The Sex Gates Read online

  Protestants were still divided; fundamentalist sects railed against the gates; liberal sects accepted them. Demonstrators continued to protest, but were no longer quite so violent. Automatic recording devices were set up around every gate in America. After a few protestors went to jail or were executed for assaulting or murdering individuals attempting to go through the gates, the violence slowed to a near halt.

  Almost half the population of the country over seventy took a chance on the gates. Most of them made it through and emerged with healthy young bodies of a different sex. More than three-quarters of those over eighty opted to try the gates even though their chances of success were lower the older and/or sicker they were. The black shadow of death had the power to move the old to take their chances in the gate. The lure of another forty or fifty years of life was too strong, even if it did mean switching sex.

  The medical profession was beginning to suffer from unemployment as hospitals and doctors’ offices closed. The preliminary reports that changed individuals now had perfect health proved 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 chromosomes of telomeres on some chromosomes after cellular division, 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 bringing them to the gates. This proved more dangerous. Many of them never came out again. Those who did, however, were normal. Scientists and statisticians were desperately trying to find out what the defining characteristics for a successful passage were.

  The Supreme Court ruled 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. People were learning that when they changed sex physically, their sexual orientation stayed the same at first, then slowly started to shift, but never completely. Some of the original orientation always remained. A debate was raging about why sexual orientation should change at all. Some attributed it to the hormonal changes, others said the opportunity to experience sex from the other side was too tempting. It was obvious that huge transformations in how we humans viewed sexuality were looming, although no one yet knew quite what to expect.

  By the time the first surveys were conducted, almost half of the changed persons had experimented, or were planning to experiment, with the opposite sex. That fact was going to cause me trouble, though I didn't know it yet.

  Meanwhile, the four of us were still living together, even after the spring semester ended and Rita graduated.

  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. If humans were confused about sex before the gates, the situation was a thousand times worse afterward. While doctors had less to do, sex therapists were putting in double overtime. It looked as if Rita was going to be busy exploring on the cutting edge of a new world.

  We saw little of Russell. Or I did, anyway. When he was home, he spent most of his time with Donna. But most days and nights he was at his lab, working on his doctorate. He had had to start all over with another thesis after 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 as he ruefully told me, more often recording the absence of any). It was the kind of scut work that all doctoral candidates are forced to tolerate. We got the most reliable news on the nature of the gates from him (such as it was; most of the data was negative—things we didn't know.)

  As the weeks passed, I remained uncomfortable around Donna. Her gender change no longer bothered me like it had at first—after all, it wasn't anything she chose to do—but I found it hard to accept her need to explore what it would mean to live the rest of her life as a woman.

  Maybe it was a natural result of missing my good friend, Don, but I hated watching her begin to act more and more like a woman. Considering how she had to live, it was a natural development, but it put even more stress on our friendship. I couldn't talk to her about her periods, or what kind of makeup went best with her hair, or how her sexual life was going. Oh, she was willing to talk about those things, but when she brought them into our conversation I backed off or changed the subject. I acted (or tried to act) as if she were a female friend—if friendship between the sexes really exists. If she hadn't once been male, and my closest friend, I wouldn't even have tried. Don was handsome; Donna was just short of beautiful but with no idea what an impact her exquisite body had on men. It was next to impossible to be a friend with her because my normal male instincts would kick in, and then I would feel queasy when I remembered she was once a man.

  In addition to all my other problems with Donna's change, I've never been entirely comfortable around beautiful women, especially those who exude sexuality. Donna was a sexy woman who had no idea she was radiating sex appeal. I watched lots of men become attracted to her, only to be shocked when she suddenly acted like a man. She got better at behaving like a woman as time passed. Both Rita and Russell helped coach her in appropriate behavior.

  Unfortunately, as she got better, I found myself starting to react to her physically, especially when she paraded around the house half-naked. The tension between us grew, but I didn't want to ask her to move. She was going through enough turmoil. Instead, I made every effort to keep my sexual distance.

  We were finally getting something over the web besides news. Rita and I were tucked away for the night watching a film. Naturally, it was about a couple who went through the gate together and their problems getting used to their changed sexuality. After watching for a few minutes, we began interacting. As was our custom, 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 was designed to be a comedy. It wasn't. I kept trying to get the new male interested in women and at the same time I was 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 blonde at a party. She changed the blonde into a male who looked somewhat like me.

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

  “You didn't let me."

  True, but watching men kiss puts me off, not to mention other things. I changed the program so the male character came into the room where they were hiding and broke it up. Rita immediately had him 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. The whole story made me uncomfortable, though. Rita saw that I was losing interest and switched the screen off.

  “Lee, you are so provincial.” She didn't sound angry, only disappointed. She half turned in my arms so that 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 didn't want to argue, but I suspected most people were as conservative as me when it came to changing sex, as long as they weren't driven to change by age or illness. You hardly ever saw any young and healthy people going through the gates. “Look at Donna; she didn't start running after men five minutes after she changed. But that's what you made your character do."

  “Maybe not, but her sexual orientation has been changing, or haven't you noticed? For your information, she went for an implant l
ast 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 get an implant to prevent pregnancy. “Is she sleeping with someone? Are her and Russell getting it on?"

  “No, silly, but she is becoming a normal woman. And a normal woman wants this.” She reached down and enfolded my penis, which had become engorged as soon as her nipple touched my palm.

  “So Donna is actually thinking about having sex with a man?” I couldn't quite form the picture in my mind. I was having problems envisioning the male who would introduce Donna to the joys of sex.

  “Lee, you're still living in the last century. Why shouldn't she act like any normal female?"

