History records numerous small colonies, based upon unusualideas of the family unit and social group. Most of these havefailed in practice, but usually because they were based uponidealistic notions which had little to do with the economic orsocial necessities of their times. But what of a new theory of thefamily and social unit which is designed to conform with actualconditions? And what is such a group likely to face when a newmember, a person without any understanding of the actual conditions,has to be accepted as a member?
The Way Of Decision
by M. C. PEASE
TOM VORD sat on the porch of his clan's house with his feeton the railing. Across the valley, he could hear the muted roarof the commuter track that led south to New Haven; but allhe could see were the sprawling rows of private houses that strungalong the belt. And behind them, more isolated from each other, thelarger structures of the homes of other clans. The bright greennessof spring lay over the land, and it was fresh and sparkling. A typicalsuburban scene in this year of 2013, Tom thought. Even the mixtureof private houses and clan was symbolic of the time. And in a way,symbolic also of the problem he had.
Tom's face was brooding. His was a nature not easily satisfied, orcontent with half-solutions—and he took the problems of the clanseriously. Partly as a consequence of this, but also because he had theself-control to avoid crises, he was the unacknowledged leader of theclan, and its chief administrator. His age was hard to guess. He wasnot old; his face was unlined, and his hair both present and dark; hiseyes showed an enthusiasm that indicated youth. And yet he was notyoung; there was a maturity in his glance, an acceptance in his attitudethat made him seem older than he was. And so he sat there, relaxed,idly looking out over the countryside, even as he wondered if thepresent crisis was enough to disrupt the clan.
Below him Ricky Vord came toiling up the steps to the house.[32]Ricky was the opposite of Tom. Young and intense, with a devil-may-careattitude, he was the born salesman. His enthusiasms came bubblingout, and he had the ability to carry with him anyone who might object.And if he did not have the deepness of thought fully to understand theimplications of all that he said or did, he was the better salesman for it.
With a wave, Ricky entered the house. There were muffled soundsfrom the interior, and it was not for several minutes that the boyappeared on the porch. Then it was with two tall glasses in his hands."I consider this Tom Collins weather," he said. "I suspect you do, too,only you're too lazy to mix your own." He handed Tom the seconddrink and sat down beside him.
"Possibly," Tom said with a smile. "I certainly won't refuse. Whatdo you know?"
"A lot of things," Ricky answered. He took a long drink. "Ah, that'sgood," he said. "You know, I been down talking to Graves again. Wegot that thing in the bag if we want it." His voice was off-hand,deliberately so, Tom knew.
"We have?" Tom's voice also was careful. "Do you mean with orwithout the girl?"
"Well ... You can't blame Graves for wanting to see his daughtersettled. He figures that if she gets into a cla