The Status Civilization

by Robert Sheckley

  Chapter Eight

  Barrent had had enough of Omega's shocks and surprises. He stayed closeto his store, worked at his business, and kept alert for trouble. He wasbeginning to develop the Omegan look: a narrow, suspicious squint, ahand always near gun butt, feet ready to sprint. Like the olderinhabitants, he was acquiring a sixth sense for danger.

  At night, after the doors and windows were barred and the triplex alarmsystem had been set, Barrent would lie on his bed and try to rememberEarth. Probing into the misty recesses of his memory, he foundtantalizing hints and traces, and fragments of pictures. Here was agreat highway curving toward the sun; a fragment of a huge, multi-levelcity; a closeup view of a starship's curving hull. But the pictures werenot continuous. They existed for the barest fraction of a second, thenvanished.

  On Saturday, Barrent spent the evening with Joe, Danis Foeren, and hisneighbor Tem Rend. Joe's pokra had prospered, and he had been able tobribe his way to the status of Free Citizen. Foeren was too blunt andstraightforward for that; he had remained at the Residency level. ButTem Rend promised to take the big forger as an assistant if theAssassin's Guild accepted his application.

  The evening started pleasantly enough; but it ended, as usual, with anargument about Earth.

  "Now look," Joe said, "we all know what Earth is like. It's a complex ofgigantic floating cities. They're built on artificial islands in thevarious oceans--"

  "No, the cities are on land," Barrent said.

  "On water," Joe said. "The people of Earth have returned to the sea.Everyone has special oxygen adaptors for breathing salt water. The landareas aren't even used any more. The sea provides everything that--"

  "It isn't like that," Barrent said. "I remember huge cities, but theywere all on land."

  Foeren said, "You're both wrong. What would Earth want with cities? Shegave them up centuries ago. Earth is a landscaped park now. Everyone hashis own home and several acres of land. All the forests and jungles havebeen allowed to grow back. People live _with_ nature instead of tryingto conquer it. Isn't that right, Tem?"

  "Almost but not quite," Tem Rend said. "There are still cities, butthey're underground. Tremendous underground factories and productionareas. The rest is like Foeren said."

  "There aren't any more factories," Foeren insisted stubbornly. "There'sno need of them. Any goods which a man requires can be produced bythought-control."

  "I'm telling you," Joe said, "I can remember the floating cities! I usedto live in the Nimui sector on the island of Pasiphae."

  "You think that proves anything?" Rend asked. "I remember that I workedon the eighteenth underground level of Nueva Chicaga. My work quota wastwenty days a year. The rest of the time I spent outdoors in theforests--"

  Foeren said, "That's wrong, Tem. There aren't any underground levels. Ican remember distinctly that my father was a Controller, Third Class.Our family used to trek several hundred miles every year. When we neededsomething, my father would _think_ it, and there it'd be. He promised toteach me how, but I guess he never did."

  Barrent said, "Well, a couple of us are certainly having false recall."

  "That's certain," Joe said. "But the question is, which of us is right?"

  "We'll never find out," Rend said, "unless we can return to Earth."

  That ended the discussion.

  Toward the end of the week, Barrent received another invitation from theDream Shop, more strongly worded than the first. He decided to dischargethe obligation that evening. He checked the temperature, and found thatit had risen into the high nineties. Wiser now in Omegan ways, he packeda small satchel full of cold-weather clothing, and started out.

  The Dream Shop was located in the exclusive Death's Row section. Barrentwent in, and found himself in a small, sumptuously furnished waitingroom. A sleek young man behind a polished desk gave him an artificialsmile.

  "Could I be of service?" the young man asked. "My name is Nomis J.Arkdragen, assistant manager in charge of nightside dreams."

  "I'd like to know something about what happens," Barrent said. "How onegets dreams, what kind of dreams, all that sort of thing."

  "Of course," Arkdragen said. "Our service is easily explained,Citizen--"

  "Barrent. Will Barrent."

  Arkdragen nodded and checked a name from a list in front of him. Helooked up and said, "Our dreams are produced by the action of drugs uponthe brain and the central nervous system. There are many drugs whichproduce the desired effect. Among the most useful are heroin, morphine,opium, coca, hemp, and peyote. All those are Earth products. Found onlyon Omega are Black Slipper, nace, manicee, tri-narcotine, djedalas, andthe various products of the carmoid group. Any and all of these aredream-inducers."

  "I see," Barrent said. "Then you sell drugs."

