The Great Interactive Dream Machine by Richard Peck

misplaced.”
    That was truly spooky and a little bit sad, but I wasn’t so worried about the poker now. Miss Mather pulled herself together.
    â€œI would never be so forgetful as to let Nanky-Poo out. I am not that far gone. You two got in here somehow by jimmying the locks on my door. There is no other explanation.”
    We jimmied all three locks? Inside locks with bolts?
    â€œI have observed you both since you were infants. I knew even then that you were trouble in the making.”
    She touched her chin with one finger. Her nails hadn’t been red for as long as we’d lived. “It is no use my informing your parents. They clearly have no control over you. I expect they are asleep in their beds this minute.”
    I hoped so.
    â€œThe trouble with children today is that they still have too much energy by bedtime. In my day, children were tired at night.”
    We sat there while Miss Mather decided what to do with us. I still thought she might call 911. I thought we might be booked on a breaking and entering. My hands tingled as they thought about being fingerprinted.
    â€œYou cannot walk out of here scot-free, of course,” she said. “There is no question of that. I must think of a punishment to fit your crime.”
    She snapped her fingers. “Of course,” she said. “I will put you in charge of taking Nanky-Poo on her afternoon walk, since you are both so interested in her welfare. She likes to get out, you know.”
    We knew.
    â€œShe must ride in her carrier bag, naturally. She isn’t allowed on the sidewalk. The sidewalks are filthy now. But you may take her to a pleasant, grassy spot in the park where...”
    â€œShe can do her business,” Aaron said.
    â€œAs you say,” Miss Mather said. “Four o’clock sharp for the foreseeable future.”
    The foreseeable future stretched ahead of us for as far as we could see.
    â€œOtherwise I shall have to call your parents in for a rather painful interview.” Miss Mather turned on her heel back to the fireplace and replaced the poker with a clang. “And now you’d both better be off. It is well past your bedtimes, if you had bedtimes.”
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    Then we were out in the hall, and my head was pounding. “Miss Mather every day at four o’clock? I’d rather be grounded. At least I was in Mom’s custody. Even soccer camp doesn’t look that bad to me now.”
    Aaron was doing his duck walk down the hall.
    â€œAnd now what?” I said. “Is that little guy in the buttons and the hat going to be running the elevator?”
    â€œAre you kidding?” Aaron said. “He’d be like seventy years old now and retired from some other job. He’s probably down in Florida eating early-bird dinners. Josh, the last time we stepped on that elevator, it was 1942.”
    â€œSo it’s like that story I told you about the Dakota apartment building, when the guy looks up at his window and sees the chandelier from gaslight days. It’s like that.”
    â€œIt’s nothing like that.” Aaron rang for the elevator. “That was fiction. This is fact. That was rumor. This is real. That was myth. This is—”
    â€œAaron, talk to me. Tell me why. Ten minutes ago it was 1942. Now it’s not. Spell it out.”
    â€œElectronically—”
    â€œNo. In English.”
    â€œJosh, the past, the present, and the future are a multiple program running concurrently, with peripherals. Lacking an electronic nudge, the human brain processes sequentially, a nanosecond at a time with tunnel vision. But all times are happening at the same time.”
    â€œThanks a lot for clearing that up, Aaron.”
    The door opened, and it was our regular elevator, empty and automated. We got in.
    â€œAnd tonight was the best example of electronically nudged, emotionally driven time slip we’ve had so far. Do you realize—”
    â€œAaron, all I