I found him in the reference section downstairs, sitting at a table and reading a book.

“Hey,” I said as I walked over to him. “What did you do to me?”

“Shhhhh,” he said. Then he glanced up and smiled at me. “Oh, it’s you. Hello. I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Professor Robert Wordsworth.” He held out his hand.

“Logan Quester,” I said automatically as I shook hands with him.

“Wonderfully appropriate,” he said.

That didn’t make any sense, but I wasn’t going to worry about it at the moment. I had more important things to learn. “What did you do to me?” I asked again. “Every time I open my mouth, a pun comes out.” Except then, I realized. Maybe it didn’t happen around him because he was the one who had punished me. If he had to listen to all my bad puns, I guess he’d be punishing himself, too.

“And you think that’s my fault?” he asked.

“You said I should be punished.”

He nodded. “Perhaps I’m partly to blame—but you have to admit you brought this on yourself. You weren’t punished for no reason.”

“Well, make it go away,” I said.

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Only you can remove the punishment.” He paused and tapped his finger on his chin as he stared up at the ceiling. “If I remember correctly, it takes three steps. It just so happens I might be able to help you with your quest.” He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small camera.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“Step one—bring me seven oxymorons.” He handed me the camera.

“Oxy-what?” I asked as I took the camera. It was heavier than it looked.

He reached in another pocket and pulled out a pen and a notepad. He wrote one word, tore off a sheet, and handed it to me.

Oxymoron.

“I have no idea what that means,” I told him. “How am I supposed to bring you something if I don’t know what it is?”

He ignored me and started reading his book again.

I pointed the camera at him and pushed the button. Nothing happened.Then I pointed it at myself. Still nothing. “It’s broke,” I said.

He glanced up from his book and shook his head. “You mean broken. If you have no money, you’re broke. If the camera didn’t work, it would be broken. It isn’t. It works perfectly,” he told me, “but only when you’re taking the pictures you’re supposed to take. Now, you’d better get going if you want to make any progress.You need to get all seven pictures within twenty-four hours.” He pointed at the clock on the wall. The time was five minutes after four.

“Why?” I asked.