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167
The Status Civilization
·
Robert Sheckley
64
The
machine
stopped.
Neutralizer
washed
over
its
surface,
clearing
away
the
poison.
Then
the
machine
was
coming
toward
him
again,
this
time
with
no
weapons
visible,
apparently
intending
to
ram.
Barrent
was
badly
winded.
He
dodged,
and
the
machine
dodged
with
him.
He
was
standing
against
the
wall,
helpless,
as
the
machine
picked
up
speed.
It
stopped,
inches
from
him.
Its
selector
clicked.
Max
was
extruding
some
sort
of
a
club.
This,
Barrent
thought,
was
an
exercise
in
applied
sadism.
If
it
went
on
much
longer,
the
machine
would
run
him
off
his
feet
and
kill
him
at
its
leisure.
Whatever
he
was
going
to
do,
he
had
better
do
it
at
once,
while
he
still
had
the
strength.
Even
as
he
thought
that,
the
machine
swung
a
clubbed
metal
arm.
Barrent
couldn't
avoid
the
blow
completely.
The
club
struck
his
left
shoulder,
and
he
felt
his
arm
go
numb.
Max
was
selecting
again.
Barrent
threw
himself
on
its
smooth,
rounded
back.
At
the
very
top
he
saw
two
tiny
holes.
Praying
that
they
were
air
intake
openings,
Barrent
plugged
them
with
his
fingers.
The
machine
stopped
dead,
and
the
audience
roared.
Barrent
clung
to
the
smooth
surface
with
his
numbed
arm,
trying
to
keep
his
fingers
in
the
holes.
The
pattern
of
lights
on
Max's
surface
changed
from
green
through
amber
to
red.
Its
deep-throated
buzz
became
a
dull
hum.
And
then
the
machine
extruded
tubes
as
alternative
intake
holes.
Barrent
tried
to
cover
them
with
his
body.
But
the
machine,
roaring
into
sudden
life,
swiveled
rapidly
and
threw
him
off.
Barrent
rolled
to
his
feet
and
moved
back
to
the
center
of
the
arena.
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