by Georgia Byng
“So you’d be even skinnier if you lived now.”
Petula smelled the catty-doggy creature and felt very disoriented. She didn’t understand the scents of this place. So many were the same and yet slightly different. She was still getting whiffs of the sinister man, two carriages in front, holding the Molly-smelling baby. The sourness coming from him made her feel very uneasy. Again she desperately tried to send a message to Molly to take them all home.
Please let’s go back, she begged with a quiet bark.
Molly stroked Petula’s forehead. “Don’t worry,” she said, giving her dog a squeeze.
Ten minutes later the magnifloat was nearing another station—a city station. They approached a mass of tall, ice-crusted buildings surrounding frozen lakes. Molly put Petula back into the rucksack. “Sorry,” she apologized, giving the pug’s ears a gentle rub.
The magnifloat doors opened and Molly and Rocky stepped out into the freezing city. As they did, there was a hissing noise and their new coats did a miraculous thing: Each puffed up so that the smooth velvet was now a mass of thick, bristly fur.
“Whoa! Cool design,” Rocky exclaimed, patting his chest. But they didn’t stop to marvel at the coats for long, because the snatcher, instead of walking toward the escalators with all the other passengers, began heading toward an orange robotic station cleaner that was scrubbing the floor.
“Grab my arm, Rocky, if you don’t want to get left behind.” Instinctively Molly reached for her gems. In the next second the man with the quiff reached for his. Quickly, Molly sent out another time-travel lasso to follow him. With another BOOM, Molly, Rocky, and Petula were whipped out of that time, and the platform was suddenly left bare.
On the other side of the magnifloat tracks, a shriveled hundred-and-sixty-year-old man saw them go. He smiled and shook his head. Science was amazing, he thought. Next time he traveled he would buy whatever ticket those children had bought.
“Where’s he going?” Molly exclaimed in a whisper. The world whisked past them, billions of its seconds flitting by in a moment. “Feels like two hundred years have passed!” she declared with horror. “Two hundred and fifty!” And then they stopped, half a millennium away from their own time. “We’ve gone forward five hundred years!”
Molly and Rocky were stunned. The station had metamorphosed into some kind of airport. Sleek jet planes parked in neat lines stretched away into the distance. The snatcher made his way toward an aircraft that bore a resemblance to a fly. He was climbing its steps and nodding at the pilot.
Molly quickly lifted herself, Rocky, and Petula, into a time hover. In this state they were just a few seconds behind the man’s time, and although they could easily see their surroundings, no one could see them.
They ran to the insectlike plane. Hurriedly they mounted the stairs and walked straight through the man, who was speaking into some sort of device on his sleeve.
“This is so weird,” said Molly. “Where is he going? And why?”
Rocky shrugged, shook his head, and looked about the aircraft.
An air hostess in a tailored purple uniform and a purple and white skullcap stood in the plane’s aisle. Her hair was short and functional. Her eyes were vacant, as if there was nobody in. Molly instantly recognized the signs—she had been hypnotized. Her purple outfit, with its tailored cropped top, elbow-length sleeves, and tight purple skirt showed her belly button. To the left, in the fly’s eye part of the plane, was a pilot also in purple. Still in their time-hover bubble, Molly and Rocky stepped past a round-faced elderly Chinese woman with blue eyes.
“Where shall we hide?” Molly whispered, her heart pounding. “I think we should materialize soon, as I’m not sure I’ll be able to time-hover on board a fast-moving object.”
Rocky nodded. “How about that luggage cubicle? Shall we risk it?”
So the two got as comfortable as they could behind a suitcase and Molly brought them into the moment. Immediately their ears were bombarded with the noises of the airport and the hum of the aircraft’s air-conditioning. Molly kept a tight hold on both her crystals and on Rocky’s arm, in case they needed to disappear again in a hurry. The man appeared in the entrance to the aircraft.
Through a gap between the seats, Molly saw the Chinese woman leaping to attention. The snatcher passed her the baby.
“It’s a boy,” he said. “Could have been a girl—there were two of them. You’re in charge of it now.”
“What a sweet little dumpling you are. What an angel,” the woman gushed.
