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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b94c7d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66154 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66154) diff --git a/old/66154-0.txt b/old/66154-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 94ad370..0000000 --- a/old/66154-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1467 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Music Master, by F. L. Wallace - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Music Master - -Author: F. L. Wallace - -Release Date: August 27, 2021 [eBook #66154] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MUSIC MASTER *** - - - - - THE MUSIC MASTER - - By F. L. Wallace - - Robots could play an instrument, but they - could not write music--and Danny wanted to do - both--even if it meant facing the psych squad! - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy - December 1952 - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -After the performers filed off stage the audience chattered politely -and drifted toward the exits. Danny Tocar looked up at his mother, and, -on impulse, detached his hand from hers and lingered behind. As long as -she was busy culturizing he wouldn't be missed. When the auditorium -was empty Danny made his way to the stage and stood among the -instruments. He stroked a violin, dark and shining. It was very heavy, -as if it were solid. It was solid. He touched the metallic ridges on -it. Funny. When he had sat in the audience those ridges had looked -like strings and had given out a pleasant sound. It made no sound for -him though, even when he drew the bow across it as the musician had -done. - -It was the same with the drum when he pounded it. It too was silent. -He frowned and tried the trumpet. He lifted the instrument to his lips -and puffed his cheeks and blew. Nothing happened at all. He examined it -intently and then sadly laid it down. It was fake. All the instruments -were toys, imitations of something that had once been real. - -The music had not been phony, though. He visualized the performance, -a harmony of motions as well as sound: bowing, plucking, striking, -blowing. Where had the music come from if not from the instruments? He -still remembered the synthony. - -There was one instrument much larger than the others. It was set on -a raised platform and looked different. He wandered toward it, and -discovered the enclosure. From the audience he hadn't noticed this; the -enclosure was hardly visible though he was leaning against it. - -He had experience with this sort of thing. A museum case; a guarantee -that whatever was inside was real. With practiced fingers he felt for -an invisible crevice in the transparent enclosure. A fingernail split, -but something swung open, and Danny was inside. - -He looked curiously at it. A large wooden instrument with white -markings along the front of it. Danny remembered how these had been -touched during the performance. - -He was good at imitation; Danny brought his fingers down the way he had -seen it done. The white things weren't markings: they were keys. The -sound rolled out into the empty auditorium. Startled, Danny jerked his -hands away. He didn't know it, but with those few notes he qualified -as the musical genius of a hundred years. The only human who, in that -time, had produced anything resembling music. - -Entranced, he listened. When the last echo was lost he felt empty. He -sat down on the stool and rubbed his cheek against the old instrument. -His hands couldn't stay away from the keyboard. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile his mother strolled determinedly through Culture City. "I -just love the synthony don't you, Danny?" For the first time she -realized he wasn't with her. She looked around bewilderedly. - -"Don't worry," said her companion. "He can't be far. Probably in the -twentieth century section watching the electric signs." - -His mother laughed nervously. "Quaint, isn't it? Let's go. We have to -find him." She angled to the left, thinking she saw him through the -crowd. When she got there it was another little boy, not Danny at all. - -However she had a bit of luck. The commercial artist on the street was -temporarily vacant. She hesitated for a moment between her duty to find -Danny at once and her desire to own a real work of art. The middle aged -couple heading toward the booth decided her. Swiftly she inserted a -coin. - -"Yes?" said the deep gruff voice of the mechanism. - -"I'd like two pictures," she said. - -"Subject matter?" - -"One for a child's room. Danny Tocar, age 11. You have access to -personality records." - -"I do. But if you can give me some indication--" - -"Oh something by Roualt. That should be harmless." - -The robot artist noted that. "Daylight or night?" - -"Something that glows in the dark," she said. - -"And the other picture?" - -She considered. "Something different," she said. "Maybe a combined Miro -and Goya." - -"The two styles aren't compatible," warned the commercial artist. - -"Then make them compatible," she answered. "It's time the two were -reconciled." - -The commercial artist could not sigh. "Subject matter of the Miro-Goya -picture?" - -"A peaceful scene. Perhaps rockets to the moon." - -"Goya never heard of rockets," began the artist. "And while there was -talk of them during Miro's life--" - -"Project them," she insisted reasonably. "Project their perceptions -to the time of the first rocket to the moon. It's merely a matter of -analysis." She gave her name and address. She wasn't going to argue -with a robot. - -A relay in the artist clicked and sent a routine request for apartment -dimensions, color layout, furnishing arrangement. Simultaneously the -picture requirements were integrated. For the boy it was easy. The -elements of the original artist Roualt were reshuffled and the basic -night glowing pigments were selected. - -The Miro-Goya picture was harder. Trial and error were necessary. The -results would not be happy; a schizoid painting was bound to ensue. -It was the task of the commercial artist to see that the pictorial -insanity was not too evident. - -The middle aged couple stepped into the booth as Danny's mother left. -They ordered Grandma Moses and Norman Rockwell, sunny side up. - -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. - -He took coins from his pocket and inserted them, waiting for the -mechanism to warm up. - -"Name?" asked S.P. The voice had an old fashioned sound. A little too -hearty and friendly. - -"Danny." - -"Danny what?" - -"Just Danny." - -The machine answered slowly. "You have the privilege of remaining -anonymous. Please sit down." - -Danny sat down. - -"Identification." - -This didn't seem anonymous to Danny. Hesitantly he pressed his thumb -against the fingerprint plate. - -"That's satisfactory," said the machine. "The fingerprint is for my -files. I'll not try to trace you." - -Danny relaxed. The old machine _was_ better for his purpose. - -"Certain data is necessary before you can be admitted to the consulting -chamber," said the S.P. "We'll keep it to a minimum. First your age?" - -This was critical. "Nineteen," said Danny readily. - -"That's young," said the machine thoughtfully. "You're aware that -persons under eighteen can't be treated?" - -He was aware. That's why he'd come to this machine. Presumably it -was less efficient than newer models, particularly in the detection -circuits. - -"You're still very young," continued the S.P. "My advice is to seek -help from your parents. If you don't want to do that, there's a free -public counselling service." - -Danny waited. - -"Then I will take you," said the machine. "As a sidewalk psychiatrist, -I have no choice. However, in view of your stated age I'll have to -check your mentality." - -The newer models of sidewalk psychiatrists did that automatically. -Under the direction of the machine Danny placed a clumsy device over -his head. He concentrated on thinking slowly and clearly. Above all, -clearly. The machine could not read his thoughts, but it could get an -encephalocurve which could be compared to standard ones. - -In time the sidewalk psychiatrist instructed him to remove the device. -"At least nineteen mentally," it announced. "Sometimes higher, much -higher. In other areas actually childish in configuration. Perhaps -that's why you need help." - -"Maybe," said Danny. - -"You may enter the consulting chamber. Deposit the amount indicated at -the door." - - * * * * * - -Half of Danny's weekly allowance vanished in the coin slot. He went in -and lay down on the pneumatic couch. The voice was even friendlier than -it had been. He should have been reassured but wasn't. - -"Now, Danny. What's your problem?" - -He had carried it around with him for months. Once or twice he had -tried to talk to others about it. And promptly shut up when he had seen -where it was leading. He stirred restlessly. "Music," he mumbled. - -"You should learn to like it," said the machine. "It's essential for a -man of culture." - -"But I do like it," cried Danny. He remembered