Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

“You mean I might find the lessons and learn,” Lily grumbled. “And you wouldn’t want me learning any of that stuff, would you? Meanie,” she added under her breath. Black ignored her. She leaned back and began to turn the light switch off and on and off and on so that the metal wasp’s-nest lampshade glowed brightly, then dimmed, over and over.

“So back to you. How to do it,” Black elaborated, trying not to notice what Lily was doing. “All you need is to quiet your minds. You have to hold quite a few thoughts in your mind at once. Are you ready to do that?”

“Ready to juggle a hundred thoughts, if that’s what’s needed,” Molly said.

“Good. Well, I suppose the way back to your selves is a bit like a recipe with different ingredients. Get all the ingredients together, and then put them on the heat. I’ll tell you what the heat is in a minute. The first thing to realize is this. If you think about it, you haven’t lost your intellectual being. Both of you are in control of your minds. Even though you look like two men, you can actually remember everything of your own lives as Molly and Micky, can’t you?”

“At the moment they can,” Lily piped up like a poison-spitting jack-in-the-box.

“That’s it, Lily. You’ve been warned. Go.”

Grumpily, Lily slid off her chair and went to another room, slamming the door behind her.

“Sorry about that,” Black apologized. “Now where was I? Yes, so you have your mental selves. What you are missing are your physical selves. To get back to your bodies, you have to imagine them. What they look like and what they feel like when you’re inside them.” Black coughed and shut his eyes. His voice became like a hypnotic teacher.

“You must think of the time your own bodies, your Molly and Micky bodies, last felt physical pain. For me, for instance, it was when I nearly twisted my ankle running across St. James’s Park after you two when you were ravens. Next I want you to remember the last time your own body felt something good. Both of these things can be tricky. Recalling physical memories from your muscles isn’t as easy as drumming up memories connected to emotional feelings or memories to do with images. Now think hard.”

Both Molly and Micky cast their minds back to when they had last been in their own bodies.

“I had a cut on my finger, right along the side of my nail,” said Micky with delight, as though he’d just gotten a line of numbers in a bingo game. Molly wished she had something as obvious as that to recall.

“Um,” she muttered.

“Did you hurt yourself in the air vents inside the casino?” Micky asked.

“No.”

“That morning?”

“Yes!” Molly said, equally joyful. “I stubbed my toe on the bed’s leg.”

“Brilliant,” Black agreed. “And can you both actually remember the pain?” Molly as AH2 and Micky as Leonard both shut their eyes and concentrated hard. They both nodded.

“I think so,” Molly said.

“Good,” Black went on. “Now think of a good physical memory.”

“Do you remember how nice it felt to stretch our legs after we got out of Miss Hunroe’s car?” Micky asked Molly.

“Yes,” Molly replied. “I really remember that. Okay. So what’s the next step?”

“The next step is perhaps easier,” said Black. “Each of you must picture your real self as if looking in a mirror at yourself. Really see yourself and your reflection. Can you do that?

“Well, once you’ve got all these ingredients together—the good feeling, the painful one, the picture of yourself—layer them so that they are all present at once. Then rise up so that you are looking at your reflection from above. Last, do all this while you are staring at a space on the floor where you want to be. What you must do now is sort of push your imagined reflection, with the feeling of pain and pleasure, into this space where you want to be.”

“That sounds really complicated and really impossible.” Micky gulped. “It’s a kind of teleportation.”

“Yes, it is.”

Molly grimaced.

And so they began.

“I suggest,” Black said, “that you look in these mirrors.” He gestured to the walls of mirror beside him. “Stare at yourselves intensely. Stare straight into your eyeballs—and keep staring. If you don’t move your eyes, you’ll find that the face of the two men that you are now inside will drop away, and you can imagine whatever face you like. Imagine your own faces, and go from there.”

“I know this,” Molly exclaimed. “Ages ago I used to stare in the mirror and watch my face change.”

“There you go.” Black rubbed his hands together. “Are you ready?”

“Sounds difficult,” Micky mumbled.

As Molly glued her eyes to the sharp blue eyes in the mirror, she was suddenly overcome with a longing to get back to herself. She loved being herself, Molly Moon. Odd-looking Molly Moon with closely set green eyes and a potatoey nose. Molly Moon with blotchy, skinny legs and sweaty hands. Molly didn’t care what she looked like. She just wanted to be in her own body again.