Tomorrow!
suddenly realized that, although his nephew was the younger man, he had a degree in architecture. “What do you think?” he asked, yielding his moment of pontification.

    “You’d believe so, if you could hear Dad and his wardens talk! They jammed up Green Prairie, but good, last week.”

    Ruth said, “I wish Hank Conner would get out of that thing!”

    Charles lit a cigarette. “Why? He loves it. Dad’s a kind of natural leader of folks.”

    “Think of the effect on Nora, though—and Ted—”

    “ What effect?”

    Jim put in anxiously, “You see, Chuck, we’re not allowed to mention atom bombs or anything having to do with them in this household.”

    “It’s emotionally destructive,” Ruth Williams said emphatically.

    Charles realized his aunt was serious. A stiffness had come into her comfortable, plump body. He laughed. “You mean harmful to the kids? I don’t know. They were having a war on Venus when I arrived. The carnage was fabulous, they told me. I don’t believe hearing a few useful facts about what to do in case of enemy aggression—”

    “It’s the school,” Jim said.

    “It is not merely the school,” Ruth said heatedly. “It’s scientific information.”

    Charles grinned, yet frowned a little, too. “I don’t get it.”

    “She always goes to the P.T.A.” Jim yawned a little in spite of himself. He covered up by taking a sip of elderberry wine.

    Ruth appealed to her soldier-nephew. “I can show you the facts, in the Bulletin! Every time they run off a series of atomic tests anywhere, the kids of the United States show a marked rise of nervousness, of nightmares, of delinquency. The Rorschach Tests prove it!” she shuffled in a stack of papers, schoolbooks, bills, checkbooks, women’s magazines on the top of a radiator.
    The heap made a bulge in the lace curtains.

    “I suppose kids do,” Charles agreed. “They react to things. Nevertheless, we have to run the weapons tests, don’t we?”

    “ Why?” Ruth turned, hot-eyed, from her search. Papers and magazines cascaded to the floor. She reminded Chuck of his mother when his mother was on the verge of administering
    “righteous” punishment. “Why do they have to go on forever scaring the daylights out of people?
    You tell me why!”

    “Just to try to keep ahead of the Reds,” he answered.

    “I thought we were making peace with the Reds!”

    “We’ve been ‘about to’ ever since I was in high school and maybe before that, for all I can remember.”

    “Peace, peace, peace!” she said heatedly. “Why don’t we accept this last offer? The one they made in August?”

    “We’re trying to, Mother.” Jim was obviously endeavoring to divert his wife. “The United Nations is trying.”

    “Maybe they’re right,” she said. “Maybe our people—the military men and the big steel manufacturers—don’t really want peace.”

    “It isn’t that, Aunt Ruth.” Charles tried to be lucid.

    “Every time, every single time, we’ve thought we were on the verge of an understanding with the Kremlin—whammo! They broke loose somewhere else. Stop them there—get a deal set—and bingo! They hit in China again. Burma, the Balkans—”

    “ So what? Are those people worth dying for? Worth trillions of dollars? Worth making permanent nervous wrecks of all the children in America and a lot of grownups, besides, like your father?”

    Charles considered the idea of his father as a “nervous wreck”; it was such an unfamiliar thought that it fascinated him. He chuckled. “I know how you feel, Aunt Ruth. After all, it’s why I have to spend time in service. But look. There’s one thing the Soviets have never offered—
    offered and meant it. That’s to let the world come in and inspect them and make sure they aren’t stockpiling mass-destruction weapons. Right?”

    “They’ve offered, time and again, to inspect themselves ! I don’t see why, for the sake of ending all this crazy strain, we can’t

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