The Inheritance Paradox
Twenty-Seven (Eugene’s Story)
EUGENE HAD a long talk with Lynn after his Revolutionary War adventure. It was disconcerting. He found he was still fighting off the urges of Wells’s enhanced libido. He had a strong desire to simply take Lynn back to his apartment and treat her like the prostitutes in Philadelphia. He was a bad person at heart.
It’s all in your head.
“All in my head,” he repeated.
“Will it help to talk about it?” she asked as they ate their dinner on a date to Detroit. “I can tell your last meditation took a toll on you. Did you fall in love on another plane?”
“No. I mean I didn’t fall in love, but I… It might help to talk about it. Perhaps not in the restaurant, though.”
“The weather is nice. Why don’t we stroll down the River Walk?”
They finished the meal in stressful silence and walked back to Eugene’s Corvair. It seemed so natural to hold hands as they walked. And when they arrived at the park, their hands were quickly joined again. It was a special connection between them. Lynn was six years younger than Eugene, but already, he’d aged an extra seven or eight years since they’d started dating.
She leaned against him, pressing her ear against his shoulder as if she could hear his thoughts transmitted by his bones.
“You know, I used to consider myself a good man,” Eugene sighed. “A sinner saved by grace, but essentially good.”
“You are a good man!”
“Thank you for believing in me,” he said softly. “But from the time I was in high school, I believed I was a good man because I was a Christian. I was washed in the blood of the lamb. I prayed before meals. I tithed my income. I did everything a good Christian should do. But then I didn’t. I let my own self-assurance become my downfall and used a woman for my carnal pleasure.”
“You were walking on a different plane,” Lynn said, believing he was talking only about his most recent ‘meditation.’
“I wish. I have been sent to other planes, as you refer to it, precisely because I’m not a good person. I am a seducer—a carnal user of women. I am supposed to pass on my genes. I don’t even understand why, other than to avoid some future catastrophe. It will come a time long after I’m even alive. And for this I am taking years off my life in one-second intervals,” Eugene said.
“What happened that set you on this path of self-recrimination?” Lynn asked, coming straight to the point.
“I impregnated four prostitutes. Simply paid them the coins they asked for and planted babies in them without their knowledge,” he said. “Oh, I’m sure they all expected the possibility that one of their clients would knock them up. But they didn’t know I would be the one.”
“Did you pay them well?”
That’s an unexpected question. I think Lynn’s morals are not that different from your own.
“Yes. More than they would ever expect. I wanted in some way to provide for the children and the mothers.”
“And you don’t consider that to be good? How many men who used those women would ever consider providing for them and their children?” Lynn asked.
Good question!
“It’s just common human decency. It isn’t in the realm of being good.”
“You consider that common?”
You should drop it. If you love her, don’t drive her away.
Eugene ignored Galahad’s advice. It was weighing on him. How could he expect her to love him when he was such a terrible person? Perhaps he felt he had to drive her away.
“You don’t understand,” he pled. “I’m a bad person. I’m not worthy of your love. When I’m with you… when I’m holding your hand… when we kiss, I am filled with lustful thoughts. Thoughts that I’m sure are what drives me when I travel to bed and breed other women. I want to make love to you, Lynn. I want sex. I want to plant my seed in you and have children with you. I’m not a good person!”
“I see. Hmm. I guess I’m not a good person either. I want you to bed and breed me,” Lynn said.
I didn’t expect that!
“Lynn…”
“No, Eugene. I am driven by the same lustful thoughts as you. I am only waiting for one thing before I throw myself into your arms and abandon my so-called virtue once and for all.”
“What? What would make you…”
“I want you to know, believe, and understand that it is because we love each other, and not because you have a mission. I want you to know I am your real life, and you no longer need to travel to past lives. When I know you have completed your mission and are free to simply love me, you will find me naked in your arms.”
“Even though I’ve defiled myself so many times over?”
“Eugene… How can I say this? I don’t believe you are a bad person. And therefore, I don’t intend to forgive you. If you need forgiveness, go back to your god. I’m not in that business. I believe, however, that you want to make the world a better place and you are doing it the only way you believe you can. Are your actions always pure and noble? No. Does that prevent them from making the world a better place? Also no. The destination is the same. The path is all that differs.”
“It seems that could be used to justify any action because it might still make the world a better place,” Eugene said, raising her hand to his lips and kissing her fingers.
