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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
58
His
friends
told
him
that
his
uncooperative
attitude
was
bound
to
get
him
into
trouble.
Barrent
agreed;
but
he
hoped,
by
killing
only
when
it
became
necessary,
that
he
would
escape
the
observation
of
the
highly
placed
individuals
who
administered
the
law.
For
several
weeks
his
plan
seemed
to
work.
He
ignored
the
increasingly
peremptory
notes
from
the
Dream
Shop
and
did
not
return
to
services
at
the
Wee
Coven.
Business
prospered,
and
Barrent
spent
his
spare
time
studying
the
effects
of
the
rarer
poisons
and
practicing
with
his
needlebeam.
He
often
thought
about
the
girl.
He
still
had
the
gun
she
had
lent
him.
He
wondered
if
he
would
ever
see
her
again.
And
he
thought
about
Earth.
Since
his
visit
to
the
Dream
Shop,
he
had
occasional
flashes
of
recall,
isolated
pictures
of
a
weathered
stone
building,
a
stand
of
live
oaks,
the
curve
of
a
river
seen
through
willows.
This
half-remembered
Earth
filled
him
with
an
almost
unbearable
longing.
Like
most
of
the
citizens
of
Omega,
his
only
real
wish
was
to
go
home.
And
that
was
impossible.
The
days
passed,
and
when
trouble
came,
it
came
unexpectedly.
One
night
there
was
a
heavy
knocking
at
his
door.
Half
asleep,
Barrent
answered
it.
Four
uniformed
men
pushed
their
way
inside
and
told
him
he
was
under
arrest.
"What
for?"
Barrent
asked.
"Non-drug
addiction,"
one
of
the
men
told
him.
"You
have
three
minutes
to
dress."
"What's
the
penalty?"
"You'll
find
out
in
court,"
the
man
said.
He
winked
at
the
other
guards
and
added,
"But
the
only
way
to
cure
a
nonaddict
is
to
kill
him.
Eh?"
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