He bought a confection and munched on it though his stomach quivered and refused to have anything to do with the intruding material. He had to act natural, and something like that seemed called for. He picked up a stick from the trash that, true to the period, littered the streets. He swung it nonchalantly as he circled back to the drugstore. He passed through that as fast as he dared. Into the parking lot again. He searched along the borders of it until he found what he wanted. Then he approached the sidewalk psychiatrist. "It's me, Danny," he said in a low voice. The S.P. seemed surprised. "What do you want?" "I'm going to give myself up," he said. "You've got my fingerprints." "I do," said S.P. "And you remembered that in your panic. You have an uncluttered mind. Too bad it isn't well balanced. Wait. I'll call the psych squad." "Let me inside," said Danny. His voice broke. "Nonsense," said S.P. "The psych squad won't hurt you." Nevertheless the reply was uncertain. "Please let me wait inside," begged Danny. "You may have a weapon," said S.P. slowly. "I can't take a chance." That told Danny what he wanted to know. The fingerprints had not yet been transmitted back to central files. "I'm twelve years old," he said. "You thought I was older because I'm smart and because I'm big for my age. But I'm really twelve years old and I'm afraid of them." The sidewalk psychiatrist searched through its memory and evaluated it. "You're right about your age. And the fear is understandable." The voice softened. "Come inside and wait. And be quiet. I have to concentrate to contact the psych squad robots." The door swung open and Danny thrust the stick in the hinges. The door started to close again but couldn't. "What are you doing?" asked the startled sidewalk psychiatrist. The rock in Danny's hand crashed against the panel that housed the thinking mechanism. "Please," shrieked S.P. The rock smashed again and the voice was silent. Danny thrust his hand into the tangled mass and felt around. He withdrew his hand and pocketed a small item. After that he worked fast, carefully wiping off everything he had touched. Satisfied that he had done everything he could, he wrenched the stick out of the hinges and jumped outside as the door slammed shut. He walked out of the parking lot and through Culture City to the park that encircled and isolated it from the surrounding great spaceport. He sat down in the darkness and took the small mechanism from his pocket. The memory unit of the sidewalk psychiatrist. The record of the interview, his fingerprints, all the pertinent data. Without this the psych squad wouldn't have a thing to work on. A brief glimpse in the darkness. And Danny was big for his age. A twelve year old psych case? They wouldn't think of it.