Molly Moon, Micky Minus, & the Mind Machine

by Georgia Byng

  Molly counted slowly to one hundred and twenty. Then she and Petula went in too.

  Inside, the familiar blue glow of the giant jellyfish greeted them. Molly could hear Micky’s voice in the main chamber.

  “But why did you wake me up to tell me that?” he was saying. “If I don’t get my sleep, I’ll get more sick. Why didn’t you wake her up and tell her about these faces?” Molly realized that the faces must be something to do with a story Nurse Meekles had fabricated to get him to follow her.

  “I wanted you to see them first, dumpling,” Nurse Meekles said.

  Molly and Petula stepped into the changing zone. Silently Molly’s jumpsuit was hoisted up on an invisible hanger above to join Micky and Nurse Meekles’s nightclothes. And Molly and Petula found themselves clad in the blue electromagnetic outfits.

  “I can’t see them,” Micky was saying in the machine room.

  “There’s one,” said Nurse Meekles. And then there was the distinct sound of sticking tape being peeled off its reel.

  “What are you do—” Micky’s sentence was cut short.

  “You can come in now, Molly,” Nurse Meekles called softly. Molly walked in, to see Micky struggling with his hands held behind his back and his mouth taped. Nurse Meekles looked extraordinary in her electromagnetic suit—rather like a shiny blue bouncy ball with arms and legs and a head stuck on.

  “We have to move it, Molly. I’ve muffled the microphones and turned the cameras away from us, but they can’t be like that for long. Hopefully the guards in the monitor room will be too dozy at this time of night to notice anything suspicious. Help me take him to the chair. Come on.”

  Molly faltered.

  “Molly, I had to gag him,” the woman whispered gently. “Micky maybe can’t run very well, but he certainly can shout. Help me put him on the chair. Once he’s there we can sort him out.”

  “Sort him out?” Molly still held back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be part of this. “What are you going to do to him?” She watched the nurse pull Micky toward the chair as easily as if he was a tightly rolled-up duvet.

  “The same as they did to you.”

  “What? Take away all his knowledge of how to hypnotize?”

  “Exactly that. The machine is on the same settings. Typical! Her Highness never tidies up after herself—lets servants do it all. Lucky for us, she was too lazy to put this machine back into neutral too. All I have to do is press this one.” She pointed to a large green button with GO printed on it. Micky was now pinned into the chair, his hands held down, his body and legs firmly trapped. Nurse Meekles lowered the silver dome down over his head. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Micky,” she said, speaking to his feet and avoiding his hypnotic eyes, “but you wouldn’t listen. This is for your own good, my darling. You need to get your feet back on the ground. Your sister here will help you.”

  Micky tried to wriggle out of the imprisoning chair, but it was impossible.

  Molly knew how he felt. She was extremely confused. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.

  The stout woman walked toward the control panel of the machine. “He needs to see something of the real world,” she said quietly. “He has no idea what he’s done. He needs to know. They’ve nearly changed him forever, Molly. He used to be such a nice little boy. It breaks my heart to see how my little plum cracker’s changed. But I know him, Molly. He’s still good underneath; I’m sure he is. I can see he’s your brother. Get to know him. Try to forgive his bad habits and help him. He has to lose his hypnotic skills because only then can he escape with you.”

  “Escape?”

  “Yes. I know a way.” She put her finger on the green button. “This is difficult for me to do, but I know it’s for the best.” She closed her eyes and pressed. The machine was activated. Sparks shot through the blue gelatinous gloop of the jellyfish, and the domed cap on Micky’s head flashed. Micky tried to kick and shout, but his efforts were futile. Molly knew how furious he was and she really felt for him. Soon Micky stopped thrashing. His anger subsided as he accepted that all his hypnotic knowledge was being drained from him.

  “I think you can look at him now,” Nurse Meekles said.

  Molly’s eyes met her brother’s. They were molten.

  “Do you know how to put the memories back in?” Molly asked hopefully.

  The woman shook her head. “There’s no time for regrets now. Keep looking back at yesterday and you’ll trip over tomorrow! Now come on, quick, let’s get out of these ridiculous outfits.”

