The midday sun hung heavy in the sky as Allena Jones walked through the regal stone arches of the Foxcroft-Dover Museum of Local History. She pushed open the swinging glass doors and passed the admission booth after giving a quick, "Hello," to the teller. The teller, noting her sharp black and brown uniform, waved her through disinterestedly.

As she passed the toll booth she turned to make for the back room, which contained her supplies. It was her third week on the job, a janitorial position for the old small-town museum, and she'd just recently settled into the rhythm. She'd managed to land a summer position, something that would help her get a bit of money in her pocket before she headed back to school. She found she enjoyed the job. The museum didn't attract many patrons so it was always slow and quiet, but it still kept her busy and attentive. Nothing attracted dust like a museum and she had her work cut out for her keeping the exhibits spick-and-span – sweeping and mopping the floors, cleaning the glass of the windows and display cases, and dusting anything that she had permission to touch. Some relics were fragile enough that only the curators were allowed to work on them, but many of the pieces in the museum were sturdy enough to handle a feather duster or a polishing rag.

As she strode across the slightly scuffed marble floors she was hailed by her shift manager, an older, grumpy man named Ford. She stifled a sigh, turning to greet him with a tired smile. Any time Ford called on her it was usually to take care of some detail-intensive job that he didn't want to do, and it always took her enough time that she was hard-pressed to get through her normal duties. "Jones! Not doing anything important today, I hope?"

Allena, hoping to dissuade him from heaping anything more onto her plate, answered, "I'm sweeping and mopping the west wing, polishing the display cases, tidying up the restrooms, helping Gerald uncrate the new shipment–"

She was cut off as Ford waved her schedule aside. "That shipment got delayed, won't be here until tomorrow. I need to you work on one of the exhibits in the back."

Allena frowned. Not only was she annoyed that he was, as usual, dismissing her already busy schedule, she was a bit concerned about the job he was suggesting. "Er, aren't those all fairly delicate jobs? I'm not authorized to handle any of those."

Her manager didn't share her concern. "Nah, it's that great clunky thing – the device? Just needs some shining up on the metal bits, a bit of polishing on the wood. Don't need any special permission to deal with that. Just don't touch the radio."

Allena bit her lip. She knew which exhibit he was referring to. It was true, she didn't need permission to clean it…but it was a big exhibit, and it would really cut into her time. Still, she didn't have much of a choice. "Alright, but I won't be able to handle everything else. Can you get someone to take over one of my other jobs?"

"Eh? Sure, sure, I'll get Gerald on it," he said absentmindedly. "Just take care of it before you retire tonight. Justine will want to look it over tomorrow morning."

Her manager was already walking away, mind elsewhere, satisfied that he was off the hook. Allena hoped he wasn't going to space out and forget to update her chore list. He'd done so twice already and she'd gotten chewed out by the curators because they assumed she just wasn't doing her job. Three weeks and she was already tired of explaining that she wasn't lazy – she just kept getting conflicting instructions.

She sighed and decided to take care of as much of her work as she could and leave the device for the last hour and a half of her shift. Hopefully that would be enough.

The day went by quickly. Her Monday shift started at four and ran 'till nine, four hours past closing time, which was when she did most of her work. She got through the display cases and the bathrooms and just managed to sweep the west wing, leaving Gerald – one of her co-workers – to do the mopping. He wasn't happy about it, and he took the supplies from her with a scowl. By that time it was half-past seven. Time to get polishing.

Sighing, she went and picked up the supplies she would need to take care of the old relic and made her way to the back room. This was where they kept pieces that needed to be touched up or examined before being put back onto the floor for display. She didn't need to look long to find the one Ford wanted her to handle.

She walked up to it and clicked her tongue. It would be quite a job to shine up. It was a fair bit taller than her, all wooden frames and metal paneling and clunky gears, and if there was one word that could be used to describe it, it was 'convoluted'.

No one knew what the device was supposed to be for. All anyone knew was that it had belonged to a private scientist by the name of Wilson Percival Higgsbury, and it was the last thing he'd ever invented. Possibly the only thing. The man had vanished under mysterious circumstances nearly a century before and information on him was scarce. Over the decades following his presumed-dead disappearance his house had been dubbed the most haunted building from there to Sidewinder, and had attracted many thrill-seekers over the years. Dumb kids were one thing, but once the tourists started coming in the town took an interest and simply confiscated all of the notable belongings in the house, condemning the shell as structurally unstable. The man's attic-laboratory had been replicated as an exhibit in the museum and contained, among other things, a large bookshelf, a few work desks, a grandfather clock, numerous scientific implements, the ancient radio that sat near her waiting for attention from the curators, and of course…the great, clunky monstrosity right in front of her.

Allena looked up at it and shook her head. "Well, you're going to take a while, aren't you? And I'd better do a good job of it too. You're one of the most popular exhibits in the museum."

Silently cursing Ford for the job he'd saddled her with she grabbed the supplies and started polishing. As she started working in earnest her heart sank. She'd badly underestimated how much detail work the thing would require. At this rate she'd be here two hours past her shift at least, and she didn't have much choice but to stay and finish it. Not with a curator set to look it over the next morning. Ford would have her fired for sure.

She started muttering to herself in the silence of the back room. "Honestly, what was this thing…? I'm going to be here half the night polishing you…not that anyone will notice if I'm home late, I'm sure. I could be gone for a week and Uncle Jeb wouldn't much care…I just hope I don't get locked into the museum, everyone will be going home soon…"

As she delicately polished one of the cogs on the back she glanced over at the radio that sat on a pedestal beside the device. "Wouldn't mind some music to go with the job. Too bad you don't work, huh?"

Suddenly, a crackly voice cut through the silence, causing her to jolt and drop her polish in shock. The voice sprang from the little metal box which, despite a decade of work from numerous expects, had never uttered so much as a hiss of white noise. The voice said,

"What, the radio? Who says it doesn't work?"