"During a synthony," conceded the robot. "Then it's all right for you to be here, in the audience. Other times you must stay out. Away from the piano." "But I belong here," said Danny. "Honest. I'm a composer." "Recomposer," corrected the caretaker. "Robots don't compose. They recompose." "I can recompose too," said Danny desperately. "I'm going to be a real musician." "Recompose," mused the caretaker. The grip loosened a little. "Then you're a music robot. I never heard of a robot composer, though." The caretaker thought about it with all the mental equipment it had. "If you're a music robot, let's hear some music." "Let go," said Danny. "I'll play the piano." "First the music," said the caretaker. "Then I'll let go." "But I don't have an instrument." "Music robots don't need them. The notes are stored inside. They carry an instrument for appearance only. "The piano master needs an instrument," argued Danny. "It's different. It actually plays." "The piano robot, yes," agreed the caretaker. "But there's only one in the city and you're not it." The caretaker sighed. "You've been lying to me. I'll have to report you." Danny struggled, though it was useless. In a few minutes he'd be turned over to the authorities. Psychological conditioning would be used on him. He had to avoid that, no matter what. He stopped struggling; deliberately he relaxed--and whistled. It was thin and halting, but the caretaker hesitated. Danny's breath came a little easier and the melody became stronger. The caretaker paused doubtfully. Danny swept into a currently popular recomposition. The caretaker let go. Triumphantly Danny whistled on. He followed with a new tune he made up as he went along. The caretaker sighed when Danny finished. "Then you really are a music robot." "What else? Did you ever hear any human make music?" The caretaker shook its head and walked to the piano. "But why didn't they tell me you're supposed to play here?" "Do they tell you anything about music? You're just the caretaker, you know." A spark of suspicion remained. "Why do you need to practice? Other robots don't." "They're made the way they are," said Danny. "They never get any worse, or better. But composers are different. We have lots to learn." The caretaker was satisfied. "All right. Play it, then." It adjusted the humidity controls in the piano enclosure to compensate for the increased moisture. "Can't," said Danny, conscious of time. "Tomorrow, maybe." "Tonight, if you want," suggested the caretaker. "Tonight will suit me fine," said Danny. * * * * *