ipped the thing back to earth! I know now what they mean
about Pandora's Box.

But we just stood there and stared like a couple of rubes. Ned lay
motionless and stared back at us.

"A robot!" the Chief said.

"Very observant; it's easy to see you went to the police academy."

"Ha ha! Now find out what he's doing here."

I hadn't gone to the academy, but this was no handicap to my finding the
letter. It was sticking up out of a thick book in a pocket in the box.
The Chief took the letter and read it with little enthusiasm.

"Well, well! United Robotics have the brainstorm that ... _robots,
correctly used will tend to prove invaluable in police work_ ... they
want us to co-operate in a field test ... _robot enclosed is the latest
experimental model; valued at 120,000 credits_."

We both looked back at the robot, sharing the wish that the credits had
been in the box instead of it. The Chief frowned and moved his lips
through the rest of the letter. I wondered how we got the robot out of
its plywood coffin.

Experimental model or not, this was a nice-looking hunk of machinery. A
uniform navy-blue all over, though the outlet cases, hooks and such were
a metallic gold. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get that
effect. This was as close as a robot could look to a cop in uniform,
without being a joke. All that seemed to be missing was the badge and
gun.

Then I noticed the tiny glow of light in the robot's eye lenses. It had
never occurred to me before that the thing might be turned on. There was
nothing to lose by finding out.

"Get out of that box," I said.

The robot came up smooth and fast as a rocket, landing two feet in front
of me and whipping out a snappy salute.

"Police Experimental Robot, serial number XPO-456-934B, reporting for
duty, sir."

His voice quivered with alertness and I could almost hear the humming of
those taut cable muscles. He may have had a stainless steel hide and a
bunch of wires for a brain--but he spelled rookie cop to me just the
same. The fact that he was man-height with two arms, two legs and that
painted-on uniform helped. All I had to do was squint my eyes a bit and
there stood Ned the Rookie Cop. Fresh out of school and raring to go. I
shook my head to get rid of the illusion. This was just six feet of
machine that boffins and brain-boys had turned out for their own
amusement.

"Relax, Ned," I said. He was still holding the salute. "At ease. You'll
get a hernia of