and lowered his voice. -"I like music," he whispered. - -"Then there's no problem. Listen to it and enjoy it." - -"But I do listen. Every chance I get." - -"Be more moderate," said the sidewalk psychiatrist. "Don't listen so -much or soon there'll be nothing you haven't heard." - -"I want to be a musician," said Danny. - -"A good hobby for a spaceman," said the sidewalk psychiatrist -approvingly. - -"It's not a hobby," said Danny. "And I don't want to be a spaceman." - -"Not a spaceman?" The sidewalk psychiatrist seemed surprised. "Mars and -Venus are settled. Last year a permanent colony was set up on Pluto. -And a few months ago a ship set out for the stars. Spacemen have a -glorious future." - -"I know it," said Danny. "But does everyone have to be a spaceman?" - -"No. Electronics is a good field. And then there's math." - -"I'm good in both of them," said Danny impatiently. "If I should tell -you what I've done--" He stopped. It wouldn't do to tell; that would -reveal he wasn't nineteen. "But I don't want to be any of those. Isn't -there room somewhere for a musician?" - -"You think other things are important. So, Danny?" The machine paused. -"You're right. There are stars inside that have to be reached." The -sidewalk psychiatrist pondered. "Then be what you want, Danny. Study -and listen. Maybe when you've heard everything there is, you'll wish -you hadn't. But you will be an authority." - -"I don't want to be an authority," yelled Danny. He didn't lower his -voice. "I want to be a musician." - -The machine seemed to be lost. "You mean you want to play an -instrument?" - -"That's it. Also, if I'm good enough, to compose music." - -"Compose?" said the machine. "Play? There's no way to do that. Even if -you could find an instrument, robots can play it better." - -"Robots can't play at all," said Danny. "They're machines. They merely -repeat the notes that men played long ago. And when they do it--" He -stopped. He wanted information, not an argument. - -He controlled his voice and spoke more slowly. "This is a hypothetical -question. How would I, or anyone, learn to be a musician?" - -"Don't ask that question." - -"But I did," said Danny. "It's not against the law." - -"But against custom," answered the S.P. "And that's stronger than you -think. It's the matrix out of which laws are formed." - -"I've paid you," said Danny. "Answer my question." - -The machine spoke with difficulty. "First, secretly you must find--" -The voice broke off, and though Danny shouted, it would not answer. - -A light flashed on the panel. PLEASE REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. THE PSYCH -SQUAD WILL SOON BE HERE. DON'T ATTEMPT VIOLENCE; IT WILL BE MET WITH -FORCE IF NECESSARY. YOU HAVE INDICATED YOU ARE AN ABNORMAL MEMBER OF -SOCIETY. - - * * * * * - -Padded arms swung from beneath the couch to enfold him, but he avoided -the clumsy efforts. He sprang to the door. It was locked. He shook it, -but it wasn't easily forced. He searched his pockets. Nothing to help -him. Next time he wouldn't come unprepared. - -Soft music crept into the narrow chamber. It was meant to be soothing; -under the circumstances it wasn't. Danny pounded wildly at the door. -The hinges gave a little, but not enough. - -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.... - - * * * * * - -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. - -Danny laid the mechanism on the ground and stamped on it -dispassionately. When the destruction was complete he scooped up the -remains and tossed the useless unit into a small stream that gurgled -nearby. - -His knees were weak. He buried his face in the grass and let sobs shake -him until there were no tears. He smoothed his hair and wiped his face -and got up. - -The way was not exactly clear, but he knew he was going to reach it. He -would have to do it alone. - - * * * * * - -There was always a chance a passerby might look into the entrance and -see him. Danny worked according to plan. He adjusted the ultraviolet -cell, fanning it out to a thin vertical beam of the proper height. He -sat it on the floor and aimed it at the dark stripe that looked like -a decoration but wasn't. It was a photo electric eye, continuous from -floor to ceiling. It was also, Danny knew, a minimum intensity circuit. -And that made it easier. - -Danny walked through the circuit, behind the cell he had set on the -floor. The alarm didn't ring. It wouldn't, as long as the eye received -an unbroken beam from any source. In the ultraviolet cell he had -provided such a source. - -He reached back and drew the cell toward him, carefully pointing it -at the dark stripe on the wall until his hand was safely through. He -snapped off the cell and hurried around the corner. He was beyond -chance human detection. - -He went on. There was a door, locked, as he expected. An old fashioned -lock, mechanical type, in keeping with the character of Music Hall. -It had been a good lock when it was made, nearly unpickable. Danny -inserted a wire device and listened. He turned, and the door swung -open. - -He stepped back a few feet in the darkness, ran, and jumped forward. -The lights did not go on. He had jumped far enough. It was merely a -pressure plate, designed to count visitors. But one visitor would -activate the auditorium staff. And that he didn't want. - -He closed the door behind him and made his way into the balcony by way -of a rest room. From the balcony he climbed into a box. From there a -little used passageway led to the stage. - -It was easy, ridiculously so. The piano was lighted by a soft violet -light, probably germicidal. Danny paused at the entrance to the -enclosure. - -It was useless to struggle against the hand, that, from nowhere, -fastened to his arm. He was no match for the strength of a robot. - -"I knew there was something wrong," said the caretaker. The face that -looked at Danny was dignified and kindly, if expressionless. - -Danny said nothing. - -"Humidity changes," muttered the robot caretaker. "Not much, but some -on three successive days. No one is supposed to be here. Can't have it. -Wood will rot and metal rust." It seemed vaguely disturbed. - -Danny squirmed. The caretaker took hold of both arms and looked -closer. "Why, it's human." It squeezed harder as if to test. - -Tears came to Danny's eyes. "I belong here," he said stubbornly. - -"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. - - * * * * * - -During the years that followed Danny practiced and played for his -own enjoyment. He did well in his conventional studies; that was a -matter of camouflage. Not so well, though, that he'd be selected for -specialization. That called for more real knowledge than he dared -show. He had to be a step ahead so that he could estimate what he was -supposed to know and then fit himself into the academic specifications. - -As he grew older his free time increased. He spent as much of it as -he could at Music Hall. Mornings, evenings, but mostly at night he -practiced. Even by the old forgotten standards he became an excellent -musician. It was a precarious existence; his mastery was sharpened by -the knowledge that he must never be discovered. - -During the year he was fourteen he attended a synthony; nothing unusual -in it, a routine matter. He sat in the balcony where he was less -conspicuous. The lights lowered and the conversation in Music Hall -slackened. - -On the stage came the Louis Armstrong Hot Five. Satchmo to the life, -all of them, from the first to the last recorded note. Two trumpets, a -cornet, and two singers. - -A trumpet soared out on a clean strong singing note and the other -trumpet danced above it with a clarinet effect. Satchmo again, this -time on the cornet, created a staccato growl in the lower register. And -Louis the singer, with uncanny rhythm and knowledge of vocal dynamics, -started the song. The fifth Armstrong backed the ensemble with an -obligato of scat. The Hot Five took it from there. - -It was an exhibition of free style counterpoint and melody that had -once been a part of traditional music. Lost for a time, found again by -jazz, heatedly denied and equally defended, it had at last returned to -its rightful place in the great company of music. - -Louis, the original Louis, would have been amazed by the performance. -Delighted by it, too. Because it was his, from beginning to end. -Every note, at one time or another, he had played, though not in that -sequence. He might have done it that way, had he, in the flesh, been -able to split himself into five parts, each as musically complete as -the others. - -The Caruso quartet followed. Danny listened as raptly as he had to -the first. Different music in each case, but melody was big enough to -include both performers. - -During intermission a girl twice his age attached herself to Danny. She -wouldn't have bothered had she known, but he was still big for his age. -It was easy to mistake physical size for maturity, youthful silence for -sophisticated taciturnity. - -She chattered gaily. "Don't you think it's wonderful?" - -He nodded mutely. - -"I mean, the world's great masters, all the time. Nothing