The Status Civilization

Now his enemy was in its ultimate form: the invariant robot consciousness, as false and stylized as the conditioned dreams of Earth. The Barrent-1 machine extruded a single slender tentacle with a white light winking at the end of it. As it approached, the tentacle withdrew, and in its place appeared a jointed metal arm ending in a knife-edge. Barrent-2 dodged, and heard the knife scrape against the stone. It isn't what you think it is, Barrent-2 told himself. It isn't a machine, and you are not back on Omega. This is only half of yourself you are fighting, this is nothing but a deadly illusion. But he couldn't believe it. The Barrent machine was coming at him again, its metal hide glistening with a foul green substance which Barrent-2 recognized immediately as Contact Poison. He broke into a sprint, trying to stay away from the fatal touch. It isn't fatal, he told himself. Neutralizer washed over the metal surface, clearing away the poison. The machine tried to ram him. Barrent tried half-heartedly to push it aside. It crashed into him with stunning force, and he could feel ribs splintering. It isn't real! You're letting a conditioned reflex talk you to death! You aren't on Omega! You're on Earth, in your own home, staring into a mirror! But the pain was real, and the clubbed metal arm felt real as it crashed against his shoulder. Barrent staggered away. He felt horror, not at dying, but at dying too soon, before he could warn the Omegans of this ultimate danger planted deep in their own minds. There was no one else to warn of the catastrophe that would strike each man as he recovered his own specific memories of Earth. To his best knowledge, no one had experienced this and lived. If he could live through it, countermeasures could be taken, counterconditioning could be set up.