The robot piano master was his last hope. Disable it and the critical part of the program would have to be cancelled. Danny started the search. The music robots, motionless and silent, were seated near the orchestra entrance. The piano robot was not with them. Acting on a hunch, Danny located the dressing rooms. One by one he went through them. A robot had no need for privacy, but in the third room he found the piano robot. It was listening to music. Vaguely he was disturbed. Generally robots merely reproduced music; they didn't listen to it. Evidently the piano robot was different in ways he hadn't suspected. He'd have to find out about that, later. He located a short length of metal bar and softly opened the door. The piano robot was still intently listening. A blow from behind knocked it sprawling. Instantly Danny followed with another blow to the side of the head. The robot jerked spasmodically. Methodically he pounded the hands and arms into a pulpy mass. It wasn't flesh and it didn't look like it; through the synthetic skin covering wires and metal joints splayed as he struck savagely. "Piano master." Danny straightened up. The human announcer was outside the door. Danny looked around. There was no other exit save the way he had come in. He turned the music louder. The meta piano was not safe unless he could get out undetected. They would want to know the reasons for his attack on the piano robot and they had means to find out. "Piano Master." The voice was louder, more insistent. "Yes?" Danny muffled his voice, spoke through the music. "The program will begin in ten minutes." "I know. I'll be there." "The music committee is waiting to accompany you. When will you be ready?" He was caught by the logic of the occasion. Normally no one bothered with the piano robot. But this was a big event and old traditions had been resurrected for it. "I'm listening to the music," said Danny. "I'll be ready." * * * * * He stripped clothing off the inert robot. Forked black coat and a ridiculous string around his throat: the uniform of the music robot. The existence of such a uniform would help him. Hastily he changed, tossing his own clothing in a corner. He was half a head taller than the piano master, and broader in the shoulders. The sleeves and trousers were too short. He stretched them to fit. Another inch more would have been more than the fabric would lengthen. Danny's hair was light brown; the robot piano master's an iron grey. Under stage lighting it might not be noticed. He rumpled his hair to conform to standards. Did anyone look at a robot's face? Danny hoped not; there was nothing he could do about his. He dragged the robot behind a chair, and, assuming a masklike, tranquil expression, walked out of the dressing room as if in a trance. No one noticed anything. Nodding, the announcer led him to the stage. The committee followed and sat at one side of the stage. So far Danny had passed.