Molly Moon, Micky Minus, & the Mind Machine

by Georgia Byng

  “Build a bonfire,

  Build a bonfire,

  Put de teachers on de top,

  Put de schoolbooks in de middle,

  And den just BURN DE LOT!”

  “There was never a threat,” said Cribbins frostily. “There was no threat until Moon came along.”

  Princess Fang snorted. “You do wealize dat if we lose Micky Minus, Cwibbins, all our plans fall down. Dere will be no big empire. We won’t be able to contwol other countwies because we will have lost our little hypnotist.”

  Cribbins’s grip on her cat-spider tightened. “Of course I realize that. It’s obvious,” she hissed.

  The princess now screamed. “SO WHERE DID DEY GO? Vanished! How? Moon can’t time twavel anymore and Minus can’t either, because he doesn’t even know about time twavel. Anyway, you keep his cwystals. You do have his cwystals?”

  Miss Cribbins nodded, pulling two chains with red, green, and clear gems from her pocket. “Old dead Redhorn’s are here too,” she explained. “And you have the Moon ones locked up. There’s no way Minus can time travel or stop time—even if someone could teach him, he’s not got the tools.”

  Princess Fang snatched the crystals and hung both strings around her neck.

  “So,” she said crossly, taking two chocolate truffles from a black velvet box and stuffing them both in her mouth at once. “So, dat means dey could still be here in de building. Hiding under some toys, or under de trampoline or somefing. I like a game of hide-and-seek. I’ll just get all the servants to look for me.” She chewed her chocolates thoughtfully, wiping her messy mouth on her chiffon sleeve. “Or,” she said, throwing a cursory glance in the direction of the valley bottom, “or dey have somehow hitched an elevator down dere to Lakeside in one of de food planes or somefing.” She picked up a green cigarette and lit it. It smelled of limes.

  “They won’t last long,” said Miss Cribbins with a bitter smile, “I assure you. You’ve put out your message on the street screens with Minus’s picture. The hypnotized plebs will do as they’re told. They’ll hound Moon and Minus out. Just say the word, and the whole place can be turned upside down.”

  “Mmm. But,” said Fang, blowing a smoke ring and lassoing her finger with it, “when we do catch him, what den? That ugly Milly girl—uurgh, she’s so unattwactive it makes me sick—she will have worked on Minus. He may fink diffwently. He may not be under our influence anymore.”

  Miss Cribbins sneered. “If we net them quickly, she won’t have had time to change the way he thinks. He will still be like us. He will still understand that our way is the only way.”

  Taramasalata miaowed.

  “Huh! And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then he’ll have to be destroyed. Just as Moon will have to be destroyed.”

  “Destwoy her, yes, but not Minus. In a few years de machine will be able to extwact talent. When it can, we’ll extwact de talent for hypnotism and time twavel fwom Micky Minus, not fwom her. And once it’s ours, why, den we can dispose of him as well. Imagine it, Cwibbins! No more dependency. We’ll be able to hypnotize de people ourselves.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “So let’s concentwate now. Dat Milly’s started a game of tag. She wants a game, does she? Well, lovely! I love tag, and I’m vewy good at it. So let’s see who wins!”

  Sixteen

  As they were bundled along, Molly’s eyes swiveled around, taking in the details of this strange new place. The Institute of Zoology was enormous. From one large stone building as big as an airplane hangar came bouncing, thudding noises. A sign to the side of its giant stable door read:

  KANGARAFFE

  This breed produced by the Qingling Team in 2418

  at the Yang Yongian Institute of Zoology.

  Vegetarian.

  Extremely excitable.

  Molly wondered who these brilliant scientists, the Qingling Team, had been. Every creature in the place seemed to have been developed by them. And the zoo was enormous, so they must have invented hundreds of new animals. As far as the eye could see there were leafy enclosures, stretching all the way down to the lake.

  The path meandered past a copse of trees until they came to a massive gray shed. While the tortoise-man, Tortillus, unlocked its metal door Molly read the sign nearby:

  WORMUS MAXIMUS

  This breed produced by the Qingling Team in 2419

  at the Yang Yongian Institute of Zoology.

