"Oh yes," Moadine told him. "A good many of us have
another, as we get on in life--a descriptive one. That is the name
we earn. Sometimes even that is changed, or added to, in an
unusually rich life. Such as our present Land Mother--what you
call president or king, I believe. She was called Mera, even as a
child; that means `thinker.' Later there was added Du--Du-Mera
--the wise thinker, and now we all know her as O-du-mera--
great and wise thinker. You shall meet her."
"No surnames at all then?" pursued Terry, with his somewhat
patronizing air. "No family name?"
"Why no," she said. "Why should we? We are all descended
from a common source--all one `family' in reality. You see, our
comparatively brief and limited history gives us that advantage
at least."
"But does not each mother want her own child to bear her name?"
I asked.
"No--why should she? The child has its own."
"Why for--for identification--so people will know whose
child she is.
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