by M. C. PEASE TOM VORD sat on the porch of his clan's house with his feet on the railing. Across the valley, he could hear the muted roar of the commuter track that led south to New Haven; but all he could see were the sprawling rows of private houses that strung along the belt. And behind them, more isolated from each other, the larger structures of the homes of other clans. The bright greenness of spring lay over the land, and it was fresh and sparkling. A typical suburban scene in this year

IT WAS only a short time later that Tom heard the sound of tires on the drive. He went out to find that it was Sandy in the beach-wagon. The name Sandy fitted her, even if it was short for Sandra. Blonde, with something of a tendency to freckle, she had a quick alertness that was almost tomboyish. Almost, but not quite, for she was very much a woman. "Need help?" Tom asked, giving her a quick kiss and moving to the back to start unloading the bundles. "How did you make out?" "Not bad," she said;

HE HAD put the food away and prepared himself a cup of coffee, when he heard the clatter of the bus. That would be Betsy and Rita with the kids, he knew, back from the beach. By the noisy commotion, he gathered they had enjoyed themselves, with no more than the usual number of cuts and bruises and hurt feelings. Eleven kids, the oldest eight years, could not conceivably go to the beach for the afternoon without some crises; but, at least, they seemed to have gotten back in a happy condition. Tom

AS HE walked out the door, he saw, coming in the gate, the rest of the clan returning from work. The children were rushing to meet them, whooping their greetings. The whole scene was one of happy chaos. Out in front was Paul, his round, cherubic face beaming with delight. He bent down to whisper something in little Randy's ear which sent that boy off shrieking with delight. Behind him was Sam, Polly, and Herb. Sam's face was dark and his eyes deepset. Generally, he looked sullen and dour. But th

IT WAS after supper, when the dishes had all been washed and the children packed off to bed, that the clan gathered in the livingroom. They had chatted for a short time, but all fell silent when Ricky got up. He went to the mantlepiece and, turning, announced: "I find that there are problems before the clan that require the mature consideration of the clan. I therefore request a caucus." The words were the ritual of the process, established through long custom, and the clan's by-laws. Tom stood

This etext was produced from Science Fiction Stories 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected....