Cuba is fourteen years old and has a very serious hobby: he builds strange things. His room smells of rosin, popcorn and freshly printed plastic from the printer. On Fridays, he runs the Weird Inventions Club in the school's map warehouse. Zosia, a specialist in destructive testing, says it sounds proud. Maks brings batteries, memes and unnecessary safety warnings. Today they are preparing for the school's Science Festival, which starts tomorrow morning. The main attraction is to be the Compass of Lost Things, affectionately known as the KZR. Cuba says the needle indicates not the direction, but the intentions of the seeker. That is, if you think of a sock, it will find the sock, not midnight. "Sounds like trouble," Zosia states and pulls on her dinosaur goggles. Maks nods so vigorously that a screwdriver falls out of his pocket. Cuba puts the KZR on the table, turns the dial and waits for the needle to flutter. The needle shudders, circles, and suddenly rushes straight towards the door. It points down the corridor to Headmistress Nowak's office, the famous zone of legends. Zosia raises her eyebrows and whispers very theatrically: "Maybe we've lost the headmistress?" Kuba checks the instructions and answers slowly: "Not a person, a thing of importance to the owner". Maks sighs and adds in a whisper: "Maybe she lost her patience with the second graders?" The needle sticks almost to the glass, as if something is pulling it from inside. They walk down the corridor and the emergency lights make an ocean of green rectangles from the floor. A "Do not disturb" card hangs on the office door, which sounds like an invitation. Zosia pulls out a Drone-Brush, which pretends to be cleaning and eavesdrops on what it can. They slide it under a crack and it returns with dust, a paperclip and a recording of a buzz. Inside, something hums quietly, like a fridge that keeps secrets in the freezer. Cuba feels the KZR vibrate more and more restlessly in his hand. Maks puts his hand on the doorknob, but the handle moves first, as if anticipating him. The lock clicks, the door swings open a centimetre and a chill of paper blows from it. The KZR turns on the screen and beeps, displaying only two words: "OBJECTIVE: TIME". "The headmistress has lost track of time?" asks Zosia, but no joke sounds in her voice. Cuba takes a breath, pushes the door wider and the lights blink three times at once. A ticking can be heard from the depths, which, instead of speeding up, retreats like the rewinding of a film.