At first Alan didn't believe what Jason had told him. Then he began to weigh it in his mind. The boy did, after all, bear a striking resemblance, even though he was half aardvark.

"You're my son," said Alan thoughtfully. "If that's true, then you shouldn't have told me. It's a little too much knowledge of the future."

Jason sighed impatiently. "You would have figured it out sooner or later... Brain."

Alan fingered his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, that's what they used to call me, until Beat came along."

"Beat?" said Jason curiously.

"The girl you saw me with," Alan explained. "Half aardvark and half rabbit. Speaking of which, if I'm your father, then that means I'll marry an aardvark. You're giving too much away just by being here, Jason."

Jason slowly sat up and put his hand over the bandage on his head, grimacing with pain.

"I'll let you rest," said Alan. "I shouldn't be asking you so many questions anyway."

"No, it's all right," said Jason, shaking his head slightly.

Alan started to pace back and forth in front of the bed. "The time tricycle. Is it..."

"It's the same one," Jason explained, "only thirty years older."

"A minute ago," said Alan, "you said you came here to tell me something. Is it about the future?"

"Well, yes and no," said Jason.

"I'm guessing," Brain continued, "that you're smart enough to not tell me anything, or do anything, that might interfere with the flow of time."

"I am," Jason answered. "The question is, are you?"

Alan stopped pacing and looked at Jason with a hint of concern.

"It's harder than you think," Jason went on. "You have a power in your hands that nobody else has. You can change time. You can change the world. Are you sure you can resist the temptation to use that power irresponsibly?"

Alan stared into space and fingered his chin again.

"What if something happened to someone you love?" Jason asked him. "Would you go back in time and change it?"

"No," said Alan firmly. "It would be too risky." He thought for a moment, then looked at Jason, worried. "Wait. Are you saying..."

"I'm not saying anything."

Alan stood silently and thought. His mind raced through the possible scenarios that Jason might be alluding to...

----

Gathered around a table at the Sugar Bowl were Arthur, Francine, Buster, and Beat, discussing the imminent departure of Buster and his family.

"The movers are coming for our stuff on Friday," said Buster, "and then we fly to Chicago on Saturday."

"We're really gonna miss you, Buster," said Francine.

"Yeah," said Arthur. "Who will protect us from the aliens now?"

"I've gotten over the alien thing," said Buster. "In fact, I'm thinking of becoming a professional skeptic, like James Randi."

"I've heard of him," said Beat. "I understand he's offered a million dollars to anyone who can prove they have magical powers."

At that moment, several hundred miles away, Prunella sat in front of a round table with a crystal ball on top. On the other side of the table sat a bald man with a white beard. They were in a small, completely bare room with white walls.

"Spiritus Mundi," Prunella muttered. "Spiritus Mundi. Spiritus Mundi..."

The crystal ball remained completely dark. The bald man nodded slightly. "I guess your Pomeranian friend is no longer on speaking terms with you," he said in a friendly voice.

"I can't imagine why," said Prunella. "I only stopped her from taking over the world."

"Thank you very much for your participation," said the bald man officiously as he rose from his stool.

"Thank you, Mr. Randi," said the disappointed Prunella.

As the two walked toward the door leading out of the room, the diabolical face of Pickles the Pomeranian appeared in the crystal ball, laughing maniacally.

Meanwhile, at the Sugar Bowl, the conversation between Arthur, Francine, Buster, and Beat was interrupted when Sue Ellen entered the ice cream shop, followed by Van in his wheelchair.

"Guess what, guys," said Sue Ellen as she approached their table. "Van got us a gig at the Heifer this weekend."

"All right! Awesome!" exclaimed Francine.

"Van, you da man!" said Arthur.

"What's the Heifer?" Beat inquired.

"What's a gig?" asked Buster.

"The Heifer is one of Elwood City's premier jazz clubs," Van explained. "A gig is a booking. That means we get to play there."

"Saturday night," Sue Ellen added.

"Where's Alan?" asked Van. "I thought he would be here."

"He stayed behind to help a boy who crashed on his tricycle," Beat informed him. "He passed the test, by the way."

"That's great!" Sue Ellen exulted.

"You'll be there for our performance, won't you, Beat?" Van asked.

"I wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China."

"Fern won't be singing with us, unfortunately," said Van. "She's still grounded."

"And if she wasn't grounded," said Sue Ellen as she sat down at the table with the others, "she'd be in The Sound of Music."

