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."