Chapter 3

Monday, February 16th, 1895

Hill Valley

6:58 A.M.

The world was out there. He could feel it. It was a world of knowledge, of power. A world that hissed with steam, ticked with clockwork, reverberated with maniacal laughter. He wanted so much to be a part of that world. It was where he truly belonged, could truly be free. . . . But instead he was trapped here, in a bland, ordinary, colorless world. Trapped where he could not use his talents. Frustrated, he reached out, trying to touch the other world, trying to capture the knowledge, the power –

BRIIIING!

Emmett jerked awake. His alarm clock continued to ring, reminding him that it was a school day and that he needed to get up. He sighed, threw off his covers, and shut it off. "Damn thing's too bloody loud," he muttered, stretching. "I was having such an interesting dream too."

He got up, made his bed, then cracked his window open slightly. A surprisingly warm breeze wafted through his room, stirring some papers sitting on his desk. Emmett quickly weighted them down. Well, it looks to be a nice day at least, he thought, putting on his robe.

A soft ticking on his end table caught his attention. Smiling, Emmett picked up his beloved pocket watch and checked the time. "7:03," he murmured, slipping it into the pocket of his robe. He knew from experience that if his mother happened to catch him without it, she'd have a fit.

But why though? he wondered, not for the first time, as he selected his clothes for the day. Why is she so terrified of me not wearing that watch? I mean, it's only been about a month since I convinced her to let me sleep without it. I think that, if she had her way, it would be grafted to my skin. He sighed and shook his head. Some days Mother's behavior can be more baffling than Father's. At least I like the watch.

After taking an ice-cold shower (he chuckled as he remembered Marty's shocked reaction to discovering their lack of hot water), Emmett changed into his clothes and headed downstairs to breakfast. The delicious smell of fresh pancakes reached him as he entered the dining room. "Mmm. Smells lovely, Mother," he said as Sarah set down the plates.

"Thank you, Emmett. I'll have the butter ready in just a moment." Sarah disappeared into the kitchen. Emmett happily sat himself down to wait.

Emily came in after about a minute, followed by Elias. "Good morning, Emmett," Emily said cheerfully, while Elias yawned and nodded. "It's a beautiful day out today. Almost spring weather."

"I'm glad of it. It's certainly been a long enough winter."

Sarah came out with a tray of drinks and the butter. "So, how is everyone this morning?" she asked as they all sat down.

"Tired," Elias admitted with another yawn. "Old Man Peabody had another emergency with his dratted cows last night. Also showed off some of the results of his pine tree breeding." His face darkened. "I think he might be Breaking Through. He was talking pretty crazy today. I don't trust that son of a–"

"Elias," Sarah said firmly.

Elias had the decency to look a bit embarrassed. "Yes, well, you all know what I mean."

"I'm all right," Emmett said, buttering his pancakes. "Though I had a bit of a strange dream before waking up."

"Strange dream?" Sarah asked, looking concerned.

"Yes. I don't recall the particulars, but I remember a sense of – of being trapped. Of not being able to do something I longed to do. It wasn't exactly a nightmare, but still–" Emmett frowned for a moment, then brightened. "It's nothing, Mother. Really."

Sarah ruffled his hair lovingly. "Well, as long as you slept well otherwise." She sat down with her own breakfast. "And as long as you don't start behaving irregularly," she murmured.

Emmett paused, his fork in his mouth. What was that supposed to mean? "Mother?"

"It's nothing," Sarah said hurriedly, a nervous smile on her face. "Here, I'll wrap a few of these up for you to take down to Marty."

Emmett nodded slowly, eyeing his mother. Something was wrong here. For some reason, she seemed – jittery. Did I say something to upset her? Or is it something else that's none of my business? For a moment, he considered pressing, but then dropped the idea. It probably wouldn't be the best idea to pry in front of Father. After classes, he could make a more thorough investigation.

The rest of the meal passed in idle chit-chit and more complaining from Elias about Peabody – enough so that the meal ended later than usual. Emily helped Sarah clear the dishes while Emmett took Marty's share of breakfast down to the stables. As usual, Marty was still asleep on his makeshift bed of hay. All that was visible of him under the large horse blanket was a bit of brown hair and the bottoms of his bare feet. Emmett set the cooling stack of pancakes on a nearby bushel of hay, then took a moment to visit with the horses before turning to the problem of waking up his friend. "Marty. Marty, it's morning."