“No. I believe there is real evil. War is evil. We participate in it out of a lack of good ideas. Cruelty is evil. Anything that does not lead to a better world is evil. But when an act our limited minds consider bad is the only way to make it a better place, I cannot call that evil.”
They stopped at an overlook where they could see the City of Detroit on one side and the river on the other. While there was a stark contrast between the two, the view from the top of the little hill showed clearly a world where many kinds of beauty existed.
They kissed.
As they held each other, Eugene felt a kind of peace wash over him. It was unlike anything he had felt since that magical night so long ago, when he and Rachel held hands at church camp.
Time in his own timeline seemed to pass more quickly than when he traveled and he wondered if he was, indeed, time traveling to this reality just as he did to other times and places. He could not decide what he should do and how he could stop traveling.
Thus, he fought off the disorientation of arriving in the LBT. He faced Wells and was simply pointed to the changing room where he found his next ‘costume.’
“How does all this fit? What is it? Scottish?” Eugene asked.
“Seventeenth century. Galahad should be able to connect to the instructions here.”
Oh, this isn’t so complicated, I think.
Eugene began following Galahad’s instructions, assembling his blouse, kilt, hose, flashes, ghillie brogues, belt, sporran, and cloak. To the belt he attached a basket-hilted sword and put a sgian dubh knife in his hose where Galahad directed.
“Wait. There’s no underwear here,” Eugene called.
“You’re going to be a Scotsman. You don’t need underwear,” Wells called back.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Is that really true?”
I don’t think you’ll want anything under your kilt.
“You’ll find a few coins in your sporran. Don’t worry about what they are worth. Just give one or two to your conquests. You won’t be there long enough to need to spend money on anything else.”
“What’s this all about? I take it I’m going to Scotland. When? Before the English coins were adopted there?”
“Yes. Mid-seventeenth century. We’ve spotted another migratory path. Not sure what sparked it, but by the first of the eighteenth century, there was a steady flow out of the Firth of Forth to America. There were really no great ports on the west coast of Scotland. It’s a tumultuous time, so I don’t want you to stay there long. Find a prospect and breed her. You look like a gentleman, so peasant girls should fall over themselves to check under the kilt.”
“What is this tartan? Will I need to identify myself? What if someone recognizes it?” Eugene asked.
“It isn’t in the tartan registry. You’re going to deal with lower classes. If you’re asked to identify yourself, make up a name and say you are from the far west islands,” Wells said.
How about Ewan MacEugen?
“Okay. I can be Ewan MacEugen,” Eugene answered. “Sounds similar. Do I need anything else? If I don’t have to spend a month or two, so much the better.”
“I’ve uploaded coordinates to Galahad. You’ll be arriving in early August.”
“Fine. Let’s go. The sooner I get back to my own bed the better.”
My, but you’re gung ho.
Momentary disorientation was all Eugene had time for.
“The days shorten The light goes out The summer passes The harvest calls forth sacrifice Requires sacrifice To make the passage safe To winter Come Laird and keep us safe”
The women were chanting and dancing around the fire when Eugene suddenly appeared among them. A woman looked him straight in the eye, took his hands and spun, passing him to the next woman who also looked into his eyes before passing him on. The chant ended, but the dancing and clapping continued until Eugene found himself facing the first woman again. She stopped the dance and chanted in a sing-song voice:
“The Laird has come Will keep us safe Will comfort us in winter To plant the seeds that sprout in spring A new harvest quickly coming”
Eugene thought he should say something, but the woman kissed him thoroughly, then passed him on to her left. The next woman in the circle kissed him as well. There were twelve women gathered and they each tried to kiss him more thoroughly than the one before.
“We caught you!” a man’s voice sounded from beyond the clearing. Torches broke into the open area held by men brandishing pitchforks and scythes.
“Take them to the magistrate! Try them for their witchcraft!” The men pressed forward. “We’ve seen their evil ways.”
“Jonathan O’Tàileach, why do you come to interrupt us? Did you hope to catch us skyclad?” the woman Eugene first saw stepped up beside him.
The other women crowded close behind them. They were not skyclad, but all wore simple shifts that might normally have been worn under other clothing. It was a warm night, though, and they had a hot fire.
“We caught you witches with your demon lover. We’ll put him to death and then we’ll take you to be tried and burned,” the man who looked to be the leader said.