“Hope you’re not talking to me,” the man with the quiff replied with a conceited laugh. Then he settled into a large reclining seat in front of hers and pressed a button to make it flat. Slipping a blackout visor over his eyes, he lay down.
The woman bent over the baby boy and smiled and cooed at him even though he was still asleep. “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said fondly. “Now, you’d better go in this cot.”
Molly gave Rocky a perplexed look. The woman had evidently been expecting the baby. She seemed to be some sort of nanny. Where were they all going? Molly didn’t like it. Things were getting more and more mysterious.
Now a sign at the front of the plane flashed: BUCKLE UP SEATBELTS, and the flight attendant with the empty eyes checked that all passengers were secure before she sat down too. The engine started. When it reached a peak of whirring the aircraft pivoted on its wheels and headed toward a runway. There, the engines picked up more speed, until they made a zinging noise.
Takeoff was like going up in a fast elevator. Like a jack released from its box, the flying machine shot up in the air. Molly’s stomach felt as though she’d left it on the runway. She nearly screamed. Squashed in their cubicle, she and Rocky looked out the window at the twenty-sixth century world below. It was a scene of pine trees and snow and frozen lakes. Molly could hardly believe how her country had changed. People living here now would ski and skate and sledge. As they flew over domes and skyscrapers they passed other buglike aircraft. Below them were tiny flying machines that seemed to be coasting at the height of houses. Then they came to the sea. The flycopter tilted upward, and a red light on the seat displays read: Propellers folding. Wings unfolding. There was a loud kerrrchank noise on either side of the aircraft. And then, with the red signs warning Upward thrust, a huge jet engine sound whooshed from the back of the plane, and they shot up into the sky. When they were high above the clouds the plane leveled out and accelerated. They were heading somewhere very, very fast.
“We’re heading southeast,” Rocky said, examining his compass.
After fifteen minutes, the clouds cleared and the earth below became visible again. It was now snowless, and they were whizzing over mountains. The pilot’s voice came over the loudspeaker: “Mont Blanc approaching. Five minutes till landing.” The red signs flashed: Downward motion, and on time the aircraft tipped its nose to start circling toward the ground.
“Mont Blanc?” Rocky whispered. “If that’s Mont Blanc, this is Switzerland and those mountains are the Alps. But they’ve usually got snow on them, even in summer, and in winter they should look like white meringues and should be covered in skiers and snow-boarders.” Molly peered out of the window. They were approaching a vast, gray mountain range with a huge, moatlike lake around the bottom of the biggest mountain. Rocky went on. “And that lake must be Lake Geneva. But I don’t remember it being nearly as big as that in my atlas.”
Propellers up, the warning signs declared. Again there was a kerrrchank as the aircraft converted itself from plane to helicopter.
Now they were closer to Mont Blanc, Molly saw it was no ordinary mountain. Fantastic silver buildings with turrets were jutting out of the top of it, and its side bore holes through which flycopters were entering and exiting, looking like bees buzzing to and from a hive. But the aircraft they were in wasn’t going to the grand mountaintop city. Instead, it approached the lake at the foot of it, where there was another sparkling city. Some of the houses were palatial, surrounded by be
autiful gardens with pools and tall trees. Around these smart houses were lush green fields dissected by small roads, paths, and canals and punctuated with tiny ponds and a few simple buildings. But this expanse of greenness wasn’t everywhere. Beyond the massive lake was another town, a scruffy place with colored houses and bare, arid scrubland stretching away into the distance.
The flycopter buzzed toward the biggest of all the palaces, bringing them directly over a circular targetlike landing pad. Then it descended.
“At last,” said the man with the quiff, slipping off his eye visor. “Hope Her Little Highness appreciates this.”
Five
The door of the aircraft slid open and its steps unfolded. Molly’s heart thumped against the inside of her rib cage like some bass percussion instrument. She was suddenly horribly nervous. She touched the scar on the side of her neck—the scar that had been the result of another time-travel adventure. Perhaps this trip would scar her too. But going home wasn’t an option now. She had to finish what she’d set out to do. Her own brother’s future lay in her hands.
