Community Property

In Short

This story follows Jose Obanion, a cynical "Legal Eagle" in a future where divorce is a booming, state-sanctioned industry. Seeking to outmaneuver his competitor, Honest Pancho, and secure his fame, Obanion takes on the first non-Terrestrial divorce case, representing three trisexual Venerians. The narrative serves as a sharp, dark satire of bureaucratic overreach, professional vanity, and the absurdity of applying human legal constructs to beings with fundamentally different biological realities. It endures as a witty, tightly plotted example of mid-century science fiction that finds humor in the cold mechanics of the law.

The Story

Jose Obanion is a proud, frugal "Legal Eagle" operating in a futuristic San Francisco. He lives by the Obanion credo—"Always remember you live in a community property state"—which has long fueled his lucrative divorce practice. When a shift in national politics makes resident aliens eligible for the same divorce laws as humans, Obanion smells a massive opportunity. Urged on by his secretary, Thais, he agrees to represent three Venerians—Vivian, Clare, and Jean—who wish to end their trisexual, symbiotic union.

Obanion approaches the case with a blend of greed and professional hubris, hoping to cement his reputation by setting a legal precedent. He encounters immediate complications: the Venerians believe one of their own, Jean, is "community property" to be divided between the other two, a notion Obanion finds legally absurd. He manages to secure their financial solvency by booking them as entertainment for a high-society party hosted by a wealthy client, Gleda Warick.

As the trial nears, Obanion finds himself under surveillance by the "Witch Hunt" division of the TBI, egged on by his rival, Honest Pancho. To keep his client Jean cooperative, he promises to fund her passage back to Venus. He believes he has everything under control until the night of the party. During the festivities, the Venerians perform a traditional dance that, while appearing innocent to the humans, is interpreted by an ethnologist posing as a guest—and by the TBI—as a re-establishment of "connubial rights."

The government agent immediately voids the interlocutory decree, citing that any such activity during the waiting period invalidates the divorce. The story ends in disaster: Obanion is disgraced, fined, and abandoned by his high-paying clientele. He is left penniless and married to Thais, with no funds to initiate their own divorce. The Venerians, however, are simply deported, seemingly unfazed by the collapse of Obanion's grand legal ambition.

How It Unfolds

The ambitious lawyer Jose Obanion, a dedicated divorce specialist with an eye for profit, feels his professional life stagnating under the pressure of competition from the flashy "Honest Pancho." He decides that a high-profile, non-Terrestrial case will be his ticket to eternal fame and fortune.

The trisexual clients Obanion interviews three Venerians who explain that their symbiotic "ygith" is coming to an end, necessitating a legal separation. He struggles to categorize their complex, three-sexed biological arrangement into simple human legal frameworks of property and marriage.

The party trap To ensure his clients remain solvent, Obanion convinces a socialite to hire them for an elite party, unaware that he is walking into a surveillance trap. He manages to secure a preliminary decree, but his rival and a government ethnologist are waiting to pounce.

The final performance During the party, the Venerians dance, and the attending ethnologist interprets their movements as a breach of the law. The decree is torn up in front of the guests, leaving Obanion ruined, his professional reputation destroyed, and his bank account drained by fines.

The People

Jose Obanion is a man defined by his profession; he views the world entirely through the lens of legal precedent and protein-credit accounting. His desire for status blinds him to the inherent risks of his chosen path, leading to his eventual professional downfall.

Thais Orlof, his secretary, serves as his foil. She is a staunch "Ben Franklinist" who values personal profit and efficiency above all else. While she plays a game of cat-and-mouse with Obanion over her wages and romantic status, she remains his constant companion, ultimately becoming his wife when both are left destitute.

Honest Pancho acts as the embodiment of Obanion's fears. He is a cutthroat competitor who uses sleazy marketing and political connections to siphon off clients. He is less a character than a mirror of the society Obanion inhabits—one where morality is secondary to the "whap" of a successful advertisement.

The Venerians—Vivian, Clare, and Jean—are the catalysts for the chaos. They are remarkably pragmatic, viewing human legal systems with a mixture of confusion and opportunistic detachment. Unlike Obanion, who loses everything, they accept their deportation with indifference, highlighting the absurdity of Obanion’s obsession with a system they never truly belonged to.

In Its Own Voice

"One of these days an embittered lawyer is going to write a text on the effects of spaceflight on the divorce laws."

This opening line captures Obanion’s cynical, world-weary perspective on the intersection of modern law and the encroaching future.

"A calorie saved is a calorie earned."

Thais uses this aphorism to encapsulate the desperate, commodified culture of a society obsessed with protein rations and financial survival.

"I watched my future as a Legal Eagle flutter down to the floor."

Obanion reflects on the moment his grand ambitions are literally torn to shreds by a government agent, signaling the end of his career.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is a critique of the rigidity of human institutions when confronted with the unknown. Obanion’s struggle isn't just with the law, but with his inability to conceive of a reality outside his own societal norms. The story argues that the law, while intended to bring order, often becomes a weapon of farce when applied to situations that do not fit its narrow definitions. It questions the "sanctity" of marriage in a world where it is treated like a commodity, and highlights the irony of a society that welcomes aliens into its borders while simultaneously trying to force them into the same, broken legal molds that humans use to dismantle their own families.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy satirical, mid-century science fiction with a sharp, noir-inflected edge will find this story highly rewarding. It feels like a quick, cynical dive into a world of smog-choked skies and neon-painted people, reminiscent of the pulp magazine era in both pacing and tone. The prose is brisk and confident, though modern readers should be prepared for the mid-1950s perspective, which includes casual misogyny and an obsession with "protein credits" that reflects the anxieties of its time.

The book’s real charm lies in its brevity and its refusal to offer a redemptive arc for its protagonist. There is a delicious, dark satisfaction in watching a man so consumed by his own cleverness get outmaneuvered by the very system he worships. It is a story about the fragility of professional identity and the folly of believing that one can control the chaos of human—or alien—desire through a legal document. It stays with you because it captures that specific, biting frustration of the "little guy" in a bureaucracy, even when the little guy is, in this case, a self-important lawyer. It is a brisk, unapologetic read that hits its targets with precision and leaves the reader with a wry, knowing smile.