THE STAINLESS STEEL RAT BY HARRY HARRISON Illustrated by Freas [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science Fiction August 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] When the office door opened suddenly I knew the game was up. It had been a money-maker--but it was all over. As the cop walked in I sat back in the chair and put on a happy grin. He had the same somber expression and heavy foot that they all have--and the same lack of humor. I almost knew to the word what he was going to say before he uttered a syllable. "James Bolivar diGriz I arrest you on the charge--" I was waiting for the word _charge_, I thought it made a nice touch that way. As he said it I pressed the button that set off the charge of black powder in the ceiling, the crossbeam buckled and the three-ton safe dropped through right on the top of the cop's head. He squashed very nicely, thank you. The cloud of plaster dust settled and all I could see of him was one hand, slightly crumpled. It twitched a bit and the index finger pointed at me accusingly. His voice was a little muffled by the safe and sounded a bit annoyed. In fact he repeated himself a bit. "... On the charge of illegal entry, theft, forgery--" He ran on like that for quite a while, it was an impressive list but I had heard it all before. I didn't let it interfere with my stuffing all the money from the desk drawers into my suitcase. The list ended with a new charge and I would swear on a stack of thousand credit notes _that_ high that there was a hurt tone in his voice. "In addition the charge of assaulting a police robot will be added to your record. This was foolish since my brain and larynx are armored and in my midsection--" "That I know well, George, but your little two-way radio is in the top of your pointed head and I don't want you reporting to your friends just yet." One good kick knocked the escape panel out of the wall and gave access to the steps to the basement. As I skirted the rubble on the floor the robot's fingers snapped out at my leg, but I had been waiting for that and they closed about two inches short. I have been followed by enough police robots to know by now how indestructible they are. You can blow them up or knock them down and they keep coming after you; dragging themselves by one good finger and spouting saccharine morality all the while. That's what this one was doing. Give up my life of crime and pay my debt to society and such. I could still hear his voice echoing down the stairwell as I reached the basement.