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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
130
He
pushed
his
way
past
dense
underbrush
into
the
forest
proper.
Here
he
walked
through
shaded
groves
of
giant
oaks.
All
around
him
was
the
chirp
and
bustle
of
unseen
bird
and
animal
life.
Far
in
front
of
him
was
a
large
white
sign
nailed
to
a
tree.
Barrent
reached
it,
and
read:
FORESTDALE
NATIONAL
PARK.
PICNICKERS
AND
CAMPERS
WELCOME.
Barrent
was
a
little
disappointed,
even
though
he
realized
that
there
would
be
no
virgin
wilderness
so
near
a
starport.
In
fact,
on
a
planet
as
old
and
as
highly
developed
as
Earth,
there
was
probably
no
virgin
land
at
all,
except
what
had
been
preserved
in
national
forests.
The
sun
was
low
on
the
horizon,
and
there
was
a
chill
in
the
long
shadows
thrown
across
the
forest
floor.
Barrent
found
a
comfortable
spot
under
a
gigantic
oak,
arranged
leaves
for
a
bed,
and
lay
down.
He
had
a
great
deal
to
think
about.
Why,
for
example,
hadn't
guards
been
posted
at
Earth's
most
important
contact
point,
an
interstellar
terminus?
Did
security
measures
start
later
at
the
towns
and
cities?
Or
was
he
already
under
some
sort
of
surveillance,
some
infinitely
subtle
spy
system
that
followed
his
every
movement
and
apprehended
him
only
when
ready?
Or
was
that
too
fanciful?
Could
it
be
that--?
"Good
evening,"
a
voice
said,
close
to
his
right
ear.
Barrent
flung
himself
away
from
the
voice
in
a
spasm
of
nervous
reaction,
his
hand
diving
for
his
needlebeam.
"And
a
very
pleasant
evening
it
is,"
the
voice
continued,
"here
in
Forestdale
National
Park.
The
temperature
is
seventy-eight
point
two
degrees
Fahrenheit,
humidity
23
per
cent,
barometer
steady
at
twenty-nine
point
nine.
Old
campers,
I'm
sure,
already
recognize
my
voice.
For
the
new
nature-lovers
among
you,
let
me
introduce
myself.
I
am
Oaky,
your
friendly
oak
tree.
I'd
like
to
welcome
all
of
you,
old
and
new,
to
your
friendly
national
forest."
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