“I object to that,” Eugene said. “I’m a man, not a demon. I happened upon this gathering and was greeted warmly, unlike you. Go away and don’t be talking nonsense. What have you seen of witchcraft?”
“Jonathan, you’ve known for as long as you’ve been alive that the women come to dance at Lughnasad. It’s that priest in the village that got you fired up. If you want to burn someone, go try him for his lustiness and burn him. There’s not a woman among us he hasn’t tried to handle,” the women’s leader said.
“You can’t speak against the priest!” one of the men shouted.
“Can and will,” the woman said. “He’s a filthy man who would lie with any one of your wives or daughters.”
Sounds familiar.
“Now tell me, if you wish to destroy all these fine women, who will then warm your beds, raise your children, and cook your meals? Do you all plan to become papish monks?” Eugene demanded. “Are women so plentiful in your village and farms that you can afford to waste even one?”
“Who are you, son of Satan?” barked Jonathan.
“No son of Satan, I assure you. I’m Ewan MacEugen from the far western reaches, sent from my clan with messages for the king,” Eugene said.
“I’ve never heard of a clan MacEugen,” one of the men near the leader said.
“And you know all the two hundred clans of Scotland? We’re a small and isolated folk, but we’re as fierce to protect what is ours as any. And this night, I’ll protect those around this fire. Lay down your weapons and torches so you can join in the harvest festivity or go back to your homes and beds to wait for your women to finish,” Eugene said.
“You’ve heard the Laird,” the woman said. “Would you contradict a messenger to the king?”
“Aye, no. We had no idea you were here on a mission,” Jonathan said. “It looked like… We thought… The priest said…” He looked at his companions and they shrugged.
“I wouldn’t take my pitchfork against his claymore,” one of the men said, backing away. Soon the others were backing away as well and Jonathan started to leave as well.
“Don’t you be staying out all night, Brighde. Your red hair makes you a target for fellows like him,” he said pointing at Eugene. Then he turned and hurried after his companions.
They might lie in wait.
“Will you all be safe?” Eugene asked.
“Oh, they came from the tavern, and they’ll return to the tavern,” Brighde said. “By morning, they’ll all be too hung over to remember they ever came to the woods. Now, my Laird Ewan. Come and dance with us.”
Eugene took a moment to appreciate her long red hair and shapely figure. Jonathan was right about her being an attractive partner. Then he was caught up in the women’s laughter and dancing.
It’s Lughnasad. A harvest festival that was celebrated throughout the Celtic world. I’d guess the men fell under the spell of a new priest and were whipped up to find and punish their women.
“Thanks for the information. A little late.”
“And who are you really?” a dark-haired beauty asked when Eugene had been passed on to her. “I’ll start. I’m Abigall.”
“Nice to meet you, Abigall. I am, indeed, Ewan, though in my part of the world it’s pronounced Eugene,” he said.
No one will try your pronunciation.
“And where are you from, MacEugen,” another dark beauty asked, sliding up beside Abigall so they both danced close and suggestively in front of him. “I am Eby.”
Be vague. Please be vague.
“I’m from the west. Far far west,” Eugene said, noticing the tie at the throat of her shift had come loose.
“Will you take me there with you?” asked a third, with auburn hair, not quite as brilliantly red as Brighde’s. Her shift had definitely come loose and was hung on her abundant breasts. Everything about her seemed abundant.
“I’m afraid I can’t take people with me, but you can travel there from the Firth of Forth. Find a ship going to New Scotland,” Eugene said.
He felt his cloak being pulled from his shoulder. It was a relief because he was getting much warmer. More wood had been added to the fire and the dancing continued, sometimes accompanied by clapping and sometimes by chanting.
“Will you give me a child I can take with me to Nova Scotia?” a very short and thin woman asked. Eugene thought she might be too old to bear a child.
“Fair lady, the risk of bearing a child in the new world is somewhat higher than it is here.”
Not much higher. Women die in childbirth all the time.
“Well, we’ll all keep each other company,” she said.
Her shift fell to the ground and revealed her naked body. Somewhat older, perhaps, but still attractive. She reached beneath his kilt and grasped his erection.
“Is this proper?” he asked, caressing her slightly sagging breasts.
“In other years, we have danced at the fire and then gone home to let our husbands do the deed. There is no reason to wait for them tonight,” she said.
Eugene’s belt and sword were removed from his waist and then his kilt fell to the ground.