second rate. -The best, any time you want them, of all the ages." - -"Not all the ages," he corrected. "What about Paganini?" - -"What about him?" she said. "Who's he?" - -He reconsidered swiftly. She wouldn't know about Paganini since he had -played before recorded music. "Some old virtuoso," he said offhandedly. -"I read about him. He was supposed to be good." - -"But as long as we haven't heard him we can't miss him," she said -cheerfully. - -It was too pat. "Not only that," he said. "You said masters of all -ages. What about the masters of today? Have you heard them? Where are -they?" - -"Why here," she said puzzledly. "At any synthony." - -"They're not," he said positively. "We're living with borrowed music. -Those composers knew nothing of the things that are familiar to us. -They never heard rockets coming in from Mars. Nor the hum of hundred -story farms. How could they compose the music that we need to hear?" - -The girl looked at him queerly, as if seeing him for the first time. -"You're very young," she said finally. "Most of us feel that way when -we're young." She touched him lightly. "You may be right, but keep your -views to yourself." She made her way back to the auditorium. - -Fortunately the synthony had begun. The audience had left the lobby; -none but the girl had heard him. Danny had said it, though, and having -done so, couldn't listen to the music. Casals, Menuhin, Heifetz, Sidney -Bechet, Szigetti, Segovia, and others were in the orchestra, but the -harmonies were meaningless and the melody, or rather the fusion of a -dozen older ones, was thin and hackneyed. - -The only composer of the twenty-third century sat in the body of a -fourteen year old boy and had nothing to compose on or for. - - * * * * * - -He went home, confused. What he had said was true, though this was the -first time he had recognized it. For several days he did not practice. -In the end he went back to the piano and played more fiercely. - -Much of his time he now spent in the experimental lab. He puttered with -sound and electronics in a seemingly aimless fashion. Outwardly nothing -came of this; in six months his interest waned. But in that period he -had built, secretly, a small device. - -It was not altogether new; it was a combination of several existing -sound systems, adapted to his purpose. But the application of the -device, that was new. - -It did not exist by and for itself; it was a supplement to an existing -musical instrument, the piano. It changed the range of the familiar -instrument, extended it, developed it. - -Danny concealed the electronic device in his room. Piece by piece -he took it to the Music Hall and installed it in the piano. When he -finished, to all outward appearances, the piano was unchanged. - -Hidden in the legs, concealed in the lid, disposed of in various -places, his attachment was safe from all but x-ray inspection. And -on such a time honored instrument that kind of an examination wasn't -likely. - -The switch had posed a problem. It couldn't be a mechanical type; -that was too difficult to hide. And even the best hidden switch might -accidentally be turned on. - -A sonic switch was the answer. A complete melody which, when played -through, would actuate his invention. The new sound system would then -be coupled to the old piano and a twenty-third century instrument -would be in operation. A piano, but more than the piano, beyond it. To -himself Danny called it a meta piano. - -The requirements of the actuating melody, the key that would operate -the sonic switch, were simple. It had to be a melody that was never -played. Something that had never been recorded in pre-music robot days, -or one of which no record had survived. - -Danny could read music, an accomplishment he'd taught himself. He -visualized a printed score he had once seen in a museum. He ran over it -once in his mind and he played it on the piano. The blank tape that was -a part of sounds were impressed on the his device. - -The melody was keyed in; thereafter, when it was played once, his -invention would be ready for operation. A time lapse would switch it -off. - -Danny arose and walked out of the enclosure. His work as an inventor -was done. His accomplishments as a musician were just beginning. - - * * * * * - -The next two years Danny learned the instrument. Each time he switched -it on with the key melody, playing until it was time to go, and then -leaving, secure in his knowledge that the passage of time would -disconnect his invention. He grew more assured of his technique, -expanding and developing it. He had been good before. How much he now -knew there was no way of gauging. He had no audience whose reaction he -could test. - -Of course there were the usual evening concerts. One night he sat in -the balcony listening aimlessly. He let conversations flow past without -actually hearing them. Background noise, an essential part of the scene -at Music Hall. - -Without knowing why, he became disturbed. Something was happening. He -listened more closely. Several times he heard it mentioned. And no one -but himself ought to know that. - -For the first time he glanced at the program he'd taken on entering. He -read through it with profound unease. - -"Tonight's audience will participate in the most exciting musical event -of the past generation. A new record has been found. The robot piano -master, Horowitz Rubinstein Paderewsky Art Tatum Rozenthal will have -a new technique added. Jelly Roll Morton will be integrated into the -composite musical personality. - -"The record was found several months ago during the excavation of a -twentieth century slum. Shattered into several hundred pieces, at first -it was not recognized. A keen student of music investigated, and, as -a result of modern research was able to restore it to the original -condition. - -"Transposed to the brain of the robot master, the work is presented -tonight for the first time in several centuries. Flee As A Bird To The -Mountain...." - -Danny laid the program down. A prophetic title. Advice that he ought to -take, if he could. Flee As A Bird.... That was the key melody; it would -bring in operation his invention, the meta piano. - -Automatically he arose. Not to leave; he couldn't do that. Once the -meta piano was played it would never be accessible. After that they -would guard it well, perhaps with a corps of robots. Moreover they -would discover the source of the new sounds. They would trace the parts -of the mechanism back to him. They wouldn't be lenient when they found -him. - -He had perhaps an hour in which to make certain the meta piano was not -played. - -He headed toward the box seats. He had to approach the piano from -backstage. It might be possible to cut the lights, and in the few -minutes of darkness wreck the concealed meta piano circuits. The piano -wouldn't be harmed; it would play as it always had. - -For the first time in his memory all the boxes were filled. A husky, -belligerent man glared at him. "I'm sorry," said Danny, "But--" - -"Sure, I know," said the occupant. "You want a better seat." He turned -away and began chatting with the girls at his side. - -Danny shrugged. That was no way to get backstage. He went downstairs. -Normally open, tonight the stage entrance was closed. Actually the -audience wasn't interested in the performers, but tradition lived long -and there was a press of spectators bent on conforming to it. - -Fifty minutes left and he still wasn't near the piano. He fought his -way outside and strolled speculatively along the building. The power -lines were underground, of course. And most likely there were several -alternative sources of power. Nothing he could do about that. - -On impulse he walked to the back of the building and whistled. The -caretaker opened the door and peered out cautiously. "Can't practice -tonight." - -"After the crowd goes home I can," said Danny. He walked in. Forty -minutes remained. - - * * * * * - -The audience had been all confusion. Backstage it was quiet. Robots -were efficient and silent. Tonight, however, a human announcer and one -technician were present. It was a complicating factor he hadn't counted -on. - -The power switches were hard to find. After several fruitless minutes, -dodging in and out of the corridors to avoid the human crew, Danny -sought out the caretaker. - -"Where is the switchboard?" he asked casually. - -"Thought you were a music robot," said the caretaker slowly. - -"I am," said Danny hastily. He whistled. - -The caretaker closed his eyes. "You're not supposed to know about such -things." The eyes remained closed. "Anyway, the switches are below. -Atom bomb shelter built hundreds of years ago and never used." The -eyes came open. "Know anything about atom bombs?" - -"Not a thing," said Danny and walked away. He knew about atom bombs but -he didn't have one. And short of that there was no way to interrupt the -power. - -Twenty-five minutes left, and it seemed impossible to get to the meta -piano circuits. - -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. - -He had read the program and knew what was to occur. An introductory -piano