Gilly was aware of the risks associated with entering a transient place of communal bathing. Many still believed in baptism and seekers would follow him to hear the voice of the Father. He had no choice. There was nowhere to hide but in the Bethesda pools of Harlem.
A voice of not so sound judgement whispered over his shoulder seductively. The devil made him want more. His legs moved quickly and his arms swayed in unison with his stride. The voice that nobody else could hear was whispering again. What did the demons want this time? How long would the torment keep him up and about, unable to sleep? Gilly accepted the fact that a chip surgically stitched inside the walls of his anus was implanted permanently. No alien probing was done. City health officials made the medical decision to brand him for the benefit of the masses. Gilly was made a robot sex slave.
For centuries, major religions of the world taught that homosexuality was a sin. On its knees at the end though, mankind forgot its first love.
Gilly made the best of his situation. Something was luring him to Harlem. He couldn’t remain in one place. An energy like that of a constant orgasm electrified every nerve within his body. Legs had to keep moving to keep the pressure at bay. What was calling him up here? There is no rest for a man with an electronic womb.
Running on empty and in need of an emotional recharge, Gilly was out to serve again. It is better to serve than to be served, or so he mumbled in what little sleep came drifting his way on occasion. Rarely did the lids over his eyes stop fluttering. In Harlem, the element of danger lurked everywhere, yet not an trinket of fear crossed Gilly’s racing mind. If only death were possible. If only he could be afraid again.
Lights twinkled on every corner, some red, a few green and short bursts of yellow sparks lit up the city as fireflies on a July evening. As kisses in the wind, the traffic lights appeared like stained glass filtering Sunday morning rays across empty church pews to Gilly. The essence of the dark neighborhood with lights that winked back made his heart thump deep inside. Nobody was going to hurt him because they couldn’t. He was one of twelve, rulers of a colony, an essential element to the very survival of the human race.
Erect in a pair of tight jeans he strolled across Third Avenue, not one bit concerned because he was white. Gilly hungered for seed, fresh from the offspring of Mother Africa. Only with his fill would he sleep and dream again…
The New York City Department of Mental Health and Mental Hygiene was monitoring activity in Harlem closely. Few still hoped for a cure and attempted to design traps for Gilly and his lights. All that could be done to help was to watch. The old world was gone now. There would be no cure and in a sense, it didn’t matter, especially to Gilly, one who had found the kingdom within.
Cop cars capped with powerful, digital cameras covered Central Harlem like the Black Plague. More like movie producers than the executive branch of the law, the police were mere youtube feeds for the rest of the world that watched what was happening, stiff as boards, locked to computer monitors like crack addicts to a pipe.
The cameras were connected through live satellite feed to a mainframe CPU in City Hall. The entire city was under close surveillance. Officials waited for the release of the blue light again. Soon it would be free.
The AIDS virus had mutated. Protease Inhibitors prolonged the lives of thousands, but thirty years later, a demon came to light through the engineering of powerful HIV medications. Signs of the deadly outbreak went undiagnosed for nearly a decade, despite warnings about the over use of cell phones.
Gilly was not only a carrier of a super bug, but he had also been a receptor of the blue light on numerous occasions. A chosen one he was, yet unlike a handful of others with similar genetic compositions, Gilly seemed not to care about the on- line fame that came with his glow within. Despite his power and dislike for the concept of government control, he worked with scientists in a laboratory, voluntarily trying to have what was in him harnessed for the greater cause– the survival of the human race. The blue light seemed to have its own mind and was found of Gilly in particular.
The Department of Health was fully aware of Gilly’s code blue status. To quarantine a carrier of the super AIDS virus would prove fatal to those who had taken Alzheimers and Parkinson’s Disease medications. Never should an evil queen with the bug and the blue light grow angry and frustrated!
Drug manufacturers learned far too late that by curing HIV, the health status of others, in particular, the elderly, worsened. The life sustaining essence of the old was stolen in broad daylight. Their souls and memories were absorbed to assist others– life donors of sorts, in the eyes of drug makers. White blood cell levels increased for some while death took over the lives of others, as if an invisible olive tree had been planted over all of mankind and our very essence was being sucked from us for a greater good. It was a rapture of sorts. Who will stay? Who will go? So many were confused when large outbreaks of death occurred like clockwork, synchronized to the anger of a few queens.
Miraculously, AIDS drugs enabled the HIV positive to absorb the power of life from others who had been taking similar mind-altering medications, those used to treat elderly people who were losing their minds in unusual high levels. Getting their light back was the only hope, but an external force, an olive tree of sorts seemed to control all of fate.
