CHAPTER 1: WHEN TIME FELL ASLEEP

In the most ordinary city, on the most ordinary street, stood a most extraordinary house. From the outside, it pretended to be an old library, but inside hid a laboratory of wonders - the only gateway to the Vunderverse, an amazing universe where science and magic drink tea together.

Time in the laboratory smelled of cinnamon and stars - that's how it smells only in places where wonders feel at home. Aunt Alice stood by the window, holding a real star in her palm - warm and alive, like a kitten. Her white coat shimmered with constellations, and in her pocket dozed another tiny star - the one that had taught her to see music in numbers.

"The sky is strange today," she whispered. "Too perfect. Like in a geometry textbook."

Living formulas, like luminous butterflies, anxiously circled around. They too could feel it - the world was becoming too ordered, as if someone was erasing all its colors with an eraser.

"Hush, hush," Aunt Alice stroked a trembling equation. "We'll manage. We always do."

In the center of the laboratory ticked remarkable clocks, assembled from sunlight and children's laughter. Their golden hand showed how many wonders remained in the world. Now it trembled, as if unable to decide - to keep believing in magic or give up.

DING!

A flask of pure wonder cracked. A cobweb of lines ran across the glass.

"It's begun," Aunt Alice exhaled. "They're coming."

The air froze like glass about to shatter. First, the dust motes in the sunbeam stopped. Then the old globe paused mid-word in its story about a lost island. Living formulas froze on the walls like frightened moths.

BANG!

The door burst open. A tall figure in a grey suit stood in the doorway. His eyes were cold as ice, and in his hand gleamed a ruler sharp as a sword.

"Hello, sister," he said in a voice that made the flowers in the vase shrink. "Long time no see."

"Theodore?" Aunt Alice stepped back. "What have they done to you, little brother?"

"Fixed me," he raised his ruler-sword, but his hand trembled. "Remember that day when I proved Santa Claus was just cold physics? I cried for a week. And I vowed never to let wonders deceive me again. Better I close them. All of them. Every last one."

"But you were the best!" tears glinted in her eyes. "Remember how you taught the multiplication table to sing? How you launched theorems like kites?"

"Childish nonsense," Theodore cut her off. "The world must be measured and counted. All wonders will be sorted onto shelves. Starting with your laboratory."

BANG!

The second flask broke - the one storing pure imagination. The shards scattered in rainbow sparks, but immediately faded.

"I'm forgetting!" cried the old globe. "Where do unicorns hide? Why do stars sing at night? What does the north wind whisper?"

Aunt Alice looked at the stars in her hands. They blinked, as if trying to say something. Hope glowed like a thin thread of dawn breaking through the darkest night.

"Of course," she whispered. "There's still hope. Somewhere very close lives an amazing girl. She sees wonders even on the gloomiest day. And the time for her story... has just come."

She smiled at her brother - not angrily, but sadly, the way one smiles at old photographs.

"You may stop time," she said. "But you will never stop wonders. Because true magic lives in the heart."

And somewhere very close, in the most ordinary house, on the most ordinary street, a girl named Lily opened her eyes, not suspecting that her life was about to change forever. And that she would be the one to save all the wonders in the world.

CHAPTER 2: THE RAINBOW'S FAREWELL WALTZ

In Aunt Alice's laboratory lived a rainbow. Not just any rainbow, but the very one that was born when the first formula in the world learned to dance. The formula was so overjoyed that it burst into a million sparks, and they came together to form a rainbow that looked like the sky's smile.

"If only all formulas were this cheerful!" Aunt Alice would often say. "Some are so serious that even their symbols march in formation like tiny soldiers."

The rainbow lived in a crystal house by the window and loved painting light castles on the laboratory walls in the mornings. And when it thought no one was watching, it would sing an ancient song about the time when all colors were friends and played together.

"Quiet!" Aunt Alice hushed as the door burst open. "She's afraid of sudden noises. Like my old telescope that hides behind the cabinet every time the globe sneezes."

But it was too late. The Grey Calculators had entered the laboratory. Their ruler-swords clinked with each step, as if counting down the final seconds of the colorful world.

"Alice," Theodore stepped forward. "It's time to bring order to the world. Each color - its own number. Each rainbow - its own formula. No more magic."

"Oh, brother," Aunt Alice sighed. "You've become so serious that even your socks probably march in pairs and never get lost."