  Eats rotting matter.

  Mostly harmless.

  The hawk-man, Wildgust, deposited Molly and Micky on the ground and in halting, hypnotized phrases he warned, “Sit—on ledge—don’t go on soil—or you drown—or get squashed—by worms.” He roughly nudged Molly toward some steps that led down into a dark pit.

  Micky limped forward and peered inside. “It’s pitch-black down there,” he said with a look of revulsion and fear on his face.

  “Window later,” the tortoise-man said. “Tinted—Worms don’t—like strong—daylight.”

  Petula sniffed at the pong of manure in the air. She wasn’t sure about this place either. It smelled of wet soil and fat, slippery worms. Petula had never been a great digger, never the sort of dog that shot down rabbit holes or buried bones.

  “Come on, Petula,” Molly coaxed. “I’m going, so you’d better come too. Come on.” Molly put her finger through Petula’s collar and gave a gentle tug. And the three of them entered the gloomy dungeon.

  Once inside, they found themselves standing on a thin metal ledge. Behind them, the door closed. Molly waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She thought she could sense something very large close to them. There was a squelching sound and a crumbling, splattering noise as clods of soil parted and moved.

  “Look where you got us now!” Micky hissed with repulsion into the darkness. “Captured by mutants!”

  “We might not be in here if you hadn’t thrown that lunatic fit out there,” Molly replied irritatedly. She felt the slimy wall behind them and tried to work out where it would be best to sit. “There’s no point in yelling for help like that. Now that you’ve lost your hypnotic power, you are no use to Little Miss Fang.”

  “You really are thick, aren’t you?” Micky replied. “I mean, you’re very, very stupid. The princess can easily fix me.”

  “Not after Nurse Meekles breaks the machine,” Molly lied. “When the machine is broken, then what? Unless there’s some other way you could learn how to hypnotize people again.” Molly was suddenly struck by the possibility that a hypnotism book might still exist. If one did, she might be able to get hold of it herself. She must find out, but she didn’t want Micky guessing what she was after. So she casually said, “Look, this is silly. Why don’t we make friends? We’ve got so much catching up to do. For instance, how did you learn to hypnotize anyway? Was it from a book?”

  “No, Redhorn taught me,” Micky said sourly. “There were never any books involved. But I will get my skills back. They’ll catch that stupid woman before she gets back into the mind-machine room.” He folded his arms and turned away.

  “Don’t count on it.” Molly began to lower herself and Petula down to sit on the metal ledge. “And you should realize something, Micky. Without your powers, you really are of no use to Pain-in-the-neck Fang and Ghost-face Cribbins. They don’t care about you unless you are a hypnotist. And what do you think of the mind machine, now that it’s been used on you? Don’t you think its sick to drain people of their thoughts like that?” Micky said nothing, but she could hear his quiet huffing breath as he silently cursed her. “Anyway,” Molly continued, “Fang will think you’re contaminated by me now. She won’t trust you anymore.”

  “That’s rubbish,” Micky retorted. “I’ll get my knowledge back and everything will be as it was.”

  Molly coughed a large lump of phlegm into her mouth, making as revolting a sound as she could, and spat it into the mud in front of her. “You need your head examined if you think that would be a good thing.”

&n
bsp; In the darkness, Micky screwed his eyes up with hatred. “You are a complete stupid,” he hissed, slowly sitting down. “You know the palace will find us very easily. You’ve signed your death warrant.”

  “I can’t believe I risked everything for you,” Molly replied angrily. “It’s obvious that you wouldn’t have ever risked anything for me.”

  The two of them stared silently ahead of them, dangling their legs over the ledge as though on a giant swing. Suddenly a worm moved under them, nudging their feet upward.

  “Whaaah! Disgusting! Oh cat-spider turds!” yelled Micky, pressing himself back against the clammy wall. Molly squinted into the darkness. Twenty feet away she could just make out the frame of the window that the tortoise-man had spoken of. As if on cue there was a juddering, creaking sound as two mechanical metal shutters ground apart. Dim light poured through the brown glass. Now Molly saw the expanse of soil in front of them. It was like an earthy swimming pool filled with seething monsters. Their pink backs glistened slightly in the wet soil.

