The Mysterious Benedict Society

ambition to love to despair — derives in some way from this single powerful emotion. Must find the best way to make use of this.

“Well, that’s cheery,” Kate said.

“I’ll bet Mr. Curtain’s just a big scaredy cat,” Constance said. “So he thinks everyone else is, too.”

Sticky, who happened to consider himself a prime specimen of scaredy cat, moved on without comment. The next entry, he said, was dated a year later:

Much to my disappointment, I have concluded there is no such thing as perfect control. I have come to understand, however, that the illusion of perfect control can amount to the same thing.

“He’s all about illusions,” Reynie reflected. “The Institute’s ‘lack of rules’ is an illusion, not to mention its excellent reputation. And the Emergency, too — the hidden messages make everything seem more hopeless and out of control than it really is. But then where is this illusion of control?”

“I didn’t see anything about that,” Sticky replied. He glanced at his papers. “The next few entries are all about using children as filters to keep the messages hidden. It’s nothing we don’t know. I’ll skip them for now. I’m afraid the next part is a bit technical. Ready?”

The others said they were (though Constance squeezed her eyes shut as if expecting it to hurt), and Sticky continued:

Brainsweeping a success! High-power, close-contact transmission works perfectly well as a forcible procedure! Retraining should also succeed: ‘Contentment’ messages will 1) counteract a brainswept individual’s tendency to question, and 2) lessen the chronic mournfulness effect.

Predicted side effects of retraining: timidity, anxiety, self-doubt.

Conclusion: satisfactory.

Constance put her hands on her head. “Umm . . .”

“Brainsweeping must be Mr. Curtain’s term for destroying people’s memories,” Reynie said. “If they’re in his machine — I think that’s what he means by ‘close-contact transmission’ — then he can brainsweep them against their will, which is what he means by ‘forcible.’ That must be what happened to Milligan, except Milligan got away before Mr. Curtain could ‘retrain’ him.”

“But the other agents weren’t so lucky,” Sticky said. “Mr. Curtain retrained them with ‘contentment’ messages that tell them not to question anything!”

“And to feel less sad,” Kate said. “But that part must not have worked so well. They all still suffer from that pesky ‘chronic mournfulness effect.’”

“There’s more about it in the next entry,” Sticky said.

Long-term brainsweeping and retraining results mixed: Helpers manageable but still dispirited. Worse, too-frequent relapse of memory, often in association with trigger object. Typical episode begins with the last important thing remembered: names of significant persons, unfulfilled obligations, etc. Most irritating. Note: Two of last four episodes occurred near mirrors. Reflection must be promoting self-identification. Solution: Remove mirrors.

Kate rubbed her hands together. “Now I’m really starting to feel like a secret agent. We’re figuring things out! What’s next, Sticky?”

Sticky checked his papers. “We’re almost finished. The next entry explains why the special recruits aren’t so sad. It’s more or less what we thought.”

“Can you just give it in a nutshell?” Constance asked, then added: “Please?”

The others resisted looking at one another, and no one spoke. It was perhaps the first time Constance had ever used that word, and though she’d quite possibly said it by accident, no one wished to spoil the moment. If they mentioned it aloud, she might retract it. And so Sticky only nodded and gave the next entry in a nutshell.

“Remember when we talked about lacunar amnesia, or forgetting particular events? Apparently Mr. Curtain can use his machine to wipe out specific memories without taking away everything — without doing a complete brainsweep. It makes people dazed for a while, but then they get better, and the memories rarely come back.”

“So if those Recruiters had managed to kidnap us,” Kate said, “Mr. Curtain would have made sure we didn’t remember it. That’s why special recruits aren’t scared.”

“But because they weren’t completely brainswept,” Reynie said, “they aren’t sad, either. Which makes them better Executive material. I’ll bet most of the Executives used to be special recruits. Maybe even all of them. After all, they had no families to return to on the mainland.”

“I suppose that should make it harder for me to dislike them,” Kate observed. “Since they were kidnapped orphans and all.”

Everyone considered this for a minute. Then they looked at one another and shook their heads. They couldn’t help it. They still disliked the Executives.

“But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to help them,” Reynie pointed out. “If Mr. Benedict can figure out how to bring their memories back, maybe they can start over — maybe they’ll learn how not to be so nasty.”

“I’m not holding my breath,” Kate said.

Sticky flipped a page. “Guess what? The date of this next entry is the day we arrived on the island.”

At last — all facilities now complete! Proper officials in proper places. Public mood at proper levels. The Improvement is very close at hand. Everything is ready except final modifications and the final few shipments, one of which is being loaded even as I write. Farewell! I’ve dispatched a Helper crew to adjust turbine output — shall require a great deal more from them in coming days.

“We saw that!” Kate said. “We saw them working on the turbines! And we saw that truck the Helpers were loading!”

“Those crates,” Reynie said. He slapped his forehead. “I’m so stupid! It should have occurred to me. . . .” He looked at the others, feeling completely foolish. “I’m sure you already know what I’m talking about.”

The others stared back at him, having no idea.

“I liked that part about your being stupid, though,” said Constance.