by Paige Britt
“So you said,” Dill replied and reached for more cheese.
“But we can’t stay here forever,” Penelope blurted out.
“Why not?” asked the Timekeeper and then, before Penelope could
answer, he dropped into a snoring heap on the table.
Dill munched away on his dinner, but Penelope had lost her appetite.
“What are we going to do?” she asked. “I didn’t see one possible escape
route. What’s our plan now? Grow wings and fly away? Another day like today
and I’ll turn into a Clockworker!”
“Not to worry,” said Dill with a tap on his forehead. “I have a plan.”
“Let me guess. It involves mushrooms?” Penelope tried to keep the sar-
casm out of her voice, but it crept in all the same.
“Of course it does! Lucky for us, I have an emergency supply.” Dill reached
into his breast pocket and held out something for Penelope to see. It was a dark
amber bottle with a black dropper for a lid. A paper label read:
mushroom
spores.
Penelope stared at Dill. They were stuck in prison on the verge of becom-
ing Clockworkers and he wanted to save them with mushroom spores? It was all
too much!
“I don’t want to hear any more about mushrooms!” she shouted. “They won’t
get us out of here! They won’t save your meadow or the Range of Possibilities
and they won’t help us find the Great Moodler!”
The Timekeeper sat bolt upright in his chair. “Did you say, ‘Great
Moodler’?”
Before Penelope could answer, a whispering sound like the rustling of
trees before a storm filled the air. The sound moved from cell to cell, growing
louder as it went.
“What is that?” asked Penelope in a low, frightened voice. She wasn’t sure
she wanted to know the answer, which was just as well, because no one replied.
They all sat listening, mouths hanging open, heads cocked to one side.
The whisper grew to a low rumble, and then — click — the lights went
out. The darkness didn’t dampen the sound. In fact, it grew louder. The rumble
became a roar like rushing water, and the walls of the prison began to shake.
Just when it seemed the walls would break, the sound stopped and a hush, like
a layer of fine dust, settled all around them.
As loud and frightening as the noise had been, the silence was even worse.
A mousy squeak burst from Penelope’s lips. She clamped her hand over
her mouth and peered into the darkness. Thousands upon thousands of shining
eyes peered back.
“You’ve woken them,” whispered the Timekeeper.
Penelope peeled her hand away from her mouth. “Woken what?” she
managed to say.
“The Fancies. This prison is full of them.”
“What?” asked Dill in surprise. “You mean those dust bunnies sleeping in
the cells are Fancies?”
“Indeed,” said the Timekeeper. He got up from his chair and shuffled to the
cell door, careful not to trip over his trailing beard. The Fancies had somehow
managed to escape their cells and were crowding the halls, chattering loudly.
The Timekeeper reached through the bars and began to pet the tiny creatures.
“How can these be Fancies?” said Dill, joining the Timekeeper at the door.
“The Fancies I remember were glorious. Magnificent. Astonishingly beautiful.”
“If they’re so wonderful,” said Penelope, “why are there warning signs
everywhere? Are they dangerous?”
“Some would say they’re dangerous,” answered the Timekeeper. “They
certainly are powerful, but only if they’re fed. Which of course they’re not.
Or at least not anymore. That’s why they’re so thin and drab.”
“What exactly do they eat?” asked Penelope. She wanted to know just how
dangerous these little creatures were.
chapter fifteen
“Tickles,” said Dill.
“Tickles?” Penelope let out a nervous laugh. When she did, the Fancies
began, for just the briefest moment, to glow.
“That’s the spirit!” said the Timekeeper.
The Fancies hummed and twittered with pleasure.
“It used to be everyone had their very own Fancy. People tickled them
quite regularly and rode them on great adventures. Just like Dill said, they were
beautiful — huge and fluffy with wild colors and even wilder antics. But feeding
the Fancies was declared Impossible long ago and so they withered away to
almost nothing. It wasn’t long before they were rounded up and imprisoned as
a public nuisance. Now all they do is sleep. I’m sure they haven’t been fed for . . .”
The Timekeeper searched for the exact time and finally decided on “eons.”
Penelope got up and cautiously approached the bars. All the eyes turned
in her direction. “How did they get out of their cells?” she asked.
“Oh, my, no cell can keep the Fancies from being free,” replied the
Timekeeper. “They stay inside the tower because they’re simply too weak to go
anywhere else. It would take something extraordinary — something truly
Impossible — to fatten them up enough to fly away. But that will never happen.
Chronos has seen to that.”
At the sound of Chronos’s name, there was a rushing sound like a
thousand birds taking flight, and the Fancies scattered back to their cells. “Ah,
well, there they go,” said the Timekeeper. He turned toward the table, and Dill
helped him to his seat.
