"You can't," Williams 4 said. "I refuse to extrude it. And you could never reach it without the resources of a machine shop."
"Could be," said Morrison. "I plan to find out." He pulled out his empty revolver.
"What are you going to do?" Williams 4 asked.
"I'm going to see if I can smash you into scrap metal without the resources of a machine shop. I think your eyecells would be a logical place to begin."
"They would indeed," said the robot. "I have no personal sense of survival, of course. But let me point out that you would be leaving all Venus without a postman. Many would suffer because of your anti-social action."
"I hope so," Morrison said, raising the revolver above his head.
"Also," the robot said hastily, "you would be destroying government property. That is a serious offense."
Morrison laughed and swung the pistol. The robot moved its head quickly, dodging the blow. It tried to wriggle free, but Morrison's two hundred pounds was seated firmly on its thorax.
"I won't miss this time," Morrison promised, hefting the revolver.
"Stop!" Williams 4 said. "It is my duty to protect government property, even if that property happens to be myself. You may use my telephone, Mr. Morrison. Bear in mind that this offense is punishable by a sentence of not more than ten and not less than five years in the Solar Swamp Penitentiary."