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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
13
Murder?
He
frowned.
He
wasn't
ready
to
accept
that.
A
man
tapped
him
on
the
shoulder.
"How
you
feeling?"
Barrent
turned
and
saw
a
large,
thick-shouldered
red-haired
man
standing
beside
him.
"Pretty
good,"
Barrent
said.
"You
were
in
line
behind
me,
weren't
you?"
"That's
right.
Number
401.
Name's
Danis
Foeren."
Barrent
introduced
himself.
"Your
crime?"
Foeren
asked.
"Murder."
Foeren
nodded,
looking
impressed.
"Me,
I'm
a
forger.
Wouldn't
think
it
to
look
at
my
hands."
He
held
out
two
massive
paws
covered
with
sparse
red
hair.
"But
the
skill's
there.
My
hands
remembered
before
any
other
part
of
me.
On
the
ship
I
sat
in
my
cell
and
looked
at
my
hands.
They
itched.
They
wanted
to
be
off
and
doing
things.
But
the
rest
of
me
couldn't
remember
what."
"What
did
you
do?"
Barrent
asked.
"I
closed
my
eyes
and
let
my
hands
take
over,"
Foeren
said.
"First
thing
I
knew,
they
were
up
and
picking
the
lock
of
the
cell."
He
held
up
his
huge
hands
and
looked
at
them
admiringly.
"Clever
little
devils!"
"Picking
the
lock?"
Barrent
asked.
"But
I
thought
you
were
a
forger."
"Well,
now,"
Foeren
said,
"forgery
was
my
main
line.
But
a
pair
of
skilled
hands
can
do
almost
anything.
I
suspect
that
I
was
only
caught
for
forgery;
but
I
might
also
have
been
a
safeman.
My
hands
know
too
much
for
just
a
forger."
"You've
found
out
more
about
yourself
than
I
have,"
Barrent
said.
"All
I
have
to
start
with
is
a
dream."
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