Introduction

This is more like a mind game than a story. But be assured - although it starts in a sad mood - that it will cheer you up in the end (I pray!). My excuses for not being too graphical and explicit - I leave that to your own imagination!

It's written in the rarely used suggestive 'you' mode; I hope this will let you slip more easily into virtually being her.

Dedicated to Iain M. Banks and his 'Culture' SF novels

 

Long Live Love

by Shantiva TWO REED

 

You are conscious of being a young woman, tastefully dressed and with perfect make-up, sitting in a small brasserie in a sleepy little town in southern France. Alone @ the table, you watch the plaza. You have just eaten a small portion of your favourite dish and feel pleasantly filled. You bask in the sun like a cat, relaxed and observing your surroundings. The occasional passing vehicle sends the pigeons up to their circles around the old church steeple only to land again on the plaza some minutes later. You know you look gorgeous by the glances you draw from the locals. You relish the feeling of the wind rustling the soft fabrics on your body. And moreover, you are rich.

Nobody would suspect that, many years ago, a male mind dwelt in this adorable feminine body. A body that was even biologically male then. Now you are female down to the molecular level. The color and style of your hair today is exactly what you wanted @ that time. You sip from your drink while you think 'this is just as it should be'; you feel secure and @ home.

This is not the story about how all this came to be. You know that some truths lie in the stories found @ Crystal's story site and elsewhere. But let that hint suffice. After some point, technology is indistinguishable from magic. And you know you were unbelievably lucky to find that which made you so beautiful and rich. Now you have other problems.

You would never have imagined before what this meant when you were a member of the other gender. After the transition, full of youthful vigor, you did not think about this. You were eager to make yourself @ home in the world as a woman. Which you did very well. In your first marriage, you had five children. Oh, the pleasures of maternity! You were married four times, all happy marriages. You have to suppress tears when thinking of your wonderful, tender, and loving husbands. They were soo different! Yes, you even changed race once, so that you could be with your third partner. But that is another story that may be told by someone else.

You sigh and let the tears flow as you think of the deaths of your husbands. You take out a lovely handkerchief from your elegant bag and dry the tears rolling quietly down your cheeks. Fortunately, the modern waterproof make-up will not be messed up by this. You remember when you sat @ the deathbed of your last darling, holding hands. You watched his life slowly slipping away. Yes, you were glad for him that he had reached this high age. But @ some point even all your money, modern science, and your love couldn't help him any more. Then you were content that he would be relieved of his pain and let him go.

The last years always seemed so sad and painful! The medical staff typically remarked about a young and healthy woman being the lover of such an old man. Some of these remarks were positive, some negative. But you never cared, since you loved with all your heart each time.

His death is only three months ago. The thought of him makes you ache. When he closed his eyes for the last time, drinking in your image, you felt more guilty than ever for being what you are, for doing this again. Your unbelievable luck in the 21^st century made you think this would be great. Having seen your loved ones die many times, however, lets you see yourself different. Now you feel the weight of responsibility on your shoulders.

After your first husband died, you swore never to marry a man again so as not to defile the lovely memories of him. You never wanted to see a lover die. But you could not hold back your youthful body from the will to enjoy life. Your second marriage was a lesbian one, in a country where this was legal. At that time you rationalized, 'It is okay, because my partner is not a man'. And you were lucky; the marriage was wonderfully tender, very adventurous, and real, deep love. So sad to see her die from one of the new diseases that spread after the Event. All this is now history. You are glad that mankind is growing again. Now you know that you cannot command love or limit it to one gender. And you let love come and go as it wants.

You have a lot of memories that you could impress historians with. Whenever you notice that modern media represent something very wrong, you let your staff dig out evidence for things that you remember. Then you publish an article, film, or book under pseudonym, so that the historical memory is set right. You always liked to have things truthfully told without omissions. You hated white lies and half-truths.

You take a last sip from your glass, get up, and pay your bill. At a small market stand you stop. While you bow to smell the flowers, you brush back your hair with an unconscious feminine gesture. You buy a bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers from the old lady attendant. Suddenly startled when handing you the flowers, she looks quizzically @ you and is about to ask a question. But then, as if she remembers something, she shakes her grey head and just smiles, wishing you a nice day.

You take a stroll up the hill in the green shade of sycamores. Swifts race screeching around the yellow sandstone church tower. Girls play ball in a yard below, singing the song that goes with the game. The wind dries your light sweat as you ascend in your comfortable dress. The silence of the town in the afternoon heat is accentuated by the clacking of your heels on the granite pavement.

Stairs lead up to the old churchyard. It is now a parc with some of the gravestones still standing, more a decoration than a memento. Tits twitter in the rustling branches of the trees. You stand in the shade before one of the stones. It shows clear signs of decay and over the years has tilted to the right side. You read the name, dates of birth and death, and his motto 'Don't listen to others, live your own dream'.

Your first husband. You put down the flowers and stand in inner silence. Unexpectedly, your heart wells up and you cry for minutes.

He'sgone now. For some years, you came here often. Then it faded away as you found new things to do and a new lover. After the death of your second love, you had no place where to mourn her. Sadly, she had no grave, her body having been eaten up by the dread disease. It became a tradition then to come here from time to time to mourn the dead. Those were dark years.

Yes, you lived here sometime. The old lady @ the flower stand may even be one of your great-great-grandchildren. In your first marriage, you changed your identity and disappeared after your children were mature enough. You both thought that would be wise, since you couldn't make yourself look much older, being always a young woman. When the disguising make-up was taken off, you couldn't fool your children. But you met secretly with your husband.