concerto and then the event of the evening. Or perhaps the -decade. It rated a human announcer and was probably broadcast to three -worlds. - -The important thing was the sequence of notes in Flee As A Bird. If it -were played exactly as he had keyed it in, the meta piano would go -into operation. Once they heard it the audience would never mistake it -for any other instrument. - -But the sequence was long. If he could alter it by as little as two -notes the sonic switch would not operate. It was worth trying. - -Outside the enclosure the announcer was making a speech. The audience -applauded and then it was his cue. - -He smiled ironically. He had never hoped for an audience, and now he -had one. It was a debut he didn't care for. - -He struck the opening bars of the concerto. The keys rippled under his -fingers. He played with the uninspired competence that was expected of -a music robot. - -It was time for the trumpets to come in, but they didn't. And the -violins were long overdue with a repeat of his opening phrase. The -orchestra was supposed to play with the piano and it wasn't doing so. -Danny looked at the audience; something was wrong: even they knew it. -What was it? Danny glanced over his shoulder at the orchestra. - -The robots stood there uneasily, dummy instruments poised. Not a sound -came from the mechanism concealed in their bodies. For some reason they -could not follow his lead. - -He let a note drop from his fingers and stared around. It wasn't going -the way he had planned. The announcer stepped into the gap. - -"Due to an unexpected technical failure, we are unable to present the -concerto as scheduled. There will be a brief delay and then the main -event of the evening will follow." - -Ad libbing, of course. The announcer didn't know what had happened. But -he had observed that Danny was playing and the orchestra was not. It -would seem logical to him that the fault lay in the orchestra and not -with the piano. - -Actually, Danny now realized, it was the reverse. The piano robot was -the leader of the orchestra. It _was_ different; it coordinated the -activities of the other robots, gave them the rhythm, a purpose. Better -musician or not, Danny couldn't fill that role. He was a man, not a -machine, and his mind did not function on an electronic level. - -Danny glanced at the wings of the stage. No matter what he did now he -was lost. The robot piano master stood out of sight of the audience -and the announcer, broken arms drooping. Beside him were half a dozen -members of the psych squad. - -The audience was restless, and puzzled. As full as the auditorium was, -there was room for a few more men who slipped in quietly and took their -stations by the exits. They were probably armed. - - * * * * * - -Danny faced the piano. They had come to hear an old melody, and he -would give it to them. Flee As A Bird To The Mountain. It was a New -Orleans funeral march, and that was fitting. It was the end of him as a -musician. - -He let the first notes roll off his fingers, slow. The music had been -buried three hundred years and it was still good. It hadn't been worn -out with too much listening. - -He got through the first chorus and the audience was listening. They -didn't know it, but it was human music they were responding to. - -The sonic switch closed and the meta piano took over. Danny had -built it and it was to the piano as the piano was to a harpsichord. -It was a solitary instrument but an orchestra couldn't compete with -it. The sounding board of the original piano was not big enough. It -was designed to use the whole building and the air within it as the -vibrating medium. He had never used the full force of it before. But he -did now. Now was the time; he had nothing to lose. - -He finished the New Orleans march on the meta piano and then let them -hear what music meant to him. His own compositions, carried around -in his memory because it was dangerous to let anyone know he could -write music. It was his audience and he was going to show them what -previously he had concealed. The technicians wouldn't have enough -presence of mind to cut him off the radio hookup. - -He played them harmonies no one ever thought of; not only what they -heard, but also what they couldn't hear. Overtones piled high on -overtones until the last in the series were out of reach of the human -ear. Maybe the ears of dogs or bats too, but that didn't matter. It -didn't matter either that humans couldn't hear it. It was there and it -affected them. - -It touched the auditory nerve endings and those nerves that had nothing -to do with the perception of sound. It moved with the hush of a comet -or shook like an exploding nucleus disrupts an atom. From the big -to the little and back again he took them on a musical tour of the -universe. No other charge than the price of admission. - -It was his first concert and probably his last. When it was over he -leaned against the meta piano; it became silent and changed back into -the ordinary instrument. - -The audience did not move and made no sound. He had expected some -reaction, but not this. He had hoped they would like it. - -He bowed his head in defeat. When he looked up the audience still had -not moved. But the piano master stood at the entrance to the enclosure. -"These can be replaced," the robot whispered, holding out his broken -hands. - -Then the piano master spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't -know anything about music. Will you teach me?" - -That was the signal the audience was waiting for; the applause came in -waves that would not stop. It engulfed Danny and brought him trembling -to his feet. The thunder of sound increased in intensity until it -seemed as if the very walls would crash with the vibration. And mingled -with it he heard a swelling chorus of human voices shouting a word long -buried but now resurrected; Bravo! Bravo--_Bravo!_ - -A smile crossed Danny's tense features and suddenly then he felt -relaxed; he glanced to the side of the stage, saw the piano robot -nodding approval, and beside the robot, the psych squad. The faces -had lost their sternness; there was an awe instead, and, Danny saw, -smiles.... - -Danny turned back to the audience and its continuing ovation. - -He bowed humbly.... - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MUSIC MASTER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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L. Wallace</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Music Master</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: F. L. Wallace</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 27, 2021 [eBook #66154]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MUSIC MASTER ***</div> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>THE MUSIC MASTER</h1> - -<h2>By F. L. Wallace</h2> - -<p>Robots could play an instrument, but they<br /> -could not write music—and Danny wanted to do<br /> -both—even if it meant facing the psych squad!</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy<br /> -December 1952<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>After the performers filed off stage the audience chattered politely -and drifted toward the exits. Danny Tocar looked up at his mother, and, -on impulse, detached his hand from hers and lingered behind. As long as -she was busy culturizing he wouldn't be missed. When the auditorium -was empty Danny made his way to the stage and stood among the -instruments. He stroked a violin, dark and shining. It was very heavy, -as if it were solid. It was solid. He touched the metallic ridges on -it. Funny. When he had sat in the audience those ridges had looked -like strings and had given out a pleasant sound. It made no sound for -him though, even when he drew the bow across it as the musician had -done.</p> - -<p>It was the same with the drum when he pounded it. It too was silent. -He frowned and tried the trumpet. He lifted the instrument to his lips -and puffed his cheeks and blew. Nothing happened at all. He examined it -intently and then sadly laid it down. It was fake. All the instruments -were toys, imitations of something that had once been real.</p> - -<p>The music had not been phony, though. He visualized the performance, -a harmony of motions as well as sound: bowing, plucking, striking, -blowing. Where had the music come from if not from the instruments? He -still remembered the synthony.</p> - -<p>There was one instrument much larger than the others. It was set on -a raised platform and looked different. He wandered toward it, and -discovered the enclosure. From the audience he hadn't noticed this; the -enclosure was hardly visible though he was leaning against it.</p> - -<p>He had experience with this sort of thing. A museum case; a guarantee -that whatever was inside was real. With practiced fingers he felt for -an invisible crevice in the transparent enclosure. A fingernail split, -but something swung open, and Danny was inside.</p> - -<p>He looked curiously at it. A large wooden instrument with white -markings along the front of it. Danny remembered how these had been -touched during the performance.