They got to work on gently dismantling the Futuroid, so they could figure out how it worked. Timmy and George knew just what to do, since Timmy loved to tinker with things, and that hobby had rubbed off on George. They gently took each part out and set it to the side, working like a well-oiled machine. By the time Kennedy called them for dinner, the boys had completely taken the Futuroid apart.
Every minute of free time George and Timmy had was spent working on the Futuroid; taking notes, putting parts of it together and then taking them back apart to see what happened, working night and day, rain and shine, to discover what secrets the device held.
Finally, three years later, after hundreds of hours of work, Timmy put the Futuroid back together. He held his breath. George stood beside him, recording Timmy with his phone. Timmy held up the camera and took a picture of his hand. The Futuroid spit out a picture, but it hadn't completely developed yet. Timmy waved it through the air a little, just out of pure anxiety. He waited a few seconds, then dared to look at the picture in his hand.
The picture showed an old, wrinkled hand. He showed the picture to George. Timmy gently set the Futuroid on the table, and then he and George started whooping and hollering. All of their hard work had paid off, and the Futuroid worked! They had figured it out!