It was as if you were his mistress, making love to a man who was getting older and older. In time, you learned the art of energy exchange during intercourse. Being close to him, and even without touching, you could let him participate in your seemingly unending source of life, deliciously flowing through both your bodies.

This helped to prolong his life. Alas, all human beings must die some time. You think you are able to die although you do not really want to right now. Listen to your body, whispering to you, 'live, live!'.

For many years you employed private eyes that kept you informed about your children and their lives. Secretly, you helped them if you could. You enjoyed being their unknown 'guardian angel'. However, after the first deaths among your children, your family had grown so large, that it became difficult to follow everything. You decided to let them live their lives unobserved and abandoned all efforts to keep informed.

You blow your nose. Straightening your dress, you seat your wide hips down on a bank some steps away from the grave. From here you can view the small town, the valley with its river and the vineyards on the slopes, hazy in the distance. It has rained the night before, making the air rich with earthy smells of vegetation. You breathe in deeply and your lovely shaped breasts heave and shift deliciously against the soft bra you are wearing. Yes, your body surely wants to live and relish all senses. You really like to live a good life and value the luxury you can afford.

You remember the many trusts and beneficial institutions you founded, after you realized that you might become the richest woman in the world. Despite all the taxes, there was still enough interest to make your bank account grow. You did not want public attention but preferred a quiet life with friends and loved ones. You always disliked the rich showing off their wealth publicly in senseless decadent ways. You never became one of the jet-set because you thought your money could be spent better. So, whenever you felt you became too rich to attract curiosity, you made donations or even founded charities, research institutions, websites, and other publicly beneficiary ventures; often anonymously or under false names. Even today, some of your institutions still operate to everyone's benefit; this fills your heart with a quiet motherly joy.

Standing up, you take a last look back to the parc. Then you descend the stairs down to the parking lot where your plain looking but expensive vehicle awaits you. You enter the air-conditioned compartment and ask the driver to go up the valley.

While leaving town, you see a young woman that looks very much like you. 'Yes', you think, 'It was a wise move not to have more children. Otherwise my genes might have spread too wide in the human gene pool. My old genes seem to be still strong in this town. I'm glad that I stopped @ five children; otherwise, I'd have a near-monoculture of myself some centuries from now - and probably another plague because of not enough genetic diversity.'

That reminds you; it is time to change your genetics soon. You have dwelt in this body too many years, caring for your late husband. Now your old self must disappear. You begin to imagine what your next female form should look like. When you are home, you will go into another of your long retreats to change again and alter your DNA.

"Excuse me Miss," the driver announces, "we are being followed." It occurs to you, judging from your memory, that you are a Methuselah lady, but still vain enough to advise your driver to call you 'Miss'. But why not, it is just a machine and cannot think. You are glad that you bought this new security technology that detects pursuers automatically. Now, who would pursue you? Perhaps you were mistaken for someone else?

"Go to a tourist spot fifteen minutes drive from here." The machine suggests a destination and you confirm. You change dresses, being slightly aroused by this. This seems to be a habit you cannot break.

Although you are used to female garments for centuries now, some sexy tingle is always in the air when it comes to a change of clothes. You take out your disguise set, expertly change your make-up, put on a different colored wig. You look @ yourself in the mirror and smile, satisfied with your quick work.

"Is the other vehicle still following us?" you ask the driver.

"Yes, Miss. We will arrive @ the vista point in three minutes."

"Very well." You plan to confront your pursuers in a public place. As you arrive, you see many tourists @ this scenic site. You let the driver describe the other vehicle to you and get out.

You leave the parking lot and ascend a small flight of steps to a platform below the vista point with various vending stands. There you wait, leaning on a railing and overlooking the parking lot. The other vehicle arrives and comes to rest near your machine. You are surprised to see a handsome young man disembark. He looks straight @ you and waves. You pretend not to notice.

He climbs the steps and comes over to you. "Hello," he says and addresses you with a name you have not used for a long time. He even resembles your first husband.

"May I help, you?" you reply coolly, faking not to recognize the name. Being found out might be a problem. Not that you could not handle this, but you prefer a quiet life.

"Please don't play-act. I know who you are. I am like you."

Soon you find out that he is also 'forever young' that he also lives a life just like yours. You both suspect that he carries some of your DNA (or vice versa). In all these years you never found someone like you. And now he has found you. You both talk deep into the night ...

 

Epilogue

The inevitable happened. You fell in love with each other, changed according to the other's taste and lived very happily for a very long time.

When humankind acquired the means to travel to other stars (which you supported to bring about) you were among the first couples to go alone to a virgin world, so that you @ last could have children without spreading your genes on Earth.

Now this planet is full of your progeny. You became Adam and Eve for this planet. You and your husband are very honoured as The Ancients. However, most of your power has been taken away from you after the civil war. But you have been kept as symbols for planetary unity. You know now that your kind can indeed be killed. You are glad that the planet is @ peace now, although not free from crime.

Having children is severely restricted because more inhabitants would deplete the resources. Happy is the couple that wins the birth lottery. The lottery was organized to replace those that die by accidents or manslaughter. Moreover, the Galactic Union would not allow you 'sexy immortals' to colonize more than one planet. You cannot hide any more.

While your scientists think about building gigantic space habitats or colonizing the next galaxy, you both contemplate about going to the next plane of existence. You are currently conducting research about the arts of energy transfer. You have seen enough of this universe and are curious about the next.

You remember Morpheus` saying Some things change, and some things don't.

 

Legal Notice

Original work by Shantiva TWO REED, written in 2004 CE. The above work is subject to the Creative Commons License: It is allowed to copy, to distribute, to change, to make commercial use, and to perform, provided that the license type is not changed (share-alike), the original author is stated and alterations are indicated as such.

  

  

  

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