Lena was entering a new school where the corridors smelled of chalk and oil. The old edifice had hundreds of clocks, each ticking with a different, insistent rhythm. It was said that there had once been a school of clockmakers and timekeepers here. She stayed longer after art circle class because she was looking for a lost leather glove. She heard a rustling in the lost-and-found cupboard, followed by a short, impatient whisper. The zipper of her rucksack shook, as if it too wanted to say something, but embarrassed itself. "Well, at last!" - the old school bell sounded, rocking a cracked edge. "Someone has to listen to us before it's thirteen thirteen, really today." A wooden ruler jumped off the shelf, corrected the paint drawn eyes and sighed. "The clock in the auditorium rolls back the minutes, and the chalk is already writing the maps themselves." The chalk awoke on the tabletop, leaving white, trembling lines like footprints. "To the Heart of the School." - she wrote down, in letters as brittle as the edge of a dried puddle. Lena raised an eyebrow, but the bell chimed three times and fell silent, frightened. The tinkling of clocks hung over the corridor, uncoordinated, like a storm pieced together from whispers. "The School's heart is cooling!" - growled the clock in the biology lab, showing green flashing connectors. "When it strikes thirteen thirteen, the sound will freeze and people will stop hearing us." Cabinet number 27 opened by itself and slid out a tarnished brass key. "There's a hatch behind the stage in the auditorium, but it asks for a password," squeaked the rusty padlock. The chalkboard completed the map, putting a dot next to the word 'backstage'. Lena set off through the empty corridors, carrying a key and a commitment she didn't understand. The boards creaked underfoot and the clocks behind her counted backwards, faster and faster. On the stage in the auditorium, the lights were dim, the red curtains whispered of dust. Backstage she found a metal plate, and underneath it a round, cold lock. She inserted the key, but hesitated a moment as she heard whispers straight from under the boards. "Password?" - asked the microphone, which was not plugged in, yet waiting. Behind her back the curtains shook and the big clock began to strike thirteen-thirteen. Lena took a breath and whispered the word her subjects had just taught her.