Sentinels relocatedHEADmain

1 files changed, 852 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/58802-0.txt b/58802-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..331366d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/58802-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,852 @@
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58802 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          COMMUNITY PROPERTY
+
+                           BY ALFRED COPPEL
+
+             _The first successful non-Terrestrial divorce
+            case! Fame for Legal Eagle Jose Obanion for his
+              generalship of a three-sexed, five Venusian
+            history-shattering precedent! Habits are habits
+                 but--alas!--on Venus they differ...._
+
+           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
+             Worlds of If Science Fiction, December 1954.
+         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+One of these days an embittered lawyer is going to write a text on
+the effects of spaceflight on the divorce laws. This writer will be a
+Terrie, about five ten, with blue eyes, black hair--turning grey very
+fast, and the unlikely name of Jose Weinberg Obanion III. Me.
+
+I remember very well the day I was graduated from law school; the day
+my father gave me his version of the Obanion credo. _Always remember
+you live in a community property state--_
+
+That simple phrase has kept three generations of Obanions in the
+divorce trade. And only I have had cause to regret it.
+
+Basically, I suppose, my troubles began the day the Subversive Party
+swept the Joe Macs out of Congress and repealed the Alien Restriction
+Act of 1998. That bit of log-rolling gave the franchise to almost all
+resident aliens and resulted in a situation virtually destroying the
+sanctity of divorce as an institution.
+
+I'm a Joe Mac myself--politically, I mean. Obanions have been voting
+the Joe Mac Party Ticket for more than a hundred years. Red is our
+color. There are even family legends that say an Obanion was with the
+first Joe Mac when he became President of that old unit the Euse of Aay.
+
+We have to rely on legends, unfortunately, because the Joe Mac Party
+traditionally fed their rally bonfires with books, and when they won
+the election and took over the Euse of Aay they had a rally to end
+all rallies and somehow the Government Archives--books, you see, as
+well as punch cards and the like--got taken over by some very zealous
+Party men. The records were always rather incomplete after that. Only
+word of mouth information was available during that first Joe Mac
+Administration, and that can be sketchy. For example, the party color
+is red. All we know is that first Joe Macs had something to do with
+red. You see how it goes.
+
+What I mean by all this, is that I can see the faults in my own Party.
+I'm no diehard. Nor am I a bad loser. The Subs won control of Congress
+by a landslide, so I guess the people wanted that sort of slipshod
+government. Only they should have been more careful, dammit, when they
+started tampering with the laws.
+
+I'm not antispacegook, either. I have my framed Legal Eagle's Oath
+right over my desk and I live up to it. And if Congress sees fit to
+make any Tmm, Dccck, or Harry a citizen of our great Commonwealth--I
+account it my duty to see to it that they are not denied the benefits
+of our Terrestrial divorce laws.
+
+But sometimes it can be _very_ trying.
+
+The new Sub Administration and their rash repeal of Joe Mac laws has
+had the effect of putting reverse English on the Obanion credo.
+
+_Always remember you live in a community property state...._
+
+That wonderful phrase that encompasses so many great truths--that
+ringing statement that has made me rich and kept me a bachelor--now
+means something else. Confusion. Work. Yes, and even spacegook
+depravity.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I should go back and pick up the story at the beginning before I get
+too upset.
+
+My name, as I said before, is Jose Obanion. I'm a licensed Legal Eagle,
+specializing in divorce law--and doing well at it. I have a good office
+on the 150th floor of the Needle Building, a damned fine address and
+a comfortable lay-out, too. A whole room to myself, a private visor
+service to the Municipal Law Library, and a lap-desk for my secretary,
+Thais Orlof.
+
+On the day it began I was walking to work from the tubeway station and
+feeling rather pleased with myself. My income was high and steady, my
+protein ration account was in good shape and I was doing my bit as a
+civilized Terrestrial.
+
+The morning was remarkably clear. You could make out the disc of the
+sun quite nicely through the smog, and there was a smogbow gleaming
+with carbon particles in the sky. I felt alert, expectant. Something
+BIG was going to happen to me. I could feel it.
+
+Even in the go-to-work press of people on Montgomery Street, I didn't
+get shocked once. That's the way my luck was running. And three
+characters brushed against me and got nipped by my new Keep-A-Way.
+
+There's been talk about making Keep-A-Ways illegal. Just the sort of
+infringement on personal liberty the Subversives are famous for.
