"I'd rather not discuss it over the 'phone," Joe replied nervously. "Could I come over to see you, personally?" "Why--um, ah--why, yes!" A hard edge crept into the voice. "Perhaps you'd _better_!" Joe felt a wave of relief. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he promised. He was five minutes early. He parked the sleek, yellow convertible in the driveway and climbed out. He looked dapper and well-groomed in his dark, expensive suit as he went up the front steps and rang the doorbell. The round, gleaming globe of the robot was tucked under his arm. The door was opened by a tall, stocky man with iron-gray hair. He raked Joe with a sharp, piercing gaze. "You're Mr. Linger?" Joe nodded. "That's right. But I don't know your name." "James Bowen," the man said stiffly. "Come in, Mr. Linger." Joe hesitated, shook his head. "First, Mr. Bowen, I want to explain," he said. "I'm a stranger--your daughter has never met me--and yet, I was able to get her first name and telephone number. I thought you might like to know how I did that." Bowen scowled darkly. "Well, please come in, Mr. Linger," he insisted stiffly. "We'll sit down and discuss the matter--" "No," Joe refused, shaking his head again. "I want to show you something, first. I want you to see exactly what this is all about--" He cradled the robot in his arm and began typing on its keyboard, turning to face the driveway as he did so. Bowen stepped out the door and stared at Joe's yellow convertible. Then he jerked back, startled. There was a swirling blue glow from the bright globe, a faint click. And then-- _Crack!_ * * * * * Bowen grabbed at the door, his eyes bulging as he stared out at the driveway. Air currents swirled and eddied across the front lawn. The convertible had vanished. "This globe is a robot mechanism," Joe said hastily. "It transmuted the metal atoms of that car into molecules of air. It can change any matter into any shape, form, or object desired! Watch!" Swiftly, he began typing again. The swirling glow and sound effects were repeated. And in the driveway, poised gracefully on its tricycle landing gear, was a small, gleaming light plane! "I made that out of air molecules, too," Joe explained. "That is, the robot made it." "Get--get that airplane off my driveway!" Bowen stammered hoarsely. "The neighbors will--" Joe typed busily. The glow and noise repeated. The plane disappeared. "Now you've seen it," Joe said quietly, gazing up at the tall, dazed man. "This is what I want to talk to you about. I--I need help, Mr. Bowen--" "Come in," Bowen said weakly. "Come in--but turn that god-forsaken thing off!" He turned and walked back into the house. "Atomic bombs, hydrogen bombs--and now, _this_! And I'd always thought they'd have rocket ships first--"