</p> - -<p>He was good at imitation; Danny brought his fingers down the way he had -seen it done. The white things weren't markings: they were keys. The -sound rolled out into the empty auditorium. Startled, Danny jerked his -hands away. He didn't know it, but with those few notes he qualified -as the musical genius of a hundred years. The only human who, in that -time, had produced anything resembling music.</p> - -<p>Entranced, he listened. When the last echo was lost he felt empty. He -sat down on the stool and rubbed his cheek against the old instrument. -His hands couldn't stay away from the keyboard.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Meanwhile his mother strolled determinedly through Culture City. "I -just love the synthony don't you, Danny?" For the first time she -realized he wasn't with her. She looked around bewilderedly.</p> - -<p>"Don't worry," said her companion. "He can't be far. Probably in the -twentieth century section watching the electric signs."</p> - -<p>His mother laughed nervously. "Quaint, isn't it? Let's go. We have to -find him." She angled to the left, thinking she saw him through the -crowd. When she got there it was another little boy, not Danny at all.</p> - -<p>However she had a bit of luck. The commercial artist on the street was -temporarily vacant. She hesitated for a moment between her duty to find -Danny at once and her desire to own a real work of art. The middle aged -couple heading toward the booth decided her. Swiftly she inserted a -coin.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" said the deep gruff voice of the mechanism.</p> - -<p>"I'd like two pictures," she said.</p> - -<p>"Subject matter?"</p> - -<p>"One for a child's room. Danny Tocar, age 11. You have access to -personality records."</p> - -<p>"I do. But if you can give me some indication—"</p> - -<p>"Oh something by Roualt. That should be harmless."</p> - -<p>The robot artist noted that. "Daylight or night?"</p> - -<p>"Something that glows in the dark," she said.</p> - -<p>"And the other picture?"</p> - -<p>She considered. "Something different," she said. "Maybe a combined Miro -and Goya."</p> - -<p>"The two styles aren't compatible," warned the commercial artist.</p> - -<p>"Then make them compatible," she answered. "It's time the two were -reconciled."</p> - -<p>The commercial artist could not sigh. "Subject matter of the Miro-Goya -picture?"</p> - -<p>"A peaceful scene. Perhaps rockets to the moon."</p> - -<p>"Goya never heard of rockets," began the artist. "And while there was -talk of them during Miro's life—"</p> - -<p>"Project them," she insisted reasonably. "Project their perceptions -to the time of the first rocket to the moon. It's merely a matter of -analysis." She gave her name and address. She wasn't going to argue -with a robot.</p> - -<p>A relay in the artist clicked and sent a routine request for apartment -dimensions, color layout, furnishing arrangement. Simultaneously the -picture requirements were integrated. For the boy it was easy. The -elements of the original artist Roualt were reshuffled and the basic -night glowing pigments were selected.</p> - -<p>The Miro-Goya picture was harder. Trial and error were necessary. The -results would not be happy; a schizoid painting was bound to ensue. -It was the task of the commercial artist to see that the pictorial -insanity was not too evident.</p> - -<p>The middle aged couple stepped into the booth as Danny's mother left. -They ordered Grandma Moses and Norman Rockwell, sunny side up.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"Danny." She pounded against it. Danny looked up, his smile of -preoccupation fading. He came out.</p> - -<p>"It's a piano," said Danny.</p> - -<p>"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.</p> - -<p>"I've been careful," he said. "I don't want to break it."</p> - -<p>"Listen, Danny. Would you go near an atomic pile?"</p> - -<p>"No," he admitted.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He went past a night club, department store and beauty salon, twentieth -century middle period. His interest was casual.</p> - -<p>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. <i>Shoplifting is a crime punishable by law.</i> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He took coins from his pocket and inserted them, waiting for the -mechanism to warm up.</p> - -<p>"Name?" asked S.P. The voice had an old fashioned sound. A little too -hearty and friendly.</p> - -<p>"Danny."</p> - -<p>"Danny what?"</p> - -<p>"Just Danny."</p> - -<p>The machine answered slowly. "You have the privilege of remaining -anonymous. Please sit down."</p> - -<p>Danny sat down.</p> - -<p>"Identification."</p> - -<p>This didn't seem anonymous to Danny. Hesitantly he pressed his thumb -against the fingerprint plate.</p> - -<p>"That's satisfactory," said the machine. "The fingerprint is for my -files. I'll not try to trace you."</p> - -<p>Danny relaxed. The old machine <i>was</i> better for his purpose.</p> - -<p>"Certain data is necessary before you can be admitted to the consulting -chamber," said the S.P. "We'll keep it to a minimum. First your age?"</p> - -<p>This was critical. "Nineteen," said Danny readily.</p> - -<p>"That's young," said the machine thoughtfully. "You're aware that -persons under eighteen can't be treated?"</p> - -<p>He was aware. That's why he'd come to this machine. Presumably it -was less efficient than newer models, particularly in the detection -circuits.</p> - -<p>"You're still very young," continued the S.P. "My advice is to seek -help from your parents. If you don't want to do that, there's a free -public counselling service."</p> - -<p>Danny waited.</p> - -<p>"Then I will take you," said the machine. "As a sidewalk psychiatrist, -I have no choice. However, in view of your stated age I'll have to -check your mentality."</p> - -<p>The newer models of sidewalk psychiatrists did that automatically. -Under the direction of the machine Danny placed a clumsy device over -his head. He concentrated on thinking slowly and clearly. Above all, -clearly. The machine could not read his thoughts, but it could get an -encephalocurve which could be compared to standard ones.</p> - -<p>In time the sidewalk psychiatrist instructed him to remove the device. -"At least nineteen mentally," it announced. "Sometimes higher, much -higher. In other areas actually childish in configuration. Perhaps -that's why you need help."</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Danny.</p> - -<p>"You may enter the consulting chamber. Deposit the amount indicated at -the door."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Half of Danny's weekly allowance vanished in the coin slot. He went in -and lay down on the pneumatic couch. The voice was even friendlier than -it had been. He should have been reassured but wasn't.</p> - -<p>"Now, Danny. What's your problem?"</p> - -<p>He had carried it around with him for months. Once or twice he had -tried to talk to others about it. And promptly shut up when he had seen -where it was leading. He stirred restlessly. "Music," he mumbled.</p> - -<p>"You should learn to like it," said the machine. "It's essential for a -man of culture."</p> - -<p>"But I do like it," cried Danny. He remembered and lowered his voice. -"I like music," he whispered.</p> - -<p>"Then there's no problem. Listen to it and enjoy it."</p> - -<p>"But I do listen. Every chance I get."</p> - -<p>"Be more moderate," said the sidewalk psychiatrist. "Don't listen so -much or soon there'll be nothing you haven't heard."</p> - -<p>"I want to be a musician," said Danny.</p> - -<p>"A good hobby for a spaceman," said the sidewalk psychiatrist -approvingly.</p> - -<p>"It's not a hobby," said Danny. "And I don't want to be a spaceman."</p> - -<p>"Not a spaceman?" The sidewalk psychiatrist seemed surprised. "Mars and -Venus are settled. Last year a permanent colony was set up on Pluto. -And a few months ago a ship set out for the stars. Spacemen have a -glorious future."</p> - -<p>"I know it," said Danny. "But does everyone have to be a spaceman?"</p> - -<p>"No. Electronics is a good field. And then there's math."</p> - -<p>"I'm good in both of them," said Danny impatiently. "If I should tell -you what I've done—" He stopped. It wouldn't do to tell; that would -reveal he wasn't nineteen. "But I don't want to be any of those. Isn't -there room somewhere for a musician?"</p> - -<p>"You think other things are important. So, Danny?" The machine paused. -"You're right. There are stars inside that have to be reached." The -sidewalk psychiatrist pondered. "Then be what you want, Danny. Study -and listen. Maybe when you've heard everything there is, you'll wish -you hadn't. But you will be an authority."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to be an authority," yelled Danny. He didn't lower his -voice. "I want to be a musician."</p> - -<p>The machine seemed to be lost. "You mean you want to play an -instrument?"</p> - -<p>"That's it. Also, if I'm good enough, to compose music."