  “Oh noodle puke!” Micky said, revolted. “Uuuurgh!”

  Just then some people approached the window. They were dressed like peasants from a fairy-tale book, in patched trousers, tattered skirts, jerkins, and straw hats and were consulting books. They came up close to the thick glass and cupped their hands to their eyes, trying to block out the sunlight and see the worms. Micky immediately jumped up.

  “Farmers! Help!” he yelled. “In the name of all that is powerful in Yang Yongia, help! Help me! I’m in here!”

  “They can’t hear you,” said Molly calmly. “That midget Professor Selkeem guy wouldn’t have put us in here if it wasn’t soundproofed.”

  “HEEEEEEELP!” Micky screamed, waving his arms about and ignoring her.

  “They can’t see you either. I should think all they can see is the first few meters of the pit by the window.” Molly looked at the stew of worms in front of her. “And that bit is too dangerous for you to get to.”

  It was then that she was completely caught by surprise. For Micky—limping, pathetic Micky—did something crazy. He threw himself, just like a rock star throws himself off the stage and into the crowd, into the mass of heaving worms. He landed on a hump of one of the worms. And then, like some mad stuntman in a fancy flowing dressing gown, he began hopping across the stepping-stone-like humps of various worms, toward the window.

  “Micky, come back!” Molly shouted. “It’s dangerous! Don’t you remember what the hawk-man said?”

  But it was too late. Micky had already misjudged the distance to the next worm and his legs had slipped into the soil. Now he was scrabbling to mount the worm, but it was diving under the mud and disappearing.

  “You idiot,” Molly said under her breath and then, with Petula barking madly at her, she too leaped into the pit.

  The first worm she landed on was unsuspecting, as was the second. Therefore, stepping on the fleshy pink islands, Molly was able to get halfway across the room. But in the middle of the chamber things got difficult. The worm she had jumped on didn’t like the sensation at all and shrank into the mud, taking what was going to be the next landing place down too. Molly’s feet sank into the soil until mud was up to her knees. Ahead, Micky was in an even worse predicament. He was already up to his waist in wet mulch. His eyes were wide with desperation. Petula howled from the metal ledge.

  “I’m—I’m s-sinking!” Micky yelped. “The worm’s s-sucking me down.”

  Molly was desperately trying to fathom how to stay up herself. If only she could see where the worms were under the mud! Then a bright idea struck her. If she thought a question to the worms, perhaps bubbles would show her where their heads were. And so she probed with her mind: What are you thinking?

  Hazy gray thought bubbles suddenly hovered all around her. She could hardly tell what the worms were thinking—their thoughts were bendy and mostly pictures of soil. But Molly didn’t care if she couldn’t read the images; they showed her where the heads of the worms were. Some of the bubbles were half visible, their worms being deep in the earth; other bubbles were higher up. These worms were near the surface. There was one like this beside Molly and another close to Micky. She pulled her right wrist out of the sludge and, with a hefty effort, jumped. Sure enough, there was a worm just under the surface. Before it had time to shrink again Molly was on to the next one. From this balancing point she was able to grab Micky’s arm. With a tremendous heave she dragged him toward her. Of course, the worm she was on was now fast sinking, but behind she saw that another was close to the surface. Molly tugged Micky toward this one and from there on to a wet concrete ledge away from the window at the side of the pit. They slumped down with relief.

  “Don’t try that crazy stuff again,” said Molly, gasping as she caught her breath. “Next time you might drown.” Micky gritted his teeth and said nothing, but Molly could tell that he’d been impressed by her rescue performance. He wouldn’t have guessed how she’d judged where the worms were, and she was glad, for she wanted to keep her mind-reading skills a secret.

  They were both now shivering from the wet. Micky was filthy and very shaken up. He slumped down in a shocked heap. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Molly saw him take a tiny rag out of his pocket. He sat rubbing it between his fingers as though it was a huge source of comfort.