+Inconsistent, too. They pass laws letting every spacegook in the
+universe come here to live and then talk about taking away one of the
+things that makes the crowding bearable.
+
+I made a point of arriving at the office a little early, hoping to
+catch Thais in the act of coming in late. My secretary was a hard girl
+to dock, but I never stopped trying. It was a game we played. If she
+came in late, I would be justified in docking a protein credit off her
+pay for every thirty seconds of office time she wasted. So far I had
+managed to keep her pay low enough so she couldn't think of leaving my
+employ--though she was earning a few prots on the side by acting as
+correspondent in divorce cases that couldn't be settled by Collusion
+Court and actually had to be tried before a judge and jury.
+
+Thais and I were still haggling over the price of her services as
+part-time mistress, too. I couldn't see giving her her asking price,
+which was half again the regular market price. Thais knew the value of
+a prot, all right. And of an erg, too. "Take care of the ergs," she
+would say, looking at me meaningfully, "and the prots will take care
+of themselves." Thais was a devout Ben Franklinist and she was full of
+aphorisms like that.
+
+I settled myself into my Lowfer and glanced over the desk calendar.
+A full, profitable day ahead. Tremmy Jessup and his new fiancee were
+coming in at 0900 to sign the premarital divorce settlement. A wise
+couple, I thought approvingly. Save a lot of trouble later. At 1100
+Truncott vs Truncott and Truncott. A multiple divorce case with two
+women involved. Very lucrative sort of case. And then at 1200 Gleda
+Warick was coming in to have me validate her Interlocutory decree. A
+formality. But I hoped to take her to lunch at the Palace where they
+were advertising a five ounce portion of genuine horsemeat on their
+five prot dinner. That sort of thing would impress Gleda and I rather
+hoped for great things from her. Not only that, she was spending 25,000
+prots yearly on divorces. No Franklinist, she.
+
+It still lacked a minute to the hour so I switched on the TV to catch
+Honest Pancho's commercial. Pancho was my most active competitor and he
+cost me plenty, but I couldn't suppress a grudging admiration of his
+enterprise. He had Lyra Yves doing his stuff for him, and anyone as
+socko as Lyra was dangerous. Sweetheart of the Western Hemisphere is
+the way she was billed, and her agent wasn't exaggerating too much.
+
+Lyra was singing his come-on backed by a quartet humming a steady
+whap rhythm and doing a slow twitch. The lights were playing her
+daring costume big, accenting the fact that she had one breast almost
+covered. I frowned. How come the League of Decency let her get away
+with anything as suggestive as an opaque breast covering. Pancho must
+have friends in the censor's office. It was just another sign of
+the increasing degeneracy of our times. Soon entertainers would be
+appearing clothed from head to foot, exploiting the erotic stimulation
+of imagination.
+
+"--whap me slap me baby doll," Lyra was singing. "Beat my head against
+the wall--lover, I don't care at all at all--_Whap!_ Honest Pancho's on
+the ball!"
+
+Now the announcer cut in with his insinuating voice explaining how you
+could get your divorces quicker, cheaper and twice as funny at Honest
+Pancho's Big Splitzmart in the Flatiron Building, as well as his Legal
+Eaglery just down from the County Courthouse. "--yes, friends--TWO big
+locations to serve you. Come in and see Honest Pancho today!" And then
+Lyra again: "Whap! Honest Pancho's on the baaalll! WHAP!" She faded
+doing a sinuous twitch. I turned the TV off feeling a little worse than
+when I turned it on.
+
+Maybe, I thought, I've been too conservative. Maybe _I'd_ better get on
+the baaaalll, too. Or else. I shrugged the thought aside just as Thais
+slipped through the door--exactly on time.
+
+I watched her strip off her smog mask and cinder cape--on office
+time--and place them carefully in the sterilizer. She was very careful
+not to smear the paint that was most of what she wore. I tapped a
+NoKanse alight and inhaled deeply. "Good morning, Thais," I said.
+
+"Whap!" she said in return. "I heard the TV all the way down the hall."
+
+She pulled a Lowfer out of the wall and settled down with her lap-desk
+across her knees. The tip of one sandal was just brushing my shin. The
+office, unfortunately, could have been bigger, but with sixteen million
+people living in the city, space was rather costly even for a man with
+a better than average prot account.
+
+"New paint?" I asked.
+
+She smiled brilliantly at me. "Nice of you to notice, boss." She
+fumbled in the pockets of the belt around her naked, cerise-painted
+middle and took out her pad and stylus. "On time and ready for work,"
+she said. "A calorie saved is a calorie earned."
