Bob’s Memoir: 4,000 Years as a Free Demon
70
Gateway
“AFTER?” I ASKED. “After what?” Lacy dropped all forms of professional demeanor and ran to me, wrapping her arms around me. A few of my companions went on high alert but it was just a hug. A desperately passionate hug.
“After one more mission,” she whispered. “I’m all alone on this, Bob. I need help and you’re the only one I know who I think I can trust.”
“You mean your agency is involved?”
“I think so. If I can pull this thing off, I’ll need to disappear. Permanently,” she said. “But Bob, please tell me I didn’t wait too long. I know I’m not as young and… nubile as so many of your women are, but I won’t be a burden, I promise.”
“Lacy, I would take you at any age. I’m so happy to see you. But you need to tell me all about what the problem is,” I said.
“I’ll do that, Bob, but we should do it without cameras, or at least off the record for the show. This could be sensitive. Alone, except, of course, I know you’re never alone. A minimum of wives and concubines then,” she said.
“Doug, you’re in charge of debriefing everyone on the day’s activities and having a good conversation about what everyone did. I’m taking Lacy to the palace for a bit to talk. We’ll leave from my bedroom.” I hooked my satchel over my arm and escorted Lacy upstairs to my bedroom. There, I opened a gateway and four of my warriors came out to guard and protect the satchel while I was inside. Then I took Lacy to Areola.
“It’s so beautiful, like I remember it. I feel younger and freer just being here,” Lacy said, holding onto my arm.
We headed for the pool and before I’d finished speaking to one of the concubines to ask for refreshments, Lacy was naked with her clothes piled on the pool deck. She stretched out on a lounge chair. It had been ten… no, twelve years since I brought the nineteen-year-old stripper/undercover agent to Areola while we cleaned up the traffickers who were preying on various strippers in Mississippi, among other locations. The last of the traffickers had perished in a fire in South America, along with the dictator who had ordered the supply of women. She’d definitely matured in that time, but to my eye she would still make a phenomenal entertainer. I certainly enjoyed looking at her trim body.
I decided it was my home; I could be naked if I wanted and joined her. My concubine brought us cold drinks and fruit.
“Now, perhaps you can tell me what is going on,” I suggested.
“I’ve been working on sex trafficking for all my adult life. I’d been rescued from a trafficker before you found me and was recruited by the FBI to help them track down others. Most of my job was being vulnerable and hoping one of my so-called partners would be there to step in and save me when someone made a move. But during that time, I studied hard and passed several tests that led to me becoming a full-fledged agent by the time I was twenty-three. I’d kept track of you through nefarious means over the years. I might as well tell you, I put a tracking device in your satchel. It worked rather well.”
I was shocked. To think that it had been so easy to deceive me and track my whereabouts. I never went anywhere without the satchel, so it was a sure thing that she had a record of everywhere I’d been in the past twelve years.
“I had you declared my asset immediately, and got a hands-off order from the Director to warn everyone to stay away from you. I’ve had that renewed regularly, including updating it with your new identity. I actually got credit for a couple of particularly bloody takedowns of trafficking operations during that time and before long, no one would work directly with me. When I said I head a task force, you should know that I meant I am the task force. For seven years, I have been compiling the data that shows a major trafficking operation in the Eastern US. I have attempted to bring some known forces in to stand trial, but somehow those people have all ended up dead while in custody.”
“I remember a couple such cases,” I said.
“I started keeping all my records secret and have had a few scares that my own life was being targeted. Lately, that’s been more often than I care to admit and I went into hiding three months ago. Marching into headquarters and demanding my asset today—or was that yesterday? I don’t remember. Anyway, it was the first time I’d been seen or heard from in that time. I think some of them were hoping I’d been killed. So, you see, I can’t really go back now, but I could be all that is keeping you from being harassed non-stop.”
“What can we do about that?”
“Become heroes. I have the locations and the names of over a hundred traffickers, currently holding nearly ten thousand women and children for transport and sale.”
“So many,” I breathed. “I thought the traffic across the border had slowed after our raid down there.”