"Mrrruff," was the only reply from the blanket. Emmett went over and pulled it down to reveal Marty's head in full. "Rise and shine," he said briskly.

"No," Marty mumbled sleepily, fumbling for the blanket.

"Come on, Marty, you have to get up sometime."

Marty simply turned over and attempted to bury his head in the hay bundle. Emmett frowned at him and put his hands on his hips. "Okay then, we'll do it the hard way."

He was about to simply whip the blankets off his sleeping friend when he noticed Marty's bare feet again. An almost wicked grin appeared on his face. As quietly as he could, he sat down by Marty's feet and gently lifted the blanket off them. Now totally exposed, they had no protection from him. Before Marty could do anything, Emmett proceeded to start tickling them.

Marty bit his lip at first and tried to kick Emmett's hands away. Emmett simply grabbed Marty's feet and tickled them all the more. Marty finally gave in to the laughter and tried to squirm away. "Stop it, stop it!"

Emmett merely redoubled his efforts with malicious glee. Marty laughed all the harder, finally freeing himself by rolling off the hay bundles and onto the floor. Emmett surveyed his work proudly. "Time to get up."

Marty looked at him with a mock-wounded expression. "You can't leave me in peace for one day," he complained, disentangling himself from the blanket.

"Because you never get up on time," Emmett said, giving him a hand up. "Were you like this at home?"

"Yes, actually. Mom and Dad also often resorted to extreme measures to get me up. Never nearly tickled me to death, though." Marty noticed the plate. "Oh, hey, pancakes." He promptly sat down and started eating.

Emmett sat down across from him. "So, how are you liking it here so far?"

"It's great, Emmett. I've got a warm place to sleep, good food, some new clothes, the works. My neighbors do smell a little, but other than that. . . ."

Emmett chuckled. "I'm glad. Father hasn't been harassing you too much, has he?"

"No, thank God. Sometimes it's all I can do to keep from punching him. Especially when he gets to talking about the Other." Marty chewed a bite of pancake thoughtfully. "Emmett, no offense, but – are you sure he's right in the head?"

"Really? I'm not sure. I've suspected that he might not be. Makes me rather nervous, frankly. What if it runs in the family?"

Marty patted Emmett's shoulder reassuringly. "Well, I think you're safe. You and Emily definitely take after your mom more."

Emmett smiled. "Thanks." They sat in silence for a while as Marty finished his breakfast. "So, where will you be performing today?" Emmett finally asked.

"Probably near the Clock Tower again," Marty said, using his final bite of pancake to wipe up all the melted butter on his plate. "It's a good location – busy, open, plenty of people going through – I've done well whenever I've played there."

"Ahhh, good. You'll be meeting me after class, right?"

"Yeah – and I'll try to be on time this time."

Emmett chuckled. "It's fine, Marty. Just so long as you show up eventually."

There was a knock at the door. "Can I come in?" Emily called.

"Yeah, we're both decent," Marty called back.

Emily entered, tying her hair up in a ribbon. "How was breakfast, Marty?"

"Delicious. Give my compliments to the chef." Marty set the plate aside. "Got any special plans for the day, Emily?"

"Not really, no. I'll probably be helping Holly with her garden. She wants to start testing her growth formula."

"Great," Emmett beamed. "I look forward to seeing the results. Tell her I wish her the best of luck."

"I will. Anyway, Emmett, I wanted to tell you that you should probably set off for class soon. It's getting late."

"You're right, I should," Emmett nodded. "Marty, would you like a ride over to the Clock Tower?"

"Sure, thanks. Let me just get my stuff." Marty finished dressing and grabbed his guitar. "Blue with red?" Emily teased, looking at Marty's outfit. "Rather clashes, doesn't it?"

Marty looked down at the bright red vest underneath his old blue coat. "Hey, this looked all right on your brother, didn't it?" he shot back.

"You don't know that."

"Hey!"

"I'm just joking, Emmett. Both you and Marty look good in that vest."

"Thanks. And thanks for donating some of your old clothes, Emmett. It feels good to be wearing stuff that actually keeps out the weather."

"I was glad to help," Emmett smiled. "Come on, I want some time for a quick ride before school." Emmett took Archimedes out of his stall and saddled him up. After giving the horse a bit of hay, he and Marty hopped onto the gelding. "We'll see you this afternoon, Emily. Tell Holly hello from us!"

"Of course! Goodbye boys!" Emily waved at them as they rode out of the stables and down the street.

