# **I Know a Stupid Plan When I Hear It** *Fidget — The Midnight Conservatory* [Intro — music box, sleepy swing] Two in the morning. Banging on my door. This had better involve monsters. Apparently... It's worse. [Verse 1] He says, "Widget's gone," and that's enough, Suddenly I'm awake and grabbing stuff, Goggles, jacket, wrench in hand, "Start at the beginning. What do we understand?" He tells me clocks are running wrong, She's there, but somewhere she doesn't belong, Temporal field, impossible door— Okay. I've heard stupider things before. Then I see his face. Oh. This isn't fun anymore. [Chorus] I know a stupid plan when I hear it, Usually I'm the one who volunteers it! Jump through the portal, kick down the wall, Hit something temporal with something small— But not tonight, Not this time, She's caught somewhere between the ticks and chimes. So nobody moves till we get this right. Yeah. I said that. Don't look so surprised. [Verse 2] Books on the table, diagrams spread, Half of this stuff hurts just reading my head, "Chronological isolation," "Phase-locked temporal preservation..." Blah blah blah, Reality broke. Can we get to the useful note? "Entry impossible after synchronization." Well. That's just rude. He starts pacing. I start drawing. He checks the same page again. I've seen him face monsters with less worry than this. So I slide over the coffee. Don't say anything. Just work. [Chorus] I know a stupid plan when I hear it, And I've got six already, if you want to hear 'em! Tunnel underneath? Probably bad. Explode the field? Okay, really bad. Match the frequency, Find the time, Make our clock start ticking like hers inside. Nobody jumps. Nobody runs. Not until stupid becomes slightly less dumb. [Break — jaunty harpsichord] Potential entry methods! Anchored burrow? No. Asynchronous anchor? Maybe. Field harmonic disruption? Archivist says absolutely not. Jump funnel? ...Keeping that one. Ridiculous stunt? That's not a method. That's a category. [Verse 3] Then something clicks inside my brain, Not the dangerous kind for once—probably sane. The field isn't walls. It's clocks. Her "now" isn't matching ours. We don't need to break inside. We need to convince the doorway we're already there. Oh. OH! Now we're cooking. [Music box speeds up] Find her timestamp, Build an anchor, Match the phase and hold it steady, Give the door a second clock— One that says we're there already. [Bridge — soft piano] Then he asks: "Can you do it?" Normally that's where I grin and say something clever. But Widget is in there. And he isn't asking whether I can build a machine. He's asking whether I can bring her back. So... No joke. No swagger. Just— "Yeah." "I'll find her." And I watch his shoulders drop about half an inch. That's how I know he believes me. Which is inconvenient. Now I have to actually do it. [Final Chorus] I know a stupid plan when I hear it, And this one's getting better every minute! Build the anchor, tune the line, Make our little clock agree with time! Check the math! Check it twice! Temporal explosions aren't very nice! Nobody enters, Not tonight, First we make absolutely sure this is right. She's still in there. We're still out here. But now we've got something better than fear. We've got tools. We've got time. We've got one really stupid almost-working design! [Outro — music box and wrench taps] Okay. Anchor frame tomorrow. Oscillator after that. Need Lumen's readings— ... Right. Lumen's in there too. Great. So we're rescuing two geniuses with one fox and an Archivist. Could be worse. [beat] Actually, don't answer that. He picks up the blueprints. I pick up the wrench. Nobody crosses tonight. Tonight... We build the door. [click] And Widget? Wherever "now" is for you... Don't go anywhere. We're coming.
