Joe put the letter carefully on the bed beside him and reached into the box for the robot. He lifted it out. It was a shimmering, silver-gray globe, lighter than aluminum, with one side of it flattened to accommodate a keyboard. It was about the size of a bowling ball, he guessed. The keyboard had small push-buttons, lettered exactly like a typewriter, with a small glass lens above it. He struck the "J" key and a tiny, glowing "J" appeared in the center of the lens. He punched the tab marked "clear" at the top of the keyboard, and the "J" vanished. His mind reeled at the implications of what he had read. Anything he wanted was his, merely by typing its name on this keyboard! Even objects he only imagined, which didn't even exist--spaceships, antigravity devices, _anything_.... His thoughts were confused. What did he want? Money? But what good was money when he wouldn't have to buy anything? What did he want? He felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to confide in someone--to ask someone-- He rested the globe in his lap, clutching it with moist, slippery palms. His vision was blurred, his hands fumbling, as he pecked at the keyboard: TELEPHONE There was a swirling glow of blue radiance, a faintly audible click from within the globe--then a loud, sharp _crack_ and the smell of ozone! A telephone rested on the bed beside him! Its black cord snaked across the floor to the baseboard beside the chipped dresser. Joe relaxed with a shuddering sigh. He mopped at the sweat on his forehead with a wet palm--he had a telephone! The robot worked! But did the telephone work? He reached over, lifted the receiver, and placed it to his ear. The dial-tone was unmistakable. He replaced the receiver on its cradle and sat staring at the 'phone. Now that he had it, who would he call? What did he _really_ want? He looked down at the robot in his lap and swallowed hesitantly. He had requested a telephone, so he got a telephone. But that wasn't what he wanted. He knew--the realization grew in his mind--what he really wanted, what any young guy would want, given the opportunity! Feverishly, he clutched the robot in his lap and with a numb index finger, began pecking at the keyboard. He finished the phrase--then, hastily and with sudden apprehension, added a comma. His brow furrowed with intense concentration for a moment, then he resumed typing. When he finished, the small, glowing letters beneath the lens read: A BEAUTIFUL GIRL, WHOM I CAN TRUST. There was the swirling blue radiance, as before. He heard the faintly audible click from within the globe. His eyes shot around the room, expectantly. A vision flashed into his mind--a vision of the girl who would appear--young, with soft, dark hair tumbling to her shoulders, delicate features and a slender, lovely figure. A neat, immaculate suit would enhance her shapely curves. He waited....