Gay City Read online

  When I stepped out from the invigorating pleasures of the shower, Rostan was at my side holding a warm towel. 'How was it?' he asked as he began to pat me dry, gently brushing himself against me.

  Gay City's manual for official visits gives very clear instructions on sex. It advises that in most of the hetero states gay sex is totally or partially against the law, and that in some it is punishable by death. 'Total abstention from sexual activities with others is therefore the only course which does not involve risk. If there is a need for occasional relief, use of the small adaptor supplied with the personal communication unit is recommended.' I have tried the adaptor; you position it not against any erogenous zone but at the back of your head and switch on. You experience spasms of intense sexual pleasure, but it is somehow difficult to equate these with any sexual act because you cannot locate exactly where in the body the stimulation is taking place, until at last orgasm brings the promised 'relief.' The adaptors are supplied only for longer trips than my single day's visit.

  Rostan proceeded to help dry me in a way which clearly showed he was not following Gay City's instructions on official visits and sex. I did not resist. He was so much the lover I had lost all those years ago, brought back to life. We made love like strangers though, unable to anticipate each other's movements, or the familiar reassurance of long term partner's caresses.

  My mood after detumescence, calmer and a little pre-occupied, probably made the eventual meeting with my great uncle less difficult. No formal ritual or elaborate courtesies preceded our discussions. I was ushered into the receiving room by Rostan, who quickly said goodbye and left.

  My first impression was of a fairly old man dressed in an oddly designed suit of very heavy cloth. 'How did you find your attendant?' asked a deep disembodied voice coming from somewhere behind his chair, or rather throne. Things must have improved since he was seen some years ago in the tank.

  'He was most helpful, excellent company.'

  'I am glad you had some time together. He seemed familiar to you?' He was like a ventriloquist, his lips showing an odd trembling movement rather than shaping the sounds when he spoke.

  'He is a related to my ex-lover, who was killed.'

  'Yes, he believes himself to be related. That is what he has always been told. The truth is that he is a clone, a fact which I and very few others know.' The blotched worn face showed a trace of a smile. His strange eyes, somehow too round and too bright, watched intensely as his words worked their effect on me. Was my lover somehow alive again in the form of Rostan? Clone or relative, to Rostan I was just a stranger he would probably never meet again. I was struggling to find words: 'A clone?'

  'Yes, during the persecution of gays, clones of many of those who died were produced. It was part of a research project. Small changes were made to the genes of the parent cells to see if sexual preference would be affected.' After a pause he continued: 'I regret all of that, all that happened. I was badly and deceitfully advised; dreadful things were done and you yourself were forced into exile. I am sorry for what you suffered. I was anxious to show you how much things have changed here.'

  He stopped, waiting for me to respond. After the death and ruin of so many, did he really think a simple apology was all that was needed? I said sharply: 'The pasts is the past. I am glad the persecution has ended.'

  'A great deal has changed here, as I hope Rostan has proved. Think also of what we have to offer. The medical treatments which have been developed here are far beyond anything which has been achieved elsewhere, even in Gay City. You have seen the research facility. The potential exists to produce entire new species able to survive in other regions of the universe where environmental conditions are very different to those on our own planet. Already life can be prolonged through tissue and organ regrowth, the main procedures which keep me alive. If work to regenerate an individual from a small number of specialised cells is successful, death may soon be a thing of the past. Our advances in these fields are major benefits which we would bring to our relationship with Gay City.'

  'Yes Gay City is very interested in your research programmes. Certainly you have made a huge investment in the medical field. There are differences though. You have a declining population and concentrate resources on a few privileged individuals. Gay City's population is growing and there is more emphasis on medicine which will prove of wider benefit.'

  'But surely for a few of your people, for the elite, long term preservation of life would be worthwhile. You could maintain access to the talents of your most gifted citizens.' He held his left arm out towards me. 'Look at this hand. Fifteen years ago it was withered by age, useless; but look now, the sense of touch has returned to my skin; there is blood flowing once more through my veins.'

  He became very excited as he showed me his renewed hand. His breathing became erratic, speeding up briefly into shallow quick gasps, then faltering into drawn out suckings and blowings. As he moved his arm I glimpsed a series of tubes running beneath the oddly cut jacket, presumably part of his life support system. Behind him I heard a click as concealed doors swung open and one of his doctors appeared.

  In his now faltering artificial voice he struggled not to loose his dignity altogether. He apologised for ending the interview so abruptly, and hoped that I would take good reports back to Gay City. He told me that I would always have a second home there, whenever I chose to return. The motorised chair or throne on which he sat began to move under him. It pulled him away from the table, turned him around, and conveyed him through the recently opened doors. At the back of the room or laboratory I could see a large tank like a great green glass coffin resting on a stand. Presumably he was in urgent need of some treatment or life support system not available from his chair. Within a minute the woman who had met me when I arrived at the airport was by my side.

  On my way back to the space station I could think only of Rostan. He was a different individual, a different person, from my old lover, and I had no grounds to expect him to have further interest in me. Yet I badly wanted my future to include some form, any form, of contact with him, whether as a lover or as a friend. I wondered how difficult it would be for me to arrange another visit.

  Later, when I looked down from the space station to the blue oceans of the planet far below, and later still when I looked out at the sea from my apartment, I could think only of the deserted jetty Rostan had shown me on the security screen, stretching out endlessly into a steel blue sea.

  From the same author on Feedbooks

  Closer Than Breathing - A Light Gay Odyssey (2010)

  “Closer Than Breathing” is a full length novel which, among the characters, includes gay men and lesbians leading busy lives. It tells the story of Ben, a young gay man new to the metropolis, who is confronted by a series of odd, eccentric people, including drug dealers, goths, psychics, veteran author Loyd Larcher and ageing rock musicians Rick Schwagger and Heath Prityards. Ben survives the dangers of the world of sex, drugs and rock and roll, engaging all comers with goodwill and good humour.

  Making use of opportunities along the way to achieve success, he ghost writes a rock star’s autobiography, and finds true love with a level headed and down to earth boyfriend. Together they deal with life’s distractions, enticements and challenges. Whilst the ‘straight’ world around them becomes ever more weird and out of control, the couple are determined to be true to themselves and each other.

  Goodmans Hotel (2010)

  This novel is a gay love story set in 1990s London. Mark, a City high-flyer, is irresistibly attracted to Tom, a manual worker from a tough neighbourhood. Both men have been marked by past ordeals.

  Conflict between powerful cabals in the City firm causes Mark to leave, with a generous pay off. Tom’s boss, Andrew, a determinedly independent small businessman, convinces him he should put all his resources into setting up a gay guest house, the ‘Goodmans Hotel’ of the title. There he hopes for release from the heartlessly competitive norms of his old working life.
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  He takes in an eighteen year old runaway, Darren, who is escaping from his parents’ religious bigotry. Mark comes to think of Tom, Darren and Andrew as his ‘family’. A crisis forces Mark and Tom apart, until eventually the family are reconciled and reunited in the final chapter, their understanding of life deepened by the challenges they have faced.

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  Gay City

  From the same author on Feedbooks