  "Not at all!" Arkdragen said. "Nothing so simple, nothing so crude. Inancient times on Earth, men administered drugs to themselves. The dreamswhich resulted were necessarily random in nature. You never knew whatyou would dream about, or for how long. You never knew if you would havea dream or a nightmare, a horror or a delight. This uncertainty has beenremoved from the modern Dream Shop. Nowadays, our drugs are carefullymeasured, mixed, and metered for each individual. There is an absoluteprecision in dream-making, ranging from the Nirvana-like calm of BlackSlipper through the multicolored hallucinations of peyotl andtri-narcotine, to the sexual fantasies induced by nace and morphine,and at last to the memory-resurrecting dreams of the carmoid group."

  "It's the memory-resurrecting dreams I'm interested in," Barrent said.

  Arkdragen frowned. "I wouldn't recommend it for a first visit."

  "Why not?"

  "Dreams of Earth are apt to be more unsettling than any imaginaryproductions. It's usually advisable to build up a tolerance for them. Iwould advise a nice little sexual fantasy for your first visit. We havea special sale on sexual fantasies this week."

  Barrent shook his head. "I think I'd prefer the real thing."

  "You wouldn't," the assistant manager said, with a knowing smile."Believe me, once one becomes accustomed to vicarious sex experiences,the real thing is pallid by comparison."

  "Not interested," Barrent said. "What I want is a dream about Earth."

  "But you haven't built up a tolerance!" Arkdragen said. "You aren't evenaddicted."

  "Is addiction necessary?"

  "It's important," Arkdragen told him, "as well as being inescapable. Allour drugs are habit-forming, as the law requires. You see, to reallyappreciate a drug, you must build up a need for it. It heightenspleasure enormously, to say nothing of the increase in toleration.That's why I suggest that you begin with--"

  "I want a dream about Earth," Barrent said.

  "Very well," Arkdragen said grudgingly. "But we will not be responsiblefor any traumas which accrue."

  He led Barrent into a long passageway. It was lined with doors, andbehind some of them Barrent could hear dull moans and gasps of pleasure.

  "Experiencers," Arkdragen said, without further explanation. He tookBarrent to an open room near the end of the corridor. Within sat acheerful-looking bearded man in a white coat reading a book.

  "Good evening, Doctor Wayn," Arkdragen said. "This is Citizen Barrent.First visit. He insists upon an Earth dream." Arkdragen turned and left.

  "Well," the doctor said, "I guess we can manage that." He put down hisbook. "Just lie down over there, Citizen Barrent."

  In the center of the room was a long, adjustable table. Above it hung acomplicated-looking instrument. At the end of the room were glass-sidedcabinets filled with square jars; they reminded Barrent of hisantidotes.

  He lay down. Doctor Wayn put him through a general examination, then aspecific check for suggestibility, hypnotic index, reactions to theeleven basic drug groups, and susceptibility to tetanic and epilepticseizures. He jotted down his results on a pad, checked his figures, wentto a cabinet, and began mixing drugs.

  "Is this likely to be dangerous?" Barrent asked.

  "It shouldn't be," Doctor W
ayn said. "You appear healthy enough. Quitehealthy, in fact, and with a low suggestibility rating. Of course,epileptic fits _do_ occur, probably because of cumulative allergicreactions. Can't help that sort of thing. And then there are thetraumas, which sometimes result in insanity and death. They form aninteresting study in themselves. And some people get stuck in theirdreams and are unable to be extricated. I suppose that could beclassified as a form of insanity, although actually it isn't."

  The doctor had finished mixing his drugs. He was loading a hypodermicwith the mixture. Barrent was having serious doubts about theadvisability of the whole thing.

  "Perhaps I should postpone this visit," he said. "I'm not sure that I--"

  "Don't worry about a thing," the doctor said. "This is the finest DreamShop on Omega. Try to relax. Tight muscles can result in tetanicconvulsions."

  "I think Mr. Arkdragen was right," Barrent said. "Maybe I shouldn't havea dream about Earth for my first visit. He said it was dangerous."

  "Well, after all," the doctor said, "what's life without a little risk?Besides, the most common damage is brain lesions and burst bloodvessels. And we have full facilities for taking care of that sort ofthing."

  He poised the hypodermic over Barrent's left arm.

  "I've changed my mind," Barrent said, and started to get off the bed.Doctor Wayn deftly slid the needle into Barrent's arm.

  "One does not change one's mind," he told Barrent, "inside a Dream Shop.Try to relax...."

  Barrent relaxed. He lay back on the bed, and heard a shrill singing inhis ears. He tried to focus on the doctor's face. But the face hadchanged.

  The face was old, round, and fleshy. Ridges of fat stood out on the chinand neck. The face was perspiring, friendly, worried.

  It was Barrent's 5th Term Advisor.

  "Now, Will," the Advisor said, "you must be careful. You must learn torestrain that temper of yours. Will, you _must_!"

