"You were a liberal. I'm talking about the new Naturalists. The ones bent on actual revolution."
"Revolution?"
"That's the word. And that's the situation. It's coming to a head, fast."
"And how will we prevent it?"
"I don't know." Harry's son stared up at him. "Most of us believe it's too late to prevent it. Our immediate problem will be survival. The Naturalists want control for themselves. The Yardsticks intend to destroy the power of the older generation. And we feel that if matters come to a head soon, the government itself may turn on us, too. They'll have to."
"In other words," said Harry, "we stand alone."
"Fall alone, more likely," Wade corrected.
"How many of us are there?"
"About six hundred," said Harry's son. "Located in private homes throughout this eastern area. If there's violence, we don't have a chance of controlling the situation."
"But we can survive. As I see it, that's our only salvation at the moment—to somehow survive the coming conflict. Then, perhaps, we can find a way to function as Leffingwell planned."