; he usually came home looking and acting like a beaten dog.

"I heard the floods won't get much higher," Donna offered.

"The third Orion is almost ready for launch," I said, knowing he always wanted to hear about the space program.

"A Tinkertoy," he disclaimed. "It will be obsolete before the next one gets into orbit, even if they complete it."

"Your theory again?" I said.

"Not just mine. We've all worked on it."

Russell was modest. I would have placed a bet that the original notion, whatever it turned out to be, came from his labrythine mind.

"Whatever. That's what you meant, though, your theory?"

"Yup. When it proves out this time, there may be no limit to the applications. The new computers Rez wants to see will be just the least of what we'll be able to accomplish. I think we'll even get practical faster-than-light space travel out of it." He looked innocently around the room, enjoying the effects of his bombshell.

I jumped out of Rez's lap. "Are you serious?" FTL space travel, the dream of every boy and man and woman who had ever read a science fiction novel! How fantastic!

"Yup, I think so. Too soon to be certain yet, but that's what it's looking like."

I began thinking of faraway planets, orbiting stars throughout the galaxy, of strange alien creatures and fantastic new discoveries, as if the possibility of faster-than-light travel wasn't already enough for one day. No wonder he was downplaying computer applications. Why, with FTL on the horizon, that could mean fresh new land, new frontiers and hope for every downtrodden fourth worlder on the planet. It could be like when all the Europeans had immigrated to America to escape starvation and famine and religious persecution.

Donna had her arms around Russell's neck, with her lips locked so firmly to his that he couldn't speak again until she let him come up for breath.

"Don't mention any of this to anyone," he said. "We don't want it getting out yet, and the tests still have to prove the theory. They will, though, they will."

I couldn't understand how he could be so confident now after so many failures, but there was no doubting his certainty. "So how much longer now?" I asked.

He shrugged happily. "No more than two or three weeks, I would say. Stick close to home so you'll be here when I come back. We'll really celebrate then!"

***

We had a pretty good celebration that night. We ordered tons of pizza and laughed and talked until well after dark, soaking up lots of rum along the way. We put on a Z rated sex comedy and all of us interacted with it, with hilarious results. While I was mixing the third or maybe the fourth pitcher of Whatnot, I noticed my blouse was missing and my shorts were awry. I didn't even remember who had pulled off the blouse. Maybe I had myself, for all I know. I poured new drinks and pushed Russell away from Donna so I could neck with her. A few minutes later, I held her blouse up like a trophy from a scavenger hunt, then bent her into my lap and engulfed one of her breasts with my mouth and the other with my hand. The guys cheered. We staggered to our feet and Donna made a production out of removing my shorts. I posed for a moment, then grabbed her and pushed her back on the lounger and peeled off her jeans. She was laughing and pretending to resist all the while, but she spread her legs eagerly when I got to that point. I felt a movement behind me, hands at my waist, then the hard shaft of Russell's penis entering me from behind while I had my face buried in Donna's curly triangle. I looked up the length of her body and Rez was there beside her. She turned her head and took him in her mouth while he played with her breasts.

I don't remember when we retreated to the big bedroom, and have only disconnected memories of what happened afterward, but it was truly a momentous celebration. I couldn't imagine how the next one Russell promised could be any better.

***

The party went on almost continuously for three days. I think it stopped then only because Rez and Russell were totally depleted. Somewhere along the way, I found time to call Mary and ask her to cancel a contract I had just signed to do a story over in Louisiana among the Cajuns, one area of the country where the sex gates had been accepted almost as quickly and enthusiastically as they had in France. She tore her hair and cussed like a sailor, but I was adamant. She could either assign it to someone else or I would drop it and pay the penalty clause in the contract. Muttering under her breath about how this would give me a bad name, she said she would get someone else to do it and to forget about the penalty. I felt a mild regret; I had been looking forward to the trip and a chance to consort with the Cajun ladies, but there was no way I was going to chance not being home the next time Russell returned.

We ran out of Nohang once and I made a trip to the pharmacy and another to the liquor store. I paid the bills without a qualm. I hadn't had such a good time since my first night with Rita, way back when.

We waited anxiously over the next two weeks, then with even more anxiety as more days passed. It was like counting down for a rocket launch where the seconds had become days before the next tick of the clock. When Russell finally did get back, it wasn't anything at all like the triumphant return we had been expecting.

Chapter Twenty-One

I woke up with someone shaking my shoulder. "What is it?," I asked groggily, glancing at the clock. It read three thirty in the morning. I sat up in bed and told the lights to come on.

Russell was standing by the bed, holding a carrying bag in one hand. His hair was singed and his face blackened with soot. His eyes looked terrible, like those of a wild animal confined to a cage and being poked at with sticks. Behind his opened jean jacket, I could see burned places on his shirt.

"Russ, what happened?" I was stupefied.

Behind me on the bed, Rez and Donna sat up sleepily, then their eyes opened wide as they stared at the same apparition I was looking at.

"Get up, all of you. We may be in danger." He turned away and began peeling off his jacket as he left the room. His shirt was in tatters.

I jumped out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans and shirt and boots. At the first mention of danger, I had felt for my big gun in the drawer of the caddy. I buckled it on while the others were getting dressed and added my little automatic to a pocket. We all hurried out into the den.

Russell was sitting on the lounger holding his head in his hands. He looked up as we entered. Tears were glimmering in his eyes.

I switched the security system over to the highest setting, the one where a stray mouse could hardly move without setting off an alarm, then put on coffee. Donna had taken one look at Russell, then led him protesting into the bedroom, leaving the door open. We heard water running while we waited to hear what had happened.

The coffee was ready when Donna and Russell came back in. He had on fresh clothes. His hair was still glistening darkly from the shower and a fresh bandage had been stuck on his neck over the worst burn. I took out a bottle of brandy, added a dollop to each cup with an extra one for Russell and handed it to him. He sipped at it, then swallowed thirstily, sucking in his breath as the hot beverage burned his tongue.

"It's gone, the lab is gone," he said.

"Gone? What do you mean?" Rez asked harshly, as if he were to blame.

"Blown up. Burned. The Gaters did it."

"What! Why would they do something like that?" God's Chips, here I had thought the Gaters were gradually fading out of the picture, relegated now to just one more of the many religious sects, and concentrated mostly among fourth worlders.

"I guess they didn't agree with our research. That's what's been going wrong the last few years. We had a ringer in the lab and no one knew it. He's the one who's been writing the programs for the instrument tests, and always inserting an error before we got ready for a run. We never suspected him until a few weeks ago." He sounded as if his best friend had betrayed him and perhaps it had been; he didn't say.

"You found him out then. That's why you were so fired up the last time you were home?"

"Yeah. I finally got smart and checked the programs myself one night when I was there by myself. I found the error, but it was too late to stop the last test. Besides, I didn't know who else might have been in on it. This time, I wrote a little program myself that would cancel the error and sneaked it in where he couldn't discover it. Our test run worked perfectly. Our theories are proved."

That obviously wasn't the whole story. I said so.

Russell went on, "We wanted to do another run or two with slightly altered parameters before writing up the results. I came back to the lab last night-this morning, I mean, after we had all gone out to eat. I was intending to go over everything again. I got there just as this same guy was sneaking out. I called him down and he denied everything except being a Gater, so I just let him go, thinking that would be the end of it. Oh, fuck it all, why didn't I check around? I might have found the charge he set."

"Do you mean to tell me that the Gaters blew up your whole lab?" I could hardly believe it.

Russell buried his face in his hands and sobbed. He looked up at us, tears streaming down his face. "They did. The charge went off just as we were making the next run this evening. I think everyone was killed except me."

"My God! You mean all your work is gone? Your whole team is dead?" Rez asked. Horror burnished her eyes, like black marbles scoured by sand.

Russell shook his head, still crying. "No, I did one thing right, anyway." He tapped the suitcase by his side. "I had been constructing a prototype light computer. Just on a hunch, I took it and a set of notes on all our work and stuffed it and the chips in here. I had gone to my office to get it and have it ready to leave right after the run. They started a little earlier than I thought. I was just coming back into the lab, down at the far end, when the explosion went off. It knocked me off my feet, but didn't really hurt me. When I got up and couldn't find anyone else breathing and heard the sirens, I grabbed my bag and ran."

"God's chips," I said. "May they be damned to hell." It was an oath I truly meant, from the bottom of my soul. Suddenly, I remembered the first thing he had said: 'We may all be in danger'.

"What did you mean about us being in danger? Do they know you got away with all the notes?"

"I don't know about that, but they'll surely learn I wasn't one of the casualties and they are bound to think of the possibility, or at least decide to come after me in order to eliminate the last one of the team. We've held this whole thing pretty close to the vest and so far as I know, there hasn't been any other research similar to it going on anywhere. I wouldn't even have come back here except I doubt my staying away would give you any protection. If I disappeared, they would almost certainly come after all of you, trying to find my whereabouts." He wiped his eyes, leaving tearstains still visible on his cheeks.

His reasoning made sense. I picked up the phone and called Chief Wilson at home. His sleepy voice answered after several repeated beeps, without visual. I kept mine on so he could see that it was really me speaking. "Chief, would you trust me on an urgent matter, without asking a lot of questions?"

"I guess so, Li. At least for the time being."

"Good. Would you send a patrol car out to our place as soon as possible? With as many men as you can spare? Tell them we may all be in danger and that no one is to approach our house without our specific permission. I'll explain later, or it may already be on the news. You know Russell. He was the only one who escaped the explosion at North Houston University Laboratory. He says it was set deliberately."

"Good God! No, I hadn't heard. I'll get the patrol on the way out immediately. Call me back in an hour or two if I haven't come out to check on you by then."

"Thanks, Chief." I clicked off.

A few minutes later, the big screen sounded off and a blinking icon come on, telling me to check one of the long distance infrared scanners. I put it on the screen. Two hundred yards away, at the head of where our driveway led onto the blacktop, I saw several figures jump from a van and go to ground at the intersection, apparently to block any stray traffic from coming that way. Their rifles looked like little faintly visible sticks, barely above ambient temperature. A dozen more figures began running down the drive toward the house. I guess they thought the movement of a car near our entrance might alert us prematurely to their presence, and it did. That was the only thing that saved us.

Not again! I thought with a sinking heart. My hands began to tremble, but there was no time to spare. No other icon was blinking, so that told me this was the only gang of intruders so far. My whole body began shaking, but I managed to spit out orders, thanking all the Gods I had been made a squad leader during the riots; it had prepared me, at least a little, for quick decisions.

"Out the back way, quick!" I ordered. "Grab your guns on the way." Russell wasn't a carrier. He just snatched up his suitcase. I gave him a shove. "Get going. We'll be right behind you. Donna and Rez paused only long enough to arm themselves, then we were out the back door. We ran for the woods, keeping the house between us and the driveway. Just as we gained the concealment of the trees, a flash of light blossomed back toward town, followed a few seconds later by the clap of an explosion. The patrol car! Oh chips, I had funneled several good men directly to their death. Somehow, the intruders must have tapped into my conversation with the Chief; either that or they had been extraordinarily well prepared; perhaps both. At any rate, that left no doubt in my mind that if we were caught, we would probably be as dead as those poor patrolmen probably were by now.

I knew the woods, even in the dark, from all my boyhood ramblings through them. We hurried down a deer trail, not stopping until we were well away from the house. Behind us, I heard crashing noises and gunshots as the Gaters began neutralizing the security system and breaking inside. I was sorry then I hadn't put up the money for a mankiller bond with the system. Those bastards deserved to die if anyone did.

When I heard Russell began to struggle, I called a halt; he wasn't in as good shape as the rest of us and he hadn't slept lately, either.

Russell dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. "God, I didn't know they would be so close behind me," he panted.

"We were lucky," I said. I touched my big pistol to make sure it was still in its holster, and glad now I had practiced with it after becoming a women.

"What do we do now?" Rez asked, deferring to me.

