by Georgia Byng
Seven
Molly gave a yelp and then began to struggle, but getting out of the grip of whatever Goliath was holding her was impossible. There was a scrabbling of claws on the floor as loyal Petula rushed forward to help her mistress. Immediately she was also given an electromagnetic dog-sized wet suit. Looking like a blue merdog and baring her teeth, she went for the legs of the man who held Molly, only to be kicked and hurled across the floor.
“Don’t, Petula! Don’t try!” shouted Molly. At the same time she heard Rocky struggling behind the screen. Molly wriggled and attempted to turn her head so that her hypnotic eyes could be beamed at her captor, but she couldn’t. There was no choice but to just hang listlessly. In front of her she could see the princess and the blue jellyfish creature. The girl turned to see what the commotion was, put her hands on her hips in consternation, and then, calculating that the situation was under control, turned back to her complicated computer. To the right, Molly could see Petula recovering from her violent knock. How she wished Petula would use her doggy hypnotism now! That pug had hypnotic skills, Molly knew, because once, with a clear crystal in her mouth, she’d made the world stand still. It had saved Molly’s life.
Petula barked weakly and staggered to her feet. If only the blue-suited man holding Molly was as easy to hypnotize as mice were. But she wasn’t as in control of her hypnotism as Molly—Petula’s hypnotism always felt like a fluke when it happened, and, anyway, right now she was in too much pain to even try.
“Rocky!” Molly cried.
“Yeahhuhhh—” came Rocky’s reply as a hand clamped around his mouth.
This annoyed the little princess. “Be quiet, would you?” she snapped angrily, with a voice just like her older sister’s. “Can’t you see dat I’m working on my mind machine?” Giving a sharp trill of irritation, she resumed her work, jabbing at buttons and clasping dials to turn them. The blue jellyfish began to pulsate, then spark as tiny currents of electricity broke through it. It looked as if miniature lightning bolts were flashing inside its flesh. The princess donned a silver skullcap, very like the domed cap on the trapped man’s head. Then, flinging her control disk onto the monitor desk, she stepped up onto the platform where her captive sat.
“Here we go!” she exclaimed, and she sat back in a long, black, comfortable chair as if ready to enjoy some show. The man looking petrified, the princess perfectly calm, the operation began. Green and blue sparks started to explode from the man’s domed cap. His limbs twitched and jerked as though he was being electrocuted, and his body pulsed with light, showing its very bones. The jellyfish’s insides lit up with a bright white fiery display, and then pictures of diagrams and numbers and letters, like complicated mathematical sums, sprang out of it to pose for a second above its gelatinous head before disappearing.
Turquoise sparks flew into the girl’s headpiece, apparently causing her no discomfort. Shutting her eyes and smiling, she declared, “Ohhh, I seee!” and, “Ahhh, now dat makes sense.” As the man’s body twisted, spasming at every spark and flash, she cried gleefully, “Oh, of course!” And so the process went on. Molly watched helplessly from her captor’s grip. Twice the girl recited a scientific equation as if reciting poetry.
“Pi equals MC squared plus the watio of two cubed minus fwee over four … hmm.” And three times she clapped her hands in delight.
Petula lay on the floor, feeling bruised and scared. She too could see the strange performance around the jellyfish. She wondered where Rocky had gone. She sucked on the tag of plastic that she’d found on the floor. She knew it was Molly’s and that gave her comfort.
Then finally the sparks stopped. With a sigh of pleasure the princess girl lifted the cap from her head. Her captive’s silver domed cap levitated from him as if lifted by invisible strings. His body was released from the chair.
“Fank you vewy much,” said the child with an insane politeness. “Dat was most intewesting.”
The man stared ahead of him as though trying to focus properly. He attempted to get up, but his legs, as if boneless, gave way beneath him. He looked like someone who didn’t know who he was, or where he was, as he was assisted to his feet by a servant and brought to the changing area, where his blue electromagnetic wet suit was magically stripped from him and instantaneously swapped with his original clothes.
The small girl strutted toward them. Without looking at Molly she stood in the changing area and was reclad in her yellow dress. As a gold bracelet was making its way to her hand she pressed a button on the wall and at once all of Molly’s things thumped and clattered to the floor.
