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.