After about seven minutes at a steady canter, they reached the town square. Emmett brought Archimedes right up to the courthouse and rewarded him with a sugar lump while Marty got off and set up by the stairs. "What are you planning to sing today?"

"More of the usual. People really seem to like 'Race for the West Pole,' so I'll probably do a couple renditions of that. I've also got songs written for 'The Trap of the Fog Clanks' and 'The Challenge of the Electric Dinosaur.'"

Emmett chuckled. "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it. Good luck, and I'll see you this afternoon."

"Right. Have a good day at the university."

"You too." Emmett lingered for a few minutes to listen to the beginning of Marty's first song, then trotted off as a crowd began to form.

Instead of heading straight for the university, Emmett took a side street nearby, intending to enjoy a leisurely ride. Archimedes had had some recent trips to both the blacksmith and the farrier, and Emmett figured the horse could use the fresh air. Not to mention he wasn't looking forward to going to class today – he'd managed to insult both Needles and Tannen before the weekend, and he was sure they had come up with some plot, no matter how simplistic, to get back at him. Probably in Basic Mechanics, he thought, depressed. It would be so easy for them to sabotage me in that class. Damn, I'm going to have to be on my guard all day. . . .

He trotted Archimedes around the neighborhood for a while, trying to keep his mind off school. Eventually, though, he began getting a feeling of wrongness. His inner time sense was warning him that something was off. "Guess it's time to go," he said to himself, pulling out his watch and checking it. 7:03 A.M. Well, at least he still had –

Wait a minute. 7:03?

Emmett did a double take. His watch had stopped. But – he could still hear it ticking. Puzzled, he held it up to his ear. Yup – it was definitely ticking. So why weren't the hands moving? How could his watch be stopped if it was still running?

Well, one thing was for certain – he needed to get the correct time. He dismounted and approached a group of men standing by one of the houses, talking. "Excuse me, sirs," he said politely. "My watch has stopped. Might I trouble one of you for the time?"

One of the men obligingly pulled out his own pocket watch. "It's 8:25 A.M., Mr. Von Braun," he reported.

Emmett froze, eyes wide. "8:25?" he repeated slowly.

"That's right. Why, is anything the matter?"

Emmett stood frozen for a moment as his mind worked furiously, figuring out his morning schedule. Between Elias's long rant over Farmer Peabody and his pine trees, taking Marty to set up his show, and his little side trip, he had lost almost a full half-hour. And now – "BLOODY HELL, I'M LATE!"

He ran back to Archimedes and leapt on. "Come on, boy! We have to ride like the wind!" Archimedes whinnied as if in understanding, and at Emmett's direction, took off at a fast gallop. Emmett did his best to steer clear of any pedestrians, but otherwise barreled down the streets, weaving around the slower-moving carts and horses.

Ten minutes later, they finally reached the university. Emmett tied Archimedes up with the other horses, retrieved his books, and raced for the entrance.

Guard Strickland blocked his way. "Identification number?" he said, with almost sadistic delight.

"Mr. Strickland, you know who I am! Emmett Von Braun! Let me in!"

"I also know you've been keeping the company of slackers! I told you being around that McFly boy would lead to trouble!"

"Leave Marty out of this! This was my own stupid fault! Let me in!"

"Identification number?"

Emmett glowered at the guard. "85558515! Are you happy now?"

"Not particularly, but go on in." Strickland stepped aside. Emmett ran past him, making sure to elbow him as he did. He paused for a moment to ascertain the right building for his morning class, then dashed off to Abstract Mathematica. He arrived halfway through the lecture, to the shock of his teacher and the amusement of his classmates. "I'm so sorry," he said hurriedly, grabbing a seat. "My watch stopped and I lost track of the time."

"Well, as long as it doesn't become a habit, Mr. Von Braun. Pay attention, everyone, this is important." The teacher went back to his lecture while Emmett struggled to catch up.

After Abstract Mathematica was his Literature course. Emmett barely paid attention to the class, too busy wondering about the mystery of his watch. I just don't understand how it could be stopped and running at the same time! Maybe I should take a look at it after classes? No, knowing my luck, I'd end up destroying it. I don't want anything like that happening to my watch. Perhaps I'll get Professor Sixton to look at it.

"Hey, dummy! Class is over! Get your head out of the clouds!"

Emmett blinked, then registered the comment and gathered up his stuff. "Today is just not my day," he said, heading to the quad to have his lunch.