  Nurse Meekles fixed the cameras and microphones in the room so that everything was back to normal. Then Molly helped her pull Micky, his hands now taped together in front of him, toward the changing zone and their clothes were sluiced back on to them. Keeping to the shadows, they hurried through the courtyards, half dragging Micky, to a blue door, beyond which was a corridor. At the end of this was a waist-high oblong opening. Nurse Meekles pressed a button beside it.

  “This is the chute that goes to the laundry rooms,” she said, bending to give Petula a stroke. “There are no cameras there.” Hearing a noise behind them, she suddenly grew very panicky. “Yes, so … oh my goodness, where was I? So there’s the entrance to the secret mountain passageway in there. Go through it. Like I said, ride the pincers. Princess Fang won’t know where you are.” She reached into her pocket and passed Molly a matchbox-sized object. “A flashlight, Molly. But that is all I can do for you.”

  She turned to Micky. “I did this for you, honey puff. Might get my whole mind washed away if they find out, but I had to take the risk. I had to do it for you, dumpling.” She bent to kiss him, but Micky blazed with anger and ducked away. He tried to shout something from behind the tape on his mouth, but all that he could produce was a hoarse grunt of complaint.

  The nurse kissed Molly softly on the forehead. “Good luck,” she said. “Now hurry, hurry, hurry, and thank you for coming to rescue him.” She picked Micky up in her strong arms and posted him through the hatch. “He’ll have to manage without his hover chair,” she said. “It’ll be good for him.”

  Molly touched Nurse Meekles’s shoulder. A new courage had blossomed inside her.

  “What do you mean, ‘ride the pincers’?” she said. But before she had time to hear the answer, she and Petula had slipped down the hatch and they too were shooting away into the darkness.

  Thirteen

  T he laundry chute was a large metal tube angled steeply so that the ride down it was dark and very fast. Molly, with Petula in her lap, landed in a sofa-sized basket of dirty linen, just missing Micky, who had rolled over to the side and was floundering about, trying to get up. With his tied hands he wiped a sock from his head and grimaced at Molly accusingly.

  “Don’t you dare look at me like that!” Molly said reproachfully. “You’re not the only one who’s been put on that machine. Imagine what it’s like for me. I only came here to check that you were okay. Now look at me! My best friend has been hypnotized by you; I’ve lost my powers; and Rocky, Petula, and I are stuck in a time that isn’t even our own.”

  While Micky stubbornly sat on the floor, determined to make her life as difficult as possible, and Petula sniffed about, Molly began searching for a way out. The laundry room was fairly big, with large white machines along the length of it. Each had a dashboard of buttons with Chinese writing on them. One was switched on, and through its square window Molly saw one of the princess’s frilly dresses. Instead of being tossed in water, the dress was being stretched and cleaned by green light. At the far end of the room was a door. This was locked. Above their heads, long mechanical arms, which Molly assumed sorted the clothes, hung dormant. Molly ran her hands along the surface of the wall. It was completely smooth. There didn’t seem to be a seam line of a door at all. Desperately she pushed trolleys of laundry aside to search. Micky began to laugh. It was a mean laugh and muffled behind the tape on his mouth. Molly ignored him.

  The next second there was a thud. Molly jumped as
the engines of the room cranked into action. Micky had found the buttons that operated the laundry machines.

  The cranelike arms of the sorters began swinging into action. The first made a swoop for Molly. Thinking her a large, unwashed piece of clothing, it dived, claws open, to pick her up. Molly turned, horrified, and ducked for cover. The second went for Petula, who wasn’t so lucky. Rubber clamps embraced her body and lifted her up. She let out a howl of fear, but the machine ignored her. Swiftly it lifted her, making its calculations about which machine to put her into.

  “You moron!” Molly shouted at Micky. “Switch it off!” Micky shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. Molly watched aghast as Petula was lifted higher and higher, right up to the beams of the ceiling. Pushing wheeled baskets of laundry out of her way, Molly ran to be directly below Petula in case she was suddenly dropped.

