Mr Landen Has No Brain. Stephen Walker

not a nuclear reactor, you know.’

      ‘Some forces are stronger than any nuclear explosion, Sally.’ She resumed screwdriving. ‘This sandwich toaster will turn Landen into a walking robot. Then I’ll make him open the door.’

      ‘And then?’

      ‘I’ll hit him.’

      ‘?’

      Teena tightened a screw deep within the machine. ‘Concussion therapy’s a valid part of any psychiatrist’s toolkit.’

      Sally watched the weedy device which looked like it couldn’t even toast sandwiches anymore. ‘And this thing could do all that?’

      ‘No brain can resist its waves – apart from mine.’

      ‘What’s so special about yours?’

      ‘I’m too strong-willed. Its rays would simply bounce off my cerebellum and hit bystanders.’

      ‘Isn’t there an obvious flaw in this plan?’

      ‘None. I’ve thought of everything. I even have the right sized fuse.’ She held up the plug as proof. ‘A luxury in mind control circles.’

      ‘But how could it work on a man with no brain?’

      ‘It couldn’t.’

      ‘But Mr Landen has no brain.’

      ‘Nonsense.’ She tightened a screw deep within the device.

      ‘No, listen to me.’ She reached across and held Teena’s arm to stop her working. ‘He’s got no brain. You know that wing nut on top of his head?’

      ‘What about it?’

      ‘When you first arrived, and you told him to pay the week’s rent while you went veil buying, he unscrewed the wing nut and removed the top of his head. I almost passed out. Then he reached inside and pulled out a wad of notes. Teena, I’ve seen inside his head. There’s nothing in there but a tub of margarine.’

      Teena shook her arm free but kept working at the machine. ‘Mr Landen has one of the finest brains in England. I’ve seen it myself.’

      ‘When?’

      ‘Whenever he’s removed it.’ She tightened another screw.

      ‘Removed it?’ Sally’s gaze scampered all over her.

      Then Teena stopped work. Then she did nothing. Then she put the screwdriver down. Then she stared at the far wall. Then she said, ‘Ah.’

      ‘Ah what?’

      ‘To enliven his lectures, Mr Landen often removes his brain. For demonstration purposes he passes it round his students. As a joke, one of them must have substituted a tub of margarine for his brain and he placed it back in his head; an easy mistake for a brainless man to make.’

      ‘What sort of idiot would play a trick like that?’

      ‘We shouldn’t be too hard on the students. I’m sure they were just being high-spirited.’

      ‘But they’d have to be complete morons.’

      Teena said, ‘I remember hearing once about a young student who played the same trick using a goldfish she’d won at a funfair. Of course, in her case, she was very young and very sorry for any harm she’d caused and wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing now.’ She turned red and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘That goldfish was swimming round in there for two months before anyone got suspicious.

      ‘That may explain his odd behaviour since coming away with me. I’d been putting it down to lust but total brainlessness would provoke identical behaviour in a man.’

      ‘Teena?’

      ‘Uh huh?’

      ‘How can a man live without a brain?’

      ‘Many people live without a brain.’

      ‘No one I know does.’

      ‘Are you sure?’

      Uncle Al leapt to mind. She pushed him aside.

      Teena said, ‘When autopsied, one in thirty people are found to have had little or no brain function in life. It’s a mystery of modern science. Statistically speaking, you know someone with no brain.’

      Cthulha leapt to mind. Sally pushed her aside.

      Teena said, ‘The media exaggerates the brain’s importance. For a woman such as myself, a brain’s indispensable. But for an average person, like you, its main use is as ballast whilst swimming.’

      ‘So your invention won’t work.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘And you’ve ruined my sandwich toaster.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And you’ve ruined my washing machine.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And you’ve ruined my TV.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And I can’t have coffee.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘And I can’t watch TV.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘And I can’t do the washing.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘So what can I do?’

      Teena shrugged. ‘Is there anyone you know whose brain needs controlling?’

      ‘Only yours.’

       eleven

      Last thing that night, Teena lay on the top bunk, reading Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time and scrubbing out the wrong bits. One of these days she was going to have to have a word with Mr Hawking.

      ‘Teena?’ Sally appeared in the doorway. Clearly hiding something behind her back she beamed, ‘I’ve been thinking.’

      ‘Yeah?’

      ‘As you don’t like being sellotaped to your bunk at nights, I’ve thought of a better way to keep you safe.’

      Teena squinted at her distrustingly. ‘And that’d be …?’

      From behind her back, looking far too proud of herself, Sally Cooper produced a full set of, ‘Chains!’