I tried to make my mind work. It was a cinch the Gaters knew who we were and they were certain to pass the information on to their cohorts. There was no chance of getting far without being recognized, and by all indications, a hunt was being conducted for us without worrying about the consequences. Russell could be expected to be shot on sight, and the rest of us taken into captivity if Russell wasn't located, or killed along with him if he was found. The noises of our home being broken into had ceased, so it was also certain by now they knew we had run out the back way and into the woods. They would be on our heels shortly, and maybe calling in extra help to surround this section of woods and hunt us down. It wasn't that big an area. Farms or ranches were located on three sides of the strip of forest and it ended inside half a mile at another ranch.

What to do? What to do? This was a rural area. Even if the chief called out the militia, it would take many hours to get them organized and to figure out where we were, if they could, which was doubtful. More probably, they would look at our house and figure we had been captured and hauled away.

Suddenly, a name popped into my head. Whitney Horst, the NSA agent, my old nemesis. Would he send a team out if I called and told him I had vital information? Probably, but could they get here in time? The Gaters were probably monitoring my comphone code and could locate our position almost immediately from the satellite location data. I didn't see any other choice, though.

"Li? What are we going to do? We can't just stand here," Donna said, with a scared urgency in every note of her voice.

"I know," I said. "I'm calling the NSA. Horst may be able to help."

"That bastard!" Rez spat.

"I know, but he may be our only chance." I racked my brain, trying to remember the code number. It had been too long; it was lost. I called the North Houston federal building and got a night operator. I wasted precious minutes convincing her that I had a national emergency and she should immediately contact Whitney Horst. She relented only after I mentioned the explosion at the lab; apparently she had already heard about it.

A few moments later, Horst was on the phone. I told him briefly of our situation and where we were, emphasizing that he must hurry and that I was party to information which could shake the world. He made me wait for several seconds while he activated a scrambler circuit so only we could understand each other.

"All right," he said. "I'm convinced. Hide as best you can. Security code will be 'Eagle Hawk'. Got it? Eagle Hawk. I'll get a team on the way."

"Let's go," I said to the others. I remembered a little gully I used to play games in as a boy. It was the best cover I could think of. I led the way. The gully was near the end of the stretch of forest, where a blacktop farm road separated it from the adjoining ranch. A few minutes later, we were hidden below its banks, waiting for whatever happened next. I trembled nervously and hoped I would be able to steady my hands if I had to shoot.

It wasn't long before the test came. The shadowy head and shoulders of a dark figure appeared silhouetted against the skyline at the top of the bank of the gully. Friend or foe? Surely the NSA couldn't be here already. It came to me then that as soon as the Gaters found the gully, it would strike them as an obvious place to hide. We would have been better off crouched in the woods somewhere.

I fired over the figure's head and shouted, "Eagle!" hoping desperately for an answering "Hawk". Instead, the shadowy shape flipped its rifle down in my direction and fired off a full clip. The shots went over my head. I pointed my gun and fired back twice and the Gater toppled backwards. From above, I heard shouts of "Over here!" and nervous gunfire.

We were ensconced near the head of the gully. I debated whether to begin making a retreat toward the other end when from that direction came a voice. "Eagle," it said, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Hawk," I returned, relief washing over me like a warm shower after being out in a cold wind. How had they gotten here so fast? A man and a woman ran up to us, crouched low.

"This way," the man said. "Hurry. Stay down." He spotted Russell's suitcase. "Is this your data?"

"Yes," Russell said.

"Good, give it to me and come on." Russell handed it over without a thought.

We began running down the bottom of the gully where water had washed a path free of vines and brush. A ripping sound of gunfire followed our retreat, tearing through limbs and branches above our heads.

Two more men joined us at the end of the gully. One of them took the suitcase and hurried away. He dropped to the ground as he crawled over the bank and stayed on his stomach until I lost sight of him as he slithered away. The other three stayed behind, urging us to cover behind a tangle of trees, washed into a heap from a spring flood. I wondered why we all hadn't gone with the other man, but then forgot about him as a withering volley of gunfire raked into the logs, sending wood chips flying.

"Stay down, don't risk yourselves unless they charge," the leader said. "Help is on the way."

I hoped he was right. The Gaters kept our heads down with a constant barrage of gunfire which chewed at the logs like energetic beavers.

"They're going to charge," he warned. "Get ready." I wondered how he could be so certain, but he was right. They came directly at us, over both banks of the gully and along the dry streambed, firing wildly. Fortunately, most Gaters aren't carriers; these must have been newly armed. Most of the bullets went zinging off into the forest. We stopped the first charge dead in its tracks, dropping a number of them, and causing the rest to scramble for concealment, uncomfortably nearby.

A few minutes later, the man gave us a second warning. "They're getting ready again. This time, keep your heads down."

Keep down? God's chips, if we kept down, they would overrun us for sure. I started to raise up and a strong muscular hand shoved my face into the dirt. I sputtered and spat, struggling to get away. From behind us, I heard the bursting rattle of mob guns firing in unison and screams of terror and pain in front of us.

Abruptly, the hand was gone from my neck. I looked up just in time to see the three men and the woman who had saved us scurrying away, miraculously dodging bullets which chewed up the earth around them. They vanished around the curve in the gully bottom just as a gang of agents poured over the edge of the wall above us, shouting, "Eagle, Eagle!".

The NSA reinforcements, or what I thought were reinforcements, had arrived just in time. They surrounded us, three of them forming a tight shield around Russell. I breathed heavily, trying to still my pounding heart.

"All right, let's go," one of the men said.

"Just a minute. I want to thank the men who got here first, before you did. They saved our lives." I looked around in the moonlight, wondering where they had gone and why.

"What first ones?" a flinty voice demanded. "We're the only NSA agents here."

"Then who-?" I forgot the matter as I heard Donna moan. I whirled and saw her gripping her arm. Blood was dripping from it, dark drops appearing almost black in the wan light. I broke away from hands trying to restrain me and went to her. Her left forearm was shattered, but the bullet hadn't torn it up too much; she was just shocky and in pain.

I refused to say anything else until they got us out of the woods and into a helicopter which was just landing, and even then, all I could tell them was that four unidentified figures, three men and a woman had come upon us, given the code word and led us in the first part of the fight.

Three hours later, I was still trying to explain it to Whitney Horst. He was furious when Russell told him that he had given away the suitcase with the model light computer and all the painfully preserved notes of his experiments and calculations. Our four unidentified saviors had made a clean getaway. He grilled us for several more hours until I finally told him that we weren't answering any more questions for now. There was nothing left to tell.

I picked Donna up from the hospital as soon as her surgery was over and helped her home. She had a cast on her arm and was dopey from the anesthesia and bone healing injection, but otherwise, Tyson said she was fine and no permanent damage had been done. We put her to bed, then turned in to try to get some sleep ourselves. We didn't have to worry about another attack. There were enough NSA agents surrounding the house to fight a battalion.

Horst came back the next morning for more debriefing, interrupting us as we were trying to repair some of the damage done by the Gaters who had broken in. I had already called our security service to get the system reinstalled and working again. This time, I put up the bond for their Mankiller system.

Horst was still mad and disgusted. After another hour of questioning, he gave up. "I just don't understand it," he confessed. "Who the hell were they? How did they get our code? And how did they manage to get away so easily?"

Chapter Twenty-Two

We didn't find out until long afterwards that it was a consortium of Seconders who had pulled off the coup. Without admitting how they had managed it and not giving away any of their names, they threw all of Russell's notes and designs into the web, designating it as public domain. At the same time, they disclosed that a militant subbranch of the Gater Church had been behind the sabotage at the University laboratory.

The Gater militants had converted one of Russell's team to their brand of Luddite theology and he, in turn, had not only been fouling up their tests but had passed on the information to superiors. When Russell found him out, they had struck, determined to prevent any hint of the possibility of faster-than-light travel being made public. I thought of Messilinda, and how angelic and gently she had espoused her teachings; she had never preached violence, nor resistance to others doing scientific research; she had simply believed it was irrelevant to their beliefs.

I wondered where she (or he, now) was and whether he had been behind our rescue. He was one of the slowly increasing number of Seconders and they were still viewed suspiciously by authorities, though none had ever been shown to be a threat of any kind. The suspicion and resentment of Seconders was normal, I suppose, seeing as how they were theoretically immortal (based on limited data, of course), and couldn't be meaningfully questioned under any circumstances.

For the next several days, until the security system was up and working again, I insisted that one of us remain awake at night to monitor the screens; the NSA agents had been withdrawn soon after Russell's data was made public. Donna was exempted; she would be dopey for another week until the bones in her arm were fully healed.

On my nights of monitor duty, I wrote up our exploits for the Adventureweb and sent it to Mary. It was an immediate best seller in North America, and brought in more money than I knew what to do with.

***

The second evening after the security system was back up and I knew we could all go to bed without worrying, I declared a party, venturing out for the first time to restock our supply of rum and mix. I went well-armed and wary, but the streets were peaceful.

We had batted around the happenings after the lab explosion at the university among ourselves, but not, so far, as a group. Russell, warmed with several glasses of Whatnot inside him, waxed eloquent. He had a Scienceweb program on, turned low. It was far more technical than my Sunday supplement pieces, but not so mired in jargon that a person with a private education couldn't follow it. On screen, a graphie was explaining what some of the new technology growing out of Russell's light research would mean.

"See that?" he said, gesturing at the screen, where the graphie (depicted as a curvaceous young lady) was wearing the prospective light computer on a chain around her neck. It wasn't any bigger than a silver dollar. She gave it orders and a visual display appeared in midair, a comfortable viewing distance from her eyes. She switched by voice to various webprograms, called up files, and talked. Her words appeared immediately on the display.

"Impressive," I admitted, "but computers that small with projected holovision screens have been on the drawing screens for years."

He waved a hand deprecatingly. "Keep watching; if they do it right, you'll see something new."

I did. Another graphie, a male this time, appeared alongside the first, then walked behind her. The display faded from view. Facing each other, nothing was visible between the two, yet the first graphie appeared to still be manipulating data. Another display popped up, depicting other computer users interacting from beyond the moon with the original pair, instantaneously!

"How do they manage that?" Rez asked.

"They don't, yet. This is just simulated, but it won't be long, now. My notes were clear, and I heard earlier this evening that all the computer companies are rushing to get a version on the market first."

I sipped at the rum, savoring the tart sweetness of the mix, papaya-plum this round. This would be a revolution, not having to carry around a comphone, nor having to hook into a screen for holograms and being able to interact at a distance with no apparent lag. "How much do you think they'll cost? For that matter, how long will a charge last?"

Russell grinned. "With all the companies competing, and as simple as the concept is, the cost should be way less than comphones, especially since the receivers will be so cheap. As to the power source, I suggested inductive body heat. Shucks, they could even be implanted and you wouldn't even have to remember to carry them, or have to take them off at night for sleeping or, um, other things." He ran his hands up and down Donna's shapely thigh. She leaned against him with her eyes closed, awake, but not taking part in the conversation.

"Amazing. How do they work?" Rez asked. She should have known better. I hadn't bothered asking, knowing there was no way I would understand the theory.

"Why don't we just say that we didn't understand the properties of the photon in relation to quantum theory nearly as well as we thought we did," Russell said. "That same misunderstanding is going to give us faster-than-light travel within a year or two."

"I'm more interested in how this is going to affect the fourth worlders," Rez said.

"Well, to start with, comphones will soon be a glut on the market. I suspect someone will come up with the idea of distributing them for free to the needy. That will get many of them into the web right off the bat, since we can make a little converter so they can operate off the new receivers. In turn, that should increase their awareness of educational opportunities. What public schools are left will snap them up, then they'll be able to better prepare their students, even with the miserable funding you see now. And, oh, I don't know, there's just so many other possibilities besides FTL and cheap comphones. Power broadcasting that costs next to nothing, for instance. It will take time for the changes, though. Don't expect results overnight."

Rez smiled gratefully in Russell's direction. "I won't, just knowing is a help. And getting those poor folks into the web is a big step in the right direction, if for no other reason than the availability of cheap entertainment and educational opportunities. Just that much may stop a lot of slothfulness and drug use."

"Well, let's hope so. At any rate, changes are coming. I wish Seyla could be here to see them."

