A narrow cobbled street on the outskirts of town was a place where time seemed to flow differently. It was here, just behind a second-hand electronics shop, that Hector's small watchmaker's workshop was located. The door creaked ominously and there was a constant smell of old wood, dust and... something else Tymon couldn't name. None of his friends had ever been in this workshop, and the elders kept saying that "Mr Hektor repairs not only watches, but also memories". Tymon often cycled past on his bike, but this was the first time he gathered the courage to go inside. It was the thirteenth day of the month, the sky was streaked with clouds and the bell above the door seemed louder than usual to him. The interior resembled a museum. On the shelves stood clocks of all sizes and ages, old lamps, globes with cracked maps and even a strangely smiling samovar. There was no one behind the counter. Tymon hesitantly slipped his hand into his pocket, clutching his grandfather's watch, which had stood still for months. He heard a rustle coming from under the table. He bent down and saw something that was completely out of place in an ordinary workroom-a small brass alarm clock that... moved slightly. Before he had time to think, he pulled it out onto the tabletop. The alarm clock had large, squinted eyes painted just above the dial and a sonorous little voice that rang out suddenly: - Boy, can you wind me up a bit? I've been waiting for weeks for a new key, and Hector's gone missing again somewhere! Tymon took a step back, his heart starting to pound like crazy. The alarm clock looked at him expectantly, and then a quiet crunching sounded from the end of the workshop. From an old cupboard he stuck out a beak of dusty teapot and muttered: - If you're already here, get me some water! I've been dry for fifty years.... Tymon looked around the studio, trying to see if these voices were just a figment of his imagination. But then he heard screeching laughter coming from his jacket pocket. It turned out that his grandfather's watch was also behaving strangely. The hands began to move in the opposite direction and the watch itself said in a hoarse voice: - Be careful, trust is a scarce commodity around here.... At that moment, the studio door squeaked open as if of its own accord. On their threshold appeared the slender figure of Mr Hector, smiling a little more than was appropriate. - 'I see you've already met,' he chuckled quietly, his eyes lighting up silvery. Behind Hektor's back, something rattled, and a tune began to come out of the old gramophone that no one in the area had ever heard before. Tymon felt that this was only the beginning of something far stranger than he could have imagined. The objects around him hushed their voices, the gazes of all the clocks and lamps turned on him. At that moment, the gramophone sizzled and emitted a deep, metallic whisper: - Now it's your turn, Tymon.... And before the boy had time to react, the light in the studio flicked on and all the hands of the clocks began to turn faster and faster in opposite directions....