It’s a good thing you are ready. I don’t think she’s giving you much time to prepare.
Eugene was pulled down on top of the older woman beside the fire as the other women continued to dance and chant around them. She was expert at guiding a cock to her center. He worked to stimulate her as much as he could under the circumstances.
“Only in my dreams have I been filled by such a giant. Are all the men of the west so large?”
Eugene didn’t think he was all that large.
You are at least six inches taller than any of the men who came from the forest.
“I guess we are a little bigger in the west. I hope I’m not hurting you,” Eugene said.
“I’ve delivered three wee ones. I think I can accommodate all you have to give, dream lover.”
It did not take long. When he shot his load in her, she exclaimed she’d been transported. That set all the other women into a new frenzy in their dancing and Eugene was caught by Eby, who was also naked. She rubbed her body against him, using the fluids from his union with the older woman to stroke him upright again, and apply what she could to her sex. Eugene paused only long enough to let one of the women pull off his blouse and then fell upon the ground where Eby pulled him to her.
He wanted more contact with the women if he was going to be used by all of them. He kissed Eby, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, much to her surprise. She soon responded in kind, and he thumbed her nipples as he drove into her. Eby reached her peak before Eugene did and shortly, he emptied himself again.
By this time, it was obvious that all, or most, of the women intended to have sex with him.
Don’t worry. Wells boosted your ability again. You’ve planted the seed in two. Plow a few more.
All the women were naked now, still dancing and caressing each other as another woman captured Eugene. This time, he stroked her pussy while he kissed her and she responded with more moisture than his previous couplings. He tried to take his time with her, but by the time a woman reached him, she was already as prepared for the coupling as she needed to be.
Eugene lost track of who he had mated with and who remained. It took a little longer each time, but the women seemed to have no problem entertaining him and each other as they waited their turn.
In addition to mating with the women, food was shared and a honeyed beer flowed easily. Needing a little time to recover between women, Eugene joined the circle and was asked about the new land in the west. He told stories, trying to remember how much of the land was settled by this time and how prevalent ships sailing to the new world were.
He found his sporran and pulled out his watch. Some women nearby strained to see it, but he could only get a vague idea of how deep into the seventeenth century he was.
Near 1670.
“I’ve no idea when I am,” Eugene said.
“You are in the minds of twelve women who yearned for a lover who could strengthen them. You are our dream,” Abigall said, sitting on his lap and pushing his hand with the watch away. He dropped it into his sporran. He noticed a couple of the women were sprawled on their shifts asleep.
She pressed her lips against his and waited for him to do something. He had the feeling the women of this area seldom or never kissed with open mouths.
That’s going to change when they get home.
It didn’t take much of the kissing and squirming in his lap for Eugene to return to readiness. Abigall started to lie down, but Eugene pulled her to him and had her straddle his lap, descending onto his rampant prick.
“Oh, my Laird! Such a feeling!” Abigall said. She quickly discovered she could raise and lower herself on him, controlling the speed and depth herself, rather than depending on Eugene to set the pace.
Hers was the first climax he was certain of and he filled her with his seed. She practically fell from his lap while he was still sucking on her nipples.
The traffic on his cock had slowed and the women were simply cuddled around him, shifting positions periodically to allow different women to be closest to the fire. It wasn’t really cold, but the night air cooled their sweaty bodies.
Eugene reached for his sporran again.
“I may have given you each a child this night,” he said. “I will not leave the mothers of my children with nothing.” He poured out all the coins Wells had given him and divided them among the twelve women.
“Laird, you are wealthy and generous. May we not accompany you on your journey?” Brighde asked. Eugene realized he had not been with the leader of the women. She’d made sure that everyone else had been given the opportunity.
“My dear Brighde, it saddens me that I cannot take anyone on my journey. I follow a cycle, just as the seasons do. I must be here for this one and elsewhere for the next. I can only wish you all my love and protection.”
“Then before the dawn makes our dream vanish, take me and give me your divine child.”
Oh, now you’re giving her the savior of the world.
“I am not divine,” Eugene quickly corrected her, but she was already pushing him onto has back and mounting him.
“Perhaps not, beloved Lugh. But you give us your crafts, your harvest, and your love.”
There was something about Brighde’s cadence that made it sound like she was pronouncing a blessing for all the women. They reached out and all placed their hands on the couple as they moved together. Eugene could imagine she was the priestess for this circle.
