The Great Brain Robbery by Anna Kemp

belongs
to little Viola Fordham of Oxford, England.’ The screen showed a little girl playing cricket with her mum on the beach. ‘The sun is shining, the sea is sparkling, the ice-cream is
melting. It is a perfect day, is it not? It is a memory that Viola will no doubt cherish for years to come. But our laboratory has added some finishing touches. I shall now give you the new and
improved version of little Viola’s memory. See if you can spot the difference!’
    Dr Gore restarted the film. The exact same memory replayed, only this time there were two striking differences. Firstly, Viola’s mother was wearing a T-shirt with a large Marvella logo on
it and secondly the ice-cream van in the distance was playing the Marvella jingle over and over and over again. Dr Gore had turned Viola’s memory into an advert for Marvella Brand’s
Happyland. The audience oohed and aahed in astonishment. This was extraordinary! Revolutionary! The man was a genius, no doubt about it. Dr Gore puffed up like an adder.
    ‘At midnight tonight,’ he continued, ‘when little Viola is tucked up in bed dreaming of dancing sugarplums and other such nonsense, the Mechanimals will switch her old memories
for these new, improved versions. All Viola’s warm, fuzzy feelings about family holidays, her mummy, the seaside and so on, shall be instantly transferred on to our toys. And the results
shall be astounding. From tomorrow morning,’ Gore shouted triumphantly, ‘whenever children see the Marvella logo or hear the Marvella tune they will become convinced that owning our
toys is the very key to happiness. At the same time, they will feel certain that – should they fail to own them – they will be as worthless as dung-beetles. In short, they will be
overcome by an irresistible desire for as many Marvella toys as they can get their sticky little fingers on. Not just this Christmas, not just next Christmas, but every day till the end of their
childhoods!’
    The audience exploded into waves of applause. They were impressed, very impressed.
    ‘He wants to turn us into drones!’ whispered Neet, appalled. ‘It’s horrible! Horrible! I can’t believe he’s been poking around inside my head!’
    ‘It’s OK, Neet,’ Frankie said, trying to sound much braver than he felt. ‘We’ll stop him. We’ll find a way.’
    All of a sudden there was a faint knock at the door, just next to where Neet and Frankie were hiding.
    ‘Hello?’ said a small, nervous voice.
    It was Timmy.

 

    ‘A five-minute break, my good people,’ Dr Gore grinned, spotting Timmy peeking round the door. ‘I have something urgent to see to.’ Gore and Marvella
both headed towards Timmy as the audience chattered excitedly amongst themselves.
    ‘Well?’ smiled Marvella, in a voice that sounded like the squeak of snow underfoot.
    ‘Ummm . . . errrr . . . the thing is . . .’ Timmy fumbled. Frankie felt the air temperature drop as Marvella’s patience thinned like ice on a lake. ‘They didn’t
come into school today,’ blurted Timmy. ‘It wasn’t my fault, Miss.’
    Dr Gore’s eyes bulged out of his head like a rat caught in a trap. ‘So where
are
they?’ he spat. ‘We must find them. We must root them out!’
    ‘It’s not my fault, sir,’ Timmy whined. ‘That’s all I came to say. Can I have my vouchers now?’
    ‘No you can’t have—’ spluttered Dr Gore, the veins on his head pulsing like earthworms.
    Marvella interrupted. ‘Don’t you listen to that mean old man, Timmy dear,’ she soothed. ‘Rudolph, my secretary, will give you as many vouchers as you can stuff in your
pockets.’
    ‘Uh, OK . . . thanks!’ stammered Timmy. Marvella clicked her fingers and Frankie heard the thud of heavy feet advancing down the corridor.
    ‘You’re welcome,’ Marvella smiled. Moments later there was the sound of a scuffle.
    ‘Ow! Let go!’ Timmy shrieked. ‘Get off! What are you doing?’ Marvella closed the door as Timmy was dragged away down