The Person Controller. David Baddiel
on?” said the Mystery Man. “Are you or are you not … NERDS?!”
Fred and Ellie looked at each other for a third time. They didn’t have to speak to each other to know what they were going to do.
“YES!” they said, turning back to the screen. “WE ARE NERDS!!”
The Mystery Man nodded, seeming finally satisfied. He reached down somewhere below the little window and pressed a button. A mysterious-sounding chord – like something from the soundtrack of an old horror film – played tinnily.
“Then you, Ellie and Fred Stone …” the Mystery Man continued, “… are the new owners of … the Controller!!!”
The Mystery Man reached down and played the chord again. When it was over, Ellie said: “How do you know our names?”
“Or,” said Fred, “Scarlet and Stirling’s ages?”
“Or the fact that we call them the iBabies?”
“Do not ask questions of the Mystery Man,” he intoned solemnly.
“What’s your real name?” said Fred.
“My real name is the Mystery Man. And that is a question. And I have told you not to ask questions of the Mystery Man …”
“You answered it, though,” said Ellie.
“Shut up,” said the Mystery Man crossly.
“But how do you know our names?”
The Mystery Man sighed and made a wavy, flicky gesture with his hand, like people do when they want to suggest that the things you’re asking just aren’t important. “You may as well ask how I, a face on the screen, am able to converse with you, two flesh-and-blood people.”
“Well,” said Ellie, “I assume it’s because you’re on some sort of webcam.”
The Mystery Man rolled his eyes. “Look. Do you want the Controller or not?”
“Are you saying we’ve already bought it?”
“You’re asking questions again! Goodness!”
“But did we pay for it? How did we pay for it just by clicking on the picture?” said Fred.
“Look. These are all questions. I’m not supposed to answer questions. But … consider it a free trial. OK?”
Fred frowned. He could feel without looking at her – because they were twins – that Ellie was smiling. In fact, he could feel without looking at her that Ellie was just going to really happily say, “Yes, OK!”
But he wasn’t sure they should be accepting strange gadgets from strange men on the internet. Even if the gadget did look kind of amazing. So he was about to say, “Hold on a minute, Ellie …” when he heard a voice from the corridor outside.
“No, Morris … a bully claps sarcastically. And slowly …”
Fred turned. He could hear footsteps from around the corner.
“Ellie,” he said. “Isla and Morris are coming back …”
“Oh! What shall we do?” said Ellie.
“Just say, ‘Yes, OK!’ That’s what you were going to say anyway!!!”
“Sar-cas-tickly,” said Morris, still outside the room but much closer now. “Right. And slowly.” Then came the sound of him practising his clapping.
“Just do it!” Fred hissed to Ellie.
“All right.” Ellie turned back to the screen. The Mystery Man was whistling and looking at his watch, making it very clear that he was bored with waiting for her answer.
“Yes!” she said. “OK!”
“Yes, OK … what?” said the Mystery Man.
“Yes, OK, we’ll have the Controller. On a free trial.”
The Mystery Man shook his head slowly.
“Yes, OK, we’ll have the Controller on a free trial … what?”
“Hey. Morris.”
From just behind the door now.
“Yes, Isla?”
“Let’s go back in there. I wanna see the video-game stuff those Stone twins were looking at …”
Fred turned to Ellie. She didn’t seem to hear them.
“Do I really have to say please to a computer?” she said.
“YES, YOU DO! PLEASE!” said Fred.
She sighed and turned back towards the screen. “Yes, OK, we’ll have the Controller on a free trial … PLEASE.”
The Mystery Man nodded, as if to say, That’s right at last – clicked his fingers and vanished.
Ellie frowned. “Is that it? I don’t have to spend ages filling out forms and pretending to be over eightee—”
Fred slammed the laptop shut and, swerving past Isla and Morris who were coming through the door, pulled Ellie out of the computer room.
Ellie was still fretting on the way home, all the way to their front door.
“But why didn’t we have to pay for it? How’s it going to get here? When is it going to get he—”
“Ellie!”
The door opened. Janine was standing there with Margaret Scratcher in one hand and, in the other, a package.
“What’s this?” she said.
“I don’t know,” said Ellie, going into the house.
“It’s a package, Ellie. Something you’ve obviously bought off the internet. How many times must I tell you I don’t want you buying stuff online without asking us …?”
Ellie frowned. “I haven’t actually bought anything off the internet …”
“Well, it’s addressed to Ellie Stone.”
“Hang on, Mum,” said Fred, picking up some ripped-open cardboard, “it’s addressed to you.”
“No, that was something else that arrived at the same time. Which I did order. That.” She pointed to a pile of mail – there was always a pile of mail in the Stones’ hallway, some of which seemed to stay unopened for years – on top of which was a polythene pack, labelled ‘FATANX’.
“What’s that?” said Ellie.
“It’s a corset,” said Janine. “Basically.”
“What’s a corset?” said Fred.
“Don’t you remember?” said Ellie. “We did them at school, when they were teaching us about the Victorians. They’re these horrible tight bits of underwear that women used to have to wear to look slimmer and force their waists to be really tiny. Mum, you shouldn’t have got one of those, they’re really bad, and besides you don’t need it—”
“It’s not for me, it’s for your father,” said Janine.
“Oh,” said Ellie.
“Anyway, stop changing the