“We embroider with your gift. We make candles with your gift. We cook with your gift. We sew with your gift. We bear children with your gift. We take husbands with your gift. You give us beauty and crafts and fertility. We praise you, Ewan Lugh MacEugen. We find ecstasy in your embrace.”
As she chanted, her speed picked up and she was crying out her climax with the last words, echoed by the other women.
“We find ecstasy in your embrace!”
You’ve become a god. Too bad it’s all a dream. For them.
Eugene shot more into Brighde than he thought he could possibly have left in his body.
“Take my thimble, Ewan MacEugen. Stitch your blessing across our hearts,” Brighde said, kissing him.
It was not quite the end of the night’s revels. The fire was fading and the women found their shifts and sought outer garments from the various bags and baskets they’d carried to the woods. They carefully and lovingly dressed Eugene. As they finished cleaning their campsite, burying the ashes of the fire, and packing the remaining food and drink, each woman spent a minute kissing Eugene, thanking him, and being caressed by him. When all were ready, they stood around him in a circle and once again began to chant.
“Our evening gone, our night is spent We part with dreams the heaven sent Our love and grace around you grow And keep our memories as you go”
Eugene looked around the circle of women and smiled. Then he was gone.
“That was a bit dramatic, don’t you think? I thought you were all about being subtle,” Eugene said as he recovered himself in the chair.
It is what they were expecting. I couldn’t let them stumble home thinking you were real.
“I was real.”
Were you?
“So, I take it you had a successful trip. Let’s see your watch.” Wells took the watch from Eugene and opened it. “Elapsed time, scarcely eight hours. We could send you out on a dozen of these and hardly affect your life clock at all.”
“Please don’t. It was exhausting. I’m going to stay right here and take a nap,” Eugene said, relaxing in the chair. The clamps and straps were attached to him as he drifted off to sleep.
Eugene awoke with all the restraints released. Wells sent him to the changing room to switch into his own clothes. Eugene had long-since decided to prepare for his trips to the LBT by being fully dressed. His first couple of times arriving in his pajamas and then returning to his bed in them had been disconcerting. Galahad agreed to tell him in advance when it was time to travel, and Eugene stayed up fully clothed.
He took off the Scottish outfit and put his own black slacks and shirt on. Then he pulled the thimble from his sporran and put it in his pocket as he went out to face Wells.
“I have to say, according to Galahad, this was a most successful trip. He reports twelve women either impregnated or well-enough contaminated that they will pass the biobots on to their descendants. And you suffered less, right?” Wells asked.
“I don’t know about that. You obviously did something to my metabolism and recuperative ability. I hope you’ve reversed that. I already feel like I’m a sex maniac when I get home. Reality is not like these dreams you send me on,” Eugene said.
“Ah the dreams again. Eugene, what did the women call you when you danced with them?”
“A dream lover, a divine, safety, inspiration, Ewan Lugh MacEugen,” Eugene said.
“And how does it feel to have others consider you just a dream? They’ve gone off to their beds and husbands and will transfer all they’ve experienced to them.” Wells looked at the computer on his desk. “All except three of them. Three of those women were unmarried. There are likely to be three young men in the region hurried to the altar this week.”
“But I’m real. They are the dreams. I couldn’t possibly have had sex with twelve women in one night!”
“Oh, I can enhance your performance. Nothing to it. And yes, I reduce your sex drive again before you go home. But those women all consider you to have been a dream. They will credit their men with impregnating them if they caught—which most of them have. An entire community will arrive in Nova Scotia to start their journey westward, all carrying your genes. You are just a dream they had in a fit of ecstasy.”
“They were real and dreamed me?” Eugene said. “I need to go back to my reality.”
What’s real?
“And in your reality, are you a dream, or is Lynn?”
“We’re both real. That’s where everything is normal!” Eugene shouted.
“She has a unique perspective, from what you’ve told me. Ask her about the nature of reality.”
Eugene was panting. He must not be fully awake. He couldn’t define the difference between reality and a dream? How could that be?
“In the words of the immortal bard, ‘If we shadows have offended, Think but this and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream.’ That should help you sleep.”
Galahad pulled him back to his little apartment.
Eugene sat up awake most of the rest of the night, never getting in bed. He put the clay thimble in his little box of keepsakes, not sure how he would ever begin to remember the names of the women he slept with that night.
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