Donna had been listening. She opened her eyes. "I believe you," she said. "Let this be her legacy. She wanted it so badly."

The rest of us nodded sadly. Poor Seyla. Like so many others, she never lived to see the fulfillment of her dreams. Russell did, but he would never realize a profit from all his work. To his credit, he never complained and seemed glad just to have it made public-and become reality rather than a dream.

I guess I'm not as much of an idealist as Rita, or as Seyla had been. I'm a pessimist when it comes to human nature; we still carry too many of our cave men genes. And I'll confess that I was much more interested in the prospects of interstellar travel than fourth world education. I said "Russ, you commented that the new computers would be cheap. How about FTL? Will it cost so much, it will have to be a government program?"

"Nope, it shouldn't. Oh, I'm sure some governments will get involved, but so should a lot of private investors. The best thing about it is that takeoff can be arranged from earth. No gravity well to fight. Then, too, think of all the raw materials available in the asteroids or on the moons of the heavy planets without the cost of rocket power."

"Wait a minute," I said. "I thought we were talking about FTL."

"We are. Saturn, Sirius, the center of the galaxy, or chips, a whole new galaxy. There shouldn't be any limitations." He grinned like a three year old with a new wagon to play with.

That called for another drink. I made myself a good one. If what he was saying turned out to be true... I stared dreamily into space, imagining all the adventures and new worlds to explore that would now be possible. Rez recognized my expression. It was the same one I often carried after reading or watching a good science fiction book or program.

"Come back to earth, Mr. Star Trek," he said, but smiled at me. "Haven't you had enough adventures lately?"

Well, she had something there. Did I really want to go out into space, exploring new worlds and possibly having to fight for my life against some ten-eyed monstrosity? Now that fiction was turning into fact, I didn't know if I really had the guts to go first. But if not first, maybe later. And just to know what lay out in the galaxy would be like a fourth worlder winning the lottery, a wildly improbable occurrence suddenly coming true.

I came back over and sat back down by him. I took a good pull from my drink and stretched out with my head in his lap. He began trailing his fingers lightly over my bare midriff, then slid his hand up and back under my blouse and rested it comfortable on my breast. "If I get a chance to go on a starship, would you go with me?" I looked up into his face where a faint shadow of whiskers were growing, something I never thought about anymore. One of the compensations of being a woman.

"Why don't we wait and see what develops first?" he said. "Russ, how long do you think it will be?"

"Oh, a year or two, I should think, then you'll be seeing all kinds of spaceships being built."

"How fast will they go?" I asked.

For the first time that evening, Russell didn't either smile or grin when he answered a question. "Trust you to put a finger on the one thing we're not sure of. We're certain the theory works. We're certain FTL will work. What we don't know, and can't predict until someone actually goes out and comes back, is what the upper limits are. I may have erred when I said something about other galaxies. Then again, maybe not. I'm optimistic, but why worry? We'll know soon enough."

***

Russell was a little optimistic. It took almost three years before the first starship took off from earth, disappearing instantly from its berth at the Gila Bend testing facilities. The delay was caused by the need to develop pinpoint accuracy in the guidance mechanisms. America's lead in nanoelectronics helped enormously in getting our craft off first. Other governments, racing to catch up, launched other ships before ours. They should have waited. None of theirs ever returned. A few private consortiums, more interested in near-space, built smaller and simpler ships and they worked fine. Others began building, and the competition to exploit the solar system got under way in earnest. The United Nations made a lot of noises about space belonging to all mankind, but if I were any kind of judge, it appeared the solar system was going to be exploited and fought over, just like the American continents had been after they were discovered

In the meantime, Russell's other predictions were right on the mark. The new computers sold cheaply and quickly replaced the old comphones. I wore mine on a neck chain with it disguised as a gold sand dollar. They were amazing. It took some time to get used to having a display instantly available wherever I was, and being able to interact instantly from any spot on earth or space, but eventually, it began to feel normal. I was even beginning to think of having one implanted.

Fourth worlders all over the globe snapped up the old comphones that were distributed at no cost by most countries and Rez's analysis proved to be pretty much on the mark. Crime and unrest began decreasing and some fourth worlders began doing any kind of work available in order to convert from comphones to bodycoms, as the new computers were called.

Donna and Rez never returned to school. I had made so much money, we could all live comfortably without leaving home unless we wanted to. Russell did go back as soon as a new temporary lab was erected, and he helped design the new permanent buildings. Rez continued his research and I kept up with stories about the gates simply because I was still so fascinated with them. When the spirit moved, I did a story myself and I continued to sell them easily.

I did one serious program on the Seconders, speculating a lot (or guessing, really). Rez helped on it. We noted the statistics: only about one in ten thousand persons managed a successful second passage. We got into the mental orientation of those who did. There wasn't much positive correlation with any particular aspect of a person's personality, and what little there was could still be wrong, given the small population and reluctance of Seconders to be interviewed. One thing was fairly clear, though: a rigid religious belief seemed to preclude passage, which made me wonder how serious Messilinda had been with her Church of the Gates religion. Had that hundred year old man played a huge joke on the world after coming back as a woman? I put that in as a teaser. Negative correlations were many. Those who went into a gate for the first time who were psychopaths, had criminal mentalities, very low intelligence, an excessive number of harmful genes, either recessive or dominant, extremes of physical endowment, and those with any kind of dogmatic propensities never became Seconders if they tried for it, and many didn't even come back from the first try at passing though a sex gate.

When the fact that dogmatic religionists never became Seconders became general knowledge, two trends quickly became evident: a falling off in firmly held religious beliefs and attribution of the gates to the work of the devil among those still adhering to their doctrines.

Wars became somewhat fewer, but as in the past, never ceased entirely. There was always fighting going on somewhere, most of them caused now by contention over control of the gates or the supposed origin and purpose of them. I commented about it one day while Rez and I were researching a story.

"I guess the gates are just about a normal part of the world now," I said, "even though people are still fighting over them. There aren't nearly as many wars though. At least they've done that much for us."

"Indirectly," Rez said.

"How so?"

"You're still a man inside, but try to guess anyway."

I tilted a hip toward him, from where we were drawing glasses from the iced tea dispenser. "Not so much as I was at first," I said.

"True. You're improving. Never mind about guessing; I'll tell you. The female psyche never has been as strong for politics as the male. The territorial thing. Then, with so many females changing to male, taken with our cultural bias toward letting men do the leading, either by election or selection, we have more of a female leadership now, and consequently, less squabbling over territory. Simple, huh?" He tilted my chin up for a kiss.

"It sounds logical," I said. I put my arms around him and leaned against his chest. "Why not go further, though? Males who change to females might be losing some of their territorial imperative, or the genetic expression of it anyway."

"Do you think you have?"

"I'm not a proper judge." I felt the beginnings of an erection against my belly. "Had enough research for awhile?"

Rez chuckled. "You haven't lost much. Always making the first move." His erection grew wondrously. "Come on and bring your tea."

I guess I proved him right, not that I hadn't already many times previously. As a female, I was as sexually aggressive as I had always been (after getting used to a particular woman). The talk had stimulated me and I rode him to exhaustion.

This might be a good time to mention that sexually aggressive or not, especially with Donna, I found watching our amateur recordings of myself making love with any of my partners stimulated me like nothing else. I still had the male voyeuristic tendencies, and even looking at myself in the mirror, let alone on a recording, was always an experience. The woman in the recordings didn't even seem like me; rather, she appeared to be an extremely attractive, almost-redheaded exhibitionist, with firm, pink-nippled breasts any man would go crazy over. I always marveled and admired her antics, especially with Donna or in a three or four-way combination, and that night was no exception.

***

Again, I have to say that nothing else had been learned directly of the gates, though I did one article speculating that perhaps the controlling entities might be preparing the human race for some as yet unknown future status. Membership in a galactic society? A world without privation or war? Preparation to replace some other race as rulers of the universe? Partnership with the originators of the gates? I let myself go wild with speculation, knowing nothing could be proved one way or another. Or so I thought. About the time it was getting a good play on the web, our first interstellar ship came home.

The report was somewhat disconcerting. The spaceship had visited a number of stars with marginally inhabitable planets and a couple which had real possibilities for colonization, but no extra-solar intelligence turned up. No intelligence at all, as a matter of fact. If the gate entities were out there, they were sure as hell keeping out of sight.

We all gathered in the den to watch the documentary of the exploration. Russell and I were both as excited as boy scouts on their first camping trip, with Rez and Donna almost as eager to see what had been discovered.

The marginal planets didn't sport much in the way of higher life, and what there was seemed to be rather antagonistic toward humans. Several lives were lost. The unfamiliar vistas and exotic flora and fauna were disconcerting, like watching a science fiction webadventure, yet knowing the settings were taken from real life; no graphics here.

Two promising planets did have higher life forms, some of them quite similar to mammals and yet wildly different, and unpredictable. One in particular got to me. There was no precautionary warning; kids saw much worse violence in graphics almost indistinguishable from reality every day. The animal thing had an elephantlike head, complete with trunk, set atop a squatty body with crablike appendages it used to get around on and grasp with. It moved slowly, almost as if it didn't care about its surroundings. Two men advanced cautiously. The creature stopped and waved a few of its limbs. It made no sound. Both men came close, keeping out of reach of the three-clawed pinchers. Eventually, when there appeared to be no danger from it, they began examining its body parts. It remained still, letting them run their hands over it like a an aloof cat permitting a bit of petting. This continued for many moments until I wondered when they were going to show something else.

The men grew careless. One was standing near its apparent front, doing the recording while the other was clipping off bits of a shaggy mane that resembled a cross between feathers and pork bristles. Abruptly, the trunk swung around in a vicious swipe, knocking away the man clipping its mane, then shot straight out and attached itself to the other man's chest. He yelled, then screamed, trying to drag himself away. Within seconds, the trunk bulged with blood and tissue being sucked from his body. He gurgled, then collapsed and the trunk followed him to the ground, still attached to his chest. The other man got up, fumbling for his handgun. It took many shots before the alien life form slowly sank down with its legs tucked beneath it, like a huge dead spider. The gunman's partner was beyond help by that time.

The scene switched to a camp dissecting table, with a portion of the spaceship showing in the background atop a small rise in the ground where spikelike vegetation was growing. The trunk was sliced open, starting at the tip. The orifice showed a black-colored tearing and grinding apparatus concealed just beneath the glabrous covering, leading to a muscled tube for sucking out juices from its prey. I turned away, not wanting to see the rest of what the creature was made of. I felt sick, as though I had eaten a meal of boiled caterpillars.

Rez faced me, looking as bad as I felt. "Still want to go colonizing?" he asked. Both horror and concern were evident in the question.

"Not there, and not right away," I said immediately. "God's chips, that was horrible."

He gripped my hand tight enough to hurt. "Good. I don't want to even think about it. Not now." We turned back to the screen. (Big screens were still in use for group viewing or when one needed or wanted views larger than the bodycomps could provide as yet).

The rest of the program was more interesting and not nearly so horrible, but that one episode had made a believer out of me. If ever I did go into space to another planet, I wanted it to be a little more thoroughly explored first. I had horrible dreams that night.

***

The year after our narrow escape from the Gater death squad, I had bought up the land surrounding the house and placed sensors in various spots and tied them into our home security. I also paid to have the place fortified so that even though the security system might be broached, it would still take some doing to get inside. I made certain we kept weapons, ammunition and a good store of supplies on hand. I didn't ever want to have to run from our home again. In fact, I thought of just about everything except a nuclear war.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Russell had finally decided to take a short vacation and all four of us drove over to the Creative Anachronism Festival, an annual affair in East Texas, just to relax and enjoy ourselves. We reserved a double luxury suite in the castle, one with all the modern conveniences rather than realistic anachronistic accommodations, featuring cornshuck mattresses, chamber pots and the like. The festival is lots of fun, but when I get ready to turn in for the night, I want all the modern conveniences money can buy, except wenches in bed; I had my own wench, and a couple of men besides.