“The sound of the Great Moodler’s name must have woken them,” said the
Timekeeper. “I’m sure they miss her terribly. As do I.”
“You do?” said Dill, nearly dropping the Timekeeper into his chair.
“Of course I do! Oh, I suppose that’s Impossible, too,” he said with a wave
of his hand, “but ever since I lost track of time, I haven’t cared a whit for
Chronos’s decrees. The Great Moodler moodled up the most beautiful possibili-
ties. What’s the harm in that?”
Dill and Penelope both sat down and leaned over the table toward
the Timekeeper. “Tell me,” said Penelope, “do you happen to know where the
Great Moodler might be?”
The Timekeeper let out an enormous yawn and then answered, “Certainly!”
“Where?!” Dill and Penelope shouted at once.
But the Timekeeper was already asleep, his chin resting on his chest, his
head swaying slightly with each breath.
Dill cleared his throat loudly, and the Timekeeper started awake. “Is it
time to eat yet?”
“Not yet,” said Dill.
The Timekeeper looked longingly at the remnants of dinner on the table.
“Pity,” he said, picking up an empty plate. “I haven’t eaten in three years. Or
maybe it’s been three hours. Can’t really say.”
“You were just telling us about the Great Moodler,” Dill interrupted him.
“Was I? Wonderful lady. I just saw her . . . um . . . er . . . yesterday.”
Neither Dill nor Penelope bothered to contradict him.
“Can you tell us where she is?” Penelope pressed.
“She’s outside the Realm of Possibility. Completely outside . . .” His voice
trailed off and his eyes began to droop.
“But how do we get outside the Realm of Possibility?” Dill asked.
“Impossible
to say. Completely” — yawn — “impossible.”
“It’s very important that we find her,” insisted Penelope.
The Timekeeper patted her on the arm. “I’m sure you’ll find her in
no-time.” He settled back into his chair and closed his eyes.
“Wait a minute,” cried Penelope. “You said yourself, there’s no such thing
as ‘no-time.’ ”
One eye opened. “Did I?”
“You did.”
The second eye opened. “Well, that’s not entirely true. There is no-time like
the present. You can bring one about, if you know what you’re doing and you’re
very lucky. But you have to do something very drastic and very dangerous.”
“Go on!” urged Penelope. “Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”
The Timekeeper stroked his considerable beard. “You see, a no-time will
only occur if you stop time altogether. Once you stop time, you’ll be completely
outside the Realm of Possibility. That’s where you’ll find the Great Moodler. It’s
difficult to do, mind you, but it can be done. Did I mention it was dangerous?”
“You did, you did,” Dill and Penelope said, rushing to assure him.
“Well, if you’re determined to do it, here’s what you’ll have to do: First
you’ll need to climb to the top of the clock tower. Once you’re there . . .” The
Timekeeper’s face suddenly disappeared into the most enormous yawn.
Please don’t fall asleep. Please don’t fall asleep, prayed Penelope.
When the yawn was over, the Timekeeper propped his head in his hands
and continued. “Once you’re there, you’ll need to find the door leading outside.
It’s very small. Go through it. You’ll be standing directly under the north clock.
Now, the next step is very important. If you want to create a no-time, you’ll have
to . . .” Just then the Timekeeper’s head slipped out of his hands and dipped
down before snapping up again.
Dill and Penelope held their breath.
“You’ll have to . . . you’ll have to . . .” The Timekeeper’s body fell
forward and his head hit the table with a soft thunk.
“Mr. Timekeeper?” Penelope gave the sleeping man a gentle shake. She
was met by the sound of snoring.
“This is bad. Rotten. No good,” said Dill, wringing his hands. “We almost
had him.”
Penelope wasn’t listening. She took a deep breath and then shouted at the
top of her lungs,
“WAKE UP!!”
The Timekeeper jolted awake.
“Once we’re under the clock, what do we do?” Penelope begged, clutch-
ing his arm.
For a brief moment he looked at her, eyes wide. “Hold
on a second . . .” he mumbled.
So Penelope did. She sat and waited for him, listening for his final words.
But they never came. The Timekeeper collapsed onto the table and was imme-
diately engulfed in a tide of sleep, and no amount of shaking would wake him.
— — —
Dill and Penelope stayed up late discussing what they’d learned from the
Timekeeper. They both agreed they couldn’t work around the clock another
day. The constant ticking was so overwhelming that if they didn’t do something
immediately, they would turn into Clockworkers and never find the Great
Moodler or see the Coo-Coo ever again! If the Timekeeper didn’t wake up and
finish giving them instructions by the time Officer X returned, they would
have to go on without him. The risk of waiting was too great.
Penelope offered to be the one to find the door. The Timekeeper had said
the door was tiny, and that meant Penelope was the one more likely to see it.