He ate, pondered both his watch and the homework he had received so far, then left early for Basic Mechanics, hoping to catch Professor Sixton before class. He didn't manage that, but he did manage to trip as he came in the door, books and papers flying. "Sorry," he apologized, red-faced, as he gathered his things. "I've just been a klutz all day."

Professor Sixton helped him up, frowning with concern. "Do you think you'll be all right for the lesson? It's rather hands-on–"

Emmett quickly nodded, taking his seat. "Of course! I'll be extra careful, I promise.'

Professor Sixton still looked uneasy, but nodded. "All right then. Everyone, settle down. Today, we'll be constructing a simple machine for washing clothes. If you follow the instructions exactly, your machines should be ready for a demonstration by the end of the class." A few students looked at each other apprehensively, obviously wondering if this particular lesson was really allowed. "Don't worry – I received permission from the dean to do this, and afterwards all the machines will be destroyed and carted off to the junkyard." Henry came in, pulling tables filled with parts and lists of instructions. "All right, everyone – take an instruction sheet, and we'll begin!"

Emmett felt suddenly hopeful. This was actually something he had some experience in. Back when he and Emily were both very young, the family had actually owned a washing machine. His father had naturally hated it, but Sarah regularly begged him to let them keep it – although he didn't remember why, exactly. Emmett remembered that he had spent a lot of time exploring the machine – and, very vaguely, that he had managed to fix it when it had broken down. Of course, Elias had found out and angrily donated the machine to the annual bonfire. Still, it was one of the happier memories Emmett had of his childhood. One of the few mechanical things I've managed to work on without it backfiring, he thought with a small smile. Perhaps this is a good omen. He got up and collected his materials. Please, please let this work. . . .

The class set to work. Emmett's head began to throb as soon as he picked up his wrench, but he ignored it. Instead, he dove right in and started building. Twice the pain drove him to put his head on his desk and whimper for a while, but he waved Professor Sixton away every time he came to check on him. I – I can d-do this! No im-proving, no imp-provising – just building. I s-should – be able t-to – just – build.

Finally, the ordeal was over. Emmett dropped his screwdriver and smiled at the completed machine. He had done it. He had beaten his headache. Even Professor Sixton looked impressed. Maybe things are starting to turn around for me.

"All right, everyone, tools down," Professor Sixton announced, checking his watch. "We have time for three of you to demonstrate your machines. We can't actually wash any clothes, of course, but you can show off the basic mechanical operations. All right then – can I have Mr. Tannen, Mr. Needles, and – why not, Mr. Von Braun." There was ripple of whispers at this – neither Biff nor Needles was a good student – it was only through virtue of their fathers being friends with the dean that they were passing – and of course Emmett was well known as "Sir Explosion" in the class. Emmett took the whispers with a grin, though – they would soon see that he was more than just a good alternative to dynamite.

Biff Tannen stood up first. "Okay sir. Here we go, butt-heads." He took some coal from Henry and activated his machine. It shook rather dangerously and rattled, but it worked. Everyone broke out in applause as Biff smirked.

Professor Sixton marked down his evaluation. "An excellent effort, Mr. Tannen. Mr. Needles?"

Needles stood up, gave a theatrical bow, and demonstrated his machine. The machine gave a rattle, but refused to move. Needles tried smacking it a few times, with no effect. Professor Sixton frowned. "Hmmm, yes. . . . Did you follow all the instructions on the sheet, Mr. Needles? Well, some points for effort, at any rate. Mr. Von Braun?"

A few of the students moved back as Emmett stood up. He supposed he couldn't blame them, given his track record in the class. But it still hurt. He tried to reassure them all with a smile as he collected his coal and water and fired up the steam engine. "Here goes nothing."

For about a minute, Emmett was rewarded with a steady ticking as his machine revolved. Then, suddenly, there was a snap from somewhere inside. Emmett's face fell as the machine began to shake violently, the agitator going off-kilter. No, please no, I worked so hard. . . .

BANG! The machine exploded, sending parts flying. Most of the students had expected this and were already hiding under their desks. Emmett ended up splattered with soot and condensation. He bowed his head, blinking back tears. I should have known. I should have known better than to think I could have done something right.

"Well – ah – it did work before it exploded, so partial credit," Professor Sixton said, looking a little stunned. "Okay, that's it, everyone. Class dismissed."

