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....