</p> - -<p>"Compose?" said the machine. "Play? There's no way to do that. Even if -you could find an instrument, robots can play it better."</p> - -<p>"Robots can't play at all," said Danny. "They're machines. They merely -repeat the notes that men played long ago. And when they do it—" He -stopped. He wanted information, not an argument.</p> - -<p>He controlled his voice and spoke more slowly. "This is a hypothetical -question. How would I, or anyone, learn to be a musician?"</p> - -<p>"Don't ask that question."</p> - -<p>"But I did," said Danny. "It's not against the law."</p> - -<p>"But against custom," answered the S.P. "And that's stronger than you -think. It's the matrix out of which laws are formed."</p> - -<p>"I've paid you," said Danny. "Answer my question."</p> - -<p>The machine spoke with difficulty. "First, secretly you must find—" -The voice broke off, and though Danny shouted, it would not answer.</p> - -<p>A light flashed on the panel. PLEASE REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE. THE PSYCH -SQUAD WILL SOON BE HERE. DON'T ATTEMPT VIOLENCE; IT WILL BE MET WITH -FORCE IF NECESSARY. YOU HAVE INDICATED YOU ARE AN ABNORMAL MEMBER OF -SOCIETY.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Padded arms swung from beneath the couch to enfold him, but he avoided -the clumsy efforts. He sprang to the door. It was locked. He shook it, -but it wasn't easily forced. He searched his pockets. Nothing to help -him. Next time he wouldn't come unprepared.</p> - -<p>Soft music crept into the narrow chamber. It was meant to be soothing; -under the circumstances it wasn't. Danny pounded wildly at the door. -The hinges gave a little, but not enough.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Danny in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"Then go out slowly when they open the door. Hold your hands above your -head."</p> - -<p>"I can't," said Danny. "I hurt myself. I think it's my leg."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The S.P. seemed surprised. "What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to give myself up," he said. "You've got my fingerprints."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"Let me inside," said Danny. His voice broke.</p> - -<p>"Nonsense," said S.P. "The psych squad won't hurt you." Nevertheless -the reply was uncertain.</p> - -<p>"Please let me wait inside," begged Danny.</p> - -<p>"You may have a weapon," said S.P. slowly. "I can't take a chance."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Danny laid the mechanism on the ground and stamped on it -dispassionately. When the destruction was complete he scooped up the -remains and tossed the useless unit into a small stream that gurgled -nearby.</p> - -<p>His knees were weak. He buried his face in the grass and let sobs shake -him until there were no tears. He smoothed his hair and wiped his face -and got up.</p> - -<p>The way was not exactly clear, but he knew he was going to reach it. He -would have to do it alone.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was always a chance a passerby might look into the entrance and -see him. Danny worked according to plan. He adjusted the ultraviolet -cell, fanning it out to a thin vertical beam of the proper height. He -sat it on the floor and aimed it at the dark stripe that looked like -a decoration but wasn't. It was a photo electric eye, continuous from -floor to ceiling. It was also, Danny knew, a minimum intensity circuit. -And that made it easier.</p> - -<p>Danny walked through the circuit, behind the cell he had set on the -floor. The alarm didn't ring. It wouldn't, as long as the eye received -an unbroken beam from any source. In the ultraviolet cell he had -provided such a source.</p> - -<p>He reached back and drew the cell toward him, carefully pointing it -at the dark stripe on the wall until his hand was safely through. He -snapped off the cell and hurried around the corner. He was beyond -chance human detection.</p> - -<p>He went on. There was a door, locked, as he expected. An old fashioned -lock, mechanical type, in keeping with the character of Music Hall. -It had been a good lock when it was made, nearly unpickable. Danny -inserted a wire device and listened. He turned, and the door swung -open.</p> - -<p>He stepped back a few feet in the darkness, ran, and jumped forward. -The lights did not go on. He had jumped far enough. It was merely a -pressure plate, designed to count visitors. But one visitor would -activate the auditorium staff. And that he didn't want.</p> - -<p>He closed the door behind him and made his way into the balcony by way -of a rest room. From the balcony he climbed into a box. From there a -little used passageway led to the stage.</p> - -<p>It was easy, ridiculously so. The piano was lighted by a soft violet -light, probably germicidal. Danny paused at the entrance to the -enclosure.</p> - -<p>It was useless to struggle against the hand, that, from nowhere, -fastened to his arm. He was no match for the strength of a robot.</p> - -<p>"I knew there was something wrong," said the caretaker. The face that -looked at Danny was dignified and kindly, if expressionless.</p> - -<p>Danny said nothing.</p> - -<p>"Humidity changes," muttered the robot caretaker. "Not much, but some -on three successive days. No one is supposed to be here. Can't have it. -Wood will rot and metal rust." It seemed vaguely disturbed.</p> - -<p>Danny squirmed. The caretaker took hold of both arms and looked -closer. "Why, it's human." It squeezed harder as if to test.</p> - -<p>Tears came to Danny's eyes. "I belong here," he said stubbornly.</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"But I belong here," said Danny. "Honest. I'm a composer."</p> - -<p>"Recomposer," corrected the caretaker. "Robots don't compose. They -recompose."</p> - -<p>"I can recompose too," said Danny desperately. "I'm going to be a real -musician."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>"Let go," said Danny. "I'll play the piano."</p> - -<p>"First the music," said the caretaker. "Then I'll let go."</p> - -<p>"But I don't have an instrument."</p> - -<p>"Music robots don't need them. The notes are stored inside. They carry -an instrument for appearance only.</p> - -<p>"The piano master needs an instrument," argued Danny. "It's different. -It actually plays."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He stopped struggling; deliberately he relaxed—and whistled.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Danny swept into a currently popular recomposition. The caretaker let -go.</p> - -<p>Triumphantly Danny whistled on. He followed with a new tune he made up -as he went along.</p> - -<p>The caretaker sighed when Danny finished. "Then you really are a music -robot."</p> - -<p>"What else? Did you ever hear any human make music?"</p> - -<p>The caretaker shook its head and walked to the piano. "But why didn't -they tell me you're supposed to play here?"</p> - -<p>"Do they tell you anything about music? You're just the caretaker, you -know."</p> - -<p>A spark of suspicion remained. "Why do you need to practice? Other -robots don't."</p> - -<p>"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."</p> - -<p>The caretaker was satisfied. "All right. Play it, then." It adjusted -the humidity controls in the piano enclosure to compensate for the -increased moisture.</p> - -<p>"Can't," said Danny, conscious of time. "Tomorrow, maybe."</p> - -<p>"Tonight, if you want," suggested the caretaker.</p> - -<p>"Tonight will suit me fine," said Danny.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>During the years that followed Danny practiced and played for his -own enjoyment. He did well in his conventional studies; that was a -matter of camouflage. Not so well, though, that he'd be selected for -specialization. That called for more real knowledge than he dared -show. He had to be a step ahead so that he could estimate what he was -supposed to know and then fit himself into the academic specifications.</p> - -<p>As he grew older his free time increased. He spent as much of it as -he could at Music Hall. Mornings, evenings, but mostly at night he -practiced. Even by the old forgotten standards he became an excellent -musician. It was a precarious existence; his mastery was sharpened by -the knowledge that he must never be discovered.</p> - -<p>During the year he was fourteen he attended a synthony; nothing unusual -in it, a routine matter. He sat in the balcony where he was less -conspicuous. The lights lowered and the conversation in Music Hall -slackened.</p> - -<p>On the stage came the Louis Armstrong Hot Five. Satchmo to the life, -all of them, from the first to the last recorded note. Two trumpets, a -cornet, and two singers.</p> - -<p>A trumpet soared out on a clean strong singing note and the other -trumpet danced above it with a clarinet effect. Satchmo again, this -time on the cornet, created a staccato growl in the lower register. And -Louis the singer, with uncanny rhythm and knowledge of vocal dynamics, -started the song. The fifth Armstrong backed the ensemble with an -obligato of scat. The Hot Five took it from there.