There was little reason for Danny's mother to be alarmed. An accident was improbable. Nevertheless she sent her companion in one direction while she took another route. Belatedly she thought of Music Hall. It wasn't closed yet, though it would be soon. She stepped into the dim interior; a soft light illuminated the stage. And there was music, a kind she'd never heard. A child playing, as, a few hundred years before, countless children had played. A simple two fingered melody, but nevertheless a tune, distinct and recognizable. "Danny," she called; but he didn't hear. She climbed to the stage though she had less luck with the door to the enclosure than her son had had. "Danny." She pounded against it. Danny looked up, his smile of preoccupation fading. He came out. "It's a piano," said Danny. "I know it's a piano. And very valuable, the only one in the world. You might break it." She didn't know, but her statement wasn't true. There were seven others, carefully preserved and guarded. "I've been careful," he said. "I don't want to break it." "Listen, Danny. Would you go near an atomic pile?" "No," he admitted. "Of course not," she said. "Robots do that kind of work. They are built for it and it doesn't hurt them. It's like that with music." Gravely he considered her logic. "But it's not the same. It didn't hurt me at all," he said. "It was fun playing. I wish I had a piano." She took hold of him and led him away. "You must understand," she said in a voice that was firmer than her grip. "Men often listen to music. Only robots play it." * * * * * On playday Danny went walking in Culture City. Elsewhere there were game robots and organized activity, but he didn't like being organized. There were times he didn't care for it at all. He went past a night club, department store and beauty salon, twentieth century middle period. His interest was casual. He first paused at a late twentieth century drugstore. He went inside and looked at the merchandise. He still wasn't interested, but it was best to pretend curiosity. _Shoplifting is a crime punishable by law._ What exactly was shoplifting? If it meant what it seemed to, there were giants in those days. He walked on, past the telephone booths at the back of the store. He was nearing his goal. Outside, at the extreme back, near the parking lot where ancient vehicles were still standing to complete the illusion of authenticity, he saw it. The S.P. was bigger than a telephone booth and was decorated with odd green figures the intent of which was to project comfort and rest. There were larger and better S.P.'s, near his home, but Danny had a reason for coming here. It was one of the first models, but it did the same work that more modern ones did. It was slower, but Danny had time. He looked around. Late afternoon, not many were in Culture City at this time of day. Certain that no one observed, he squeezed in the anteroom of the S.P. and closed the door.