+
+But now, somehow, I didn't feel like attacking the day's schedule. Not
+quite yet. Pancho's commercial had disturbed me. "Thais," I said. "I
+wonder if I'm--well, slowing down--"
+
+"You, boss?" She fluffed her green-tinted hair provocatively and raised
+an eyebrow at me. "I wouldn't say so."
+
+"I don't mean that way," I said. "I mean professionally. I wonder if I
+shouldn't seek wider horizons."
+
+"New cases? _Different_ cases? Give up divorce work? Oh, _Boss_!"
+
+"Not give it up, Thais. Not that. I couldn't. Divorce is my life. Could
+a doctor give up healing? Could a Freudist give up lobotomy? No, I
+didn't mean that. Frankly, I meant should I get more aggressive. Go out
+and get cases that would have a certain advertising value." I didn't
+want to say I didn't feel like spending good protein on the sort of
+advertising Pancho and some of the other Legal Eagles, an unethical
+lot really, were buying. Besides, we Obanions have always been rather
+frugal.
+
+Thais' face had come radiantly alive. "Oh, _Joe_--"
+
+Now, that should have been a tip-off, because she _never_ called me
+anything but boss. But I blundered right ahead because she was looking
+at me as though I were Clarence Darrow or somebody.
+
+"I have a case. A _real_ case. If you would--if you only _would_ take
+it, you'd be famous. More famous, that is. You'd be _really_ famous."
+
+I knew that Thais had some rather questionable friends, being a
+Franklinist and all. And I knew too that some of them were spacegooks.
+But the combination of Lyra singing for Pancho and the way Thais was
+looking at me made me get careless.
+
+"Tell me about it," I said in my best legal manner.
+
+Her face fell. "Non-terrestrial." And then she brightened. "But that's
+the whole point. These people are citizens of Terra now ... and _think
+of it_--_you_ will be the very first Legal Eagle to represent them in a
+divorce case tried under our laws."
+
+_Under our laws._ Oh, I should have known. But almost all law is
+precedent. And I was blinded by trying a case that would _set_ a
+precedent instead of follow one. Heaven help me, I said yes.
+
+"Where are these spacegooks from? And what time can they be in the
+office tomorrow?"
+
+"The Llagoe Islands on Venus," she said excitedly. "And they can be
+here anytime you say."
+
+"Okay, ten hundred sharp. What do they do and how many people are
+involved?"
+
+"They're musicians. And, uh, there are three. And two correspondents."
+She looked rather sheepishly at me as I raised my eyebrows and
+commented that even in this day and age of easy morality that was quite
+a number of 'people' to be involved in one divorce case. Too many, in
+fact.
+
+"Well, they _are_ subject to our laws," she said doubtfully.
+
+"Indeed they are--thanks to a Subversive Congress." I made a few
+notations on my desk pad. "Five of them, eh? A multiple marriage."
+
+Thais' voice was very low. "Well, no. Not exactly."
+
+"What then?"
+
+She looked at me resignedly. "Three sexes," she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I gave up my luncheon with Gleda; as much as I should have liked to
+split a five prot pony steak with her. Instead of the Palace, I went
+to the library. The _public_ library. And read about Venerians. What
+I found out was interesting--and a little frightening, too. They were
+trisexual symbiotes. And they were only remotely humanoid.
+
+There were very few of them on Terra--mainly because they relished
+their own planet's formaldehyde atmosphere so much they were extremely
+reluctant to leave it. When they did, ... and this really interested
+me--they generally became very wealthy as entertainers. They were
+accomplished musicians and--of all things--tumblers.
+
+For reasons that were only hinted at in the staid _Encyclopedia
+Terrestria_, Venerians never entertained through the mass media such as
+the Livies or TV. Their stuff was limited to small, elite gatherings
+and it cost plenty.
+
+I thought of Gleda Warick and the party she was planning for later in
+the week. She'd asked me to be alert for some good entertainment. Her
+friends were getting weary of games like Lizzie Borden and Clobber. Too
+many people getting hurt and all. Venerian tumblers and minisingers
+would be just the thing. And it would assure solvency on the part of my
+clients-to-be. Part of the Legal Eagle's Oath binds us to be concerned
+over our customer's finances.
