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Book: The Potato Chip Puzzles: The Puzzling World of Winston Breen by Eric Berlin
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Authors: Eric Berlin
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probably wouldn’t approve of him fooling around like this—he moved the cursor into the answer box and typed in a made-up word: GLOHONKIN. He hit Enter. The device once again thought for a moment or two and then responded with, “That is not the right answer.” Big surprise.
Winston turned off the computer. “I wish I’d brought a puzzle book for the travel time,” he said.
“You’ll have all the puzzles you can handle in just a while,” Mr. Garvey said. “Don’t tire out your brain.”
Mal said, “Winston’s brain doesn’t get tired. It’s scary. I don’t know how he turns it off long enough to sleep.”
“Well, look on the floor,” Mr. Garvey said. “You might find a math book down there. I’m sure that’ll have something puzzly in it.”
Winston felt around under his seat and, sure enough, came up with an old workbook with various math and number games in it. He flipped through it until he came to something interesting.
You can place the digits 1 through 6 in this puzzle so that each row, each column, and every 2-by-3 box contains each digit exactly once. In addition, the digits in each shaded area must add up to the given number.
(Answer, page 240.)
The museum was doing brisk business now that school was out, and the parking lot was crowded. They parked and made their way inside. Mr. Garvey took the computer from Mal and showed it to the woman at the box office. Bored, she waved them in. She was used to this by now—a whole bunch of teams had already arrived, of course.
The four of them walked through the turnstiles, continued another few paces, and stopped.
“Where are we going?” asked Jake.
“Good question,” said Mr. Garvey, looking around. “Does this thing give any instructions on what to do when we get here?” He turned on the computer.
“It didn’t say anything,” Winston said.
Mr. Garvey pressed buttons on the computer, confirmed that Winston was correct, and made a frustrated grunting sound. They stood there, looking for anything that might be helpful. There were lots of interactive exhibits and a model of the solar system hanging from the ceiling.
“Maybe we should split up and try to find what we’re looking for,” Winston suggested.
Mr. Garvey shook his head. “Maybe later, if we really get stuck. I want to stay together for now. I don’t want to lose any more time trying to locate lost kids.”
So they wandered around. The problem was, the puzzle might be anywhere. A multimillionaire who had manufactured special handheld computers could do just about anything he wanted. Dmitri Simon might have had the museum alter one of its exhibits. Perhaps one of the interactive displays had been reprogrammed in some way? They peeked into all of them—“Fly a Rocket!” and “What Is a Moon Rock Made Of ?” and “Gravity on Other Planets.” Nothing jumped out at them as being particularly puzzlelike.
They had been searching fruitlessly for a good ten or fifteen minutes when Jake said, “Hey, look there!”
They whirled around just in time to see the Brookville Brains walking briskly toward the exit. They were easily the most identifiable team, with their blue baseball hats and shirts. They must have found the puzzle and solved it, and they were already moving on to the next location. Winston felt a thrum of frustration course through him. First the flat tire, and now they couldn’t find the first puzzle. Yet other teams were barreling on ahead!
“Come on,” said Mr. Garvey, grimly.
The four of them hustled over to where that other team had just been. The puzzle had to be around here somewhere, right? But this part of the museum looked the same as the rest. Again they stood there, bewildered and helpless, bloodhounds unable to pick up a scent.
“Where did those guys come from?” said Jake. “They came from this direction, right?”
Winston pointed generally. “Yeah. From somewhere over here.”
They walked a few paces, trying to retrace the
Winston turned off the computer. “I wish I’d brought a puzzle book for the travel time,” he said.
“You’ll have all the puzzles you can handle in just a while,” Mr. Garvey said. “Don’t tire out your brain.”
Mal said, “Winston’s brain doesn’t get tired. It’s scary. I don’t know how he turns it off long enough to sleep.”
“Well, look on the floor,” Mr. Garvey said. “You might find a math book down there. I’m sure that’ll have something puzzly in it.”
Winston felt around under his seat and, sure enough, came up with an old workbook with various math and number games in it. He flipped through it until he came to something interesting.
You can place the digits 1 through 6 in this puzzle so that each row, each column, and every 2-by-3 box contains each digit exactly once. In addition, the digits in each shaded area must add up to the given number.
(Answer, page 240.)
The museum was doing brisk business now that school was out, and the parking lot was crowded. They parked and made their way inside. Mr. Garvey took the computer from Mal and showed it to the woman at the box office. Bored, she waved them in. She was used to this by now—a whole bunch of teams had already arrived, of course.
The four of them walked through the turnstiles, continued another few paces, and stopped.
“Where are we going?” asked Jake.
“Good question,” said Mr. Garvey, looking around. “Does this thing give any instructions on what to do when we get here?” He turned on the computer.
“It didn’t say anything,” Winston said.
Mr. Garvey pressed buttons on the computer, confirmed that Winston was correct, and made a frustrated grunting sound. They stood there, looking for anything that might be helpful. There were lots of interactive exhibits and a model of the solar system hanging from the ceiling.
“Maybe we should split up and try to find what we’re looking for,” Winston suggested.
Mr. Garvey shook his head. “Maybe later, if we really get stuck. I want to stay together for now. I don’t want to lose any more time trying to locate lost kids.”
So they wandered around. The problem was, the puzzle might be anywhere. A multimillionaire who had manufactured special handheld computers could do just about anything he wanted. Dmitri Simon might have had the museum alter one of its exhibits. Perhaps one of the interactive displays had been reprogrammed in some way? They peeked into all of them—“Fly a Rocket!” and “What Is a Moon Rock Made Of ?” and “Gravity on Other Planets.” Nothing jumped out at them as being particularly puzzlelike.
They had been searching fruitlessly for a good ten or fifteen minutes when Jake said, “Hey, look there!”
They whirled around just in time to see the Brookville Brains walking briskly toward the exit. They were easily the most identifiable team, with their blue baseball hats and shirts. They must have found the puzzle and solved it, and they were already moving on to the next location. Winston felt a thrum of frustration course through him. First the flat tire, and now they couldn’t find the first puzzle. Yet other teams were barreling on ahead!
“Come on,” said Mr. Garvey, grimly.
The four of them hustled over to where that other team had just been. The puzzle had to be around here somewhere, right? But this part of the museum looked the same as the rest. Again they stood there, bewildered and helpless, bloodhounds unable to pick up a scent.
“Where did those guys come from?” said Jake. “They came from this direction, right?”
Winston pointed generally. “Yeah. From somewhere over here.”
They walked a few paces, trying to retrace the
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