The rainbow in its crystal house trembled. Its colors began to fade one by one, like candles on a birthday cake. Only these candles weren't being blown out - they were losing their light under the gaze of the Grey Calculators.

Red melted first, but before it vanished, it flashed so brightly that all the Calculators sneezed - simultaneously and very scientifically, exactly three times each.

"Don't be sad," whispered the red. "I'll live in every cup of hot cocoa, in every mitten knitted by grandmother, and in every nose that turns red in the frost!"

Orange followed, leaving behind the scent of tangerines and the taste of mother's orange pie. "Look for me in sunsets," it winked. "And in apricot jam. And in ginger cats purring on windowsills!"

Yellow lingered longest. It gathered so many smiles that it became like a tiny sun. "I'll stay in dandelions," it promised. "And in chicks just learning to walk. And in the stars that teachers draw in notebooks for good work!"

"This is illogical!" exclaimed one of the Calculators, but his ruler-sword suddenly turned red, as if embarrassed.

Green, blue, and indigo joined hands and left together, singing a song about a merry caterpillar that ate all the leaves in the garden and then apologized by becoming a butterfly.

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"We'll live in every blade of grass," they promised in chorus. "In every ocean wave. In every raindrop. And even in that old sweater grandmother knitted that's a little itchy."

Violet remained last. It flickered, as if unable to decide whether to disappear or not.

"I'll wait for you where unicorns sleep," it whispered. "Where mermaids braid moonlight into their hair. Where dragons drink tea with fairies. Just don't forget the way to wonderland!"

"Wait!" Theodore suddenly cried, and something cracked in his voice, like ice breaking in spring. "I... I remember this color. Remember, sister? We saw it that day when we launched our first hand-held rainbow..."

But it was too late. The last color melted into the air, leaving behind only a smile - so warm that even the strictest Calculator felt something stir in his pocket. Perhaps it was a little dream that had been hiding among old pencils and rulers all this time?

"We're leaving," Theodore commanded, but his voice trembled. "There's nothing more... nothing left to count here."

And on the floor remained a tiny colored trace - barely visible, but alive. Like a promise that wonders never die. They just hide and wait for someone to believe in them with all their heart again.

And somewhere out there, beyond all rulers, compasses, and multiplication tables, the rainbow was still dancing its waltz. Perhaps it had become invisible - but aren't the most important things always invisible to the eyes?

CHAPTER 3: THE COMING OF GREY SHADOWS

Cold slithered through the laboratory like an icy snake - not the cozy winter cold that's perfect for snowball fights, but the kind that makes even brave formulas hide behind books. The sunbeam, usually so bold, stood frozen by the window like a statue.

"What do you think," it whispered to Aunt Alice, "if I pretend to be a shadow, will they not notice me?"

"I'm afraid even shadows hide from them," she replied, stroking a trembling theorem that had curled up in her pocket.

The Grey Calculators entered one by one - silently, like fog. In their hands, they held ruler-swords made of frozen time. In their eyes, numbers glowed instead of pupils, and with each of their steps, the world became black and white, like an old photograph.

"Beginning standardization procedure," announced one of them in a voice like an unoiled door. "All wonders will be classified and numbered."

"And how do you plan to measure the first ray of sunlight?" asked Aunt Alice, hiding a star behind her back. "Or the smell of spring? Or a mother's smile?"

"Everything can be measured," the Chief Calculator cut her off, stopping by the empty prism where the rainbow had lived. "Everything will be..."

Suddenly he froze. His face, usually immobile as granite, twitched strangely. In his eyes, instead of numbers, something alive flickered for a moment - as if he remembered the taste of grandmother's apple pie.

"What... what's happening?" he whispered, clutching his head. "I... remember something?"

"Theodore?" Aunt Alice stepped forward. "Brother, are you remembering?"

All the Calculators shuddered at this name, as if it were a spell. For a moment, their grey figures became transparent, like morning mist. The air smelled of summer and wild strawberries.

"I remember..." Theodore looked at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. "We used to launch theorems like kites. We taught the multiplication table to sing. There was music in every number, a mystery in every formula..."

Something glowed in the pocket of his grey suit - a tiny spark of color, like a rainbow seed accidentally caught in the fabric's folds.

"This is wrong!" exclaimed another Calculator, but his voice trembled. "We bring order! We..."

But he couldn't finish. Because the flower suddenly sang a special melody - not just beautiful, but alive. That very first lullaby that mother sang to little Theodore when she taught him to count stars.

Something flickered in the Chief Calculator's grey eyes. Some spark... a memory... hope?