+
+The next morning, promptly at ten hundred, I was treated to the first
+sight of my clients. Their names didn't transliterate into anything
+remotely pronounceable, so they were going by the names of Vivian, Jean
+and Clare Jones.
+
+After the first shock of seeing them wore off, I wrote on my pad:
+"Names used by humans of both genders. Significant."
+
+They spoke English, the current _lingua franca_, with only a trace of a
+sibilant accent and they smelled of formaldehyde.
+
+I explained their rights under our divorce laws. Did the best I could,
+that is, not being quite sure who was married to whom and under what
+conditions their marriage functioned--if at all. Finally I said, "Tell
+me all about it."
+
+Clare, who seemed to be the spokesman for the group and therefore
+assumed, in my mind, a male gender, waved a boneless arm excitedly.
+"Had we known we were becoming subject to your Terrestrial laws by
+residing here we would never have remained. Our situation is desperate."
+
+I wrote on my pad: "Situation desperate."
+
+"Yes," hissed Vivian breathlessly. "Desperate."
+
+I underlined _desperate_.
+
+"We are, as you may know," Clare continued giving Vivian a dark look,
+"Trisexual symbiotes. You do not have any analogous situation among
+mammals on Terra."
+
+I glanced at Thais. "We sure haven't," she said with feeling. "But it
+sounds _fabulous_."
+
+"It is not, I assure you," Clare said running a four-fingered hand over
+his scaly crest in what I took to be a Venerian gesture of distraction.
+"We are not _married_ as you people understand the term--"
+
+"Not married," I wrote, underscoring it heavily.
+
+"But your law enforcement agencies insist that our symbiosis is
+analogous to marriage and therefore subject to the regulations
+governing that odd institution."
+
+"What a bore," Thais said helpfully.
+
+"Our problem is this. The three of us live in what you might roughly
+call a connubial state. We--what is your word?--co-inhabit?--"
+
+"That's close," I said.
+
+"We live together, that is. But more than eroticism is involved, I
+assure you."
+
+"Of course." Now it began to sound like most of my other cases and I
+could get my teeth into it.
+
+"You seem doubtful," the Venerian said with a sharp-toothed frown.
+"Let me reiterate that what I say is so. The three of us have spent a
+_ygith_ together--that is more than fourteen of your long years. But
+now the _ygith_ is over and we must seek another--how would you say
+it?--liaison?"
+
+"This is essential?" I asked. "Not just a whim?" It is, you see, the
+duty of a Legal Eagle to make every effort to save a marriage. In view
+of the circumstances, I felt that surely this was a marriage unique and
+therefore _worth_ saving.
+
+"No whim," declared Clare emphatically. "Each _ygith_--or what you
+Terrestrials would call 'mating period'--we must uh--realign. If we do
+not, deleterious effects are certain. Our health goes bad. We may even
+die."
+
+"My friends," I said, "you have very little to worry about. There
+are many similar cases here on Terra. Just last week, for example,
+a divorce was granted in the case of Nork vs. Nork wherein it was
+established that the plaintiff, Mr. Nork was allergic to _Mrs._ Nork.
+A simple case, and not the first of its kind. I myself tried one such
+case wherein a wife broke out in a rash whenever her husband sought to
+question her about the household expenses. A divorce was granted on the
+grounds of basic incompatibility."
+
+"Ah," Clare said sadly. "If it were only that simple. Our two
+correspondents, Gail and Evelyn, are ready to enter the realignment.
+But--" and here the Venerian glared at the smallest of the trio.
+"_this_ ungrateful wretch is unwilling to adjust to the changed
+circumstances."
+
+Great tears formed in Jean's slotted eyes. "How can you speak that way
+to me? After we've been through so much together?"
+
+"Now, now--" Thais, who has a very soft heart, patted Jean in an effort
+to make he she or it feel better.
+
+"Get to the point, Clare," Vivian said testily.
+
+"It is our understanding that property held in joint tenancy by
+two contesting parties in a divorce case may be distributed at the
+discretion of the court."
+
+"That's correct," I said.
+
+"We contend, therefore, that Jean--" Clare pointed a scaly finger at
+the small Venerian, "is community property. Vivian's and mine. We wish
+to make an agreement between us for the disposal of it--"
+
+"Wait a _minute_," I said, shocked. "I don't think you understand the
+community property laws at all. Jean is, by definition, a person. A
+person cannot be considered property or chattel. Oh, no--"
+
+The small Venerian made a face at them. "I told you you couldn't get
+away with it," she said. "This isn't Venus, you know."