</p> - -<p>It was an exhibition of free style counterpoint and melody that had -once been a part of traditional music. Lost for a time, found again by -jazz, heatedly denied and equally defended, it had at last returned to -its rightful place in the great company of music.</p> - -<p>Louis, the original Louis, would have been amazed by the performance. -Delighted by it, too. Because it was his, from beginning to end. -Every note, at one time or another, he had played, though not in that -sequence. He might have done it that way, had he, in the flesh, been -able to split himself into five parts, each as musically complete as -the others.</p> - -<p>The Caruso quartet followed. Danny listened as raptly as he had to -the first. Different music in each case, but melody was big enough to -include both performers.</p> - -<p>During intermission a girl twice his age attached herself to Danny. She -wouldn't have bothered had she known, but he was still big for his age. -It was easy to mistake physical size for maturity, youthful silence for -sophisticated taciturnity.</p> - -<p>She chattered gaily. "Don't you think it's wonderful?"</p> - -<p>He nodded mutely.</p> - -<p>"I mean, the world's great masters, all the time. Nothing second rate. -The best, any time you want them, of all the ages."</p> - -<p>"Not all the ages," he corrected. "What about Paganini?"</p> - -<p>"What about him?" she said. "Who's he?"</p> - -<p>He reconsidered swiftly. She wouldn't know about Paganini since he had -played before recorded music. "Some old virtuoso," he said offhandedly. -"I read about him. He was supposed to be good."</p> - -<p>"But as long as we haven't heard him we can't miss him," she said -cheerfully.</p> - -<p>It was too pat. "Not only that," he said. "You said masters of all -ages. What about the masters of today? Have you heard them? Where are -they?"</p> - -<p>"Why here," she said puzzledly. "At any synthony."</p> - -<p>"They're not," he said positively. "We're living with borrowed music. -Those composers knew nothing of the things that are familiar to us. -They never heard rockets coming in from Mars. Nor the hum of hundred -story farms. How could they compose the music that we need to hear?"</p> - -<p>The girl looked at him queerly, as if seeing him for the first time. -"You're very young," she said finally. "Most of us feel that way when -we're young." She touched him lightly. "You may be right, but keep your -views to yourself." She made her way back to the auditorium.</p> - -<p>Fortunately the synthony had begun. The audience had left the lobby; -none but the girl had heard him. Danny had said it, though, and having -done so, couldn't listen to the music. Casals, Menuhin, Heifetz, Sidney -Bechet, Szigetti, Segovia, and others were in the orchestra, but the -harmonies were meaningless and the melody, or rather the fusion of a -dozen older ones, was thin and hackneyed.</p> - -<p>The only composer of the twenty-third century sat in the body of a -fourteen year old boy and had nothing to compose on or for.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He went home, confused. What he had said was true, though this was the -first time he had recognized it. For several days he did not practice. -In the end he went back to the piano and played more fiercely.</p> - -<p>Much of his time he now spent in the experimental lab. He puttered with -sound and electronics in a seemingly aimless fashion. Outwardly nothing -came of this; in six months his interest waned. But in that period he -had built, secretly, a small device.</p> - -<p>It was not altogether new; it was a combination of several existing -sound systems, adapted to his purpose. But the application of the -device, that was new.</p> - -<p>It did not exist by and for itself; it was a supplement to an existing -musical instrument, the piano. It changed the range of the familiar -instrument, extended it, developed it.</p> - -<p>Danny concealed the electronic device in his room. Piece by piece -he took it to the Music Hall and installed it in the piano. When he -finished, to all outward appearances, the piano was unchanged.</p> - -<p>Hidden in the legs, concealed in the lid, disposed of in various -places, his attachment was safe from all but x-ray inspection. And -on such a time honored instrument that kind of an examination wasn't -likely.</p> - -<p>The switch had posed a problem. It couldn't be a mechanical type; -that was too difficult to hide. And even the best hidden switch might -accidentally be turned on.</p> - -<p>A sonic switch was the answer. A complete melody which, when played -through, would actuate his invention. The new sound system would then -be coupled to the old piano and a twenty-third century instrument -would be in operation. A piano, but more than the piano, beyond it. To -himself Danny called it a meta piano.</p> - -<p>The requirements of the actuating melody, the key that would operate -the sonic switch, were simple. It had to be a melody that was never -played. Something that had never been recorded in pre-music robot days, -or one of which no record had survived.</p> - -<p>Danny could read music, an accomplishment he'd taught himself. He -visualized a printed score he had once seen in a museum. He ran over it -once in his mind and he played it on the piano. The blank tape that was -a part of sounds were impressed on the his device.</p> - -<p>The melody was keyed in; thereafter, when it was played once, his -invention would be ready for operation. A time lapse would switch it -off.</p> - -<p>Danny arose and walked out of the enclosure. His work as an inventor -was done. His accomplishments as a musician were just beginning.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next two years Danny learned the instrument. Each time he switched -it on with the key melody, playing until it was time to go, and then -leaving, secure in his knowledge that the passage of time would -disconnect his invention. He grew more assured of his technique, -expanding and developing it. He had been good before. How much he now -knew there was no way of gauging. He had no audience whose reaction he -could test.</p> - -<p>Of course there were the usual evening concerts. One night he sat in -the balcony listening aimlessly. He let conversations flow past without -actually hearing them. Background noise, an essential part of the scene -at Music Hall.</p> - -<p>Without knowing why, he became disturbed. Something was happening. He -listened more closely. Several times he heard it mentioned. And no one -but himself ought to know that.</p> - -<p>For the first time he glanced at the program he'd taken on entering. He -read through it with profound unease.</p> - -<p>"Tonight's audience will participate in the most exciting musical event -of the past generation. A new record has been found. The robot piano -master, Horowitz Rubinstein Paderewsky Art Tatum Rozenthal will have -a new technique added. Jelly Roll Morton will be integrated into the -composite musical personality.</p> - -<p>"The record was found several months ago during the excavation of a -twentieth century slum. Shattered into several hundred pieces, at first -it was not recognized. A keen student of music investigated, and, as -a result of modern research was able to restore it to the original -condition.</p> - -<p>"Transposed to the brain of the robot master, the work is presented -tonight for the first time in several centuries. Flee As A Bird To The -Mountain...."</p> - -<p>Danny laid the program down. A prophetic title. Advice that he ought to -take, if he could. Flee As A Bird.... That was the key melody; it would -bring in operation his invention, the meta piano.</p> - -<p>Automatically he arose. Not to leave; he couldn't do that. Once the -meta piano was played it would never be accessible. After that they -would guard it well, perhaps with a corps of robots. Moreover they -would discover the source of the new sounds. They would trace the parts -of the mechanism back to him. They wouldn't be lenient when they found -him.</p> - -<p>He had perhaps an hour in which to make certain the meta piano was not -played.</p> - -<p>He headed toward the box seats. He had to approach the piano from -backstage. It might be possible to cut the lights, and in the few -minutes of darkness wreck the concealed meta piano circuits. The piano -wouldn't be harmed; it would play as it always had.</p> - -<p>For the first time in his memory all the boxes were filled. A husky, -belligerent man glared at him. "I'm sorry," said Danny, "But—"</p> - -<p>"Sure, I know," said the occupant. "You want a better seat." He turned -away and began chatting with the girls at his side.</p> - -<p>Danny shrugged. That was no way to get backstage. He went downstairs. -Normally open, tonight the stage entrance was closed. Actually the -audience wasn't interested in the performers, but tradition lived long -and there was a press of spectators bent on conforming to it.</p> - -<p>Fifty minutes left and he still wasn't near the piano. He fought his -way outside and strolled speculatively along the building. The power -lines were underground, of course. And most likely there were several -alternative sources of power. Nothing he could do about that.