Free The Age Altertron by Mark Dunn Page A

age in Pitcherville is twenty-one, I have no doubt that we will win, because
it is the older citizens of this town who have the most to gain by leaving things
the way they currently are.”
“And when do you intend to have your vote, Mr. Mayor?”
‘Well, today is Tuesday and we must properly notify everyone and get the ballots
printed. I see no reason why we shouldn’t be able to hold this vote by Thursday.”
“So that gives me two days to finish my machine.”
“You would do best to suspend your efforts now, Professor,” said the Mayor matter-of-factly,
“and go and get some rest. Who knows how long it will take you to finish your
invention, if ever?”
“I will nonetheless try,” said the Professor gloomily. “I owe it to the lost
children to at least do that much. Good day to you both.” Grover tried to open
the door for the Mayor and for Miss Lyttle but he couldn’t reach the knob. So
he stood beside the door with his arm in the air as if he were giving them permission
to depart.
As Miss Lyttle passed, she said, “I hope in eleven or twelve years after we
have grown back to our former ages, I’ll see you all in my class again.”
“And I hope it’s even sooner than that. Like maybe Friday !” shouted
Wayne, who then added under his breath, “you cow hater.”
Then they were gone. Professor Johnson dropped into a chair and began to massage
his temples. “I’m so tired,” he said in a soft, sad voice.
“I wish there was some way we could help you,” said Rodney.
“You’ve all been most helpful by keeping people from interrupting my work. But
I had to come out here to see what was important enough to bring the Mayor to
my home. I’m sorry now that I ever left my laboratory. However, it is good to
know where things stand.”
“You are doing the right thing,” said Becky. She toddled over to the Professor’s
chair so that she could pat his hand to soothe him. Professor Johnson’s hand
was long and bony just like Abraham Lincoln’s. The Professor gave her a smile,
then patted her tiny hand in return. He gave his own knees a strong slap and
rose with a groan from the chair. “There is much work to do.”
Without saying another word, the weary Professor shuffled slowly and heavily
back to his lab.
    ate the next night, Aunt Mildred came into the boys’
bedroom. A ringing telephone had awakened them, but in their groggy state they
believed they had dreamed the sound. Just as they began to drift back off to
sleep, their aunt spoke.
    “Boys, it’s Professor Johnson on the line. He wishes to speak to you. I will
hold the phone up so you can both hear him.”
“Hello, Rodney. Hello, Wayne.” A dark, melancholy tone infused the Professor’s
voice. “I’m afraid that I have some sad news to report.”
“Yes, what is it?” asked Wayne, speaking for both of the boys.
“I won’t be able to finish the machine before the vote is taken tomorrow. I
have already heard how the vote is leaning and it looks quite bad.”
“Oh dear, dear, dear,” said Aunt Mildred, who was listening in.
“I have always said that my machines should not be engaged without proper and
thorough testing.”
“That’s right,” said Rodney.
“Yet I haven’t enough time left to test this one in order to guarantee its success.
Therefore, I must make a fateful decision: do I go ahead and flip the switch
tonight and cross my fingers and hope that something good will come of it, or
do I throw in the towel and walk away?”
“What is the bad that might come from it?” asked Rodney.
“Who knows? Perhaps the machine will just sit there and do nothing. Or perhaps
something will happen that we can’t predict. That is the risk. Now here is the
question: is it worth the risk—the chance for us to bring Petey and the other
children back? To restore this town to the way it was?”
“You are asking us ?” said Wayne.
“Yes. I am seeking the opinion of my worthy