+
+"On Venus you would be property," declared Vivian. And to me,
+he--she--I still get confused about this--added: "My sex was
+emancipated thirty _ygiths_ ago at home. But Jean's is still
+considered--what did you call it?--chattel. No vote. No rights. Nothing
+but symbiosis."
+
+"And Clare's is still the--uh--dominant one?" I asked hesitantly.
+
+"That's the myth that's perpetrated," Clare declared acidly. "We
+_guths_ do most of the work, if that means anything."
+
+I wrote on my pad: "Guths--breadwinners."
+
+"And who--well, forgive my indelicacy, but--" I shrugged mundanely,
+"who bears the children?"
+
+"We all do," the three Venerians chorused at once.
+
+Well, that's the way the interview went. When the three Venerians
+finally left I had a rough outline for the brief on my pad. Besides
+the other comments, I had the following information:
+
+    Re Jones and Jones vs Jones, trsex smbytes!!
+
+                    See Ency
+    Clare--guth   } Terrestria
+    Vivian--warth } PP 1099,
+    Jean--ith     } Vol 17,
+                    09 Ed
+
+
+    Jean--Community Property?
+
+    No. Not under Terr Law
+
+    See US vs Ignatz Wolk 1999.
+
+    What then?
+
+    Correspondents: Evelyn (guth) Gail (warth) Any overt acts of
+    infidelity? Probable. No proof.
+
+    Only obstacle: Jean. Must reach agreement.
+
+    IMPORTANT: Plaintiffs and Defendant or Defendants and Plaintiff not
+    solvent. Must arrange something.
+
+    See Gleda.
+
+And see Gleda I did. I asked her if she could use not two, not three,
+but FIVE Venerian entertainers. She could and would. At 1,000 prots a
+head for an hour's entertainment. That took care of that much, anyway.
+I was, I felt, well on the road to making legal history.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The following day I made arrangements to meet Jean alone in a little
+bistro down on the Embarcadero. I felt the salt water air would make
+her-it feel more co-operative. But on the way down I became aware of
+someone following me. Cinder-caped and smog-masked, the tail I was
+dragging was inconspicuous enough, but I figured the thing about right.
+It was a Government man. There could be only one answer. Honest Pancho
+had tipped the TBI that I was doing something illegal or immoral. I
+was an active Joe Mac and that would be enough to put the Witch Hunt
+Division of TBI on me even without Pancho getting wind of my dealings
+with the spacegooks.
+
+The gimmick would be, of course, that I was taking advantage of them,
+violating their rights under the V Amendment of the World Constitution.
+Pure falsehood, but my previous unwise political affiliations put me
+under suspicion.
+
+I looked up through the smog, and sure enough. An Eyespy hung in the
+air just over my head--a tiny transmitter about as big as a half erg
+piece. If I spit on the sidewalk, I thought, they'll haul me in on the
+double.
+
+This was bad enough, but when and if I actually got the Venerians an
+interlocutory decree, I'd really have to watch it--and them, to see
+that nothing went wrong. The WH boys would have Pancho right at their
+shoulder watching for the slightest excuse to invalidate the decree.
+
+I could get used to the Eyespy, and I thought I could convince Jean.
+And above all, I had to keep the Venerians from anything like sexual
+activity during the two day period of the decree. Nothing--but
+nothing--will invalidate a decree quicker than _that_. And an
+invalidated decree is very bad for a Legal Eagle's reputation.
+
+I was, I thought darkly, getting into this thing deeper than I thought.
+But the rewards would be worth it. Think of it. To Legal Eagle the
+_first_ extraterrestrial divorce case in the history of the world! Holy
+Protein, I'd be in song and story.
+
+I made my way through the press of people on the slidewalks, my
+Keep-A-Way crackling a jolly tune, and the Eyespy hovering over my head.
+
+San Francisco is a wonderful place. Full of excitement and bustle.
+It's a port of entry, for one thing, with starliners letting down
+into the Bay from all over the Solar System. On the Embarcadero
+there were Sandies from Mars, Rooks from the Jovian System--every
+sort of spacegook there is. Except Venerians. And mingled with
+the crowd I could make out the distinctive cinder capes of the
+Longshoremen--absolute rulers of the district.
+
+The bistro I was looking for was a floating platform moored to the
+ancient wharves, the ones that were left after the tidal wave caused by
+the bomb back in '59. It was a nautilus type joint, most of it under
+water, called the Deep Six.