The students emerged to gather their things. Emmett sadly picked up his books. He'd been so sure this time. . . .

Needles and Biff both body-checked him as they left. "Hey, don't be so glum," Needles said, grinning nastily. "You give us all such a laugh." He and Biff both sniggered before disappearing out the door. Emmett sighed and prepared to follow them when –

"Mr. Von Braun? Could I see you for a moment?"

Emmett paused in the doorway. What did Professor Sixton want to see him about? He turned slowly. "Yes, Professor?"

Professor Sixton sighed. "Mr. Von Braun, I–"

"Did the other professors tell you about my lateness?" Emmett cut in. "I'm really sorry about that, it was a one-time event, I know it's not like me, I made sure I came to yours on time–"

"Yes, they did, but it's not about that. I know lateness isn't like you at all. Unfortunately, Emmett, you did demonstrate a trait very like you today. This is the fifth explosion you've caused in as many weeks."

"I know, sir, and I'm sorry," Emmett said, shifting his books. "I – I really thought I had it this time. But then I got a headache, and-"

"I know, Mr. Von Braun, I know. You've told me many times." Professor Sixton sighed again and took off his glasses. "Emmett, I won't deny that you're a brilliant student – when it comes to theory. But in practical application, you fall to pieces. You seem simply incapable of building anything truly functional. In short, Emmett, you're failing this class."

Emmett's heart sank. He had a nasty feeling about what was going to happen next. "I'll try harder, sir, I promise."

"I know you will, Emmett, but I really don't think it'll make a difference. Nothing we've done to stop the headaches has helped. And you're putting the other students at risk when you fail. I'm sorry, Emmett, but I have no choice but to drop you from this class."

Emmett's heart was somewhere around his ankles now. "But–" he protested weakly.

Sixton shook his head. "I'm sorry." He got up and put a hand on Emmett's shoulder. "Look, you're a great student. I'm sure you don't want this class affecting your grades. It's for the best."

Emmett nodded numbly. He could barely believe this was happening. My favorite class. The main reason I attended college. And now it's gone. Great Scott, my father is going to have a field day with this. Damn it. I should have never even got out of bed this morning. He muttered a goodbye to Sixton and quickly left the room, not wanting to spend any more time with the man who had shattered his dream.

His last class, Language Studies (Professor Zemeckis was finally back from his illness), passed by in a daze. Finally, the school day was over. Emmett slowly made his way past Strickland and out onto the street. As promised, Emily, Holly, and Marty were all waiting for him by Archimedes. "Hey, Emmett!" Marty called cheerfully. "You won't believe how much–"

He stopped as he saw the look on Emmet's face. "Emmett? What's up, bud?"

"What happened?" Emily added, frowning.

Emmett's eyes filled with tears again. "He – he kicked me out," he choked out, trying his best to keep from crying.

"Who kicked you out of what?" Holly asked.

"Professor Sixton. He expelled me from Basic Mechanics." Emmett wiped at his eyes. "He told me that I was failing, and that I was a danger to the other students."

"Oh, Emmett," Emily said, promptly wrapping him in a hug. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Jesus Christ, what an awful thing to say to you!" Marty snapped, turning red. "I'm gonna go find this guy and–"

"No, Marty - he's right!" Emmett interrupted, now crying in earnest. "Just today, one of my projects exploded. I could have seriously hurt someone. He's right. I don't belong in that class. I really am a failure."

"Oh, Emmett, no!" Holly said, pulling out her handkerchief and offering it to him. "You're not a failure. It's not your fault that you get those headaches. If we could cure those, you'd be a fabulous inventor. I just know it."

Emmett laughed mirthlessly. "Archimedes said that he could move the earth with a lever if he had a place to stand. That was a pretty safe statement. So is yours. If we could cure my headaches. If." He shook his head. "Holly, you know as well as I do that we've tried almost a hundred different treatments for my headaches. None of them have worked. Let's face facts – they're never going to go away. And I'm going to be a failure all my life."

Emily stroked his hair. "Emmett, you're only saying that because you're upset. Come on, let's go to the town square and I'll buy you some pasties."

"And you can help me design some new songs," Marty nodded, putting an arm around him. "I've got an idea for a new version of 'The Heterodyne Boys and the Socket Wench of Prague.'"

Emmett frowned at Marty. "I haven't heard of that one."

"Me either, and I know a pretty good number of the Heterodyne Boy stories," Holly agreed, puzzled.