"Poor Fern," said Buster glumly. "I'll never forget her going ballistic on my mom. It was kinda cool, actually."

"It was your mom who helped us get the gig," said Van. "She printed a good review of our quartet in the paper."

Muffy walked into the shop and waved at the kids. "Hi, guys."

"Hi, Muffy," said Francine and Van, also waving. Muffy stood near the doorway and didn't approach the table where the kids were seated.

"My first day at Uppity Downs is tomorrow," she said. "I'll let you know how it goes, if I survive."

"Come now, Muffy, it can't be that bad," Beat said to her.

"Yes, it can," said Muffy, her voice becoming darker. "You'll never believe who my teacher is going to be."

"Who is it?" asked Arthur.

Muffy took a deep breath.

"Cedric Pryce-Jones!"

Arthur, Buster, Francine, and Sue Ellen screamed, wide-eyed in terror. Beat and Van looked at them with amazement.

"Who is this Cedric Pryce-Jones?" asked Beat when they had stopped screaming. "He must be a terrible person."

"We met him at the medieval fair last spring," said Francine fearfully.

"He taught Mr. Ratburn," said Buster nervously. "He's the toughest teacher in the universe!"

"His students are like robots," Arthur added. "They're invincible."

"Silly geese, the lot of you," said Beat haughtily. "He sounds like a wonderful teacher. Where do I sign up?"

The other kids, except for Van, gave her blank stares.

"British people must be gluttons for punishment," Muffy remarked. "I'll see you guys later...I hope. 'Bye, Van." Waving farewell, she walked out of the ice cream shop and hopped into her limo, which was waiting outside.

"Wish she could have stayed longer," said Francine.

"Her dad doesn't want her to spend time with me," Van explained. "He doesn't get along well with my dad."

At that moment a teenage poodle girl came up to the table, carrying an enormous chocolate fudge and calamari sundae on a tray. "Which one of you is Bluster?" she asked.

"That's Buster," Buster corrected her. The girl placed the sundae in front of him and laid a spoon and napkin next to it. Buster grabbed the spoon and proceeded to stuff his face with ice cream, chocolate, and calamari.

"Are you really gonna eat all that?" Van asked him.

"Want some?" asked Buster, his mouth full of ice cream.

"Uh...no, thanks," said Van, grimacing.

"Thanksgiving is only a few weeks away," said Buster between (and during) spoonfuls. "I've got to start warming up now. It'll be my first Thanksgiving away from Elwood City."

"I wish you wouldn't talk with your mouth full," Beat complained. "It's so impolite."

"It'd be a lot quieter around here," Sue Ellen quipped.

"What are the rest of you doing for the holiday?" Arthur asked.

"We're going to visit our relatives," said Francine with a hint of boredom.

"Our relatives are coming to visit us," said Van. "It's always a madhouse."

"Carla and Nigel and I are going to Botswana to meet up with my parents," said Sue Ellen. "It'll be so exciting."

"We English aren't accustomed to celebrating Thanksgiving," said Beat. "My parents and I are taking advantage of the holiday to travel back to England."

"What about you, Arthur?" Buster asked, his mouth full again.

"Oh, same old, same old." Arthur sighed.

----

Fern sat in front of the TV in her living room, looking extremely bored. Her mother entered from the kitchen, wearing a light blue jacket and clutching her purse.

"I'll be back in about half an hour," she said to Fern. "No using the computer while I'm gone, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," said Fern with an annoyed tone.

Mrs. Walters glanced at the screen curiously. "What are you watching?"

"It's one of those art house movies," Fern answered.

"Good," said her mother as she quickly exited through the front door.

As Fern watched, the image of a car driving down a lonely desert highway appeared on the TV screen. The driver, a brown rabbit man, gazed idly into the distance. This scene lasted for about half a minute, and then a mosquito smacked the windshield.

She sighed, picked up the remote, and turned off the TV. Going to the window, she observed that the family car was no longer in the driveway. She hurried to the computer desk, smiling eagerly.

Ever since grounding Fern, Mrs. Walters had always activated the screen saver on the computer before leaving the house. Unbeknownst to her, Fern had discovered the password by watching her type it repeatedly.

After cancelling the screen saver, Fern opened the instant messenger program. It brought up her favorite chat room and displayed a list of those present. To her delight, the name Greta was in the list.

She typed in a message: HI GRETA

Seconds later, another message came back to her. HI FERN, STILL GROUNDED?

(To be continued...)