The Status Civilization

"But they'll kill me!" "That's very true," Frendlyer said. "Unfortunately, it can't be helped. A victim, by definition, is one who is to be killed." "I thought this was a protective organization." "It is. But we protect rights, not victims. Your rights are not being violated. The Hadjis have the privilege of killing you on Landing Day, at any time before sundown, if you are not in your barracks area. You, I might add, have the right to kill anyone who tries to kill you." "I don't have a weapon," Barrent said. "Victims never do," Frendlyer said. "It makes all the difference, doesn't it? But weapon or not, I'm afraid you'll have to leave now." Barrent could still hear the Hadjis' lazy voices in the street. He asked, "Have you a rear door?" "Sorry." "Then I'll simply not leave." Still smiling, Mr. Frendlyer opened a drawer and took out a gun. He pointed it at Barrent, and said, "You really must leave. You can take your chances with the Hadjis, or you can die right here with no chance at all." "Lend me your gun," Barrent said. "It isn't allowed," Frendlyer told him. "Can't have victims running around with weapons, you know. It would upset things." He clicked off the safety. "Are you leaving?" Barrent calculated his chances of diving across the desk for the gun, and decided he would never make it. He turned and walked slowly to the door. The ragged men were still laughing together. The dark-haired girl had risen from the bench and was standing near the doorway. As he came close to her, Barrent noticed that she was very lovely. He wondered what crime had dictated her expulsion from Earth.