Rodney shook his head. “No. I think it was the Professor’s machine — the Age Altertron — that did it.”
“Well, whoever or whatever did it, Mama now has to take very tiny steps when she walks. It took her three-and-a-half minutes just to get from her bed to the bathroom. How will she be able to clean and cook for the Professor? She’ll lose her job and then we’ll both have to go to the poor house.”
“Grover, the same thing is happening to half the citizens of Pitcherville,” said Rodney. “My Aunt Mildred can’t even get out of bed. Something will have to be done to help all of the old people until Professor Johnson can fix this problem.”
“How do you know that the Professor can fix it?” asked Grover. “How old is he now? He must be at least one hundred!”
“Well, I think he’s actually older than that,” said Rodney. “But if he is like Aunt Mildred, his mind will still be sharp. Maybe he’ll have to work slower, but I don’t think things are hopeless. We’re going to his house now. We need your mother’s key.”
“I’ll get it.”
Grover got up from the porch swing. He had been a large boy. Now he was a very large man. The floorboards of the porch creaked loudly as he walked across them.
At the same time that Rodney and Wayne and Becky and Petey and Grover were mounting the stairs in Professor Johnson’s house to gently wake the Professor, a robbery was taking place at Toland’s Supermarket. The two perpetrators, each of whom wore black eye masks to conceal their identities, and each of whom held shiny new revolvers in their hands, had surprised the store’s night watchman, Mr. Roessler. He had been dozing in a chair in the produce section and woke to the sound of something large being hurled through one of the front glass doors of the store.
As he tried to wake up and get his bearings, Mr. Roessler was approached by the two bandits. It was at this moment that something disturbing came to his attention — something even more disturbing to sleepy Mr. Roessler the night watchman, than the fact that his employer’s store was being robbed. He was old. Very old. And very tired.
Even if he hadn’t become suddenly very old and very tired, there was little that Mr. Roessler could have done to protect the store, since Mr. Toland, Sr., the owner of Toland’s Supermarket, didn’t believe his night watchmen should be armed. As a result of this policy, all that Mr. Roessler could do now was stand with his trembling hands up in the air, and hope that the intruders wouldn’t shoot him.
Each of the two masked men carried a large duffel bag over his shoulder. Mr. Roessler wondered from the size of the duffel bags how much money the masked men were hoping to steal from the store that night.
“This is a stick up,” said the taller of the two men. “I can see that,” said the night watchman. “But I should tell you: I don’t have the combination to the office safe. I don’t even have a key to the office. I’m just here to chase away all the mice who come out at night to nibble on Mr. Toland’s fruits and vegetables.”
“We don’t wantmoney, Gramps,” said the tall man. “Do you think we would have brought these duffel bags if we had wanted money?”
Mr. Roessler shrugged. “I just figured you were being optimistic.”
“Why don’t you just be quiet, you stupid old man?”
“I do look old, don’t I? It’s the strangest thing. I feel old too, but I’m only thirty-three. So what have you come for? Why are you pointing those guns at me?”
“Direct us to the cereal aisle, Gramps. My partner and I will be taking all the oatmeal, Cream-of-Wheat and other soft cereals you have.”
“But I don’t understand,” said the night watchman. “There are fresh T-bone steaks and rib-eyes in the meat section. If I were robbing a supermarket that’s what I’d take.”
“And that would make you stupid-times-ten, old man. Now show us to the cereal aisle, and when we’re done there, take us to where you keep the Jell-O and soft custard. And you’d better be quick about it, if you know what’s good for you.”
Mr. Roessler did as he was told, and stood by as the two masked men filled their duffel bags with all manner of soft food, and then disappeared into the night.
“Professor? Can you wake up, Professor?” asked Becky. “Tap him again,” said Wayne. “Tap him harder.”
“Well, I’m not going to hit him, Wayne. He’s in a deep sleep.
We’ll just have to wait for him to wake up.”
“We can always wait, of course,” said Rodney, “but then again, Wayne and I are his apprentices. This is what he called us last night: his trusted and worthy apprentices in the field of cataclysmic science. And as such—”
“That isn’t what he called us,” interrupted Wayne. “He called us his worthy and trusted apprentices. You got it backwards.” “My point is…”
“You don’t have to tell me your point, Rodney,” said Becky. “I’ll shake him a little harder.”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Craft,” said a groggy Professor Johnson, opening his eyes into thin slits. “I am awake now and more than willing to bring you all up to speed. But first, Rodney, tell me who these other people are, crowded around my bed. And if you will all take a step back from this bed, I should be able to
breathe a little better.”
Everyone took a step back to give the Professor more breathing room.
“Well, it’s Wayne and me, and Becky, of course. And that large man over there is Grover. And that smaller man over there is Petey Ragsdale.”
“Oh, Petey! It’s nice to see that you have come down from the clouds. How were you transported here? You must make detailed notes that I can put into my log. Write down everything you can remember about the experience.”
Petey nodded.
“Well, hello to the rest of you children. Of course, you’re no longer children any more, thanks to me. Someone help me sit up in bed. I haven’t much strength.”
Grover and Wayne helped the Professor prop himself up in his bed. “Thank you, boys. I could sleep another twenty years. Just like Rip Van Winkle. Of course, the result would be the same as what has just happened, wouldn’t it?”
“Give or take about thirty years,” said Rodney.
“Yes, I see what you mean. You’re all looking a bit long in the tooth. Well, blame me for it. I did it. I was right there to see the end-product of my stupidity. My punishment started immediately, for I could hardly get myself up all those stairs. You see, I have now only a small fraction of the energy that I used to have. And I must
have a little rest for all the days of work that lie ahead. By my calculation I am now in possession of the body of a one-hundredand-seventeen-year-old man.”
“Wowee!” said Petey.
“And what would that make us?” asked Wayne.
“Let me see,” said the Professor. “You were all born in 1943, is that correct?”
“Our birthdays are all within six months of each other,” said Becky with a nod.