For three days, we had a rousing good time, watching the jousting, sword fighting, bow and arrow tournaments, eating the old-time food and drinking loads of dark English ale. The participants in the various feats and exhibitions were well rehearsed and put on good shows. They were all real practitioners of the medieval arts and crafts in their spare time; there were no hired actors. I admired their dedication, though I had no desire to emulate them. Give me an automatic handgun with diamond coated cutter loads any time instead of a longbow. I carried my gun every day, and kept plenty of ammo and extra clips in the car and on my person, and made sure Rez and Donna carried their weapons as well.

A couple of times I had trouble concealing my gun, what with the way I dressed. It was warm and over the years since the change, I had become comfortable in scanty clothing-in fact, I have to admit that sometimes I wore less than was even comfortable-I had learned to enjoy showing off my body. I got plenty of admiring glances and some outright leers, but other than Rez and Russell, I still hadn't developed a desire to try out other men. Women were something else. I saw a few who reciprocated my admiration and who I wouldn't have minded a tumble with. I figured most of them were changers like I was. As it turned out, I never formed a liaison there, and didn't really miss getting a little on the side. We had so much fun and stayed so revved up during the day, that we were all eager to get back to the suites and luxuriate in the big hot tub before piling into the huge beds in either one of the suites. My only complaint is the castle didn't provide us with quite enough hand towels, but both bathrooms had bidets, which sort of compensated.

The last evening, we got rousing drunk at the huge outdoor dinner celebration. It drizzled a bit, but the area where the rough-hewn wooden benches and tables were set up was covered with attached canopies, open at the sides to allow the breeze to come through, so it didn't matter. I took on a load of ale and passed out enough credit to get us a bevy of our own personal wenches to serve the big joints of beef and pork and mutton seared over an open-wood fire. They hurried to keep us supplied with tankard after tankard of dark warm ale while the show was taking place on a raised wooden stage, and the wenches sat in our laps and fooled around as if they were just dying to take us off to bed. They may have been for all I know, but none of us were interested, other than enjoying their company. They topped off the evening by dancing on our oaken table, shedding most of their clothes as they did so.

After we finally decided to call it a night, there was a double dose of Nohang each and we were ready for fun and games in the hot tubs and beds, and that went on for several hours. All in all, it was one of the most entertaining, plain old good times I think I have ever had.

***

I couldn't have been asleep more than a couple of hours. I came groggily awake and felt the castle shaking and swaying while a rumble sounding like an avalanche coming down a mountain penetrated the walls. I was confused, wondering whether I was dreaming, when the crash of something shattering in the bathroom brought me partway to my senses. From beside me, Rez sat up and held onto me to keep from being shaken off the bed.

"Li, what is it! What's happening!" The nightlight showed the fright in his face. Damned if I knew. I told the lights to come on while I tried to get my thoughts together. Earthquake? Texas had never had many, but rising sea waters were upsetting isostatic pressures almost everywhere on the globe. It was possible. Atomic bomb? God's chips, I hoped not.

I disengaged Rez from my body as the rumbling stopped. It was difficult to pry him loose. He had snapped back into the female mode of wanting to be held when imminent danger threatened. "I don't know what's happening," I said, "but get up and get dressed." While I was throwing on my clothes, I tried to pull in some webnews. All I got was the eerie sonic wail of an emergency broadcast signal, like a jet plane descending too fast. As I was pulling on my feminine little boots, the wailing stopped and a trembling male voice replaced it, not at all like the usual confident warnings of impending inclement weather.

"Emergency warning! Emergency warning! This is not a test! Some explosions, probably nuclear in origin, have been detected over several American cities. Emergency warning! Take shelter immediately. Take shelter immediately, wherever you are. Stay tuned to this website for emergency news and information. Repeat, this is not a test. Nuclear explosions have been detected in the United States. The country is under attack. Take shelter immediately."

The wailing began again. If I hadn't felt the castle shaking and heard the rumble of the shock wave passing, I wouldn't have believed it. I still wasn't sure I did until I heard shouts and screams from beyond our doorway, then it finally began to sink in.

I lowered the volume on my bodycomp while I strapped on my gun, leaving it in plain sight now. Russell burst into the room.

"Li, Rez, did you hear? We're being-oh!" His voice cut off abruptly as he saw we were already dressed.

"Get Donna up and dressed if she isn't already," I ordered. "Grab any luggage you can't spare and let's get out of here. That must have been Austin or Houston that was hit. We may be in the fallout pattern." Those were my first thoughts: get away, get back home to our securely fortified house, like an escaped pet fleeing back to its owners after it found that the outside world held terrors never dreamed of. I had to repeat myself to be heard over Russell's wailing comphone that wasn't recognizing his excited voice as he tried to turn it down.

Donna came in, dressed and wearing her weapon as openly as I was. A voice on the emergency website began shouting senseless precautions about drinking water and fresh vegetables and milk, as if they would have had time to be contaminated already.

"Ready?" I asked a moment later. They nodded. I cracked the door and peered cautiously out into the hall, bag in one hand and my pistol in the other. I looked in both directions. The two or three persons I could see were hurrying about on errands of their own and didn't appear to be armed. While I watched, one gave up on the elevator and ran for the stairs.

I took it as a signal that the elevator wasn't working. We were on the fourth floor of the castle, not much of a strain to descend. "Come on," I said. "Be cautious. Watch everyone." I was remembering all the disaster novels I had read as a kid. The theme most of them had emphasized was the "slipping away of the veneer of civilization" and "the law of the jungle". I didn't know whether that would hold true or not, but I wasn't taking chances.

I led the way down the four flights of stairs, wary and alert as we heard footsteps descending above and below us.

The lobby was a madhouse, with tangled knots of frightened people running senselessly around in circles. Fortunately, the stairs we had taken came out near one of the side entrances. We followed others who were breaking away from the throng in the lobby and running to the outside of the castle.

A horrendous red glow lit the sky to our southwest, huge roiling clouds coursing and twisting a darker red within the glow. It was Austin, all right; it could be nothing else. I looked back to the southeast. Nothing there. So far, Houston had been spared.

We ran through the parking lot for the car, threading our way past and among others with the same thought: get away. Get home. I saw several drawn guns, but no one threatened us. We gained the security of my new van, bought just a few weeks previously when we decided to attend the festival. I put Russell in the driver's spot since he wasn't armed. I took the shotgun position, with Rez and Donna in back.

The exiting traffic was horrendous. While Russell tried to get us untangled from the jam and I kept a wary eye on nearby vehicles and pedestrians, I asked Donna to watch the emergency webnews to see what else she could find out. I didn't want either Russell or I to be distracted.

"Only three cities have been hit so far," Donna said presently. "In this country, anyway. They're saying there are reports from other places, though."

"Keep listening," I said. Russell gained a few yards, then another few, and finally, had a clear path out of the parking lot jam. Just as we were pulling away from the castle, a tremendous thump shook the van. Donna screamed. I turned around to see dust sifting down through a hole in my new van.

"Where did that come from?" Rez asked shakily.

"Don't know," I said, "but so long as it didn't hurt us, let's not worry. Keep going, Russell." I pulled up a map from my bodycomp files and took a chance on a quick glance at it. I directed Russell toward a route which would take us home by side roads. It was a snap decision. I thought the side roads might be marginally safer than the main routes. Traffic was certain to be thick on them with refugees everywhere fleeing potential target cities, and with a good chance of accidents tying us up in knots. The side roads left more opportunity for banditry, if that was going to be a factor, but we were well-armed and I'd had the van equipped with long-range infrared gear. I had never forgotten our narrow escape from the Gater assault.

Once away from the Anachronism Festival area, we made good time, then even better after the sun came up and we could see better.

"Now they're saying it was Brazil that started it," Rez said. "They bombed China and India, too, and now those two countries are fighting each other, according to some reports."

God's chips, where had our intelligence service been? After the revelation of Gater involvement with the attempt to destroy Russell's research into light theory, the Church of the Gates had declined drastically in our country and the militant branch had moved to Brazil and began growing again.

Brazil had always been an anomaly in South America, the largest and most powerful nation on the continent, but using Portuguese as its primary language rather than Spanish. It tended to make them think of themselves as unique and superior to other countries down there, even though they shared the same Catholicism as the others. Evidently, the Gaters had found fertile ground. They must have infiltrated the current military government and induced it to start a war after the first starship returned, hoping the resulting chaos would preclude further development.

I didn't worry about India and China. Both had been decimated by AIDS III and IV and the Shiva Prion before cures were perfected, then an epidemic of the tremors, a new disease which had popped up from God knows what source did more damage. And finally, the global warming had upset their agricultural production, leading to millions of starvation victims. Refugees from the coastal flood plains had caused further death, destruction and chaos. Both countries had fractured into quarreling third world states years ago and I didn't see where a few A-bombs lobbed back and forth would hurt them much more.

So long as their war didn't spread, that is, and so far, that didn't appear to be the case. It couldn't go on too long, regardless. Nuclear weapons were supposed to have been completely banned a few years ago, but it was common knowledge that most countries had fudged on the treaty, keeping enough in stock to retaliate if the need arose.

It took us almost seven hours to get back home, where normally the drive wouldn't have taken nearly that long. We had only one spot of trouble, an attempted roadblock which I spotted long before we were in any danger. A few well-aimed shots from the rifle I always kept stowed in my vehicle sent the neophyte bandits scurrying for cover and we drove on through.

Donna continued to monitor the net. On the way back, she passed on the latest. Brazil had been thoroughly bombed from space, targeting industrial complexes, military bases and sites from which missiles had been launched. So the United States had sent more into orbit than the Orion and clippers and the new FTL ships. For once, I was grateful to the military thinkers, even if their intelligence did fail to predict the infiltration of the Brazilian government by the Gaters and their subsequent launching of nuclear missiles. At least they had prevented any more from targeting us, and so far, only Austin, Los Angeles and the Cheyenne Mountain military shelter in Colorado had been bombed in our country and the Los Angeles bomb had been a small one. We could recover from that, and you can damn me for saying so, but Los Angeles was no great loss. The area where the bomb hit had been controlled for years by smugglers, ruthless killer gangs and reps from the Las Vegas drug lords.

I could see from the overpass as we pulled into town that lights were burning in homes and businesses all over Ruston where everyone was staying up to catch the latest news, but otherwise, it was quiet and the lighted downtown streets were deserted.

I have never been so glad to see Grandpa's old homestead as I was that day, even though with all the renovations, he would never have recognized it. Russell parked the van and we hurried into the house with what luggage we had brought, then into the den.

I got the big screen on line with my bodycomp while Rez and Donna threw together a scratch meal and coffee. No rum this time. I wanted us to stay sober. There was no telling what might happen and I wanted us to be able to react quickly.

It was a marathon session in front of the screen. Some of the clips of casualties were bad enough to make me cringe, with long lines of horribly burned, wounded and radiation-poisoned persons standing or laying in long lines, waiting for a chance to pass through a sex gate and be healed. The excruciating pain of their injuries and lack of medical attention from doctors and nurses who were buried under the unprecedented number of casualties made the prospect of sex changes the least of their worries.

Early the next morning, it was reported that our government had given the Indian and Chinese warlords a final warning to cease use of nuclear weapons or meet the same fate as Brazil. A few hours later, they capitulated, what was left of them, and the worst was over except for cleaning up our three bomb sites and sorting out the disruption of financial losses.

By the day after that, most of the casualties who wanted to try had managed to get through a gate. Most of them came through, young and healthy and grateful for their healed bodies, regardless of the resulting change in sex. None of the small number who risked a second passage because of terrible wounds made it that I heard of, though a few new Seconders could have been created during the chaos without much notice. Armageddon had come, but it was less than final. Our country would recover and continue with space exploration and exploitation. Finally, we all went to bed for some much needed sleep. None of us were feeling very perky by then, even though we had been taking stimulants and not drinking much.

The day after that, we all began running at both ends with vomiting and diarrhea, and our skin began showing purple blotches from internal bleeding.

God's chips, none of us had even thought about that piece of debris which had landed on the van. It must have been thrown into the air from the Austin blast and carried by thermal currents all the way to the castle parking lot. The dust which had sifted into the van from the hole in the roof must have been loaded with radioactivity. I blamed myself for not considering the possibility. I was the one who had read all the disaster novels.