  A medieval-looking farming family approached the window. The mother was dressed like a milkmaid, and the father and son were in leather knee-length trousers and floppy white shirts. The boy peered in. He had a vacant look. It was the same mindless stare of his parents.

  “It’s so sad,” Molly said. “In my time families going to the zoo have fun. That boy should be jumping about going, ‘Wow! Look at that giant worm! Urgh! Yuck!’ Here people have had their feelings ripped out. They’re like zombies. I’m amazed they’re at the zoo at all.”

  “They’re studying the worms because there is a plan to use them on the farms,” said Micky, replacing his rag in his pocket. “The plebs are given enough freedom of thought for the greater good of the empire.”

  “I see,” said Molly. “I know Princess Fang’s plans, Micky. By stealing people’s minds with her weird machine and by using hypnotism she wants to take over the world. I expect she’s promised that you will be a prince of this empire if you help her. She’s probably promised you whole countries for yourself! But, Micky, who, by the way, is going to do the hypnotizing now that you are not around?” Micky picked mud from his nails. “Because there are no other hypnotists in Ying Yongia, or whatever it’s called, are there? That old Redhorn man who took you as a baby, he’s dead, isn’t he? You hypnotized everyone, didn’t you?”

  “Not all of them,” Micky snarled back. “Redhorn had done lots before I started.”

  “But still,” said Molly harshly, “because of you, lots of the lake people are hypnotized. That boy there can’t think straight—all because of you. Didn’t you ever think you might be ruining people’s lives?”

  “It’s for the good of all,” said Micky automatically.

  “Sounds like Cribbins has brainwashed you too,” said Molly curtly. “For the good of all? You are nearly a complete nutter, Micky. For the good of that snobby lot living up there, you mean!”

  “The people are violent and unruly if they are not hypnotized,” said Micky mechanically, as if reciting a boring poem. “They are dangerous and murderous. It is for everyone’s safety that they must be on hypnotic leashes.”

  Molly couldn’t help laughing. “Ha! The dangerous people around here are those lunatics up there! They’re power mad and so spoiled and selfish that I shouldn’t think they’ve ever done something nice for anyone else, not ever. Fang is wicked; so is Cribbins. They should both be put in loony bins.” Molly pointed up at the boy, who was now being offered a stick of something woody to eat by his mother. “Think about him, Micky. He’ll never know what it’s like to have fun.” Molly looked at her brother’s downturned mouth. Micky probably hadn’t ever had real fun e
ither. She put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe you did that, Micky. You’ve taken away his freedom to think for himself and you’ve killed his fun in life. That’s the worst thing you can do to someone! That boy’s not really living.” Molly looked at her sulking brother and felt just a bit sorry for him. He had no idea what people were really like because he’d been told so many lies about them. “How did you hypnotize them?” she asked.

  “Through a screen, that’s how,” said Micky tetchily. “They put blue makeup on my face and my eyes were decorated to look extra large. Then my face was filmed. There are big screens all around Lakeside. People would just look up at me and my eyes did the rest.”

  “And what was the password you used?”

  Micky laughed cruelly. “You must be mad if you think I’ll tell you that.” But as the words came out of his mouth a thought bubble, cunningly summoned by Molly, appeared above his head. In it was a picture of a white meringue pudding on a dish. Molly digested the image.

  “I know why you want the password,” Micky continued, sneering. “You think you’ll be able to dehypnotize your friend.”

  “Have you got any friends, Micky?” Molly said, her voice full of contempt. “No. If you did, you would understand how I feel. Rocky was ready to be your friend. You might have liked him.” Molly, furious with frustration, now shouted as loudly as she could. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE MY BROTHER!”

  “I am not your brother,” Micky replied uninterestedly.

  Molly scrunched up her face with fury and then turned back to him. “How come we look so similar then, Potato Nose?” She glared at him in the dim light.

  “We don’t,” he mumbled, turning away from her.

  “How come Nurse Meekles believed I was your sister then? Believed it enough to help me escape, and you too?”