Gilly was left for dead following an experiment. His heart stopped. His existence had been sucked dry by an artificial respirator. The blue light left his dead body for only a moment. Soon after his harnessed energy had been placed inside a glass cylinder, Gilly awoke as Lazarus from the tomb. Angry at what had been done to his flesh under heavy sedatives, Gilly stormed from St. Vincent’s Hospital. Citywide, countless thousands died. Nursing homes went black. Officials were uncertain as to how long the torture that Gilly was inflicting upon others would continue and after the mishap in the lab, they were too terrified to try to bring him down.
The power of thought control was increasing in those who had it. Mass deaths were occurring in places other than nursing homes now. Gilly needed relief– relief from the light, and Harlem was where he went to free himself of his great burden.
City officials were monitoring men like Gilly as they entered an ancient Turkish Bath. Baptism by the Holy Spirit is what Gilly thought of the blue light as. There were cameras inside too– in every room, insects of sorts that had a purpose in the circle of life. So much for those who followed Gilly’s calling to Harlem. He announced the outing in his blog. The bangs. The pops. Did they simply vanish into thin air? No. Gilly knew where there were now.
The police in cars did nothing as Gilly entered the underground place of concern. There was nothing they could do. No law had been broken and for men like Gilly, there were no laws or rules.
He vanished inside a cement stairway briefly, stepping casually in a well- worn yellow pair of Chuck Tailor All Stars, being cautious not to slip upon fallen leaves of Autumn that had collected in the stairwell. The colorful carpet of foliage was slick due to a cool rain that had been falling all week. He was just blocks away from the 125th subway station in Harlem and without an umbrella. He knew how to get back downtown. If the light were to momentarily leave him to enter the soul of another, he knew just where to go without asking for police assistance– the subway– the underground– a place where he could hide from the light until it found him again. The police kept their distance from Gilly as he walked down the stairs into the bathhouse.
New York City was a hot bed for AIDS in the 1970’s. A lot of men like Gilly died from wasting syndrome, dementia, rotting of the insides, and rapid deterioration of their immune systems. It was in places like Mt. Morris Baths where the virus got such a stronghold on the homosexual population, that the return of the messiah was initiated. Such exchange of bodily fluids without protection created ruin for countless thousands. Condom education came along by the time Gilly had pubic hair, and there were ways to avoid the gay plague. Gilly knew the rules well thanks to beautiful men whose earthly desires caused them to go down the hard way a generation before. Condoms were no defense for the new and improved blood born virus that had somehow transformed itself to a psychological illness. The blue light. The light that saves us all.
Bath houses were closed by the time Gilly was sexually active. This place was amazing– still like they once were. Throbbing penises and hot steam could be found in every corner– those who read his blog and got uptown first were inside wrapped in white towels, wanting Gilly to choose them first. They were all over the place. He thought he just may do them all, but remembered his purpose here.
Men who previously had no prior interest in the same sex were everywhere now. The blue light was something else.
Derek Jeter was in room #9, just as Gilly had requested in his blog. The blue ball of light. More than a home run. His baseball hero stood in just a jockstrap and a condom looking like the Messiah. Gilly wanted him.
“Take it off. You are going to die anyway,” Gilly ordered.
Derek stripped off his condom like a needle ripped from a Madonna record.
The blue light was gone for now. It was inside of Derek. Gilly felt relief immediately. He ran out of the baths like a ‘70’s streaker and flew down 125th Street in a pair of yellow sneakers. No longer was he sad for what he was causing. The old wanted a way out of life– the horror it had become for so many.
They simply couldn’t say it. They were praying for mercy and Gilly gave it to them because he was just one of a few who could hear their cries. He certainly was not going to fuck all of them, just to keep them alive!
They asked for it. Gilly put his wish list in his blog and absorbed more of the elderly demented.
“Blue light special tonight.
More God Making With the Blue Light
Mt. Morris Bathhouse Harlem
Madonna, stay home!”
He told everyone where he was going and what he wanted when he got there. Gilly was a carrier, one of just a handful that inevitably would be the last twelve standing at the end of time. There was nothing but blue light ahead of him now. Time to rest and dream again. Guys like Derek Jeter will always be around for times when the blue light returned to Gilly, its beloved.
Lots of them were waiting for a way out. They stood in Harlem like servants. Eventually he would get to them, but for now, it was time to rest.
Gilly got on the subway and went back downtown to his apartment on Perry Street. The blue light was away for now.
“I’ll be back, but for now, she’s your’s” Gilly wrote in his blog as he logged off to his following.
“Take your time, Gilly. Take your time. We will take care of him for you while you are away in a far away land,” they commented.
Derek is still in that bathhouse. Madonna sings there, trying to lure him back. She opens for Bette Midler in the ancient Turkish Bath. Derek no longer hits home runs be he plays the field in room #9.