“Hmm, twenty-first-centuwy twainers and an ‘owiginal’ pug dog. Uuurgh.” The princess nudged Molly’s sneaker with the toe of her yellow shoe. Then her dark eyes lit up as they fell on Molly’s string of special crystals. “But what are dees?”
“It’s just … just a necklace,” Molly stuttered, hoping that she didn’t know as much about time travel as her sister had. “I wore it around my neck, here. Look …” Molly was desperate to get the child to look at her. It shouldn’t be too difficult to interest a six-year-old, she thought. “Look at my neck. I’ve got a scar here,” now Molly lied, “in the shape of a puppy.”
But the royal child wasn’t to be distracted. She picked up the gems. “It doesn’t take a wocket scientist, although actually I am a wocket scientist—ha!—to guess that you, girl, are a time twaveler. I know these sorts of gems well. So it’s obvious you’re a hypnotist too. I wecognize the dwoning voice. Cover her eyes, Number Twelve.”
“Please! You don’t underst—” Molly began. “And don’t speak!” The girl slammed her hand over Molly’s mouth. “Or I’ll have your mouth taped up!”
As a black piece of material was tightened around Molly’s eyes, her world went dark. Molly suddenly felt really frightened. This girl reminded her of the sort of children who pulled the legs off insects or who threw stones at frogs. Molly felt worried for Petula and Rocky. She wondered what the girl would do with them all. Where was the Redhorn man? And where was Rocky?
“So you’re a time-twaveling hypnotist,” the girl said, peering up at Molly. Molly could smell her breath. It smelled of bubble gum. “But, de question is, what has bwought you here? Not a good hairdwesser—I can see dat.”
Molly felt scared and absurd both at once. She couldn’t believe what a complete mess she’d got herself, Rocky, and Petula into. Then, as the peculiar child in front of her prodded her in the nose, Molly heard another voice from behind the screen.
“That’s right,” the voice was saying. “Look into my eyes.” It was Micky Minus.
In an instant, Molly realized that he too was a hypnotist. And then she felt really stupid. It hadn’t occurred to her that Micky might be a hypnotist! How had it not! Hypnotism obviously ran in the family.
Now Molly saw that, of course, this was the reason these people needed her brother. Molly could just imagine his green eyes working on Rocky. Though blindfolded, Molly pulled away to get to him.
“No!” she shouted. “Rocky, don’t lis—” But this time a large hand clamped down on her mouth.
“Now …” Micky was saying, “now you are completely under my power. I seal this instruction in with the words …” His voice trailed off to a whisper. Molly knew what he was doing. He was locking his hypnotic instruction in with a password. In a few seconds she heard Rocky complying.
“I’ll do—whatever—you say,” he said in a dead voice.
Molly was mortified. This was an unbelievably dreadful situation. But then, as if to prove that things could get a lot worse, the princess child in front of her declared hatefully, “I fink we’ll put you, Miss Whoever-you-are, on de mind machine!”
Molly’s stomach tightened. “Wh-what? The machine over there?” She pointed, her blindfolded eyes darting in the direction of the giant jellyfish.
“Yes,” the mad little girl replied. “Or I might put your dog on first!” She paused. “Only joking. It can’t decipher animal foughts �
�� yet.”
Behind the wall Molly heard Micky questioning Rocky. “So who are you and who is the girl?” he asked.
“I’m—Rocky Scar-let and she—is Molly—Moon,” Rocky answered blandly.
“Minus, COME HERE!” screeched the little girl. “Come and see de worm I’ve caught!” Molly heard the now familiar hum of Micky’s floating couch.
“Her name is Molly Moon,” came her brother’s weak voice.
“Is it now, my sick one? Moon! Hmm. Look at dees.” Molly heard her necklace being rattled. “And have you ever seen anything as disgusting as dees? And as for her, I’m not sure I can stomach looking at her ugly face ever again. Her nose is almost as ugly as yours, Micky!”
“Those shoes are ancient,” said Micky. “What period are they from?”
“Early in the twenty-first centuwy, I fink,” said the little girl. She picked up Molly’s rucksack and began to look through it. With her lip curling, she pulled out Molly and Rocky’s jeans and dropped them on the floor. Then she inspected Petula’s can of dog food.