In the meantime, Dill would create a diversion to keep the Clockworkers from
interfering in the search. Once Penelope found the door, they would go through
it and position themselves outside the tower under the north clock. There they
would figure out how to bring about the no-time. From what the Timekeeper
had said, once they caused a no-time they would be outside the Realm of
Possibility entirely. That’s where they’d find the Great Moodler.
How she fell asleep that night, Penelope never knew. She must have,
though, because morning came and a new day began just like the one before.
The intercom announced it was time to get up, breakfast was served, and, as
usual, the Timekeeper slept through it all. Both Dill and Penelope tried to rouse
him. They waved toast in front of his nose, pulled his beard, and dropped
silverware next to his ears. They were both singing as loudly as they could
and marching around the table when Officer X came to collect them.
“Hop to it!” Officer X shouted, rattling the cell door and bringing them
to attention.
They obediently filed out of the cell and down the corridor. When
Officer X wasn’t looking, Penelope stole quick peeks at the Fancies. There they
were — small, drab, gray creatures, all sound asleep. Did they really rush out
of their cells last night? It hardly seemed possible.
They exited the prison and once again made their way down the empty
hall toward the alcove. Dill took long, quick steps, and Penelope had to
practically jog to keep up, but she didn’t mind. Watching Officer X scurry after
him, red-faced and scowling, was enough to lift her spirits. This little
distraction didn’t last long, however. Soon they were through the round door,
up the stairs, and waiting at the threshold of the clock room.
“In you go,” said Officer X, shoving them inside, clearly glad to be rid
of them.
The Clockworker who was waiting to receive them bowed with typical
exaggerated politeness. Penelope couldn’t tell whether it was the same one as
the day before. They all looked disturbingly similar. While the Clockworker
escorted them to their stations, Penelope tried to look for the tiny door. But the
Clockworker kept politely redirecting her steps.
Once they took their places at the conveyor belt, Penelope felt the tug of
the familiar rhythm. Tick-tock-tick-tock. In a matter of moments, the ticking
of the clock felt like the beat of her own heart. She knew it wouldn’t be long
before it took over completely. They would have to act soon if they were going
to act at all.
Penelope looked up from her work to catch Dill’s eye. To her surprise, he
was standing idly by, fiddling with his ears. The Clockworkers on either side of
him were still moving at their steady rhythm, sorting tokens. But without
Dill’s help, they couldn’t keep up. Soon the conveyor belt was strewn with
loose time.
Two of the Clockworkers with silver badges climbed down from their
platform and walked deliberately toward Dill. “Back-to-work-if-you-please,”
they repeated over and over as they drew near.
Dill paid them no mind. He picked up a time piece, looked it over, and
bit it gently. He made a nasty face and picked up a second token. He held a token
in each hand, palms up. He moved his hands up and down, as if comparing
their weight.
The Clockworkers were almost upon him, and Penelope knew her time
had come. Dill looked right at her and gave her a wink. Then, much to her
surprise, he grabbed a whole handful of tokens and stuffed them into his sui
t
pockets.
The two official-looking Clockworkers rushed at Dill. “Stop-right-now!
Steal-ing-time-is-for-bid-den.”At that moment, a gigantic alarm clock began to
ring furiously. It was louder than a freight train and accompanied by all sorts of
flashing lights and warning bells.
The Clockworkers didn’t seem to know what to do when something
out of the ordinary happened. They stood frozen at their stations while the
siren wailed.
This was the diversion Penelope was waiting for! She dropped down on all
fours and crawled under the conveyor belt. Once she was out of the way of
all the commotion, she popped out the other side and ran. She didn’t know
which was the north clock, so she decided to run around the perimeter of the
room until she found the door. Suddenly a Clockworker stepped out from
behind a tangle of thick wires connected to the time machine. “If-you-will-
excuse-me,” he said, moving in front of Penelope and blocking her path. He
held a very large wrench in one hand and an oilcan in the other.
Penelope’s mind raced. Use your head! she told herself. Fight fire with
fire! What fire did the Clockworkers have besides their stiff, unrelenting
politeness?
Well, decided Penelope, I can be polite, too. She turned toward the
Clockworker and smiled sweetly. “May I please borrow your wrench?” she asked.
“But-of-course.” The Clockworker held it out.
“Thank you so much.” Once Penelope had the wrench firmly in her grasp
she threw it as hard as she could into the heaving mass of gears running the time
machine. She heard a loud clang followed by a clunk and then a horrible screech.
“You’ve been ever so kind,” said Penelope with a curtsy and then bolted
past the confused Clockworker. She could hear the engine slowing as it tried
to spit out the wrench. Please let that buy me some time. Please, please, please, she
thought and ran toward the nearest clock. Each clock was framed in brick, and
Penelope figured that the door, if there really was a door, would have to be set