"No!" he recoiled, raising his ruler-sword. "I bring order! I..."

"You bring emptiness," Aunt Alice said quietly. "But you know what? Even the deepest emptiness was once full of wonders. It just... forgot about it."

The flower supported her words with a new song - the one that sounded on the first day of creation, when all colors were one, all numbers could dance, and every formula told its own story.

The laboratory walls trembled. Shadows gathered in the corners - not ordinary ones, but ancient ones, those that existed before the first light. They crept toward the center of the room like ink on blotting paper.

"The Great Nothing," whispered Aunt Alice. "It has sensed us. Theodore, my brother, now is not the time for enmity. We must..."

But it was too late. Theodore straightened up, and the last spark of color in his pocket went out. "Proceed with final standardization," he commanded, and his voice was cold as ice again. "All wonders must be..."

BAM!

The laboratory wall cracked. From the crack came such cold that even the Grey Calculators stepped back. This wasn't just cold - this was Nothing. That which existed before the first light and the first dream.

"It has come," whispered the flower. "That which is worse than greyness. It wants to erase even the memory of wonders."

Aunt Alice clutched the star tighter. "Get ready," she said. "Now begins the real battle. For the world's right to remain alive."

Theodore looked at the crack, then at his sister. In his eyes flickered a spark - of that same light that once helped him see beauty in a simple equation.

"I... I'll help," he said quietly. "If it's not too late."

The wall trembled again. The darkness behind the crack grew thicker. Everyone froze, feeling - the most important battle was about to begin. And on its outcome depended not just the fate of this laboratory, but the future of all wonders in the world.

And somewhere far away, in a very ordinary house, a girl named Lily was opening her glowing diary, not suspecting that her words could save magic. Because sometimes the strongest weapon against darkness is simple belief in wonders. Especially when that belief lives in a child's heart.

CHAPTER 4: A SPARK OF HOPE

When darkness had almost filled the laboratory, the star in Aunt Alice's cup suddenly shone brighter than ever - like that very first star that lit up at the beginning of time and showed the void how to be light.

"Proton-candies!" Quantik jumped so high he nearly got tangled in his own whiskers. "This is a quantum superposition of hope! All wonders exist simultaneously, even if no one sees them!"

The darkness reached for the star, but where they met, something incredible happened - the darkness began to glow, as if remembering its childhood when it too was a little star.

"Impossible!" exclaimed the Chief Calculator, desperately clicking on his calculator. "According to all laws of physics..."

"Have you ever tried measuring a smile with a ruler?" interrupted Aunt Alice, raising the cup higher. The constellations on her coat whirled in a merry dance. "Or weighing joy on scales?"

The star began to sing - softly, but every heart could hear this song. Even the strictest formulas on the board began swaying to the rhythm, and Pythagoras's theorem forgot about its squares and started dancing.

"It worked!" I exhaled, opening my eyes.

The whole laboratory was glowing! Every instrument, every formula, every speck of dust emitted a warm light. The flower opened all its petals, becoming like a small sun, and its song grew louder and more confident.

"This is amazing!" Aunt Alice looked at me with pride. "You don't just hear the songs - you help others remember them!"

I took out my glowing diary, and it began writing notes by itself - not simple ones, but living ones that jumped off the pages and started dancing in the air. Each told its story: here's note "do" remembering the first day of creation, "re" telling about the birth of the rainbow, and "mi" humming a lullaby for little stars.

Hope bloomed like a spring garden - bright, warm, full of promises of new wonders. My star in the cocoa jumped joyfully, creating tiny whirlpools of light and music on the surface of the drink.

"Now," Aunt Alice handed me a small silver wand that looked like a frozen ray of light, "let's teach the whole world to sing again!"

The flower agreed with a tinkle of its bell-petals. The formulas on the walls lined up in a solemn parade, preparing for new dances. Even the shyest telescope peeked out from behind the cabinet to watch how we would teach the world to remember its first songs.

And I understood - this was just the beginning. The beginning of the most amazing adventure, where each note could become a key to a new door, each melody - a bridge between worlds, and each song - the beginning of a new story.

Because sometimes, to save all the wonders in the world, you just need to help the world remember its very first song. The one that played when everything was just beginning. When every heart knew how to sing, every smile knew its melody, and each new day began with music.

Especially if you have a cup of cocoa with a star-conductor, a diary that remembers all the wonders in the world, and friends ready to sing with you even on the greyest day.