He looked frantically for something loose that could be used as a weapon. If he had tools he might detach the still waving arms of the couch and use one of them to beat his way through the door. But he had no tools. He pressed his nose longingly against the armored glass. He got the first glimpse of the psych squad. Two were robots, large and evidently strong. They were pleasant enough to look at and gave an impression of gentleness. Whether their behavior matched their appearance was another matter. The third member of the squad was a man. The group approached cautiously. Danny squatted low beside the door. "I'm in contact with the psych squad," said the S.P. "If you'll cooperate with them it will look good on your record. You'll get by with a minimum mental change. They may let you keep some of your enthusiasm for music. Will you go peacefully?" "Yes," said Danny in a low voice. "Then go out slowly when they open the door. Hold your hands above your head." "I can't," said Danny. "I hurt myself. I think it's my leg." S.P. was silent for a moment. "The robots will come for you. Remember, don't try to harm them. They're built to handle violent cases." Danny faked a cry of pain. He peered through a crack in the door. It was getting dark, difficult to see the legs of the approaching robot. The door opened and Danny was through it like a sprinter. The robot reached out; it just wasn't fast enough. It was experienced, but not in capturing a boy trained in spaceman gymnastics. Intact, Danny wriggled free. Not a shred of skin or clothing remained in the grasping hands. He eluded the second robot and changed direction. Deliberately he collided with the man. Of the two Danny was smaller, but not by much. Besides youth, he had the advantage of momentum. Startled, the man went down. By the time he scrambled to his feet, mad enough to follow, Danny had entered a genuine twentieth century alley, complete with trash cans. Danny was certain the man hadn't seen his face. He had visited Culture City often and was at home in it. It was a good gamble the psych squad wasn't. Danny ran on, dodging through the narrow passageways, and, when he was well ahead of them, climbed an inconspicuous fire escape to the top of a building and watched the psych squad blunder by below. Satisfied he hadn't been observed, he went inside the building and presently emerged on a main street, breathing a little heavily, but otherwise a normal boy, face washed and hair combed. Culture City was beginning to come to life with the evening trade. More people were on the streets and he mingled with them. But he knew his escape was only temporary, unless.... * * * * *