any sort of decoding equipment, it can pick up and understand the radio signals I beam out to it!”
“What we need now,” Tom went on, “is a simple language to get our ideas across to Exman without having to use the electronic brain all the time. That means I must find a way to give Exman senses as we humans have-smell, touch, sight, hearing, taste. Then it could receive the same reactions we do and talk directly to us!”
“Sounds like quite an order,” Bud said wryly. “Speaking of which, how about us phoning Chow an order for breakfast?”
He did so, and a short time later Chow wheeled a food cart into the laboratory. As he dished out man-sized helpings of ham and eggs, the cook kept a wary eye on Exman. Tom was putting the robot through a few more lively maneuvers.
“A good meal’d calm down Ole Think Box,” Chow observed grumpily. “But what do you feed that there kind o’ contraption?”
“Well, not gum, that’s for sure!” Bud teased. After tasting his first forkful of food, he gasped, “And none of this ham!”
Jumping up from his lab stool, Bud began whirling, dancing around, and flapping his arms as if he were burning up.
“Help! Help!” he yelled. “Chow’s poisoned me-just like he did Exman!”
Chow’s leathery old face paled under its desert 104 THE VISITOR FROM PLANET X
tan. “Great snakes, Toml” the Texan gulped. “Have I really pizened him?
Maybe we should call Doc Simpson!”
Doc was the medic in charge of the Enterprises infirmary.
Tom was unable to keep a straight face. “Better call someone with a strait jacket-or a butterfly net!” he said, quaking with laughter. “I’m afraid he’s just pulling your leg, Chow!”