She brought Rocky, Petula, and herself into a time hover and, in the mist that hid them, they followed her baby brother’s party into the hot sun outside.
Before them was a garden filled with palm trees and flowering bushes. From a tall cypress hung a swing on long ropes, and behind it Molly could see what looked like the top of a red spiral slide. As she and Rocky turned to follow the other passengers they saw that the house they’d come to was spectacular. It was made up of a series of giant silver igloos with small ones attached. These nestled around it like chicks about a mother hen. Some igloos had vertical slits of glass in them, others large fish-eye windows. All had tall aerial-like flagpoles on top giving them the appearance of massive silver fruits with stems.
The man with the quiff stepped toward the largest building and was immediately met by a guard. The guard, who was dressed in red and white like a toy soldier nodded and waved his hand over a pad on the wall. The igloo’s door slid up, opening like an eyelid, and the man ushered the nanny with the baby through. Molly and Rocky hurried after, safely invisible in their time-hover veil.
Inside the dome was a high, curved room with a pink marble floor. At its center hung another long-roped swing. This one was moving backward and forward with a young girl sitting on it. Molly reckoned she was about six. She was wearing a pink plastic dress and, on her feet, high-heeled cartoony boots. Her hair was sprayed into a beehive style so that it towered above her Oriental features. Unlike ordinary beehives, it then curled on top like a question mark. Her mouth was small and mean, and her expression was one of grim determination as she urged the swing as high as it would go. Around her stood five other children, of varying ages from about six to twelve—three girls and two boys. One girl looked Mongolian, another was black, and the third was white. The first boy was black and the second, Asian. All were dressed in brand-new-looking, brightly colored clothes, and each had a peculiar hairstyle, ranging from jagged Mohawks to ponytails set so that they wiggled upward. And beside them stood three suited adults: two women in black suits and a man dressed in dark maroon. They looked as though they were teachers—or guards.
Seeing the new arrivals, the little girl’s face lit up and she clapped her hands. A butler, in an embroidered gold waistcoat, a white shirt, and tailored gold trousers, caught the swing to stop it. The girl’s legs dangled as she slowed down, and the butler, bowing, passed her a saucer-sized swirly lollipop.
The child snatched it and gave it a lick.
Molly quickly led Rocky behind a lime-green, banana-shaped sofa at the edge of the room. Around the side of it they could see some of the action without being noticed themselves. And here Molly could release the time hover to hear what was being said. Molly stroked Petula to keep her quiet, then let them join the six-year-old’s time. At once a conversation became audible.
“… dat de one?” the girl was saying in a squeaky, bossy voice.
“Without a doubt, Your Majesty,” said the man with the quiff. “There were in fact two of them—twins. I could have chosen a girl.”
The child hopped off the swing and walked toward the nurse, her sharp heels clipping the pink stone floor. “I must say this trip was rather exciting,” the man continued, “I went the long way, via the year 2250, and I had a ride on a magnifloat!” Ignoring him, the girl clicked her fingers and pointed to the ground. A servant brought her a stool to stand on. Tottering on it, she peered at Molly’s brother. The other children gathered around too.
“Urrgh! He’s so ugly!” she snorted. “You know I fink ugly fings are weee-volting. Shall we give him to de surgeons to make pwettier?” She laughed. The man with the quiff looked puzzled.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Qingling,” he said. “You can’t give children or babies plastic surgery to make them more beautiful—their faces are still growing.”
“Oh, Wedhorn!” The girl giggled, waggling her lollipop at him. “You never can take a joke, can you? But he is disgustingly ugly. Almost as ugly as a mutant!” Around her the other children tittered. “I just hope he impwooves.” Molly noticed a star-shaped birthmark on her wrist.
“Don’t be too rude about him,” Redhorn said, stroking his quiff. “Don’t forget, we need him if our endeavors are going to be successful.” He smiled nastily. “And, remember, he is one of my relations.”
“Wemind me again how de family twee goes.”
“Well, his mother was my great-great-great-goodness-knows-how-many-greats grandmother’s cousin. It took me quite a bit of hunting about in the past to find him. I hypnotized all the hospital staff to wipe his details from the records and to forget he ever existed.”