“It did. The largest percentage of unauthorized immigrants in the country are not from Mexico or South America. They are from India and the Philippines. There are a good mix of other Asians as well. After the fiascos in Russia blew up in their faces, we saw a spike in Eastern Europeans making their way to the US. Most of them entered the country legally. But then they disappeared in the system. Some 40% of legal visitors to the United States overstay their visas. Over half of those are located and either renewed or deported. But close to half a million a year now are never located. It takes less than one percent of those people to become a profitable commodity, especially when mixed with the usual kidnappings and disappearances off the streets.”
“Are they all in one location?” I was seeing a nightmare of frantic abductees all trying to reach safety through Areola. And how many people would be employed to guard the product? It was baffling.
“No. They are scattered at a dozen different locations. That is why I need your help. I think we can take them all out in a single night if we do it correctly.”
I listened to her idea that would include revealing her as orchestrating the raids and then disappearing into Areola forever. I saw a few flaws with her plan.
“Lacy, you’ve mentioned eleven different locations. There’s no way we can make all those in one night. Five on the East Coast, three in the South, and three on the West Coast. You’d need a hit team in position for each of them. Then we’d need to time it right.”
“We have your ninjas,” Lacy said. “They’re more than a match for any of those goons. If we time it right, we can get the higher ups in the sweep as well. And no loose ends. One thing working in this line for ten years has taught me is not to waste time with judges and trials. Go in, clean them up, and nail the bodies to the wall. Dress me up like one of your ninjas and when we finish, I’ll unveil myself in a video as the one responsible. I’ll instantly become America’s most wanted, so I’ll need to disappear.”
“That still leaves us with transportation. And I’m not sure I want to put my priestesses in that much danger. Something could go wrong.”
“Transportation? You can just transport us in to the coordinates and then out to the next location before anyone even knows we’re there.”
“I see. You have, unfortunately, a misperception about my portal. I can use it to go back and forth to here in Areola. When I come here, I have to leave warriors guarding the satchel so no one can get to it. The whole idea of going into outer space has been to get the satchel and the gateway somewhere safe where no one can get them.”
Lacy looked at me strangely and shook her head.
“Can we just send a satchel to each of the locations? That would work.”
“No. The gateway is in the original satchel I’ve been carting around for 4,000 years,” I said. “I can’t open a portal anywhere else.”
“4,000 years. You’ve been at this a long time, Bob. But you haven’t had the original satchel for months.”
I was stunned. I jumped up and dove through the gateway back to my bedroom in the mansion where I surprised six warriors standing guard with my nudity and that of Lacy following closely behind me. I grabbed the satchel and opened it up. I kept all kinds of things in the satchel. I was a business man and carried around plans, reports, and daily necessities. It wasn’t wise to go jetting off around the world with no clothes. I usually had spares in the satchel and hauled around a suitcase as well.
I emptied all the contents out on the bed and then worked the unbinding spell that had made my original satchel part of the new one I’d put it in. The satchel fell apart, but the original bag did not appear. I looked at the pieces. There was even a tag inside that said ‘Made in Korea.’ Once the satchel was in pieces, I found the tracking device that had been inserted between layers of the leather. But no bag from Knossos 4,000 years ago.
I ran downstairs and checked six other bags to see if the original satchel was in them, all with the same results.
“What? How? When?” I sputtered. And if I didn’t have my satchel, how was I getting back and forth to Areola?
“When the new line of bags came out, we compared them to every image we had of your original bag. We bought and prepared half a dozen. The boys upstairs were convinced that the portal was part of your bag, so we took the opportunity to swap your original bag with one of the new ones. Just transferred all your stuff over. Then they took your original bag to the lab and disassembled it, looking for any trace of technology in it. The only thing they discovered was that the lining of your bag was a lot older than the outside,” Lacy said.
“My original bag has been destroyed?”
“The intent was always to return it to you in the same way, but they never managed it. They restitched everything and got it back in the original condition. If it’s that important, I could probably get it back.”
“How have I been traveling back and forth to Areola,” I asked. Sally approached us.
“That’s great, Bob! It means you’ve been opening portals wherever you happened to be without actually having the prop you thought you needed,” she said. “I knew it would work. Areola isn’t in the bag!”
“We thought for a while that you must have gone into manufacturing bags to seed portals wherever you want them, but I like this… um… Sally’s interpretation best. You could just open a portal to anywhere.”
“We don’t know that,” I muttered. “I need to go back to Areola and think for a while. You’re welcome to stay here. Or come to lie by the pool. Your clothes are probably still there.”
