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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 + +Basically, I suppose, my troubles began the day the Subversive Party +swept the Joe Macs out of Congress and repealed the Alien Restriction +Act of 1998.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 *** |