+
+An attendant took my cape and smog mask at the door and bowed me along
+to the maitre d'.
+
+"A table, sir?" He clapped his hands for a waiter. "May I order you
+something? A morphine syrette? Phenobarb? We have a particularly fine
+aphrodisiac cocktail, sir. Or shall I just send the hostess to you and
+you can order later?"
+
+I eyed the line up of girls regretfully. They were all lovely, all
+almost fully clothed--and what flesh was exposed was completely
+unpainted. If Thais looked like that, I thought sadly, I wouldn't
+haggle about her price. But that was sheer depravity, I told
+myself sternly. That's what comes of associating with triple sexed
+spacegooks--I was here on business. Not pleasure.
+
+"I'm meeting someone," I said. "A spaceg--a Venerian uh--lady. Miss
+Jones."
+
+The maitre shrugged. "Everyone to his taste. The person you wish is at
+the corner table, sir. Near the window." And sure enough, there was
+Jean, her crest waving agitatedly as she pressed her three nostrilled
+nose against the glass watching the sandsharks swimming gracefully
+among the mossy pilings outside.
+
+"Oh, Joe--just like _home_," she hissed softly as I sat down. She was
+very strong of formaldehyde today, I thought.
+
+I didn't quite know how to begin with her. I had to make her see
+reason, but she seemed to be unwilling to pay any attention to me
+at all except to comment that Clare and Vivian were very cruel to
+her. "And after I've given them the best ygith of my life." Then she
+returned to her melancholy contemplation of the underseascape beyond
+the glass.
+
+I ordered an alkie-and-treacle and sipped it thoughtfully watching
+Jean. An amber tear had formed in the outer corner of each slotted eye
+and was oozing gelatinously down her pale green cheeks.
+
+It was like someone turning on a light in my brain. The answer was
+plain as day. Jean was homesick. Miserable. And a miserable woman--or
+man--or--well, does it matter?--a miserable _person_ was always
+contrary. Remove the misery and _voila_--gentle as a lamb.
+
+"Jean," I said, "this case is important to me. You must help me get the
+decree. If you do--I'll do something nice for you."
+
+Over my head the Eyespy clucked reproachfully, but I ignored it.
+
+"Agree to the divorce. We can settle it in Collusion Court. And
+I'll see to it you get passage back to Venus on the first available
+starliner. How's that?"
+
+"Back to Venus? Back Home?" Her eyes gleamed redly.
+
+"That's a promise," I said. This would cost me plenty of prots, but the
+fame would be worth it. You can see how far gone I was on this case.
+
+"Just one thing," I added thoughtfully. "What will become of the rest
+_after_ the divorce? I mean, can two of each sex get along without a
+third? It sounds, well, almost unvenerian, if you know what I mean."
+
+"The mating wouldn't be a very high-type experience," Jean said
+loftily, "without an _ith_--but it can take place. It's just the
+sort of disgusting business you could expect from people like Clare
+and Vivian. And those _other_ two--_well_--you haven't met them, but
+really--"
+
+"Then you'll do as I ask?"
+
+Jean waved her crest at me seductively. "Joe Obanion, you're really
+very nice."
+
+I backed away and swallowed hard as Jean laid a slick, webbed hand on
+my wrist. "How about it? Agreed?"
+
+"You know," Jean said dreamily, "you remind me of a _warth_ I used to
+know back home. He and I and a really divine _guth_ called Charlie had
+the most marvelous _ygith_ together. I wonder if he remembers little
+me--?"
+
+"I'm sure he does. How could she forget you?" I asked warily.
+
+Jean blinked her slotted eyes at me and her thin lips split into a
+tusky smile. "You say the nicest things, Joe. Yes, baby, I'll do as you
+ask. I won't contest the divorce."
+
+"Jean," I said with feeling, "you'll never regret this."
+
+And the Eyespy clucked disapprovingly. Drop dead, Pancho, I thought.
+Drop dead twice. I had made it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Gleda Warick's house--mansion, really, lay sprawled over most of the
+Twin Peaks Area. From her Lunar Room you could see the whole of the
+city stretched out as if for inspection. To the east, the bay and the
+floating housing developments, wharves and night spots on and under
+the water. To the west the transocean highways, ribbons of plastic
+floating on the still Pacific. No one could afford to run ships now
+and almost all surface commerce was run over the highways in caravans
+of atomic trucks. To the Orient, to Alaska, to the Pacific islands. A
+steady string of lights moving at two hundred miles per hour. Rocket
+trails streaked the sky as starliners splashed into the bay and burbled
+to the surface, hissing and steaming. Market Street--all seven levels
+of it--ran from the base of the hills to the bay, a multilevel slidway
+jammed with people. The view from Gleda's place was magnificent
+because of the infra-red antismog windows she had installed in the
+Lunar Room at a cost, incidentally, of 100,000 prots.