  Up above Molly, Petula went stone still with fear. She hated heights. Seeing a beam close by to the right, she forgot her fear of falling and began to struggle. If she could just wriggle out of the sorting claw’s metal and rubber grip and get onto the beam, things would be better. Below, Molly was craning her neck and holding her arms out.

  The mechanical arm was now losing its hold on Petula. She could feel herself slipping. If she fell, it would hurt. It would be far worse than the time she fell off the garden wall when she was a puppy. There was nothing for it. The next time the machine moved toward the white beam, Petula made an immense twisting effort. She pulled her body out of the mechanical grip and pushed away toward the beam. Suddenly she was flying through the air like a plump black squirrel, and for a split second she thought she wouldn’t make it. Then her front paws caught the beam and, kicking with her back legs, she was up.

  “Oh, Petula, be careful,” she heard Molly saying from below. The mechanical arm moved away, confused but resigned that it had lost its load, ready to pick up another piece.

  Petula looked down from her perch. Her world swayed. Determined not to fall off the beam, she stared ahead, but her furry knees quivered as she realized she was stuck. She tried to pull herself together and willed herself not to feel dizzy. If she walked to the end of the beam, she thought, she’d reach a ledge that was wider. She’d be far safer there. So, plucking up courage, Petula pretended she was walking along a thin path on the ground. She ignored the scraping of her claws on the metal beam. She ignored all thoughts of plummeting to the ground. Soon she was by the wall, and so relieved was she that she flung herself at it. When she did, a very unexpected thing happened. The wall gave way.

  From below, through the metal of the laundry-machine arms and the sheets that were being lifted and sorted, Molly saw the opening. She marched over to Micky and pulled him up.

  “Thanks,” she said, tugging him toward the center of the room so that they were prime targets for the laundry sorters. “You’ve actually just shown us the way out. We have to do what Nurse Meekles said—’ride the pincers.’” Micky looked wide-eyed at the beams high above. As he did, one of the mechanical claws spied what it thought was a tablecloth and swung down to grab it. Molly jumped onto its articulated arm. The machine swung Micky up high and hovered near the beam for a moment as it tried to decipher whether he was linen or cotton. Molly caught the beam with her legs and gripped it tight between her knees. Once she was balanced, she tugged at her brother. He tumbled onto her, and the machine, confused again, went down for more laundry. Micky’s hands were still tied. He was obviously petrified that he might fall.

  “Just keep still,” Molly said, trying to be reassuring. Micky was as rigid as a wooden broom. “I’ll pull you over here and you’ll be fine.” She inched backward toward the ledge, dragging him with her. When they got there she kissed and hugged Petula. “Good girl, clever girl!”

  Petula was very impressed with Molly’s brave ascent, although she wondered why she had brought the boy up. And she didn’t know how they were all going to get down again. She’d already sniffed at the tunnel beyond. It smelled of damp and old burned-out fire. It wasn’t the sort of tunnel any dog, or person, would want to venture into. So it was with great surprise that Petula found herself being pushed into its blackness.

  Molly checked the laundry room for any telltale signs that they’d been there and then carefully she shoved Micky and posted herself through the secret trapdoor. Its hatch snapped satisfactorily shut.

  Fourteen

  F or a few moments Molly sat perfectly still. The tunnel was dark and smelled of old burned cabbage, but she didn’t care. Relief washed through her—they had made it out. The princess and her entourage behind the secret door would be sleeping and so, for a little while at least, they were safe. She thought of Miss Cribbins’s slapping ruler and hoped with all her heart that she would never see it—or feel it—again. Micky’s muffled grunting brought her to her senses. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. His back was in front of her legs.

  “Mrrmmhmmm!” He was trying to shout behind his gag. Molly knew how horrible it was to be gagged. On top of this, Micky had his hands tied. With the cobwebby darkness engulfing him, he must be feeling claustrophobic and scared. She reached for the flashlight Nurse Meekles had given her and switched it on.

  Micky turned, his eyes wide and watery. He brought his hands up and waved them in front of the light. “Mrwrrwwhhhmm!” he demanded.