“Hmm, vewy uninteresting. The good fing is, he’s here. Well done.” Then, tossing her lollipop into the air and catching it again like some expert juggler, the girl let out a screech that woke the baby.
“Miss Cwibbins!”
A tall, thin woman in a gray tunic, with a strangely beautiful face smooth as porcelain and golden hair scraped into a bun, stepped in through a side door. Her face was powdered white and her cheeks were tinted with circles of rouge. Above her left cheekbone there was a dense black beauty spot. Like an officer presenting herself, she stamped her foot and slapped her hands behind her back.
“Yes, Madame Fen Fang Feng Yang Yong Yin Ying Kai-Ying?” she drawled. As she spoke something poked its head over her shoulder. It was a pink cat with yellow eyes. Then in the next moment Molly saw that it wasn’t a cat. Only its head was catlike. Its eight furry legs were those of a spider.
“Dis is de infant,” the girl said.
The skinny woman sniffed at the crying child and wiped her thin nose with a gray hanky. “Seems healthy enough.”
“You won’t need to attend to its education for a few years,” the girl elaborated, “so don’t look so alarmed. Nurse Meekles will see to its needs now. Won’t you, nurse?” The Chinese woman, who was rocking Molly’s brother to quiet him, smiled.
“Take de baby.” The girl dismissed her. “Luckily we won’t need to see it until it’s gwown up.”
“It will be my pleasure, Fen Fang Feng Fing—er, no, Yang Yong Ying Qin—”
“STOP!” the small girl shouted. “If you can’t get it right, don’t say it at all. Maybe if you could wemember what my name means, you might be able to say it!”
“I can remember what it means, Your Majesty,” the nurse replied calmly. “It’s just my tongue gets tied around all the Yings and Yongs.”
“Oh, so what does it all mean, den?” the little girl asked, looking around smugly to make sure that everyone was paying attention to the nurse’s humiliation.
“What, you want me to tell you now?”
“Yes, let’s see if you can wemember. It’ll be a nice game. I wouldn’t be supwised if looking after babies and toddlers has wotted your bwain!”
The nurse looked at the floor and then began. “Well, Fen Fang means ‘fragrant,’ and Feng means ‘phoenix.’
”
The little girl interrupted her. “Phoenix—de bird dat gwows old and den dies and den is born again. Dat suits me, doesn’t it, Wedhorn?” The man with the quiff smiled and nodded.
The nurse continued. “Yang means ‘beautiful,’ Yong means ‘forever brave,’ Yin means ‘silver,’ Ying means ‘cherry flower,’ and Kai-Ying means ‘exceptionally bright.’”
“Exceptionally bwight! Well, dat is most definitely me!”
Molly nudged Rocky. “Exceptionally nasty and pleased with herself too,” she whispered in his ear. “I wonder what that is in Chinese.”
“Poo Pong, “Rocky replied quietly. The little girl had now been given a silver rope and was skipping.
“And Qingling,” the nurse finished, “means ‘celebration of understanding.’”
“Well, all wight, so you do know de meaning!” the girl said, out of breath as she jumped. “But, as I’ve said before, I WON’T have people twipping up on my name as dey say it, so if any of you”—she stopped and pointed the handle of her skipping rope at each person in the room in turn—“are in any doubt about my name, just call me …” She walked over to the tall man standing behind the other children. “Just call me what?”
“Just call you Princess, Your Majesty.”
The small girl laughed. “YES!” she shouted. She consulted a flower on her dress. “Half an hour until our satellite meeting with Japan, Wedhorn. Are you wedy?”
The quiffed man nodded. “But don’t hurry me. Remember, I’ve traveled to the twentieth century and back again to fetch this brat for us today. It’s tiring, Qingling, and a strain on my heart too. You sometimes act as though you think time traveling is as easy as yo-yoing or hula-hooping or skipping. Give me ten minutes in the relaxation chamber and I’ll meet you in the communication room.” With that, the girl, her entourage of children, and the grim adults, followed by Redhorn, Miss Cribbins, and the servants, filed out through a door at the back of the room. The nurse, still cuddling Molly’s brother, was the last to leave.
