Danny laid the program down. A prophetic title. Advice that he ought to take, if he could. Flee As A Bird.... That was the key melody; it would bring in operation his invention, the meta piano. Automatically he arose. Not to leave; he couldn't do that. Once the meta piano was played it would never be accessible. After that they would guard it well, perhaps with a corps of robots. Moreover they would discover the source of the new sounds. They would trace the parts of the mechanism back to him. They wouldn't be lenient when they found him. He had perhaps an hour in which to make certain the meta piano was not played. He headed toward the box seats. He had to approach the piano from backstage. It might be possible to cut the lights, and in the few minutes of darkness wreck the concealed meta piano circuits. The piano wouldn't be harmed; it would play as it always had. For the first time in his memory all the boxes were filled. A husky, belligerent man glared at him. "I'm sorry," said Danny, "But--" "Sure, I know," said the occupant. "You want a better seat." He turned away and began chatting with the girls at his side. Danny shrugged. That was no way to get backstage. He went downstairs. Normally open, tonight the stage entrance was closed. Actually the audience wasn't interested in the performers, but tradition lived long and there was a press of spectators bent on conforming to it. Fifty minutes left and he still wasn't near the piano. He fought his way outside and strolled speculatively along the building. The power lines were underground, of course. And most likely there were several alternative sources of power. Nothing he could do about that. On impulse he walked to the back of the building and whistled. The caretaker opened the door and peered out cautiously. "Can't practice tonight." "After the crowd goes home I can," said Danny. He walked in. Forty minutes remained. * * * * * The audience had been all confusion. Backstage it was quiet. Robots were efficient and silent. Tonight, however, a human announcer and one technician were present. It was a complicating factor he hadn't counted on. The power switches were hard to find. After several fruitless minutes, dodging in and out of the corridors to avoid the human crew, Danny sought out the caretaker. "Where is the switchboard?" he asked casually. "Thought you were a music robot," said the caretaker slowly. "I am," said Danny hastily. He whistled. The caretaker closed his eyes. "You're not supposed to know about such things." The eyes remained closed. "Anyway, the switches are below. Atom bomb shelter built hundreds of years ago and never used." The eyes came open. "Know anything about atom bombs?" "Not a thing," said Danny and walked away. He knew about atom bombs but he didn't have one. And short of that there was no way to interrupt the power. Twenty-five minutes left, and it seemed impossible to get to the meta piano circuits.