  “I will free your hands,” Molly whispered, “but not until we are away from this door. I don’t want you taking off your gag and shouting.” Micky turned away. Molly softened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It wasn’t actually my fault you were put on the mind machine. Nurse Meekles thought it was the best thing for you.” Micky grunted angrily. “Okay,” Molly said. “Well, you tell me later. For now let’s get going. You first. Lead the way.” She gave her brother a little nudge with her knees, and he began to edge down the tunnel.

  At first the slope was gentle. Petula went first, using her nose and the light from Molly’s flashlight. She moved forward very reluctantly. To her sensitive canine nose the tunnel smelled of a mixture of dogs and snakes, as though creatures of both types used this place as a playground. She smelled their thick scent in the air. It was fresh. Her hair prickled up on her back as she examined it. Petula had come across a viper in the grass at Briersville Park once. The smell from these snakes was fifty times as powerful. She had a horrid feeling that these snakes were probably fifty times as big. Couldn’t Molly smell them too? And as for the dogs, they would be furious to find another dog on their territory. She twisted toward Molly and whined quietly, This is dangerous Molly—let’s go back.

  Edging down the tunnel was like moving through the stone vein of some great rock beast. The walls were clammy and cold, and the ground beneath them, rough rubble. Molly supposed that the tunnels had been cut away by ancient underground mountain streams, when in times past the snows had melted each year. Yet someone used, or had used, the tunnel too, for someone had built the secret door to the palace laundry room. Who? Molly wondered. And how did Nurse Meekles know about it? She imagined the vast, heavy mass of the mountain all about them. It felt oppressive—as though it might suddenly squeeze them to death. This tunnel might go on for miles, Molly thought. Already her legs were aching and she was thirsty.

  Then the rocky channel took a sharp, earthbound turn that they skidded down, landing in heaps at the bottom. Molly leaned toward Micky with the flashlight in her teeth and undid the knots around his wrists.

  “I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” she said. Her voice sounded extrafierce in the dark, stuffy air. “I’m not in the mood to be tackled. You know I’m stronger than you, plus Petula would bite you if she had to.” Molly didn’t like to be mean but knew she had to make Micky scared of her or he might attempt to fight. Micky rubbed his wrists and peeled the tape off his mouth.

  “You idiot,” he snarled. “Nobody asked you to come. You should’ve stayed where you came from. We’re in deep trouble here. I mean, who built this rat run? Have you thought about that?”r />
  “As far as I’m concerned,” Molly growled back, eyeing the royal crest embroidered on his dressing gown, “those people, those vicious friends of yours back there, are the rats. Whoever built this tunnel must be better than them!”

  “You’re so stupid. You don’t know what this place and this time are like.” Micky practically spat his next words. “How could a prehistoric person like you know?”

  “I may not be a person from this time,” said Molly through gritted teeth, “but in my time people were a thousand times nicer than they are here. Those people—your people—are sick in the head. The only one who was anything like a proper human being was Nurse Meekles. And you’re sick too, by the way.”

  “I know I am. You’re sick, to make fun of my illness!”

  “I wasn’t talking about your body,” said Molly. “You are sick to have hypnotized all the people who live around the lake.”

  “If I could hypnotize you, I would make you think you are a pile of muck,” said Micky, “a rotting pile of cow-flapper muck!”

  “Very nice,” said Molly icily, “but you’re not a hypnotist now, are you, Micky? Now you’re just an ordinary eleven-year-old boy, so you’d better get used to it.” Molly shone her flashlight to inspect their surroundings. They had landed in a passageway that went to the left and to the right.

  “You’re like a mole lost in a hole,” said Micky drily. “And I’ll tell you what—there are creepy things out there that hunt moles.”

  Molly ignored him. She took a deep breath. Her words sounded braver than she was feeling. “Which way, Petula?”

  Petula cocked her ears and sniffed the air. Both routes were unattractive. Both tunnels were dank and smelled of snake dung and dogs. She chose the mossiest-smelling one and poked her nose toward it.