The Great Interactive Dream Machine by Richard Peck Page B

I closed the door. I probably looked reasonably big to him. Next to Aaron, he’s the shortest kid in our grade, and the scrawniest.
    â€œI just wanted to play some SimCity,” he squawked.
    â€œFishface, can’t you read?” Aaron’s hands were on his hips. “Both computers are down.”
    â€œGive me a break,” Fishface said. “You put that sign up yourself. It’s common knowledge. You think you own the computer room. Anyway, Mrs. Newbery said I could.”
    â€œMrs. Newbery’s at the American Library Association national convention as we speak,” Aaron snapped. “She didn’t tell you squat.”
    Now Fishface and Aaron were nose to nose. In a way, it was funny. “Oh yeah?” they were snarling at each other. “Oh yeah?”
    â€œGet out of here before I lose my temper,” Aaron said.
    Fishface left.
    Aaron was really hot under the collar. I personally thought he was overreacting. “Aaron, if you’re starting to suspect Fishface of being The Watcher, you’re going to have to suspect everybody on the Upper East Side.”
    â€œI do.” Now Aaron was snapping at me.
    I got him out of there. He needed some air. I needed lunch. We went to the deli, where he could graze the takeout salad bar and I could grab a BLT-double-mayo-to-go. We went to do lunch on our rock in the park. We wandered around. Before you knew it, it was time to report for dog duty. As Aaron said, being hung up between Mr. Thaw and Miss Mather set up a real matrix.
    We were a couple of minutes late, and Miss Mather was looking at her watch when she opened the door. Nanky-Poo’s topknot just cleared the carrier bag as she was handed over. Aaron was still carrying his ThinkPad, so I had to carry her.
    â€œDon’t let her jump out into traffic,” he said as we crossed Fifth Avenue. “Having to bring her back to Miss Mather three feet long and an inch thick with tread marks is all we need.”
    We made it to a little grassy spot in the park. Nanky-Poo peeled out of her carrier bag. She knew we were stuck with her, so she went sniffing around, taking her time. We dropped down for some sun, and Aaron flipped open his ThinkPad.
    â€œAaron, give it a rest.”
    â€œI’m just trying to reconstruct whatever I entered that put Nanky-Poo in my lap and sent Miss Mather back to—”
    â€œAaron, whatever your formula did has stuck us with dog duty for the foreseeable—”
    â€œBut last night was a giant leap forward.”
    â€œI thought it was 1942. That’s a giant leap backward.”
    â€œIn this case, backward is forward.”
    I kept an eye on Nanky-Poo in case she got ideas about wandering off.
    â€œWe’re seeing a clear pattern here,” Aaron said. “First Ophelia and Heather, then you and me. Now Nanky-Poo and Miss Mather. Get it?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIt’s a two-for-one deal every time. My formula’s still cuckoo, but one thing’s certain. As things stand now, it takes the Emotional Component of two people to line up with my numbers.”
    â€œSome of those people are dogs,” I pointed out.
    â€œWhatever.”
    â€œBut then why did Nanky-Poo come up to the penthouse while Miss Mather went back in time?”
    â€œThat’s basic,” Aaron said. “That’s like fifth grade. You can figure that.”
    I gave it a shot. “You mean that Nanky-Poo cellular-reorganized up to your microprocessors because when Miss Mather went back to 1942, it was before Nanky-Poo existed? Like Nanky-Poo was running for her life?”
    â€œBingo,” Aaron said, pointing at my brain. “Of course, she’d probably have been okay curled up in a quiet corner, but she panicked.
    â€œMiss Mather was running for her life too, in a way. And it really booted up her Emotional Component. My formula could have picked up her signal a mile away. Her biggest wish in life is to go