Jean broke in breathlessly. "Oh, Daddy, you ought to see how they
conduct classes--by school TV. You write on a glass square and it
appears immediately at the teacher's roll-board. And when you--"
Jimmie interrupted. "Aw, lemme tell 'im something too, Jean. Dad, John
used a spare TV for Jean's freshman class while we 'showed' for junior
class on his. Gosh, in history, Dad, their old newsreels go back to
World War Two. I even saw your Marine unit--"
MacDonald cut his son short. "That's enough, Jimmie. You can tell us
about it later." He herded his children toward the front door.
"Thanks, Miller, for letting the kids use the school TV. I'm having
one installed tomorrow."
After they left John said with a sparkle Philon had never seen before,
"You know, Phil, those are the most interesting kids I've ever met.
All the others I know are bored stiff. They've been everyplace and
they've done everything.
"But Jimmie and Jean ask more questions about things than anybody I
know. They're really interested. Every time I drop in on them they're
studying history beginning with the middle of the Twentieth Century.
They're absolutely fascinated and read it like fiction."
With more on his mind than his neighbors' unusual behavior Philon
said, "Mmm." He stood looking at the boy for a long moment until John
finally shifted self-consciously.
"What's the matter, Phil?"
Philon ended his musing. "Tomorrow night we're all going to call on
the MacDonalds. And while we're there I want you to slip that copy of
the _Smyth Report_ out of their library."
For a moment the young boy's smooth face was a blank mask. Then it
filled in with shocked surprise, then resentment and finally anger.
"You mean--steal?"
"Of course. If they're too innocent to realize the value of the book
that's their hard luck."
"But, Phil, I can't imagine myself stealing from...."
Impatiently, Philon said, "Since when did you suddenly get so
holier-than-thou? Life is harsh, life is iron-fisted and if you don't
keep your guard up you're going to get socked in the kisser."
John said slowly with a certain tone of shame, "Yes, I know. As far
back as I can remember you've told me that. But in spite of it I can't
help feeling it isn't right to treat the MacDonalds that way. They're
too nice, too good."
"Look, John. You might as well learn the hard facts of life. All the
high-sounding arguments for a moral world and all the laws on the
books implementing those arguments are just eyewash. Sure, the
President swears that he will uphold the constitution and enforce all
the laws.
"Then we carefully surround him with counterspies--wire his rooms with
dictaphones, slit his mail, install secret informers on his staff. All
because no matter who the party is able to elect we don't trust
him--because the society he represents does not trust itself."
"Is that why we have more and bigger jails than ever?"
Philon shrugged. "All I'm trying to tell you is don't go soft-headed
or the world will take your shirt."
The next day before leaving for the office Philon said to his wife,
"Call up the MacDonalds and if they're going to be home tonight tell
them we'll be over for a visit."
Ursula made a face. "Do we _have_ to call on those people? They'll
bore me stiff."
"For heaven's sake, Ursula! It's a matter of vital importance to
me--and you also, if I have to appeal to your wide streak of
selfishness."
"I can't see it."
"I'll explain later. I've got to go."
During the day Ursula called him. "Well, Phil, I called as you said
and I've committed us for dinner tonight."
"Dinner! Hmm, they _are_ convivial people."
"Yes and the dinner is going to be cooked right there in their house.
How vulgar can some people get?"
That evening while dressing Ursula said, "Phil, John spends a lot of
time at the MacDonalds'. What do you suppose he sees in them? It gets
me the way he quotes them all the time and reports their least doings.
Today he came tearing into the house and said, 'Ursula, it's
wonderful!' I said, 'What's wonderful?' And John said, 'The dinner
they're cooking at MacDonalds'. I've never smelled anything like it in
all my life. Why don't we cook in our house like they do? Mrs.
MacDonald was baking cookies and let me have one right out of the
oven. Mmmm, boy was it _good_!'"
Ursula finished, "Now, I ask you, did you ever hear anything so
barbaric--cooking in the house and having all the odors permeate the
whole place?"
"Well, we'll see."
Later when they arrived at the MacDonalds' they were welcomed with a
quiet warmth and friendliness that Philon cynically assumed to be a
new and different front.
As they sat down to dinner Mrs. MacDonald, a rosy-cheeked woman with
a quick and ready smile, said, "I'm sorry we aren't able to get a
connection yet. So everything we're eating tonight is right out of our
deep-freeze."
John Miller said, "Gosh, Mrs. MacDonald, as far as I'm concerned, I'd
rather eat from your deep-freeze anytime than from the FP!"
Bill MacDonald looked across the table at Jean and said, "All right,
Jean."
Jean and all the MacDonalds bent their heads and the girl began, "We
thank Thee for our daily bread as by Thy hands...."
As the girl spoke Phil's gaze drifted around to his wife, who lifted
her shoulders in mystified amazement. But it was a bigger surprise to
see John's bent head. For the moment John was a part of this
family--part of a wholeness tied together by an invisible bond. The
utter strangeness of it shocked Philon into rare clarity of insight.
He saw himself wrapped up in his business with little regard for
Ursula or John, letting them exist under his roof without making them
a part of his life. Ursula with her succession of gigolos and her
psycho-plays and John withdrawn into his upstairs room with his books.
Then he closed his mind again as if the insight were too blinding.
What strange customs these MacDonalds had! Yet he had to admit the
meal looked more appetizing than anything he had ever seen. It gave an
impression of sumptuous plenty to see the food for everybody in one
place instead of individually packaged under glistening thermocel. And
instead of throwaway dishes they used chinaware that could have come
right out of a museum.