Rez gathered me into her arms after I made that confession and hugged me while we both retched. "It's not your fault, Li. How were you to know?"

"I should have thought of it," I cried, then had to run for the bathroom as I felt another bowel spasm.

The bowl filled with bloody mucous while I vomited into a trash can. I finished and came back out feeling shaky and sick, as if I had the worst hangover in the world and no pills to take for it.

"We'd better get to the clinic," Rez said. "I'm feeling worse by the minute." He turned and vomited a thin thread of bloody mucous into a pan he was holding.

"Me, too," Russell said. "Come on, Donna. Can you make it?"

"I'll try," she said weakly. He helped her to her feet and out to the car while Rez and I supported each other.

If it had been any further than a couple of miles to old Doc Tyson's clinic, I don't think I could have driven it. I retched constantly on the way, and by the time we pulled into the clinic parking lot, each of us had to be helped into his office.

He took one look at us and knew what the problem was. He never asked a question, simply hurrying us one by one into the diagnostic booth as quickly as he could.

A few minutes later, he was shaking his head. "Nothing I can do. You all got too much of a dose. Your only chance is to try a sex gate."

The Sex Gates! One chance in a million of Rez, Donna and I coming out alive as Seconders. A better chance for Russell, perhaps, if the radiation sickness hadn't progressed too far. He was still a neophyte.

We stared sickly at each other. Rez got shakily to her feet. "Well, it looks like we're all liable to find out what happens to the people who don't come back out," he said.

"Come on, let's hurry," Tyson said. "One of you might pop a major vessel and bleed to death any moment."

I let myself be carried out to the ambulance, keeping my eyes on Rez all the way. If this was going to be our last few minutes together, I wanted to stay as close to him as possible. Donna and Russell appeared to feel the same way about each other.

The ambulance pulled up in front of the Ruston sex gate, siren warbling. We were helped out and supported up to where the strange green arch loomed over us.

"I'll go first," I said. "My fault." I could feel my bowels rumbling and a sudden sharp pain coursed through my belly, doubling me over. The ambulance attendant straightened me up and gave me a shove. I fell into the enveloping green nimbus. My last thoughts were of how easy it was to die.

BOOK THREE

MARS/VENUS

Chapter Twenty-Four

I blinked and stumbled, my body suddenly off balance. I felt different, bulkier, as if I were bundled up for a winter storm. I regained my footing and looked up. The first thing I saw was the Ruston water tower. My God, I had made it! I had made it! My senses swam, making me feel sicker than a snake-bit dog one second and the next, becoming aware of the healthy vitality coursing through my strong, young body. My mind felt strange, as if I were deeply involved in a virtual game, with abstract patterns impinging on my peripheral vision. I shook off the sensation and turned around, searching for Rez-or Rita.

She was there, beautifully naked against the shiny green background of the gate. Sudden tears filled her eyes as she recognized me. She ran into my arms. I held her trembling body close to mine, grateful beyond words to whoever orders the odds which brought us both through the gate. With our bare bodies squeezed together, it felt almost as if we were one person. I felt her tears as if they were my own and imagined I could feel the faint sandpapery sensation of my beard against her cheek. The curious double awareness faded when she stepped away from me.

She brushed at her eyes. "Lee. Oh God, Lee, I never thought we would make it."

"Me either," I said, looking over her shoulder at the green edifice we had passed through. I waited for Russell or Donna to come out.

Rita became aware of why I was standing so still. She turned slowly and we stood side by side, waiting. And waiting.

My mind was a blank. I don't know how long we stood there, eyes locked on the gate, expecting Russell and Donna to suddenly appear before us, healthy and smiling. From somewhere came the wondering thought of what Russell would look like as a woman.

It was Rita who finally broke the silent vigil. "Lee, I don't think they made it." She was clenching and unclenching her hands, her knuckles white with pressure from her doubled fists .

"Let's wait a bit longer," I said, unwilling to give them up, to believe they were gone, taken by the gate which had unaccountably spared our lives.

"It never takes but a second…a second or two to pass through the gates," Rita said, her voice breaking. I felt sadness and remorse filling her mind, as it was my own, tinged with a lingering guilt that I had not thought of radioactivity when the debris struck the van.

From nearby, the gate guard approached us. I felt his presence before I turned around.

"Are you folks all right?" the guard asked.

"Yes, we're fine," I said stonily.

Doc Tyson and the two ambulance attendants joined the guard. The paramedics stared at our nakedness. I paid no attention to them. A sudden bold hope hit me. Maybe our friends had never entered the gate!

"Doc, did Russell and Donna actually follow us into the gate?" I asked.

He saw the wild expectancy which was gripping me. He shook his head and gazed down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Lee. They went in. They didn't come out." He looked back up. "I think it's a miracle the two of you made it. How do you feel? Any different?"

I did, somehow, but I said, "No, Doc, other than it's a little odd to be back in a male body again."

"Same here but vice versa," Rita said. Her fingers gripped my hand as tightly as a small woman holding a Doberman's leash.

One of the paramedics left us for a moment and returned carrying sheets from the ambulance. He extended one to each of us, averting his eyes as he gave Rita hers.

"Well, I'm as sorry as I can be, but there's nothing more to be done here," Tyson said. "Come on, I'll give you a lift back to the clinic."

It turned out he had followed the ambulance in his own car, though I had been so sick, I don't remember it. He got us settled in the backseat and drove off. Presently, he asked again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"We're sure, Doc," I answered for both of us, though in truth, my mind still seemed to be playing tricks on me. I closed my eyes and could feel Rita and Tyson's presence in the car, almost like ghosts haunting his vehicle.

"I'm glad," he said. "I had my doubts any of you would even live to get to the gate. You were all bleeding internally by then."

"Thank you for acting so quickly," Rita said.

"That's what I'm there for, though I'll confess, I don't function nearly as well now as I did when I was young. I guess I'll have to be thinking about the gates before long."

That remark was just what I needed to take my mind off Russell and Donna, at least momentarily. I couldn't imagine the old doctor as a fresh eighteen year old girl. He was already well into middle age when I was a kid.

Rita apparently had the same reaction. She chuckled, but said nothing.

"Would you like me to examine you before you go?" Tyson asked as he pulled up at the clinic.

"No, thanks," we said almost simultaneously.

"I didn't think you would. It's just habit to ask after a person has been through a traumatic experience."

"Thanks, Doc, but we're fine," I said.

My car was still at the clinic. I drove us home in silence, each of us mourning our loss separately, though I still thought I could almost feel Rita's emotions. I had to concentrate on driving at first, unused to my old-new body's different dimensions.

Rita and I had to smile at each other as we searched for some of our old clothes to put on. We found jeans and shirts in the back of the closet, and our old sandals. I suppose we could have worn each other's clothes just as well, but we each sought comfort in garments from long ago.

"How about a drink?" I asked, the first words either of us had spoken since leaving the clinic. I didn't know about her, but I sure needed one.

"Make it a strong one," Rita said. "I don't know about you, but I still don't feel like myself. I keep having this sensation of you almost being a part of me, in my mind, sort of."

"You, too?"

She nodded. Curious. We headed for the bar.

I poured bourbon and added a little water and some ice. We sat down together and sipped at our drinks. The Jack Daniels bit at my tongue and slid down into my gut. Presently, I could feel the first effects, a warm, tingly flush spreading throughout my body. I turned to Rita.

"It's hard to believe they're really gone," she said. "Damn it, why us and not them?"

"Maybe they're not dead. Maybe the gates just hold the people who don't come back in stasis or something until a later date."

"Science fiction," Rita said.

"What are the gates? Something the Easter Bunny left?"

"Touché. Sorry, hon. You know, I would like to think they aren't really gone, but rather waiting somewhere on us."

"Me, too," I said. "And maybe they are. Who knows? The gates are as much of a puzzle as they've ever been." Somehow, that made me feel better. Besides, a sudden disappearance, leaving no body behind didn't quite seem like death as I had known it. Anyway, it gave room for hope, faint though it was.

"Speaking of puzzles, how did it happen that we managed to come through a second time, and together at that? I've never heard of it happening before, and just figuring the likelihood, that would be odds of something like, uh, one in ten billion?"

"More than that," I corrected her. "In fact, you can't really calculate the odds, since so far as we know, we're the only two who have ever made a second passage together."

"Whatever. It's still astronomical."

I shrugged. "Better minds than ours have been trying to figure out the gates for years. Why wonder? Maybe one day, we'll know." I got up and refreshed our drinks.

We sat and talked and drank while the shadows outside deepened in the gathering dusk. I tried to describe the feeling of being aware of her presence no matter whether she was visible or not. Words wouldn't quite fit, and she had no more success than I, though we both agreed that being back in our original bodies (albeit a few years younger than before) wasn't exactly the same as it had been.

"Why don't we get in touch with some other Seconders and ask them about it?" Rita suggested.

"Good idea. Maybe there's even a story in it," I said, though I wondered about that. No Seconder had ever described anything like what we were feeling. And they didn't give interviews anyway.

As if on cue, my bodycom beeped. I answered it with the small screen, just to avoid turning away from Rita. I was enjoying the sensation of being male again and having her warm body near me.

Whitney Horst's angular face came into view. "I just heard about you and your girlfriend passing through a gate together, both for the second time. How did you manage that?" he said without preamble.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I answered, truthfully. "It was the only chance we had to live, so we took it."

"Do you remember anything about it?"

"Nothing. One moment I was pushed into the gate, sick as a poisoned dog, and the next thing I knew, I was outside and back in my old body."

"Same here," Rita agreed.

He almost snarled. "I don't believe it. There's something awful goddamned weird about you Seconders. One of these days, I'm going to find out what it is."

"Believe what you want," I told him. "I can't tell you anything else. And so far as us making it together, we were just a while ago calculating the odds of that happening."

"So was I. Pretty improbable, to say the least."

I shrugged. "Sorry. That's all we know."

He looked almost as disgusted with us as he had the night the unknown parties had gotten away with Russell's goodies. "All right. I may want you to come in for questioning, though. In the meantime, if you remember anything, contact me." He disconnected without saying another word..

Rita turned to me. "I don't think I want him questioning me, even if he did help save our lives that time."

I drew her into my arms, feeling the spreading softness of her breasts against me. "Don't worry. Seconders can't be effectively questioned, remember?"

"Maybe we're unique. There's never been a couple pass through a gate at the same time, and so far as I know, no Seconder ever knew any of the others beforehand." I caught the hint of worry in her mind and kissed her.

"If we're unique, I like it," I said, kissing her again.

She responded and again, I could feel that surge of desire in my groin. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. I touched her breasts and it was almost as if my own were being caressed, as I remembered from just a short time ago. Our lips parted and our eyes met in mutual desire.

"Come on," I said. I took her hand and helped her up. We almost ran to the bedroom.

As we came together on the bed and our bare skin touched, it was like a surge of sensual electricity sparking between us. Her nipples pressed against my chest, two hard points of erotic flame that I could feel as if they were originating from inside my own body. Rita's lips parted against my own and her eager moan of pleasure escaped before our tongues wound together. Her nails dug into my back, urging, pulling me over her. She spread her legs and I slipped inside her, feeling a momentary resistance as her hymen broke, but if she felt any pain, she never mentioned it.

***

Unity. Oneness. Twins. Merging. A melding of minds and bodies so intricately entwined, it made no difference who was in which, nor possible to tell the difference.

Pleasure, a pleasure so intense, it was almost painful. Every nerve ending of both bodies radiating waves of ecstatic, sensual anticipation.

Sensations. Plunging engorged penis, sinking and rising with the movement of hips. Friction against throbbing clitoris with every movement.

Awareness. Arms and legs wrapped around body, holding it in fiercely tight contact. Fingers digging into back. Arms under back, gripping shoulders. Softness of flattened breasts against muscular chest and hard nipples, two spreading, burning areas of intense sensual warmth. Groin and bellies smacking together.

Noise. Rising cry of voices uttering unintelligible screams of almost unendurable pleasure, in time with ever-quickening movements.