I looked around. Where could I open a portal? I’d always focused on the satchel. I spotted one lying on the other side of the room. I focused on it as I said the opening spell and a gateway appeared. I went through with Lacy and Sally following, and closed the portal.
I’d had a close brush with death when a conjured monster attempted to sever my head with an axe. I have a nick in one of my horns from that. I hid out in the mountains of the Sinai for a few years. I went into the infinity room and let my wives and possessions and concubines soothe my shattered nerves with wine and sex. A very effective combination, I’ve found. I emerged refreshed and energized and ready to meet the world again.
That paled beside the utter panic I had when I lost the satchel and feared I had lost the infinity room forever. It was at the end of the American Revolution. I don’t think I’ve ever told you about that.
I traveled East when I heard the colonists had begun a war for independence against England. What a horrid, dirty time that was. I’d been upset when I found the fledgling colonies had begun importing African slaves. I’d journeyed in and around Africa for some time.
I don’t know if you are familiar with it or not, but when I left Bathra back four millennia ago, I took with me one of the native trees to plant in the infinity room. I liked the odd-looking tree and just wanted a few. When I was sailing out of the Persian Gulf and into the Arabian Sea, I went down the Coast of Africa for a ways before I headed back up into Mesopotamia. I came to a peaceful and lush island—another of the many places I thought I would be able to hide indefinitely, but was soon dissuaded as immigrants from the mainland crossed to it and settled.
By that time, I’d been there some years and decided to plant some of my special trees as a kind of memorial to my life and loves in Bathra. They were very happy with this climate, but when settlers arrived and I knew I would need to move on, a man came to me and asked me what these strange trees were. Remembering my beloved wife Bao, I said, “These are Baobob trees. Always care for them and they will provide for you as they did once for Bao and Bob.”
Then I headed back up the coast and into Mesopotamia.
Even then, I hated the concept of slavery, with my own near enslavement to Pinaruti still fresh in my mind. I wanted to get slavery banned in the fledgling country of the North America as I’d been unable to do in the southern continent.
I found many sympathetic ears among the northern delegates to the congress. Its most noted accomplishment to date had been drafting a declaration of independence. I’d read the words when a copy found its way to me in California, and I rejoiced. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” This in a nutshell was what I believed.
I journeyed to Philadelphia even though California was the property of Mexico and not part of the new nation. My hope was to influence the delegates to ban slavery in all its forms in their new constitution. The American independence was a threat to the Spanish in California. They looked at their own rule of the Mexicans as being somewhat tenuous and feared a similar revolution would disrupt their privileged position and the profitable trade routes to Asia.
Which, ultimately, they did.
Sympathetic ears were hard to come by among the southern delegates. The celebrated penner of the Declaration was off in Europe and I discovered that even he was a slave owner. “All men” seemed to be defined as “Males of English and European descent.” It was not interpreted in the broader sense of “humanity” or “all people.” While in Philadelphia, I was asked to take various letters to General George Washington.
I gladly took the task so I could meet with the General and plead my case against slavery in this new nation.
It was a case of bad timing. The British overran Philadelphia and Washington with around 10,000 troops camped at Valley Forge. It was quite the city that had grown up nearly overnight. I was ushered into the cabin Washington and his generals had set up as a headquarters. He read the missives I brought, cursing the British for driving the congress out of Philadelphia and swearing he would take it back in the spring. He immediately penned a letter and told me who to deliver it to. Before I left, I pled my case for the abolition of slavery in the new nation.
“Bob, let us fight one war at a time. My slaves are quite content and well-cared for. None of our states prohibits slavery, though some of the legislators here in Pennsylvania are talking about doing that. This country is scarcely civilized and you want to ban the one factor that makes us gentlemen instead of common laborers,” he said.
“But these are people, unjustly taken from their homes and brought in captivity to America. The declaration says that all men are created equal…”
“Men, Bob. Not Negroes. God placed some men in servitude to others. Perhaps in another day and age, slavery will become a thing of the past, but I cannot give time or energy to your cause while I have an army to feed and a war to win. If we don’t win this, we shall all be slaves.”
I left for Philadelphia with the letters for hidden members of the congress. And there, disaster befell me. I was captured by the British.