+
+She had three rooms and a kitchenette. You entered her place and almost
+had an attack of agoraphobia. It was that big.
+
+The place was overrun with people. I'd brought Thais, of course,
+resplendent in red and silver paint. Lyra Yves appeared in a solid coat
+of gilt, with that one breast and her left arm sheathed in flexible
+vinyl. Thais nudged me. "Look at that. I think it's disgusting."
+
+I did look. I couldn't help myself. That shiny vinyl caught the eye of
+every man in the room. "Depraved," Thais sniffed.
+
+Honest Pancho came in with an older man who was pointed out to me as
+an ethnologist from the University of California across the bay. A
+Professor Cripps.
+
+Pancho, dressed in his customary green and orange enamel and
+embroidered cowboy boots, stumped across the room to give me the big
+hello.
+
+"Jose, my boy! Good to see you...." He glanced up at the Eyespy.
+"Trouble with the Witch Hunters? Tsk tsk--"
+
+"As if you didn't know," I snapped.
+
+"You think I'd do a thing like that to a _friend_?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He grinned a big toothy smile at me. "As a matter of fact, you're
+right. I hear you've got a big case. Non-terrie. Worth a lot to a Legal
+Eagle to be the first with a non-terrie case--"
+
+"You're too late, you vulture," I said. "Interlocutory decree
+granted." I tapped my pouch. "Right here."
+
+He shrugged. "Hope nothing happens to void it, old sport."
+
+He winked at his silent companion, the staid and seemingly dumb
+professor. He turned back to me. "Sorry. Should have introduced you.
+Prof Cripps--this is my friend and competitor, Jose Obanion."
+
+"Pleased," the Professor said, looking fearfully at the Government
+Eyespy over my head. His fingers went automatically to the engraved
+tablet he wore on a chain round his neck--a validated Loyalty Oath--as
+though to show the unseen TBI observers he wasn't _really_ a friend of
+this Joe Mac's.
+
+"The Prof," Honest Pancho said softly, "is a specialist in Venerian
+ethnology. He'd like to meet your clients."
+
+That gave me a start. "He'll meet them. They're going to sing tonight."
+
+The Professor's eyes widened. They looked shocked in his yellow painted
+face. "And dance?"
+
+I smirked happily at Pancho. "And dance. At 1,000 prots each."
+
+If Pancho had any reply for that, I don't know, for Gleda came in. She
+was wearing her hair blue and she wore a really striking pattern of
+iridescent blue paint with a double snake pattern coiling up her legs
+and torso.
+
+The party got under way very quickly. Gleda supplied the alkie and
+treacle and everyone nibbled their own synthetic protein out of their
+pouches. The combination soon had an hilarious effect on the gathering
+and a couple that I didn't know, a boy and girl in particolored green
+and blue, starting throwing small articles of furniture at the Eyespy
+over my head.
+
+Couldn't hurt the Eye, of course, but I was kept pretty busy dodging.
+Then Thais suggested a quick game of Clobber. I must confess, not
+without satisfaction, that I cheated a little and peeked through the
+bandage so I could land a real lulu on Pancho's long pointed nose.
+
+When Gleda stopped the bleeding and he was on his feet, someone asked
+Lyra for a song and the cry was taken up by all. I caught a glimpse of
+the five Venerians' round eyes peering at us out of the kitchenette.
+But Gleda was saving them for the last--the _piece de resistance_.
+
+Lyra tore down a drapery and staggering a bit from two or three too
+many alkie-and-treacles, wrapped herself in it from head to foot. There
+was a shocked sort of gasp from the watchers. Professor Cripps turned
+red under his yellow paint.
+
+Gleda put a tape on the MusiKall and Lyra went into her act. I've never
+seen anything like it. Swaying like a cobra, her bare feet pounding
+out the beat on the plastic floor, she raised the temperature about
+ten degrees in that room. Her green painted lips twisted in agony, her
+eyes rolled in the chromatic mask of her face. An old folk tune--not
+the sort of thing she generally did. Something that really tore at the
+heartstrings. A song that dated centuries back. History and the sense
+of our way of life lived in that room for a few short moments. Her
+voice was a blood-stirring trumpet--
+
+    "Mairzy Doats and Lammsy Doats
+    And little kiddsie Divy--
+    A Kiddlee Tivy Tooo Wouldn't you--?"
