Billy came in very handy at times and I was anxious that the force shouldn't lose him. My explanation cheered him because he sat down by Fats and watched Ned do the floor.
That's the way things went for about a week. We watched Ned sweep and polish until the station began to take on a positively antiseptic look. The Chief, who always has an eye out for that type of thing, found out that Ned could file the odd ton of reports and paperwork that cluttered his office. All this kept the robot busy, and we got so used to him we were hardly aware he was around. I knew he had moved the packing case into the storeroom and fixed himself up a cozy sort of robot dormitory-coffin. Other than that I didn't know or care.
The operation manual was buried in my desk and I never looked at it. If I had, I might have had some idea of the big changes that were in store. None of us knew the littlest bit about what a robot can or cannot do. Ned was working nicely as a combination janitor-file clerk and should have stayed that way. He would have too if the Chief hadn't been so lazy. That's what started it all.
It was around nine at night and the Chief was just going home when the call came in. He took it, listened for a moment, then hung up.
"Greenback's liquor store. He got held up again. Says to come at once."
"That's a change. Usually we don't hear about it until a month later. What's he paying protection money for if China Joe ain't protecting? What's the rush now?"
The Chief chewed his loose lip for a while, finally and painfully reached a decision.
"You better go around and see what the trouble is."
"Sure," I said reaching for my cap. "But no one else is around, you'll have to watch the desk until I get back."
"That's no good," he moaned. "I'm dying from hunger and sitting here isn't going to help me any."