As I approached the front door of The First Bank of Bit 0' Heaven, it sensed my presence and swung open with an automatic welcome. I stepped briskly through-and stopped. But I was just far enough inside so that the door was unable to close behind me. While it was sliding shut I took the arc pen from my bag-then spun about just as it had closed completely. I had stopwatched its mechanical reflex time on other trips to the bank, so I knew that I had just 1. 67 seconds to do the necessary. Time enough.

The are buzzed and flared and welded the door securely to its frame. After this all the door could do was buzz helplessly, immobile, until something in the mechanism shorted out and it produced some crackling sparks, then died.

"Destruction of bank property is a crime. You are under arrest." As it was speaking, the robot bank guard reached out its large padded hands to seize and hold me until the police arrived.

"Not this time, you jangling junkpile," I snarled, and pushed it in the chest with the porcuswme prod. The two metal points produced 300 volts and plenty ofamps. Enough to draw the attention of a one ton porcuswine. Enough to short the robot completely. Smoke spurted from all its joints and it hit the floor with a very satisfactory crash.

Behind me. For I had already leapt forward, shouldering aside the old lady who stood at the teller's window. I pulled the large handgun from my bag and pointed it at the teller and growled out my command.

"Your money or your life, sister. Fill this bag with bucks." Very impressive, though my voice did break a bit so the last words came out in a squeak. The teller smiled at this and tried to brazen it out.

"Go home, sonny. This is not..." I pulled the trigger and the . 75 recoilless boomed next to her ear; the cloud of smoke blinded her. She wasn't hit but she might just as well have been. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she slid slowly from sight behind the till.