+
+When it was over, there was a breathless hush in the room. I wondered
+where in the world Gleda had gotten that MusiKall tape--It had probably
+cost her plenty.
+
+There was only one thing, I thought, that could top that. "Gleda," I
+said. "_Now._" Besides if the gooks didn't earn their prots, what about
+my fee? I was already losing protein on this deal. Passage to Venus
+isn't cheap.
+
+The Venerians trooped in and squatted on the floor while Gleda made the
+introductions. The room began to smell very like an embalming room must
+smell.
+
+"May I present Clare, Vivian, Gail, Evelyn and little Jean. They're
+going to sing for us." Cheers from the guests. I glanced triumphantly
+at Pancho. The Professor seemed fascinated. "And," added Gleda archly,
+"they may even tumble for us." The Venerians looked at one another,
+tittered and flushed dark green. I was glad to see they were all on
+friendly terms with Jean.
+
+Clare struck an attitude, crest erect, and waited until everyone quit
+shuffling around. Presently, they sang. I think it was singing. Very
+cultural. Very esoteric. Also very noisy. It sounded rather like they
+were all in pain.
+
+After what seemed to me a very long time, they grew silent. There was
+a smattering of discontented applause. Gleda glared at me. I looked at
+Thais in dismay. "They also dance," she said weakly.
+
+"Yes," Pancho said. "Let's see them dance!"
+
+"By all means," Gleda said, still eyeing me.
+
+"Dance, fellows," I said hopefully.
+
+Jean came over to me and whispered: "Are you sure it will be all right?"
+
+"Do you want to ruin me? Dance. Tumble. Do something."
+
+Jean shrugged and went back to where the Venerians squatted. "He says
+dance."
+
+Evelyn and Gail stepped properly, I should say primly, aside and the
+other three began stomping about. The rhythm was infectious. The
+movements became more heated and shouts of approval began to ring out.
+
+"Dance, Gookie!"
+
+"Whapperoonie!"
+
+"Go go go Gook!"
+
+I was delighted. So was everyone else. The dance grew more and more
+violent. There was a great deal of body contact in it. Evelyn and Gail
+looked longingly at the gyrating three, but kept out of it. I wondered
+why--never knowing that the Venerians are a _very_ conventional people.
+
+Pancho was delighted. So was the Professor. In the middle of it, the
+prof raised his hands and made a signal. An earsplitting clangor broke
+from the Eyespy.
+
+The Venerians stopped.
+
+Everyone stared at the Eye.
+
+And at me.
+
+The Professor stepped forward and flipped his Loyalty Oath over,
+it opened like a poison-ring. The engraving inside said TBI Morals
+Division.
+
+"The Interlocutory Decree, if you please," he commanded.
+
+Stunned, I fished it out and handed it over.
+
+He glanced at it. "You realize of course that this is immediately
+invalidated."
+
+"_What?_" I couldn't believe my ears.
+
+"You know--as any Legal Eagle should know--that any re-stablishment
+of--uh--connubial rights abrogates an interlocutory."
+
+"Of course I know that."
+
+He glanced at Honest Pancho and smiled. There was triumph flashing
+between them like a shuttlecock. "You Joe Macs never learn. The law is
+the law. What do you think your clients were just doing--and in front
+of a roomful of witnesses?"
+
+I felt my heart sink. "You mean--?"
+
+Cripps nodded.
+
+"That?" I asked weakly.
+
+"_That_," he said, and tore up the paper.
+
+I watched my future as a Legal Eagle flutter down to the floor. "And I
+thought they were dancing," Thais said sadly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Well, the story doesn't end quite there. Gleda and I were arrested for
+running an obscene show. Gleda doesn't speak to me anymore. Nor do any
+of the people who were there that night. Lyra and Gleda get all their
+divorces at Pancho's Splitzmart now. It took most of my prot account to
+bail us out and pay our fines. Thais is with me. We're married and we
+haven't a prot between us for a divorce, so we'll just have to _stay_
+married.
+
+The Venerians came out all right though. They were deported.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Community Property, by Alfred Coppel
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58802 ***