In Przystajnia, a town between the forest and the Silver River, history was dusty within the walls of the old steam engine house. There was an archive there, where Lena used to work after school, among files that smelled of dust and grease. The metre-high bookcases collapsed into a maze, and the yellow lamps trembled with every passing train. She liked the coolness and the order of the dates because, unlike people, they didn't lie. That afternoon, the mailbox spat out an envelope without a stamp, addressed strangely: 'Lenie from before the first jump'. Inside she found a plan of the basement with handwritten arrows and a short note: "Trust, but measure the time. H.T." She called Nicholas from the technical school, who could fix anything that had wires and patience. Together they walked down the concrete steps, counting them as planned, to the darkest corner. Behind rack 7C there was indeed a metal box with a lock, like from a postal wagon. Nikolai's screwdriver managed it after three tries, and inside rested a brass device resembling a clock without a dial, laced with copper rings. On the side was etched the inscription: "Jump window: 91 seconds. Not allowed alone". Next to it lay a piece of paper with equations and a date that had not yet arrived. - 'Someone made us a puzzle room,' Nikolai muttered, but curiosity shone in his eyes. He connected the device to the battery from the trolley, and the rings trembled as if they were catching the rhythm of someone's pulse. Lena found a dial with a fine scale where 'layers' were shown instead of hours. Layer zero glowed red, as if waiting for someone's insistence and signature. - 'If it really works, we can see tomorrow before it arrives,' said Lena more calmly than she felt. - 'We'll just check the schoolyard at dawn, no touching anything, no talking. Nikolai nodded, but stuck his finger into the edge of the page, as if looking for rescue in the margins. - What if there are rules we don't know about? - he whispered as a train thundered over the roof and the plaster vibrated. In response, a quiet click sounded from the darkness, as if someone from outside had flipped a switch one tooth. A cold light burst from the rings, which had no colour, only density. The air trembled, the metal of the box shook, and time in the archive slowed down like a train before a station. Someone ran up the stairs and stifled a breath, as if afraid to move the air. A girl in a soaked coat, with the same scar on her eyebrow as Lena, slid out of the darkness. - 'Listen to me carefully,' she said coolly, grabbing Lena's wrist and pulling her away from the dial. - 'If you press layer zero, you won't see tomorrow, you'll see something that's already waiting. At that moment, the dial vibrated on its own, the red dot jumped on cue, and the device started counting down.