This chapter's official song: "Revolution 9", by the Beatles with Yoko Ono

Back at home, I made some tea while Daniel fiddled around with the computer.

"What are you doing with that?" I asked.

"I'm trying to put in a teleportation device." Daniel took a cup and sipped. "Did you put any sugar in this?"

"No, but I have some packets of Equal. How did you figure out how to make a teleportation device?"

"It's a portable one. I snitched it off the policegirl's desk when we were in the station. If I can just figure out how to hook it up…" It was a little metal ball with blue LEDs on the side. He stared at it like a baboon staring at a 1985 DeLorean.

"Try attaching that wire to the little thing that says Output," I suggested.

He did. The LEDs lit up.

"I think it's working," I said.

"I think it is too. But without some kind of interface, there's no way we can control it."

"Hold on a second." I pulled down the GPS system that was on the visor. It didn't come with the standard cruiser model, but Dad had ordered it for me. He had a pathological fear of me getting lost.

The little GPS screen was glowing blue. Instead of the familiar grid of streets and the cursor set onto "Old Timber", it showed a map of the world and a little text box saying, "Where do you want to go today?"

"Wow. It's compatible." Daniel was impressed. "And it's made by Microsoft!"

We changed into appropriate 60s clothes. Daniel put on a pair of incredibly ugly corduroy bellbottoms, a fringed vest, a tie-dye T-shirt, and a beaded headband that I made for him. I was wearing my mom's old peasant skirt, a peasant blouse from Rue 21, a Leary High School letter jacket (colors: electric purple and puke orange) and flower-power patterned leggings.

Our first stop was 1967. I had wanted to go to one of the Beatles' Ed Sullivan shows, but Daniel pointed out that we didn't have tickets. I thought that was a very good point.

Daniel shifted the car into Reverse and positioned the GPS to somewhere in England. I wasn't sure where he put it; there had been much ado with an atlas and Mapquest shortly before we left while I was in the bathroom.

The trip was uneventful. I watched my house get built backwards, and then there was a weird whooshing sound as the teleportation device did its thing. We ended up on a sidestreet somewhere in London.

Daniel opened the door for me. "Come on! We have a happy couple to split up."

We slipped into the double doors of the art gallery. It was a huge white building, more akin to Saks or Nordstrom than to an artsy venue. Then again, the art galleries I'm used to are lofts that smell like paint, and cutesy little barns up north that sell potpourri and distressed chairs.

I wandered around looking at paintings. They weren't very good, more like blobby line drawings than anything that actually had any artistic merit. Daniel scouted out the place and shortly returned to me with a report.

"Our scarabs just walked in the door," he muttered. "Dragon lady is currently at hammer site. Advise."

"This isn't a James Bond film. Tell me, in plain English, what's going on."

Daniel sighed. "The Beatles just walked in and Yoko is over at the invisible hammer thing."

"Great. You take this pen, go up that ladder that has the magnifying glass with the index card that says YES glued to the ceiling. Write something stupid on it. I shall annoy Yoko."

Daniel skedaddled while I went to fulfill my duty.

My hackles rose at the sight of Yoko Ono. There she was: The woman who singlehandedly broke up the Beatles, turned one of the most talented artists of the 20th century into a heroin-addled, mystical mushmouth, and totally ruined modern art forever.

She smiled beatifically at me. "Hello. Hold this nail by this wall." She handed me nothing and indicated that I should hold it by nothing.

I gingerly took the nail between my fingers.

"Now give me sixpence and I will hammer it into the wall."

I dug in my purse with my other hand and dropped six pennies into her waiting hand. She pocketed them without looking at them. "Thank you. Now…" She tapped the place where the nail would be with the place where the hammer would be, steadied it, and took a big swing.

"OWWOAH!" I flapped my hand around. "That hurt! Jeez, can't you aim?" I started sucking on my thumb.

Yoko looked confused. "Why does your thumb hurt?"

"Cause you missed the nail! You hit my thumb. And it really hurts."

We had drawn a small crowd, Ringo among them. I winked at him. He grinned and motioned for the other Beatles to come over and watch the two crazy women.

"Your thumb should not hurt," Yoko explained. "The nail and the hammer were not real. They were simply representations of—"

"If they weren't real, I want my money back," I interrupted. "This show is a total ripoff. You're charging for something that doesn't even exist! And my thumb still hurts."

"They were invisible, all right? An invisible hammer and an invisible nail and an invisible wall. And I don't believe that your thumb hurts." She grabbed my hand and studied it. "I don't even see a bruise."

"Well, if it's an invisible hammer, of course it will leave an invisible bruise," I explained with dignity. "And my thumb still really hurts. I think you broke it. I need a bandage."

"I will call security to get you a bandage," Yoko offered.

"Never mind. I have an invisible one in my purse. It'll cost you fifty cents if anyone wants to watch me put it on." I was immediately deluged with the English equivalent of quarters. "Really? All right." I opened my purse and started an elaborate mime of putting on a Band-aid, peeling off the wax paper and wrapping it around my thumb. I held it up for inspection. People applauded.

Yoko grabbed my arm. "This is my show!" she hissed at me. "I am the artist here."

"Some artist. You charge six cents to hit people with an invisible hammer."

She blew up. "BAKA! GET OUT OF MY GALLERY!"

At that point, Daniel knocked over the ladder.

As Yoko rushed to fix her piece of pseudointellectual pretension, Daniel and I hustled out of the gallery. The Beatles came out a few minutes later.

"Man, that Yoko bird was a bit psycho," said Paul. "Did ya see the way she screamed at that girl? I wouldn't want to get near anyone like that."

"Well, I thought that some of her pieces were very thought-provoking," said George.

"Meself, I thought it was dead boring," said Ringo. "That girl, though, the one that did the invisible bandage thing…she was funny."

"She was, wasn't she?" mused John. "Maybe she was part of the exhibit. Wish I could meet her."

On the way home, I was extremely excited. "Did you hear that? Ringo Starr said I was funny! And John Lennon said he wanted to meet me!"

Daniel just stuck his tongue out at me. I think he was jealous that I got to antagonize Yoko, and he was stuck with the staircase.