Finally, he emerged out onto the factory floor. In bright daylight it was even more magnificent than it had been in the dim, stormy light. Now he could see all the way up to the ceilingwhich was as high as a cathedralsand see that upon the wooden joists perched several mechanical birds. Others fluttered about in the rafters, moving in every manner like real birds, except for the fact their wings were made of brass and their eyes of little lights that glowed red. He noticed bats as well, sleeping upside down with their huge metal wings folded across their chests.

How on earth…? Oliver muttered aloud, gazing up at the myriad of flying machines above his head.

Ah, Oliver, good morning, came Armandos voice.

Olivers gaze snapped back down to the factory floor. There was Armando, straightening up from where hed been bent over a machine, tinkering away. Immediately, Oliver lost all courage to ask him whether he could stay on at the factory.

Did you sleep well? the old inventor asked.

I did, Oliver said. In fact, better than ever. But it was only supposed to be a nap. Why didnt you wake me after the storm finished?

Armando chuckled. I tried, dear boy, but you were in a deep, deep slumber. My guess is you really needed that sleep. He smiled. Now, I promised to tell you all about my factory and my life as an inventor, didnt I? Would you like some breakfast first? A shower? A clean change of clothes?

It was only then that Oliver realized he was still wearing pajamas. He hesitated, mulling Armandos offer over in his mind. Breakfast and a warm shower and clean clothes were not things his parents would offer him if he returned home. It wouldnt hurt to stay a little longer, he persuaded himself. At least to go on Armandos tour.

If its your family youre concerned about, perhaps you ought to call them? the old inventor added, picking up on his hesitation.

That was the last thing Oliver wanted to do. He just shook his head. Thats okay. I can go on the tour first.

The old inventor reached forward and placed a firm but reassuring hand on Olivers shoulder. He peered down at him with his misty eyes. Oliver could see the deep kindness and warmth within them. They were trustworthy, imploring him to relax. Not for the first time since arriving at the factory, Oliver got the sense that Armando knew more than he was letting on.

The old man gestured with his arm to the factory floor.

Please, this way, he said.

Thoughts of his family shifted to the back of Olivers mind as curiosity took over. He walked slowly alongside Armando, matching his pace.

I was a similar age to you, Oliver, Armando began, when I started to make my own inventions. Nothing that worked, mind you. He chuckled. I think I managed a mechanical slingshot but that was about it.