thing 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.

He pulled himself to his feet. Coached since childhood in social
responsibility, he thought of it now. He couldn't allow himself to die
when his knowledge was vital to Omega.

_This is not a real machine._

He repeated it to himself as the Barrent machine revved up, picked up
speed, and hurtled toward him from the far side of the room. He forced
himself to see beyond the machine, to see the patient droning lessons of
the classroom which had created this monster in his mind.

_This is not a real machine._

He believed it....

And swung his fist into the hated face reflected in the metal.

There was a moment of dazzling pain, and then he lost consciousness.
When he came to, he was alone in his own home on Earth. His arm and
shoulder ached, and several of his ribs seemed to be broken. On his left
hand he bore the stigmata of the trichomotred's bite.

But with his cut and bleeding right hand he had smashed the mirror. He
had shattered it and Barrent-1 utterly and forever.

OMEGA

RELIGION:
THE WORSHIP OF EVIL

PLEASURES:
THE THRILL OF THE HUNT, WITH HUMAN PREY