  “She isn't a normal female."

  “True. But she's trying to adjust to her female body. Try to remember that this situation wasn't her choice. Haven't you ever thought of what it would be like if you had been born female instead of male?"

  “No.” Truthfully, I hadn't. I had always been satisfied with my sex. Maybe I wished once in awhile that I was stronger or better looking, but doesn't everyone? The only thing I really didn't like about myself was my rust-colored hair. If I were better looking, I wouldn't have any problem attracting women and making out. If Rita hadn't practically tripped me, I would probably still be admiring her from a distance. I don'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 don't understand the female viewpoint."

  “I understand this much.” I bent 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 to do some traveling on a project I was researching, but I hate to leave familiar surroundings or go anywhere alone. That would suit me fine, and I said so.

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

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

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

  “I wonder if she'll bring her fellow here.” The idea still seemed strange to me.

  “Why don't you wait and see? In the meantime, try to be nice to her. She's more than a little scared."

  I really didn't understand women. Here Rita had just told me that Donna wanted to have sex, and with the next breath she was saying that she was frightened. “I don't understand."

  “You're impossible. Just be nice to her, okay?"

  “I will. I always am, aren't I?” Despite my conflicting feelings, Donna was still my friend.

  “You're nice to everyone once you disconnect your brain from your testicles. Come here.” She pulled me over her, and I quit thinking about Donna.

  * * * *

  We began packing for our trip the next morning. I didn't pack much as I didn't intend to be gone long. I wouldn't have made the trip at all, but the webworks wanted spontaneity. They demanded live interviews and action shots. I had managed to get an appointment in Lufkin, up the NAFTA a hundred miles or so, with a female evangelist who was making some big waves in Texas and was getting ready to branch out into neighboring states.

  While I'm no expert on religion, this woman sounded like she would make a fascinating interview. In a nation full of middle-aged male evangelists, she was young, somewhere in her early twenties, with dark red hair and a voluptuous figure. Besides that, she was starting a brand new church. Her “Church of the Gates” declared that each gate was a separate manifestation of God and worshipping and believing in them assured that a person entering a gate the second time would immediately be transported to heaven. (At that time, no one had yet come back from a second attempt to pass through the gates. In fact, there had been very few individuals who had even tried—not after the first few failures. I only knew that occasionally someone had from Russell).

  I still don't know where she got her so-called revelation. But it certainly met a growing need. Science couldn't explain the gates, not yet anyway, and the old religions held no place for them either. It was a time for something new.

  * * * *

  By the time we were packed and ready to go, Russell was already gone to the lab. 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 those kind of dedicated programs 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?"

  “I thought we'd stop and see the folks since we're passing through on the way,” I explained.

  “Well, tell them hello for me.” Donna (as Don) knew my mom and dad. I had long since told them of her unintentional sex change, but she hadn't seen them since it happened. I had only been up once, myself, with Rita.

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

  “You be careful, now. There are still lots of crazies hanging around the gates."

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

  “I will.” She gave Rita a brief hug, then embraced me. It was the first time she had done so. Before I knew what was happening, she kissed me full on the mouth, patted me on the cheek and turned back to her math problems. I felt my face get hot. I was glad she had her back to me. Rita noticed, though. I could tell by her elfish smile.

  * * * *

  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 that my car had a speaker circuit built into it. “I was going to call you, so this works out fine."

  I wondered why he had been planning on calling. Was there some sort of problem with Derek? So far as I knew, my brother 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 as if it were a talisman.

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

  I couldn't have been more astounded if he had said they were going to the moon. I sat with my mouth hanging open, trying to make sense of his words.

  “Dad, you're kidding,” I managed at last.

  He shook his head. “No."

  I looked at Mom. She nodded agreement.

  “But why? What could possibly make you want to..."

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

  “Doctor Davis? But, Dad, he could be wrong! I mean I like him, but ... look, at least get another opinion."

  “He already has,” Mom said. “Doctor Davis has added a consult room since you saw him last. The North Houston heart center agrees with his diagnosis."

  “Can't you get an artificial heart?” That seemed like the simple solution to me. How could I stand seeing my dad change into a woman? And Mom—why her?

  “Too risky. I have other complications that make me a poor candidate for surgery."

  I swallowed hard. Maybe Dad had no choice. That still didn't explain why Mom was going into the gate with him.

  She didn't wait for me to ask. “We don't want to be separated, Lee, not after almost forty years.” She gazed at Dad, lov
e shining in her eyes.

  I could understand that. My parents were a close couple. I had never once heard them exchange a cross word, not even when Dad volunteered for duty in the Middle East when I was a youngster. It didn't make this decision any easier.

  “I'll cancel my appointment and stay here.” I dreaded seeing the change, but I didn't want to leave them either.

  “No, Son. We'd rather you not. If we come out safely, it's going to be confusing to us for a while. We'd prefer to be alone until we get used to our new bodies and the changes they will bring."

  I protested a few times, because I thought I should. Inside, I wanted to run from this nightmare. No more hugs from Mom? No more squirrel hunting with Dad on crisp fall mornings?

  Rita sat in silence as we talked, even though she could have spoken up 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 since the gates started demanding most of our attention.

  We all hugged good-bye as Rita and I left, the four of us pressing our bodies together as if we might never see each other 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 picnicked many times. I leaned my head on the steering wheel and cried. Rita wrapped her arms around me and cried too. After a while, we brushed our tears away and drove on.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  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. The long-predicted disaster was not a theory any more but hard fact; the Antarctic icepacks were breaking up. Eventually, North Houston might suffer the same flooding, though the theorists differed on how far in the future that might be.