Marty grinned mischievously. "Well, it's not really that well known. Trust me, though, it's a funny one. You'll like it."

"Well, I could use something funny to cheer me up," Emmett nodded, finally managing to stop the flow of tears.

"Great! Saddle up Archimedes and let's go!"

Emmett smiled a little as he fetched his horse. He was so lucky to have friends like Holly and Marty and a sister like Emily. He felt better about his situation already. Once Archimedes was ready, he and Marty both mounted while Holly joined Emily on Ginger Snap. A shake of the reins, and they were off, riding and talking together.

As they entered the square, the group noticed that a large crowd of people had gathered in front of the Courthouse. "Whoa, where did all these people come from?" Marty asked, puzzled. "And where were they when I was performing before?"

"The gallows are up!" Emily cried, pointing.

"What?" Holly gasped.

The gallows were indeed up – and two figures were hanging from them. The group quickly dismounted and pushed their way to the front of the crowd. "What's going on?" Emily demanded of a bystander. "Why are the gallows up?"

"Spark stuff, that's what's going on!" the man replied, grinning nastily. "We just rid ourselves of another madboy!"

"Who?"

"Old Man Peabody," Emmett answered her, stunned.

Indeed it was. The foursome stared at the limp figures of Farmer Otis Peabody and his son Sherman, dangling in front of the Clock Tower. Off to the side, Peabody's wife held her daughter Martha tightly and sobbed. "Oh my God," Emily whispered, hugging her arms around herself.

"But – but why – why is his son up there too?" Marty stammered.

"Well, we have to root it out of the family," a woman in a long red dress said, smiling brightly. "The boy was encouraging his father. The girl takes after her mother, though. Besides, girls rarely have the Spark."

Holly gulped at that. "Yeah, I know," she nodded, rubbing her neck.

"My father reported them, didn't he," Emmett stated flatly.

"Yup! A good man, that Elias," the woman nodded.

"A great man," the first man agreed. "Knows what to do with Sparks."

The crowd slowly began to disperse, the excitement factor having worn off. A few people took a moment to spit at or make rude gestures toward the corpses. Marty swallowed, looking a little green. "Aren't they going to cut them down?"

"It's tradition to leave them hanging for a day or two," Emmett said softly, averting his eyes. "As a warning to others. It makes me sick."

Holly looked around uneasily. "Can we go?" she asked, fidgeting. "I really ought to let my mother know we need to stay quiet for a little while."

"Of course, of course," Emily said, hurriedly backing up to Ginger Snap. "Boys, are you coming?"

"Let me just get my stuff." Marty shivered as he walked past the corpses to retrieve his coat and hat. "Oh man. . . ."

Emmett looked over at the remaining Peabodys. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, slowly shaking his head.

"He was just doing something stupid with trees," Mrs. Peabody wept. "And Sherman – Sherman wouldn't hurt a fly. They weren't Madboys. Not at all. They didn't have to–" She took another look at the hanging corpses and began wailing, hugging Martha even tighter. "They weren't Madboys. . . ."

Holly gently tugged on Emmett's sleeve. "Let's leave her alone. I doubt she wants company from anyone named Von Braun at the moment."

Emmett slowly nodded and turned back to the horses. "It's not right," he whispered. "It's just not right."

Monday, February 16th

4:49 P.M.

Sarah was outside pulling weeds when they arrived home. "Hello dears," she greeted them. "Why the long faces?"

"We've had a lynching," Holly said quietly, dismounting.

Sarah jerked to a sitting position, a weed clutched in her fist. "What? Who?!"

"Farmer Peabody," Emily said with a shudder. "And his son. For those experiments with pine trees he was trying."

Sarah looked furious. "Elias!" she snapped, throwing the weed aside. "Out on a call my foot. He's probably out drinking with a few of his friends, celebrating his 'victory.' Oh, he makes me sick sometimes."

"He's not in?" Emmett asked, relieved.

"No. He left about a half-hour ago and told me not to expect him back until later tonight." Sarah glared at the flowerbed. "He'll probably come back drunk and bragging about being a murderer – oh, he's going to be absolutely insufferable–"

"He certainly will be when he hears my news," Emmett said sadly, letting Emily lead Archimedes and Ginger Snap inside the stables. "Professor Sixton expelled me from Basic Mechanics today. Another one of my projects exploded, and he decided I was too much of a danger to remain in the class."