As soon as they trapped me and put bindings on my arms, of course, they discovered the satchel slung on my shoulder. This they snatched from me and would have had just cause to hang me if they’d found the letters. I had, however, secreted them away in the infinity room, only to be brought out when I was ready to deliver them.
This, however, did not prevent them from throwing me in a stockade and taking off with the bag to who knew where.
I was desperate. I was in a prison, which I could surely break out of if I chose to, but I had no idea where the satchel—the infinity room—was. I needed to get out and find it quickly. I could sense its direction vaguely; could not tell how far it had been taken.
In the morning, I was led before a general and he passed judgment. He determined that there was no reason to have been in the direction I came from other than as a spy. Therefore, even without the letters, I was to be hanged.
I think I’ve mentioned my aversion to being killed.
There was nothing to be done but defend myself. I transformed, bursting the ropes they’d tied me with and clubbing the guards so soundly they were unconscious in an instant. Then I faced the general with my horns still growing.
“You mistake me, General,” I growled. “I am neither American nor a spy. What have you done with my satchel?”
“I sent it as a gift to Earl Cornwallis in New York,” the frightened general stuttered. I read his thoughts regarding the route his courier would need to take, then bellowed and struck the general so hard he, too, was unconscious. Looking around the small room, I decided on one of the sleeping guards who had been particularly distasteful to me and transformed myself to look like him. I dressed myself in his clothing and then worked a second transformation so that he looked exactly like I had when I was captured. I put my rags on him and left on a horse tied outside the garrison.
Later that morning, another man died in my stead. The general never dared say anything about a demon appearing before him.
From thence ensued the greatest panic I had ever had. I knew what route the courier was taking, but had no idea how far ahead he was. I pushed my horse to its utmost in order to catch him, just as he sought a boat with which to cross the Hudson River into New York. The poor fellow never knew what hit him as I knocked him from his horse and snatched my satchel.
From there, I ran for the West. I’d had my fill of America. As soon as I was out of range of any civilization, I entered the infinity room, transformed myself once again, and left to resume my journey of some months back to California.
As soon as I was safely on my island, I hid the bag and went back to the infinity room, where I loved my women and drank my wine until the panic that had driven me from the general’s cabin all the way to California had subsided.
My head was swimming with the revelation that I had not had my satchel for several months, and had, in fact, been going in and out of the infinity room from all over the world.
I left Sally and Lacy behind and ran directly to my magic room, shedding my human form, to contemplate what these revelations meant. I’d been there for some time—hours? days?—when my dear wife Nimia entered the room with me. She brought sweet cakes and strong coffee. I might have preferred wine, but Nimia was probably wise in her selections. She was the only person of all my wives, possessions, and concubines who was ever allowed in my magic room, a perfect replica of the room Pinaruti had summoned me into 4,000 years ago.
“What is it, my husband? What has you so troubled?” she asked. “Perhaps my mind or my body can help you.”
“My loving wife, you are the most constant thing of my life for four millennia. How I love you!” I said. I drew her to me and simply held her in my arms.
I wept.
I never quite understood the Christian writings when they said, “Jesus wept.” I understood now. I understood how he must have felt when he faced the loss of all he knew and loved. The realization that if I had known the satchels had been switched, I would never have succeeded in opening a gateway, filled me with horror. I could have lost all of Areola. Anyone who was not in the natural world with me would have been cut off forever.
I told Nimia of all this and of my fear that I would be unable to get back to Areola without a satchel to focus my endeavors.
“I see,” Nimia said. “Even though you know now that not only can you open a gateway from anywhere, but have done so, you still fear that you will lose something by not having the satchel with you.”
I nodded.
“Then carry a satchel with you,” she said. “You know without a shadow of a doubt that you can open a gateway through any satchel. You’ve been opening them for the past several months. And you just destroyed the satchel you’d been using and used a different one to get here just now. So, the next time you open a gateway, carry the satchel through with you. Look.”
She pointed at a corner of the magic room where I saw an old dusty satchel lying. The room had recreated itself so thoroughly in Pinaruti’s image that it had even reproduced the old satchel I’d enchanted.
“My beautiful, loving, and insightful wife. I depend upon you to balance my life and keep me sane in these insane times. Make love to me, Nimia. Make love and tell me what I should do about Lacy’s request.”
I believe that Nimia is the only woman I have ever made love to in the magic room.
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