</p> - -<p>On impulse he walked to the back of the building and whistled. The -caretaker opened the door and peered out cautiously. "Can't practice -tonight."</p> - -<p>"After the crowd goes home I can," said Danny. He walked in. Forty -minutes remained.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The audience had been all confusion. Backstage it was quiet. Robots -were efficient and silent. Tonight, however, a human announcer and one -technician were present. It was a complicating factor he hadn't counted -on.</p> - -<p>The power switches were hard to find. After several fruitless minutes, -dodging in and out of the corridors to avoid the human crew, Danny -sought out the caretaker.</p> - -<p>"Where is the switchboard?" he asked casually.</p> - -<p>"Thought you were a music robot," said the caretaker slowly.</p> - -<p>"I am," said Danny hastily. He whistled.</p> - -<p>The caretaker closed his eyes. "You're not supposed to know about such -things." The eyes remained closed. "Anyway, the switches are below. -Atom bomb shelter built hundreds of years ago and never used." The -eyes came open. "Know anything about atom bombs?"</p> - -<p>"Not a thing," said Danny and walked away. He knew about atom bombs but -he didn't have one. And short of that there was no way to interrupt the -power.</p> - -<p>Twenty-five minutes left, and it seemed impossible to get to the meta -piano circuits.</p> - -<p>The robot piano master was his last hope. Disable it and the critical -part of the program would have to be cancelled.</p> - -<p>Danny started the search. The music robots, motionless and silent, were -seated near the orchestra entrance. The piano robot was not with them.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Piano master." Danny straightened up. The human announcer was outside -the door.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>"Piano Master." The voice was louder, more insistent.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" Danny muffled his voice, spoke through the music.</p> - -<p>"The program will begin in ten minutes."</p> - -<p>"I know. I'll be there."</p> - -<p>"The music committee is waiting to accompany you. When will you be -ready?"</p> - -<p>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."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>He had read the program and knew what was to occur. An introductory -piano concerto and then the event of the evening. Or perhaps the -decade. It rated a human announcer and was probably broadcast to three -worlds.</p> - -<p>The important thing was the sequence of notes in Flee As A Bird. If it -were played exactly as he had keyed it in, the meta piano would go -into operation. Once they heard it the audience would never mistake it -for any other instrument.</p> - -<p>But the sequence was long. If he could alter it by as little as two -notes the sonic switch would not operate. It was worth trying.</p> - -<p>Outside the enclosure the announcer was making a speech. The audience -applauded and then it was his cue.</p> - -<p>He smiled ironically. He had never hoped for an audience, and now he -had one. It was a debut he didn't care for.</p> - -<p>He struck the opening bars of the concerto. The keys rippled under his -fingers. He played with the uninspired competence that was expected of -a music robot.</p> - -<p>It was time for the trumpets to come in, but they didn't. And the -violins were long overdue with a repeat of his opening phrase. The -orchestra was supposed to play with the piano and it wasn't doing so. -Danny looked at the audience; something was wrong: even they knew it. -What was it? Danny glanced over his shoulder at the orchestra.</p> - -<p>The robots stood there uneasily, dummy instruments poised. Not a sound -came from the mechanism concealed in their bodies. For some reason they -could not follow his lead.</p> - -<p>He let a note drop from his fingers and stared around. It wasn't going -the way he had planned. The announcer stepped into the gap.</p> - -<p>"Due to an unexpected technical failure, we are unable to present the -concerto as scheduled. There will be a brief delay and then the main -event of the evening will follow."</p> - -<p>Ad libbing, of course. The announcer didn't know what had happened. But -he had observed that Danny was playing and the orchestra was not. It -would seem logical to him that the fault lay in the orchestra and not -with the piano.</p> - -<p>Actually, Danny now realized, it was the reverse. The piano robot was -the leader of the orchestra. It <i>was</i> different; it coordinated the -activities of the other robots, gave them the rhythm, a purpose. Better -musician or not, Danny couldn't fill that role. He was a man, not a -machine, and his mind did not function on an electronic level.</p> - -<p>Danny glanced at the wings of the stage. No matter what he did now he -was lost. The robot piano master stood out of sight of the audience -and the announcer, broken arms drooping. Beside him were half a dozen -members of the psych squad.</p> - -<p>The audience was restless, and puzzled. As full as the auditorium was, -there was room for a few more men who slipped in quietly and took their -stations by the exits. They were probably armed.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Danny faced the piano. They had come to hear an old melody, and he -would give it to them. Flee As A Bird To The Mountain. It was a New -Orleans funeral march, and that was fitting. It was the end of him as a -musician.</p> - -<p>He let the first notes roll off his fingers, slow. The music had been -buried three hundred years and it was still good. It hadn't been worn -out with too much listening.</p> - -<p>He got through the first chorus and the audience was listening. They -didn't know it, but it was human music they were responding to.</p> - -<p>The sonic switch closed and the meta piano took over. Danny had -built it and it was to the piano as the piano was to a harpsichord. -It was a solitary instrument but an orchestra couldn't compete with -it. The sounding board of the original piano was not big enough. It -was designed to use the whole building and the air within it as the -vibrating medium. He had never used the full force of it before. But he -did now. Now was the time; he had nothing to lose.</p> - -<p>He finished the New Orleans march on the meta piano and then let them -hear what music meant to him. His own compositions, carried around -in his memory because it was dangerous to let anyone know he could -write music. It was his audience and he was going to show them what -previously he had concealed. The technicians wouldn't have enough -presence of mind to cut him off the radio hookup.</p> - -<p>He played them harmonies no one ever thought of; not only what they -heard, but also what they couldn't hear. Overtones piled high on -overtones until the last in the series were out of reach of the human -ear. Maybe the ears of dogs or bats too, but that didn't matter. It -didn't matter either that humans couldn't hear it. It was there and it -affected them.</p> - -<p>It touched the auditory nerve endings and those nerves that had nothing -to do with the perception of sound. It moved with the hush of a comet -or shook like an exploding nucleus disrupts an atom. From the big -to the little and back again he took them on a musical tour of the -universe. No other charge than the price of admission.</p> - -<p>It was his first concert and probably his last. When it was over he -leaned against the meta piano; it became silent and changed back into -the ordinary instrument.</p> - -<p>The audience did not move and made no sound. He had expected some -reaction, but not this. He had hoped they would like it.</p> - -<p>He bowed his head in defeat. When he looked up the audience still had -not moved. But the piano master stood at the entrance to the enclosure. -"These can be replaced," the robot whispered, holding out his broken -hands.</p> - -<p>Then the piano master spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't -know anything about music. Will you teach me?"</p> - -<p>That was the signal the audience was waiting for; the applause came in -waves that would not stop. It engulfed Danny and brought him trembling -to his feet. The thunder of sound increased in intensity until it -seemed as if the very walls would crash with the vibration. And mingled -with it he heard a swelling chorus of human voices shouting a word long -buried but now resurrected; Bravo! Bravo—<i>Bravo!</i></p> - -<p>A smile crossed Danny's tense features and suddenly then he felt -relaxed; he glanced to the side of the stage, saw the piano robot -nodding approval, and beside the robot, the psych squad. The faces -had lost their sternness; there was an awe instead, and, Danny saw, -smiles....</p> - -<p>Danny turned back to the audience and its continuing ovation.</p> - -<p>He bowed humbly....</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MUSIC MASTER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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