A slope, a rising hill, a peak, a ride up and up to undreamed of heights, pausing, hanging, teetering on the brink, then plunging down into depths of red and green and blue explosions surrounding us, a part of us, breaking us into pieces, into bits, to molecules, to the very atoms of our bodies, loosening all consciousness and awareness of anything except the incredible orgasm of mind and body and soul reached together.

***

Lee, oh Lee, my love. My heart, my soul.

Rita, I love you. Oh, I love you.

Still united, I could hear her thoughts as clearly as words, just as I knew she could hear mine. In fact, there was no difference. The voices were our minds, speaking together as one.

We slowly came back down to normal, exchanging endearments, sometimes with murmured words, sometimes with exchanged thoughts. It didn't matter. We were one.

When at last we separated, our minds remained in contact, though our bodily sensations became our own again. Our eyes met in the semi-darkness, adoring each other. We touched and stroked each other and moved our lips over the other's body, reveling in the sensation of feeling the reaction of the other as if it were our own.

We coupled again, and again. Each time was like the last, only better as we began learning to use our minds as well as we had already known how to use our bodies.

***

At last we lay apart, completely satiated.

"No wonder the Seconders don't want to talk," Rita said. I heard the words in my mind. We continued our conversation, each of us originating thoughts which immediately became mutual.

"Horst was right to be suspicious. Seconders are different. If this ever got out, we would be mobbed."

"Telepathy. I always thought it was a fraud, something invented by charlatans and science fiction writers."

A laugh. "It's real. I wonder if it's just us, or all Seconders?"

"We'll have to find out. I'm also wondering if we can read other people's thoughts?"

"Or maybe just Seconder's thoughts."

Our minds might have been merged, but our bodies weren't. I felt the urge and got up to go to the bathroom. As I closed the door, Rita's thoughts become less clear, though I could easily sense her presence in the bedroom, as if I were a game contestant who already knew the answers.

Rita also felt the slippage and it impelled us to experiment. We found as we practiced, we could tell where and what the other was doing from any place in the house, and even catch occasional thoughts, though the nearer we were to each other, the clearer they became.

We didn't sleep at all that night. We pranced and giggled and made more drinks and played mind jokes and games with each other until well after daylight. By the time we had breakfast, I began to sense a mental orientation, as if my mind was becoming something solid, unable to be broached unless I held it open. Perhaps that was why Seconders were immune to grilling.

There were lots of questions I wanted to ask of Seconders. The problem was, I didn't know how to contact any of them. They were reclusive, reluctant to come out into the open and now I could see why. Racial or cultural suspicion of others is bad enough, but telepathy confined to a select few would be a bombshell. Let the vast majority of the population in on the fact that Seconders were mind readers and they would never have any peace. They would be looked at as if they were pink monkeys caged with a batch of normal simians and perhaps treated as a pink monkey would be: torn to pieces at first sight.

Rita helped explain that to me (what I didn't already know). Everyone has secrets, fantasies, thoughts which are mostly normal but never voiced or acted upon. Real opinions of other people are seldom given face to face. Salesmen, preachers, politicians and the like would never feel safe with telepaths around, let alone, so called "normal people". There is just too much baggage carried in the human mind that would be offensive to almost every other person were it ever known.

"Can you imagine," Rita said, "just how men and women would act in sexual encounters if either thought the other could read their minds?"

"God's chips!" I exclaimed. "I sure could. I remember when I was a boy, or actually, a young man, meeting a girl and imagining all kinds of things about her, some of them not so nice."

She grinned ruefully at me. "Don't think that's a male exclusive. Women do the same thing, though perhaps they don't visualize it quite as explicitly as men do."

"Really?" I caught the assent in her mind from across the room. With practice, we were getting better able to sense attitudes, even when separated.

"Really," she said, unnecessarily. "Or what about insurance salesmen or lawyers? Why, they would go bankrupt in a week!"

I burst out laughing. Wouldn't that be a comeuppance for a lawyer, having someone read his or her every thought? Still… "We don't know yet that we can read anyone else's minds," I said.

"Well, why don't we take a walk or ride into town and find out?"

"Good idea," I said. I was unbearably curious.

My bodycomp buzzed. I told it I would take the call. The display materialized in front of me and I found myself staring at Messler Scribner, the young man who once was Messilinda. He grinned infectiously at me.

"Hello, Lee. Is Rita there?"

"She's listening," I said.

"Fine. Welcome to the club."

Chapter Twenty-Five

"The club? What kind of club?" I asked, wondering what he was up to.

"The Seconders, of course. We're pretty exclusive, as you well know."

"You mean you think we belong to a fraternity of sorts? Sorry, we had nothing to do with becoming Seconders. Besides-"

"Besides, your chipping church almost got us killed," Rita finished for me.

He frowned, turning his young face into a caricature of a choirboy. "Haven't you had sex yet?"

"It's none of your damned business!" Rita exploded.

"Wait, Rita." There was a purpose here and I thought I knew what it was, but I didn't want to say it aloud. Horst might very well have our circuits under surveillance. I said, "Do you think Seconders having sex is something special?"

He caught my circumlocution immediately. He smiled. "Relax, Lee. We can't be overheard. I have one of the best cryptology programmers in the world monitoring us. Yes, I'm talking about something special, like being able to read your partner's mind afterward, among other things."

"What other things?" So, all Seconders were special, not just Rita and I.

"We'll get to that. I just wanted to touch base with you and warn you not to try getting in touch with other Seconders right away. We don't want to attract any more attention to ourselves than we already have by congregating together."

My heart jumped. "We've already attracted attention. An NSA agent by the name of Whitney Horst called a while ago and said he may want to question us."

Messler nodded. "I figured he would. So far as we know, you're the first pair of lovers ever to both make it through the gates the second time, not to mention, at the same time. If he comes around, just act innocent and go along with him, no matter what he does."

"Easy for you to say. You weren't tortured like I've heard some Seconders have been, especially in other countries."

"It doesn't matter, though we can't help you if you're brought in. A Seconder is immune to questioning under any circumstances. You might wind up with some scars, or even be killed, but you'll never remember any of what happens under duress, even sleep or sensory deprivation. We know."

"Does it mean anything that we came through the gate together?" Rita asked.

He spread his hands expansively. "So far as I know, it was just pure coincidence, though you both must have minds similar to other Seconders to have come through at all. By the way, I'm sorry your friends didn't make it."

"Thanks. We're still hoping they'll turn up someday."

"It may be more than a hope, but don't quote me or do one of your stories on that basis."

I stared at him. "Just how much do you Seconders know about the gates?"

"Not much more than anyone else. We may have a hint of something, but I'd rather not go into it just yet."

"I want to know. When can I see you?" If there was any possibility at all of a reunion with Seyla and Russell and Donna, I wanted the information immediately.

Messler grinned. "Looking for a rematch?"

I think I blushed, remembering our liaison when he was female. He diverted my attention, anyway. "Sorry, I don't swing that way."

"Actually, neither do I. My inclinations were canalized too long ago to change now, though I did get an idea of how the other side operates while I was a woman." He grinned some more.

Rita's frown had returned. She leaned forward, as if coming closer to the screen might intimidate him. "I have a question. What on earth did you think you were doing when you started that chipping Church of the Gates? Besides almost getting us killed, those damn Gaters almost got away with all of Russell's new technology. They killed his friends, too."

Messler not only looked pained, but as embarrassed as a convention speaker suddenly discovering his fly has been open for the last half hour. "You'll have to chalk that up to the folly of an old man. I was really trying to help."

"Help? I don't call what they did helping," Rita snarled.

"Well, it did help at first, and it wasn't that much of a folly, though if I had it to do over, I might have tried a different approach. After I regained my youth, I was scared the government would close off the gates, or make them exclusive, or slap taxes on them so high, only the rich could afford passage; something along those lines. You know how governments are. I gave it some thought and came up with the idea of getting a religion to support free access to them. It worked, too. Look at how some other countries are regulating access, or trying to. Unfortunately, the militant branch got out of hand when your friend discovered a way to get us out to the stars. I had no way of knowing such a breakthrough in theory would take place. Russell was brilliant." His expression saddened, like that of a lottery winner who has lost his ticket.

Rita's frown softened and disappeared, except for a couple of vertical thought lines between her eyebrows.

"Did you Seconders have anything to do with rescuing us and publishing Russell's notes?"

Messler nodded. "We Seconders. I wasn't going to mention it for fear you would think I was trying to absolve myself of causing the mess in the first place, but yes, we did. Even after I resigned from the church, I kept some contacts. I'm just sorry we weren't in time to save his friends. We did save you, though."

"Yes, I suppose you did. And I know enough about mob psychology to give you credit for thinking up a new religion to help keep the gates open. If they hadn't been, Lee and I would probably be dead from radiation poisoning."

He waved a hand, disclaiming the concept. "Might have beens never prove anything. Who knows? If there hadn't been a church, you might not have been near Austin when it was bombed."

"True," Rita admitted. "Well, I guess you did what you thought best. Let's drop the subject. I want to know more about Seconders."

"So do I," I said.

Messler glanced at his thumb watch. "In good time. I'd better cut this off for now. Even with the programmer I've got working, if we stay connected long enough, someone may manage to hack in. Just remember, be discreet about contacting any of us. Any hint that we're organized, even indirect evidence, and the government will surely crack down. The President is an ex-general, you know, and the military is still scared out of their pants about whatever is behind the gates."

"All right," I agreed. "Get back to us, though. I still have a lot of questions."

"So do we all." He disconnected.

Rita giggled.

"What?"

"Scared out of their pants! I haven't heard that expression since I was a little girl, and then it was in colloquial language study." She laughed some more.

"Well, he is over a hundred years old, after all," I said. "Do you still want to go to town?"

"Sure, why not?"

***

An NSA car blocked the road before we got to town. Another pulled in behind it and Whitney Horst got out, accompanied by two rough-looking men in semi-military tunics.

"Hello, Horst," I said, not very enthusiastically.

He pointed to the back seat of the big government sedan. "Get in."

"Where are we going?" Rita asked, all innocent voice and big dark eyes.

"You'll see. 'Get in', I said."

We got in. I could sense he intended to question us under drugs again, but there was a hint of something else in his mind, not yet come to fruition, or perhaps, not decided yet. I realized then that even though I couldn't read his direct thoughts, I could get an idea of his intentions and the general direction his thoughts were running in. My mind blurred at the notion, as if it were trying to conceal any overt indication of my new knowledge. When I stopped thinking of him, my mind cleared up again.

Horst took us all the way to North Houston and I found myself back in the same old room 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.

A long time later, I became aware of coming out from under the Veronal injection, or whatever they doped me with. 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 departed, leaving only Horst and I there together. He had a sour look on his face, as if he had just bitten into a crabapple. He avoided my gaze and I wondered what he was up to now. I avoided trying to gauge his intentions, still afraid I might give something away. Then they brought Rita in on a Gurney.

She was awake, but groggy and helpless. Horst checked her reflexes, then began stripping her clothes off.

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

He continued without answering until Rita was totally naked, then 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, staring at me now.

I tried to surge off the gurney in a mad rage and then my mind went blank. I don't remember anything else. Apparently, what Messler had said was correct. No matter what the duress, questioning a Seconder was useless. When I was able to check my thumb watch again, another hour had passed. Horst was busy tucking his shirt back into his trousers.

Rita was just coming to her senses. She sat up unsteadily on the gurney, then became aware of her nakedness. She started to cover her breasts, then decided that contemptuously ignoring Horst was a better way of showing her disgust. 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 and smiled grimly.

Her thoughts were almost as clear as if we were pressed together. Disgust, not rage. I commiserated silently with her, mingling sympathy for her and rage and vows of revenge against Horst. She sent her love back, and a thought not to be silly; 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, minds as close together as Siamese twins.

***

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 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 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.

"If we're all that unique, what makes you think the NSA will even let us go? They may want to kidnap us again and try some other methods of persuasion." Rita shivered as if a cold wind had just blown into the room.

