High School No. 3 stood on a hill, like an old ship anchored among the chestnut trees. The stone corridors creaked even when no one passed, as if they remembered footsteps. My name is Nela and I run the school newspaper because I like to listen to what is silent. That morning the bell sounded different, deeper, like a signal from a sunken cabin. The elders said that once a year it reverses the minutes and then changes the schedule. The educator handed out new planners, and a riddle appeared on my card. "Zero hour, Thursday 7:40am, room G-0." - the print was crisp, but no one associated the room. "It's probably a system error," she muttered, gathering our questions like scattered paperclips. Only usher Kubiak took a longer look at me and drew in air strangely. "If you hear a long chime between lessons, turn around and don't go down." Of course I went down, because curiosity is the fuel I drive through school. The stairs to the basement were cool and the walls smelled of wet dust and chalk. Someone had left a chalk arrow leading towards a metal door with the letter 'G'. The padlock hung only for decoration; a push was all it took and the lever gave way without protest. Then the bell chimed uncharacteristically, and the hands of my watch went back two minutes. I wrote to Igor: "I'm in the basement, there are skips happening, I need to check it". He wrote back quickly that he couldn't come down because chemistry and a test was starting. "Record anything, but have a way out," he added, as if he was my security manager. The corridor outside the door smelled of old textbooks and the fluorescent lights blinked to the rhythm of the bell. On the notice board hung a poster of the Olympiad winners, dated next Friday. Among the names was mine, next to a photo I had never seen before. Further on I found a door with a "G-0" sign, lit by a window looking out into the courtyard at an odd angle. Inside was a journal, and on the first page lay our attendance list. Thursday 7:40, class 2C - and a row of signatures, as if we had already been in and out. My signature was in the middle, next to the hour, which hadn't happened to anyone yet. Somewhere overhead, that longer chime sounded again, deep as basement breath. The floor trembled, dust danced in a sheaf of light, and the clanking of keys came from the corridor. Someone was approaching slowly, tapping their heels against the tiles as if counting the steps to thirty. Reflex told me to duck, but something else was pulling me towards the door frame. Then the doorbell buzzed a third time, and another light came on at the end of the corridor. I saw a shadow that didn't resemble a caretaker or a teacher, a shadow that stopped at G-0. The door creaked inwards, and my name rang out in the air, spoken in the voice of the future.