Sarah stared. "Oh, Emmett. . . ." She got up and gave her son a hug. "I'm so sorry. I know how much that class meant to you."

Emmett hugged back, swallowing back any tears. "It's all right, Mother. It's probably for the best, anyway. I had no future as a scientist in this town."

Sarah reached up and stroked his hair. "Yes, but – it just seems so cruel to deprive you of what you love the most."

Emmett frowned at her. His mother had turned a strange shade of pink upon saying that. "Are you all right, Mother?" he asked, puzzled.

Sarah sighed and gave him a weak smile. "Just rather upset at the way this day turned out." She patted his shoulder lovingly. "I'll let you four get on with your business. And once I"m done here, I'll make everyone a nice cup of tea and some biscuits."

"Thanks, Mrs. Von Braun," Marty said. "I think we could all use some." Sarah smiled at him and went back to her gardening.

The foursome headed inside, Emmett taking out his watch again. "Still not working?" Emily asked.

"No," Emmett scowled, shaking it. "It still claims it's 7:03 – and it's still ticking!" He grabbed at his scalp. "I just don't understand how it could still be ticking!"

Marty took it from him and listened for a moment. "That is weird," he admitted. "Maybe – maybe something got loose inside, so the gears still work, but the hands don't?"

"If that was true, I'd probably hear some sort of grinding as well," Emmett pointed out, taking it back. "Perhaps I should open it up and look inside. I'm sure a few things could be tightened up, even repla–"

Emmett winced again, nearly dropping the watch. "Emmett!" Emily said, putting her arm around him.

"Another one?" Holly asked. "This is just not your day. You okay?"

Emmett jerked away from them, his face going dark with anger. "I can't even think about fixing my watch?!" he snapped at no one in particular. "I can't even think about the simplest mechanical repairs without getting a headache? What in the name of Sir Isaac H. Newton is wrong with me?!"

"Emmett, calm down," Emily said, looking a little frightened. "You're going to work yourself into a fit."

"I don't care!" Emmett yelled. "The rest of this town can think about this sort of thing and not bat an eye, but I, who is actually interested in this sort of thing – I can't even consider fixing a watch?! Why can't I think about these things? I – I–" He stopped and sighed, trying to calm himself. "I can feel the information. It's out there. It's almost like – like I could reach out and touch it – but then I get shocked. And I don't understand why."

Holly hugged him tight. "I know, Emmett. It doesn't seem fair, does it? I really do wish I could help you somehow. . . ."

"Doesn't seem fair, Holly? It just plain isn't fair! There's no logical explanation for the headaches I get when I try to consider anything scientific in nature. I could understand if we knew that there was something physically wrong with me, perhaps an internal chemic–"

He stopped as another rush of pain hit him. Fury overtook all sense. "I HATE BEING THIS WAY!"

And with that, he threw his watch across the room. It hit the wood paneling with a loud THUNK, then broke apart, scattering pieces on the floor. Emmett immediately felt remorseful. "Great Scott, now I've destroyed that too. I really am pathetic."

"Emmett, don't be so hard on yourself," Emily said soothingly. "We can't blame you for being upset. I'm sure we can get it fixed."

"Yeah, I'd probably do the same thing in your position," Marty added, going to look at the remains. "Wow, I didn't realize that there were so many pieces that went into making a watch. Look at all these gears and stuff."

Holly looked and frowned. "I know. In fact – it looks a little excessive, doesn't it?" She went over and began to pick up a few of the pieces, Emily following her. "Yes, this doesn't look like it belongs at all. It almost looks like something else was built into the watch."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked, baffled. "What sort of device could be built into a pocket watch?"

"I can't tell you – it was destroyed when it hit. But it looked to be pretty complicated, I can tell you that."

"Hey, Emmett, I bet this explains your ticking noise!" Marty said, turning to his friend. "I – Emmett?"

Emmett had backed away from the rest of the group, one hand to his head. "I – I feel dizzy," he admitted. "It's – it's like the world is both slowing down and speeding up. I can't keep up."

"You don't look good all of a sudden," Emily noted in a motherly fashion. "You've gone awfully pale. Maybe you'd better sit down for a while. Or, better yet, lie down."

"Yes, that does seem like a good idea," Emmett said, rubbing his forehead. "It would be the perfect end to my day if I came down with something, wouldn't it?" He gave them all a weak smile. "I'll see you in a little bit." He turned to go.

Somehow, he never quite made the first step. With no warning at all, Emmett collapsed.