“What is in dis obscene-looking parcel?” she asked, fingering Molly’s cellophane-wrapped sandwich. The man holding Molly removed his hand from her mouth for a moment so that she could speak.
“That’s a ketchup sandwich,” Molly guessed nervously. “Delicious. Try it if you like.”
The girl grimaced as though Molly had just invited her to eat a raw snail. She looked at the compass, the flashlight, and the camera, and then read the date on one of Molly’s banknotes. “You are poorly equipped for a twip to your future,” she commented drily. Then she addressed the boy. “But she’s a danger to you, Minus.”
“Why is she here?” he asked.
At this point Molly just had to speak. With the fury of an angry bulldog she bit her guard’s hand. As it jerked away she shouted, “I’m your twin sister from the twenty-first century! Look at me—you’ll see I’m your exact twin!”
“Shut your cakehole!” shouted the young princess. “Dat’s porky-pies! Tape up her mouf!” There was the sound of running feet as something was fetched. Soon Molly’s mouth was zipped shut with uncomfortable sticky tape.
“Don’t listen to her, Micky,” continued the little girl. “She’s been sent here to destwoy you. Quickly, we must get her on de machine.”
So as helplessly as a chicken being taken to the ax Molly was pushed toward the platform chair. She heard the squelching jellyfish and Petula’s loyal feet as she trotted along beside her. She smelled the minerals in the air. Molly desperately rifled through her brain to try to find some way to escape this fate. She didn’t want to end up like the man had. She felt the seat beneath her as she was pushed into it, and the invisible force as her arms, legs, and torso were held down. Struggle as she might, she simply couldn’t escape. Then one of the egg-shaped silver-domed caps was lowered onto her head too.
“Mnnhummmmhm!” Molly tried to shout. Petula began to bark relentlessly. Hands untied Molly’s blindfold.
Molly quickly drank in the situation. No one was going to be foolish enough to look at her. Rocky stood beside Molly’s twin brother in the blue light. He was totally hypnotized. Both wore blue electromagnetic suits and both looked calmly on. How Molly hated Micky now!
“MMMHHMMMMUURGH!” she yelled angrily at him through the tape. She wanted to shout, “You pathetic, stupid person. Can’t you see I’m your sister? I came all this way for you, and you’re just standing there waiting to watch me fry!”
Petula whined. She could feel Molly’s fear and her anger. She knew her feelings were directed at the boy who smelled so strangely similar to Molly. Similar in the same way that puppies from the same litter always smelled alike. She began to bark at him. Molly turned her head. From the corner of her eye Molly could see the freakish six-year-old, now back in her shiny blue outfit, programming her machine, and she could just make out the words to a horrible nursery rhyme that she was quietly singing.
“Fwee blind hypnotists,
Fwee blind hypnotists,
One dead, one tamed, one fwee,
One dead, one tamed, one fwee.
Dey all have minds of deir own, you see,
So keep dem down or dey’ll eat you for tea.
Dis one’s memowies will be my fee,
Fwee blind hypnotists.”
Molly didn’t understand the rhyme. A fee was what a person paid someone else when they had done something for them. The princess hadn’t done anything for Molly, so why did Molly owe her anything? And how would Molly’s memories pay her fee? What did this machine do? Molly’s hands began to sweat profusely. Her temples became moist as fear seared through her.
Then the sinister child said slowly, “Operation … suction… COMMENCE!”
Molly felt every hair on her head rise as an electric current passed through her. Her face tickled. And when she looked down at her hands she was filled with horror. Her skin pulsated so that every other second it became see-through and the bones there were visible. Her flesh tingled and then, as if the jellyfish was sending its tentacles into her thoughts, she felt her brain being rummaged through. She felt memories come alive in her mind and then she sensed that they were being snatched—they were being targeted by the electric sparks of the jellyfish machine and taken from her. Suddenly she found herself remembering reading and learning about hypnotizing. She saw pages flashing inside her head as though she was really reading them, but a hundred times faster, and then the memories disappeared. It was as if her thoughts were being vacuumed out of her skull. Then Molly remembered her early experiences of using hypnosis. The memories were stark and vivid. For instance, there was the time when she had practiced with a pendulum. She remembered how she’d hypnotized Petula for the first time. But as swiftly as she recalled the moment, the memory was snatched from her. Suddenly Molly couldn’t think how she’d mesmerized Petula at all.
