Matt scratched his crisp black hair. "Well, I don't know. We can try it, I suppose. As I understand it, I'm not expected to formulate the policy—that's a matter of general consent—but to see that whatever plans are made are carried out. Right?"
"That's it exactly."
Matt said, "O.K. Suppose you begin by telling me what you learned at the women's camp this morning."
Isaac's brow darkened. "They're wasters! Hedonists. They're living absolutely for the moment. No care about the future. In a generation or two, they'll have reverted to barbarianism. There's no hope for them.
"They live in trailers, traveling from place to place as the whim moves them. There's plenty of clothes and food and gasoline everyplace now. They repair nothing and make no provision for the time when decay and rust and disintegration will destroy these things.
"There isn't a scientist among them. And, according to Margot Drake, they're typical of dozens of such bands of women roaming at loose ends across the Americas."
"Any children?"
"Surprisingly enough, there are quite a few. Some of them were pregnant before the plague. Also, they've adopted any children they've found. It's a strange paradox. But they manifest a very strong maternal instinct. The children, of course, are pampered and spoiled unreasonably."
"I wish we could kidnap the children," said Matt, "but I suppose that's out of the question. As I see it, Isaac, we need a site that can be easily fortified. And we need more people.
"With Sparks and the two pilots gone, there are only twenty-seven of us left and that's counting the crew and Scobbie, the runaway."