"All the more reason for you going. I can get you off earth now. I might not be able to in the future. I suspect once the pogroms get started that no Seconder will be allowed to leave earth. That's if they don't just eliminate us out of hand."

Put that way, Rita was easy to convince. "Are you planning on going with us?"

He looked regretful. "No, I need to stay here and try to keep the lid on the bottle. Besides, it's a four man ship, which is why I said I hoped you would all get along together. Here, let me show you." He spoke to the wall and a huge screen slid into view.

Messler's FTL ship looked much the same as any other; a cylinder, with odd-shaped antennalike devices poking from both ends. It was larger, though, judging by the human figures shown working on it.

"I've had it under construction for almost two years now. It's just about ready to go. I did have another couple picked for the crew until you two pulled off that trick of yours; they were sorely disappointed when I had to tell them they had been replaced."

The outside view flicked away and he pulled down files of the interior, showing us crew quarters, hydroponics, weapons, control room and a seemingly endless variety of other mechanisms and structures.

"So how soon do you want us to leave?" I asked. Excitement began building up inside me like the last few minutes before the kickoff of the Superbowl. Rita noticed my mental state and smiled wryly at me.

"How does two weeks sound? That should give you four enough time to see if you're compatible in close quarters, and to learn your way around the ship." He didn't say so out loud, but mentally I could tell he expected us to try living together and see how we liked it. And given his incredibly disciplined mind, he probably let me pick up that thought deliberately.

The only question was which home to go to.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

We did get along, both in bed and out. Undressed, Kellie turned out to look not at all like a little girl, and she was a natural redhead, as I soon found out. Rita teased me about my attention to so minor a detail, but it was in good fun. She liked Kellie as much as she did Trevor.

There is no use trying to describe the sex when three or four of us were together. It was overwhelming with just Rita and I; when another mind and body or two got involved, I didn't care whether I lived forever or died within the next thirty seconds. And yes, with sex together, it turned out that other Seconders could join in the melding of minds as well as bodies, and the phenomena carried over afterwards. Within a few days, I could merge my mind with Trevor or Kellie almost as easily as I could with Rita. Trevor proved to be not nearly so serious as I first thought he was, and I finally lost my last sexual inhibitions with him. Having lived as a woman for a time certainly changed my perspective. Rita teased me a bit after the first time, but I didn't care. If our former family had been close, our present one was like a single individual with multiple personalities. They even liked my Rum Whatnot.

We spent some of our time deciding on what personal articles to carry along. Our weight allowance was generous, but not unlimited. I selected carefully, discarding and adding items as if I would never again see the things I left behind, which was possible, I suppose. Besides, it might turn into a very long trip; two years or so if we needed or wanted to stay out that long. Messler's was the first ship designed for that sort of time period, though others were being built.

I brought along a good arsenal and plenty of ammunition. We might or might not land on new planets and explore a bit. Just in case, I wanted to be well-prepared.

The worst thing about the trip was having to turn Grandpa's old home over to a caretaker because the folks were still with the army. I did it that way because I wanted to think of it as a beacon to come back to, or perhaps as a talisman for good luck on the trip. I loved that old house and didn't want anyone else but those I selected to live in it. There were too many happy memories associated with living there to have it otherwise.

Messler didn't come to say good-by. He sent word he was busy stamping out a fire. I took that to mean he was already encountering problems with keeping a low profile for the Seconders. I hoped we would have a world to come back to where we would be welcome, or at least tolerated. Or maybe we would return to find that the gates had disappeared as mysteriously and suddenly as they came. It was an idle thought and I really had no idea, nor did Messler or anyone else.

Two weeks to the day after that conference in Messler's office, we took off. It was anti-climactic, nothing at all like I had imagined and fantasized about in my dreams of spaceflight. One moment, we were there in the hanger; then the next moment, the view ports showed only an inky blackness, unlit by stars or planets, blacker than black and seemingly without depth or substance. I was a spaceman now, at long, long last. Some dreams do come true.

***

We were several months on our way, going in the direction of Trevor's original flight, when we all began to feel the first faint alienism nudging our minds, though as yet, it was directionless and initially, there wasn't even a hint of anything to remind us of the sex gates. Trevor, more confident than when back on earth, assured us it would come. I chose to believe him, though even he had no idea of what, if anything, would be revealed. So did Rita. We were both still upset about Russell and Donna not making it through the gate with us, and we were both hoping with subdued desperation that we would find answers.

Kellie and Trevor helped greatly in easing the pain of losing Russell and Donna. They turned out to be not just fellow space travelers; we came to love them almost as much as we had Donna and Russell, and I knew Rita and I would invite them to come live with us at the old homestead when this trip was over.

But first, we had to finish it, and even the boredom of space travel turned out to have complications, though the problem originated back on earth.

The first time Trevor brought us out of the cocoon of FTL, our instrumentation showed several other ships on our flight path, though some distance behind us.

"Military spaceships, I bet," Trevor said.

"And I'll bet they're following us," I said.

Trevor nodded. "Well, it was never any secret that Messler was building his own craft. And I guess if I had the mentality of government spooks, I'd be following us, too. At my debriefing, I did mention I thought there was an alien presence out this way other than the simple fauna we saw on a couple of worlds. I didn't say anything about whether it might be connected to the gates or not, though."

"Why not?" Rita asked, always interested in motives.

Trevor shrugged. "I guess I thought we'd be better off if civilians made contact rather than the military, assuming the aliens we're sensing are responsible for the sex gates. Hell, even if they're not, I still think civilians would be better than the military at initial contact."

"I agree," I said, "But I think the aliens we're sensing are connected with the gates." I had suddenly realized that they were. The knowledge simply popped into my head, full-blown. Were the aliens sensing the one mind among us that had spent a lifetime exploring the possibilities of alien contact through books and movies and idle speculation? I didn't know then and still don't, but it was me they were going to pick on, I knew that much.

"Are you sure?" Trevor and Rita asked at the same time.

"Yes," I said. And now I could feel an alien touch at the fringes of my mind, like a badly remembered dream, yet there all the same. There was nothing else though, no matter how hard I strained. I opened my eyes and saw the others were staring at me as if I were the alien.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You were spaced out for over ten minutes, Lee," Rita said, putting a gentle arm around me as if trying to bring me down to a soft landing from wherever I had been.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. The alien presence was still there, no stronger, but no weaker, either. "Do any of you feel anything?" I asked.

Rita and Kellie shook their heads. Trevor acted as if he were going to say something, then nodded no as well.

"I feel something out here that's not human. I think we should go back into FTL and get closer."

"Is it safe?" Kellie asked, frowning.

I shrugged. "I don't know, but we came out here for answers and I don't see any other way to get them."

Trevor turned to the controls while Rita put her other arm around me. I hugged her back.

***

We stayed in FTL mode for another week, and this time, when we came out, there was no question of whether or not we were near an alien, or aliens. I couldn't sense whether there was one or many, but the presence was concentrated-and within eyesight now, a smudge of green mist in the distance, less than a parsec away but still perfectly visible through the telescopic sight in the control room. The others could feel the presence now as well, though mind touches told me their awareness wasn't nearly as intense as mine.

"Look," Trevor said, pointing to another display on his control console. "The other ships are still with us."

"How are they managing to keep up like that?" I said.

"Easy. For all Messler's security, it was probably fairly simple to sneak a beacon somewhere into the works. And besides, it's not as if they don't know which direction we've been heading. Or they may have detected that green blob sooner than we did with more powerful scopes. Who cares, anyway?"

I did, for one. I didn't want the military ships to blow us up or attempt to capture or disable us so they could contact the aliens first. I needn't have worried; they did neither. What they did do was quickly make another jump. Hours later, the three ships appeared to come out very near the green nebulous-looking blob while we were still approaching cautiously in quick incremental jumps. I wasn't liking what I was beginning to feel. It was as if the presence of visitors was interfering with vast projects or processes beyond my comprehension. The image wasn't clear, or more likely, incomprehensible to my poor mind.

The military ships were closer and perhaps the persons in them felt the same thing, though I doubted it. I think only a Seconder could have had the mind power to grasp even a part of that vast intellect-or perhaps Seconders were a surprise to them, an unexpected side-effect of the sex gates. At any rate, something set the military off. We all saw the tiny blips separating from the two leading ships, then a few seconds later from the other one, as if it was reluctantly following suit. They were firing missiles at the aliens!

And then the ships vanished from space as if they had never been there. The missiles also disappeared without apparent effect.

"They've been destroyed," Trevor announced softly.

"Maybe not," Rita said, always the optimist. "They just disappeared, like people going through a gate. Maybe they were sent back to earth."

"Maybe, and maybe not. And maybe we ought to run for earth before they do the same to us."

Before we had a chance to decide, the decision was taken from us. The green nebula shot out an arm of lighter green in our direction, traveling immense distances almost instantaneously. It engulfed us and our ship with stunning suddenness. A brilliant green light blinded my senses, and I felt my mind beginning to fragment.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

With a reserve of power I wasn't even aware of having, I managed to hold my mind together. From what seemed like an immense distance, I sensed the others trying desperately to resist the force which was attempting to tear them apart. I reached out blindly, seeking Rita first. Our minds touched and blended together, providing a beacon for Trevor and Kellie to home in on. With a last desperate effort, they managed to hook up with our minds.

All that time, I had no sense of any material thing in reach. It was all mental and took place in an environment of a greenness so intense, I had no doubt we were in the very presence of the force responsible for the sex gates, almost like the religious idea of ascending to heaven and sitting at the right hand of God.

But this was no God, and not even benevolent; it was totally alien and only our fierce desire to resist being thrown into nothingness allowed us to survive. Or perhaps they meant to contact us this way, though I doubt it. I think our Seconder abilities were the deciding factor because, even as the mental fight, if that's what it was, took place, I could sense the barest tinge of surprise, as if some experiment had produced completely unexpected results. That gave me courage to resist even more. And again, whether the entity wanted it that way, or I was able to do it on my own, I have no inkling, but I was able to gather the added force of Rita, Trevor and Kellie's abilities to augment my own. I became the focus and guide in the tangle of the alien presence, while their added mind power enabled me to converse, in some odd way that wasn't conversation at all, with the strange intellect.

What followed is almost impossible to describe. I had questions and demands which were voiced mentally. They were mostly thrown back in my face, but sometimes, with a sense of puzzlement and the faintest hint of condescension coming back with them. It wasn't a fight. It was more like a struggle to make an incredibly more advanced mind understand our desires and concerns, none of which appeared to matter much to it. It wasn't a conversation by any means, but over a period of time, time unlike how I normally thought of it, I endured, helped by the combined strength of my friends and lovers. We wanted answers and we wanted to be able to return safely to earth with them and we wanted to know what would happen in the future. This was all a tall order for four frail humans, three of them "silent", but funneling their strength through me-and this, too, seemed to be something the intellect hadn't expected, though I will never be certain. The whole adventure was as strange and bizarre as a quantum equation. It went on and on until it seemed as if years might have passed.

Eventually, it was me alone with the entity, still propped up by my friends but they were no longer a part of the interaction. It was solely me against (or with) the alien entity and at last, I began to get some answers; not many, but some-and I could hardly believe what I was finding out. I strained every fiber of my mind trying to confirm what I was being "told" about what had happened and would happen in the future by the entity. Just as I thought I might actually be understanding its mentality, the exchange ended in a sudden glare of brighter, deeper green so intense that it hurt. The glare expanded and exploded in my mind like a huge fireworks display, knocking me senseless. The last thing I remember is a sensation of falling, falling through endless depths of a green universe while a fearful uncertainty about where I would land, and whether what had been related to me could possibly be true, overwhelmed me.

***

I came back to my senses slowly, like a diver coming up from the depths toward sunlight and away from the cold darkness below. I blinked and opened my eyes, almost afraid of what I might see-or not see.

"Rita?" My vision was blurred, but I thought it was her.

"Lee! We made it, we made it. Look!"

I raised my seat from its reclining position and shook my head. My vision cleared. There, shining through the view port like a green and brown ball, was our familiar earth. God's chips, how long had I been out of my mind?