  "I know, sir," Barrent said. "It's just that I get so mad at that--"

  "Will!"

  "All right," Barrent said. "I'll watch myself."

  He left the university office and walked into the city. It was afantastic city of skyscrapers and multi-level streets, a brilliant cityof silver and diamond hues, an ambitious city which administered afar-flung network of countries and planets. Barrent walked along thethird pedestrian level, still angry, thinking about Andrew Therkaler.

  Because of Therkaler and his ridiculous jealousy, Barrent's applicationfor the Space Exploration Corps had been turned down. There was nothinghis Advisor could do about the matter; Therkaler had too much influenceon the Selection Board. It would be a full three years before Barrentcould apply again. In the meantime he was Earth-bound and unemployable.All his studies had been for extraterrestrial exploration. There was noplace for him on Earth; and now he was barred from space.

  Therkaler!

  Barrent left the pedestrian level and took the highspeed ramp into theSante district. As the ramp moved, he fingered the small weapon in hispocket. Handguns were illegal on Earth. He had procured his throughuntraceable means.

  He was determined to kill Therkaler.

  There was a wash of grotesque faces. The dream blurred. When it cleared,Barrent found himself aiming his handgun at a thin, cross-eyed fellowwhose scream for mercy was abruptly cut short.

  The informer, blank-faced and stern, noted the crime and informed thepolice.

  The police, in uniforms of gray, took him into custody and brought himbefore the judge.

  The judge, with his vague parchment face, sentenced him to perpetualservitude upon the planet Omega, and handed down the obligatory decreethat Barrent be cleansed of memory.

  Then the dream turned into a kaleidoscope of horror. Barrent wasclimbing a slippery pole, a sheer mountainside, a smooth-sided well.Behind him, gaining on him, was Therkaler's corpse with its chest rippedopen. Supporting the corpse on either side were the blank-faced informerand the parchment-faced judge.

  Barrent ran down a hill, a street, a rooftop. His pursuers were closebehind him. He entered a dim yellow room, closed and locked the door.When he turned around, he saw that he had locked himself in withTherkaler's corpse. Fungus was blossoming in the open wound in thechest, and the scarred head was crowned with red and purple mold. Thecorpse advanced, reached for him, and Barrent dived headfirst throughthe window.

  "_Come out of it, Barrent. You're overdoing it. Come out of the dream._"

  Barrent had no time to listen. The window turned into a chute, and heslid down its polished sides into an amphitheatre. There, across graysand, the corpse crept toward him on the stubs of arms and legs. Theenormous grandstand was empty except for the judge and the informer, whosat side by side, watching.

  "_He's stuck._"

  "Well, I warned him...."

  "_Come out of the dream, Barrent. This is Doctor Wayn. You're on Omega,in the Dream Shop. Come out of the dream. There's still time if you pullyourself out immediately._"

  Omega? Dream? There was no time to think about it. Barrent was swimmingacross a dark, evil-smelling lake. The judge and the informer wereswimming just behind him, flanking the corpse, whose skin was slowlypeeling away.

  "_Barrent!_"

  And now the lake was turning into a thick jelly which clung to his armsand legs and filled his mouth, while the judge and the informer--

  "_Barrent!_"

  Barrent opened his eyes and found himself on the adjustable bed in theDream Shop. Doctor Wayn, looking somewhat shaken, was standing over him.A nurse was near by with a tray of hypodermics and an oxygen mask.Behind her was Arkdragen, wiping perspiration from his forehead.

  "I didn't think you were going to make it," Doctor Wayn said. "I reallydidn't."

  "He pulled out just in time," the nurse said.

  "I warned him," Arkdragen said, and left the room.

  Barrent sat up. "What happened?" he asked.

  Doctor Wayn shrugged his shoulders. "It's hard to tell. Perhaps you wereprone to circular reaction; and sometimes the drugs aren't absolutelypure. But these things usually don't happen more than once. Believe me,Citizen Barrent, the drug experience is very pleasant. I'm sure you'llenjoy it the second time."

  Still shaken by his experience, Barrent was certain there would be nosecond time for him. Whatever the cost, he was not going to risk arepetition of that nightmare.

  "Am I addicted now?" he asked.

  "Oh, no," Doctor Wayn said. "Addiction occurs with the third or fourthvisit."

  Barrent thanked him and left. He passed Arkdragen's desk and asked howmuch he owed.

  "Nothing," Arkdragen said. "The first visit is always on the house." Hegave Barrent a knowing smile.

  Barrent left the Dream Shop and hurried home to his apartment. He had alot to think about. Now, for the first time, he had proof that he was awillful and premeditated murderer.