Molly winced and moaned with sadness as, time and time again, thoughts were taken from her. It was terrifying, as she had no control over the exodus. The riches of her mind were being stolen and she was being reduced—to what, Molly dared not imagine. Then, finally, the jellyfish stopped sending out its arcing sparks. Her brain had been robbed of every piece of knowledge about how to hypnotize. Molly could remember her life and what she had done using hypnotism, but she couldn’t remember how to do it.
The flashing of the jellyfish quieted and Molly opened her eyes. She felt dazed. In front of her the huge blue blob quivered as it digested the information. Molly could see images of Petula and the words of the hypnotism book hovering above it before they were finally sucked in. Petula whined at her feet.
“Youf isn’t evewyfing,” said the strange six-year-old girl, switching the controls off. “Knowledge is power.” She glanced at Molly. “Dis machine has just wemoved all your knowledge of how to hypnotize; derefore you are now no fret to us.” She laughed gaily, then her face dropped to seriousness. “Sadly, technology is not yet developed enough to take talent fwom a person, only knowledge. Talent, in case you didn’t know, is de natural ability of a person to do somefing. And flair, or talent, is a major ingwedient for hypnotism. So dis is fwustwating, to say de least. But I’m confident dat in a few years de technology will be dere, and den we will be able to extwact talent fwom people, and den I can put my cap on”—the girl mimed putting a cap on—”and absorb all dose lessons you’ve just given me and your talent, cos I’ll have dat by den too. Why, my bwain will suck it up like a bee sipping nectar from a flower!” The little girl did a twirl, pirouetting on her toe. “We’ll have to keep you for a few years, but we’ll harvest de talent fwom you as soon as we can. And when we do—ooh, là, là! I’ll be a hypnotist too. Fank you sooooo much.”
The child turned to a servant. As she did her bracelet moved to reveal a star-shaped birthmark. It was exactly the same mark the six-year-old child in pink had possessed eleven and a half years before. So it wasn’t a birthmark, Molly thought. It must be a tattoo, just like her big sister’s.
> “Take her to Miss Cwibbins’s quarters,” the princess instructed the guard. “De girl needs top secuwity.” With that she clicked a switch on the flower of her dress. “Cwibbins! Got a bit of twouble here. She’s called Milly Moon. Sorted now. Twelve is bringing her over. Keep her guarded. I’ll explain.”
With that, Molly found herself being firmly pushed and escorted to the blue dressing area. Here, her electric-blue magnetic suit vaporized to be replaced by her original white outfit. As her old sneakers were being slipped back on to her feet her brother Micky hobbled out of the shadows and stared at her. Rocky stood behind him—a shell of the real Rocky Molly knew. Molly glared at Micky with smoldering, angry eyes. She wished she could have used them to hypnotize him. But that was impossible now. She had lost all memory of how to do it. Her mind felt full of holes, and at the blank look on Rocky’s face she felt a giant hole inside her too. A hole that was the emptiness of lost friendship. Petula was all she had now. And as she stood there shocked, dazed, and sad, the small girl taunted:
“Baby, baby, stick your head in gravy,
Wrap it up in bubble gum
And send it to the navy.”
Molly looked down at her pet, who blinked loyally up at her. As Molly was led away, Petula trotted after.
Eight
Molly felt numb. Her head was whirring. And as a servant dressed in a woodcutter’s outfit led her and Petula along a path she began to get the oddest sensation. Everything felt more real than it normally did. The sky seemed bluer, the red stripe on her sneaker was redder, and the grass was fluorescent, it was so green. An insect flying past buzzed extra noisily; the gel in Molly’s hair smelled very, very fruity and the blood that she could taste in her mouth from biting her lip when she’d been on the mind machine tasted richer and supermetallic. It was as if all Molly’s senses were on overdrive. And to heighten the surrealness of it all, she found that things she thought about suddenly appeared. First of all, as she walked, the rhyme “Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie …” plucked its tune soundlessly in her head. This was odd anyway, as Molly had no reason to be remembering nursery rhymes. But even more curiously, as the refrain ended a mass often or twenty blackbirds flew up over the wall of the palace and away into the blue sky.