"What time is it? Is that really earth? How did we get here? How long have I been out?" Questions spilled from my lips like a three year old genius trying to learn about the world all in one day. I could have gotten answers more quickly by touching their minds, maybe, but old habits die hard. Besides, we still used speech a lot, because while mind touches worked fine for general impressions and sensory images, speech was still better for relaying factual information in a linear fashion.

Rita was in my lap and Kellie and Trevor were on each side of me.

"It's earth, all right," Trevor said, "but don't ask me how we got back here, nor how much time has passed. I'm trying to find that out now."

I waited, not really caring about the time. The meager data I had gained from the alien was forming images in my mind. I chuckled, then laughed, then began howling hysterically. I couldn't stop. Tears streamed down my face as I brayed like an idiot donkey. It was only the concern and fear I saw in Rita's face that finally began to bring me back to normal, but it still took a long time for my laughter to taper off into chuckles and little laughs while shaking my head. God's chips, who was ever going to believe this?

"Lee, please, what is it? What happened there at the last? Did you make real contact and find out something?"

"Can I have a drink first?" I said. "In fact, let's all have a drink. What I'm going to tell you is so bizarre, we may all want to simply get blind drunk and commiserate among ourselves before relating the news to authorities."

"We can do that," Trevor assured me while Kellie began mixing a powerful blend of rum and vodka and fruit flavoring. "We're in a safe orbit and can stay here until we decide to land, though I'll be damned if I know how we got here."

With Rita still on my lap and kissing my cheek and neck and holding me as close as she could and still manage her own drink, I downed one glass of the concoction and half of another before I was ready to talk, avoiding mind contact for the moment. I watched their faces carefully to see if I was going to be believed.

I began. "Listen carefully now, because while I feel like what I learned is true, my interpretation of it may lack a lot of nuances I couldn't grasp. For one thing, I couldn't understand how the alien, or aliens, maybe, interpret the passage of time."

"If it means anything, we returned to earth in essentially nothing flat. I just got a tick from a navigation satellite."

"That's fine, but that part of it really doesn't matter right now. What does matter is how soon the gates start disappearing and releasing those who never came back after entering them."

"What!" all three said at once.

I grinned and stifled another bout of hysterical laughter only by biting a chunk out of my cheek. "Yeah. The gates will eventually disappear, one by one, and whoever went through them and got caught will come back out-and those who were hurt or sick will be cured, so long as there was enough of their minds left to control body functions."

"You mean...?" Rita couldn't go on. I knew she was thinking of Donna and Russell and Seyla, just as I was doing. I could see it plainly in her mind.

"Yes." I hugged her hard, as happy as she was going to be. "They will come back. I just can't say when. But when the gate they went into runs out of juice, so to speak, and disappears, they will be back."

Rita almost cracked a rib hugging me while Kellie and Trevor grinned and hugged each other. They were happy for us and anxious to meet our former family.

"It might be years and years," I warned, though I didn't think so. "But we can wait, now."

"No idea how long?" Trevor asked, serious now.

"Not a clue, except I got the idea it might be hundreds or thousands of years before the gates are all gone. In the meantime, they will still function just as they have been, with some disappearing from time to time."

"That's great!" Rita exclaimed. "But why? What were they put on earth for?

I was just finishing off my second very strong and large rum mix. Her question caused me to cough and spit out a mouthful of liquor. I came very close to starting that hysterical laughter again. Only the three puzzled and caring faces staring at me prevented it.

Rita was beginning to get a bit peeved. I had carefully kept what I had learned blocked off until I could talk about it without laughing like a crazy loon. "Can you let us in on the joke, or is it a private matter between you and the alien?"

"Pour me one more and I'll talk. You won't like it, though."

Rita didn't move from my lap; she let Kellie do the honors. I downed the libation in several huge gulps and felt my head begin to buzz.

"It's like this," I began. "That green blob we saw is the totality of an alien entity. It's useless to try to talk in terms of one intellect or a whole civilization contained in the cloud. I could never discern just what it is. But I did learn one thing. Even though they, or it, is incredibly more advanced than us, there still exists a reproductive drive of sorts. The Entity is in the process of creating another of its kind, sort of like a bud forming but not loose from the parent yet. And the offspring is learning about the universe by being allowed to play with anything interesting that comes along as they meander through the galaxy."

I didn't have to finish. Three mouths dropped open and three exclamations of surprise, horror and disbelief came out in tones I don't think I've ever heard before.

Rita got her equilibrium back first. "Jackson Lee Stuart, do you really mean that earth has been...become a...a playground for some chipping alien kid?"

I nodded, and opened my mind to all three of them, then added words, just to make it all absolutely clear-or as clear as I had been given to see. "Yep. The offspring actually has been using earth like a game, somewhat like a six year old learning to paint with water colors or a computer graphics program."

"But it has stopped now, right?" Kellie asked.

"Yes, so far as I was able to gather. The parent, or more accurately, the guide, has cancelled the program. And I'm almost certain it was because of it meeting us as Seconders. Before we went to it, it had been allowing its offspring to play unattended, so to speak, and apparently, it got somewhat out of hand."

"I should think so!" Rita exclaimed.

I kissed her. "Just be glad we were there as backup when the military ships got zapped. Otherwise, no telling what might have happened. We don't mean much more to them than bugs do to us."

"So why did they even talk to us-to you?" Trevor wanted to know.

I hesitated, trying to recover the gestalt of the alien as I had known it (but almost certainly what was only a very minute portion of its mentality). "Well, think of a human who routinely pays no real attention to bugs scurrying around his feet. But suppose one bug started acting peculiar? It might attract our momentary interest, mightn't it?"

"Well..."

I waved my drink, almost spilling what remained of it. "It was faintly surprised-impressed-or maybe just curious about our Seconder abilities. That made it pause and that moment gave us time to meld our minds. Perhaps that reminded it of how it became such a mighty intellect, who knows? Anyway, after that, it gave out a bit of information, then whisked us back home. And as it terminated the experiment, it granted a wish from the little bug the offspring had created."

"A wish?"

"I think so," I said. "Anyway, I got the impression that the gates which took Donna and Russell and Seyla will disappear soon. And we'll have our family back. Maybe."

"Why maybe?" Rita was squeezing my hand so hard, it hurt.

I looked up at her with what I hoped was optimism. "All three of them were very bad off, medically, perhaps worse than we were. They will return, and we can only hope they are alive when they do."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Trevor had all kinds of difficulty getting permission to deorbit and land, especially after popping into earth's orbit so unexpectedly. Coming back down to earth wasn't quite the same as the takeoff; if you weren't careful, the spacecraft could plow into the earth at a speed that would cause a pretty big crater-with the passengers as part of it. When I asked Trevor what the problem was with communication, he replied, "All kinds of turmoil down there. Some gates have disappeared and the ones who had gone through and not come out have reappeared. Changed sex, of course." He chuckled. "I wonder what all those psychopaths are going to feel like being women?"

"Maybe the gates have cured them," Rita the optimist said.

I held my tongue. I had gotten no sign at all that the minions of the sex gates were interested in curing us, even though they did repair almost all physical ailments during a passage. But that was just the alien kid playing around. It had been a learning process for the alien offspring and that's all. It could have just as well had the sex gates give us ailments as cure them. The benefits we derived from a passage were purely arbitrary, and becoming Seconders, as we had, was an unexpected and fortuitous (for us) outcome. That's my opinion, anyway.

***

It took several days, but eventually, we got landing instructions from Edwards with an alternate at the Van Horn private spaceport in West Texas. Why we were routed to either is something I didn't understand; the spacecraft could have landed just as easily at North Houston International, but I guess they still weren't used to bringing in spaceships. However, we were going back to solid land and it didn't matter. As it was, we came down at the Van Horn Spaceport rather than Edwards, a place in far Southwest Texas which used to be almost unpopulated until private space travel came along, mostly offering suborbital and orbital rocket rides to rich thrill seekers. It was expanding by leaps and bounds now, though, with the advent of real space travel. Several companies were gearing up to offer tourist expeditions to other solar systems.

Messler was there to greet us, his old cynical smile bigger than ever-but it looked much better on him as a woman, which he was now. He-she, I mean-stepped out of her limousine, displaying most of the sleek length of her lovely legs and stood upright, arms wide open for an embrace. I stepped into them, and as our lips touched, so did our minds. And then I knew what the smile was about. I turned her loose quicker than I would have dropped a live grenade in order to rush forward and grab Donna and Russell as they emerged from the limousine, both of them grinning so hugely, it's a wonder the top of their heads didn't topple off. I don't know which of us got to them first, Rita or me, but it really didn't matter.

I was still wiping away tears between hugs and kisses when I stopped and stood dead still, my mind reaching out to them. And sure enough, they had both become Seconders! I should have realized it immediately. We had already been told that all of the gates which had disappeared disgorged the people who had gone into them and not come out, and naturally had switched sexes on them as they always did. And of course, since Donna and Russell went in as male and female, they would have come out with Russell as a female and Donna a male. Obviously, they had gone through another gate to change back to what they were the last time we had been together, a thoughtful gesture on Donna's part, but a terrible risk for Russell: he didn't know he would become a Seconder! It was much later when he told me that there hadn't been as much risk as I assumed there had been. Using my knowledge of the encounter with the alien entity that I had relayed to Messler from space as soon as we were in contact, combined with his own discoveries, made him think he knew how to pull off the trick. And he had been right; but God's chips, it must have taken more courage than I had ever gave Russell credit for. I learned right then that you don't have to pack a weapon or fight a war to display bravery; in fact, his deliberate decision to risk his very life to prove a theory and to please the family took more guts than I would ever have.

***

Trevor and Kellie were being just as supportive as they could be while Rita's smiles and happy laughter gradually faded, as mine did, because the family wasn't complete yet. I hadn't touched Messler's-Messilinda's-mind I mean, since the first sight of Donna and Russell and I was scared to now. It was Rita who spoke for us all, once we were in the limo and traveling toward where Messilinda's private jet was parked.

"Did Seyla-did Seyla not make it?" She said the words in a voice so low, I could barely hear her. I didn't even try to find out from Messilinda's mind; I was scared of what it would reveal.

Messilinda leaned back in the plush seat and ordered a drink for all of us, even though we wouldn't have time to finish them before transferring to his jet. "Yes, she made it, but she came back through a little the worse for wear."

"What happened?"

"That bullet from the assassin hit an artery and she was damn near drained of blood by the time you got her to a gate. It affected her brain in some small ways the gate didn't cure for some reason, even though it fixed her wound up perfectly. She-or he, rather-is in rehab already and the docs say he should make a full recovery. He can decide then about chancing another passage."

I put that on hold, but in the back of my mind, I made a note to persuade her not to try, at least until Russell and Messilinda had thoroughly integrated my new knowledge with everything else known about Seconders. No sense taking chances. Suddenly, I became eager to see what she would look like as a male and felt a teasing tickle from Rita touch my mind. I turned and smiled at her. The sex gates had changed me more than I would ever have believed possible. As they had all of us.

I kept one thought to myself, not wanting to spoil the happy reunion. I wondered privately that if this much turmoil could be caused by an alien kid just playing around, what else might we run into in the vast eternity of space? Perhaps we should proceed more cautiously in our explorations of the galaxy. The next time we encounter intelligence out there, we might not be so lucky.

Epilogue

The story doesn't end here, of course. Before any of the NSA goons had a chance to grab me, I put everything I knew and everything Russell and Messler had learned on the web, giving the knowledge freely to the world. There was turmoil and strife and violence anew, but once it sank in that the sex gates would eventually disappear, one by one over many, many years, and that in the meantime, there was a good chance that a fair proportion of the population could eventually attain Seconder status, things quieted down. Seyla made a full recovery and using our new knowledge, managed another passage through a gate and became a Seconder like the rest of us. Rita is pregnant with our first child and I'm looking forward to settling down and becoming an old family man, albeit in a rather large and somewhat unorthodox family; but God's chips, what wonders I've seen since the first appearance of the sex gates! Destiny only knows what our son will grow up to experience. Shucks, maybe next time, I'll be the one who has the baby. In the meantime, the whole universe is waiting.

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