Hypnosis and Greater Norway

IT HAD GOTTEN late, but the Jell-O in Doctor Proctor’s kitchen was only half eaten. When you got right down to it, it just wasn’t a perfect night for Jell-O eating. Because Jell-O doesn’t taste quite so Jell-O-y right after someone has asked the question “How do we save the world from doom?”

It was quiet around the table. Doctor Proctor, Lisa, and Nilly had rubbed their chins a fair amount and mumbled “hm,” “mm,” “umph,” and other noises that are helpful when you’re thinking, and which can also be made without opening your mouth.

Then—finally—Doctor Proctor said “exactly” twice and then “precisely,” as if he were agreeing with himself. Then he straightened up in his chair and looked at Nilly and Lisa.

“The first thing we have to do is find out how people are being hypnotized; then we can keep it from happening to us.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Lisa asked.

“The scientific process,” Doctor Proctor said. “We draw up a list of some people we know have been hypnotized and find out what they all have in common. And then we draw up a list of people who have not been hypnotized and what they have in common. And then the thing that all the hypnotized people have in common that the nonhypnotized people have in common that they haven’t got in common will be the cause of the hypnotization. Did you follow that?”

“Of course,” Nilly said.

Lisa repeated Doctor Proctor’s long explanation to herself a couple of times. “I think so,” she said. “But just to be sure, maybe you could explain it to me, Nilly?”

“Uh-huh,” Nilly said. “Well, it’s like this . . . it’s just so ingenious . . . that perhaps, well, could you explain it, Doctor Proctor?”

“Sure. Let’s say that everyone who says ‘sheddar sheese’ instead of ‘cheddar cheese’ drank milk in the last week. And let’s say that one of the things that everyone who says ‘cheddar cheese’ has in common is that they didn’t drink milk—”

“Then it was something in the milk that hypnotized them,” Lisa said.

“Exactly,” said Doctor Proctor. “The scientific process.”

“The spitting image of the scientific process,” Nilly said, pushing a small helping of Jell-O over to Perry, who seemed totally uninterested in it.

“If we assume that most people now have a speech impediment, we can make a list of who doesn’t have one,” the professor said.

“Us three,” Lisa said. “And Mrs. Strobe.”

“And Galvanius,” Nilly said.

“That’s plenty,” Doctor Proctor said. “So then what do the five of us have in common aside from the fact that we don’t have a speech impediment?”

They thought for a long time.

“We don’t smoke, drink, or tell lies,” Nilly said.

The other two raised their eyebrows at him.

“Uh, we don’t smoke or drink, that is,” Nilly corrected.

“Not so fast,” Doctor Proctor said. “I enjoy the occasional cigar, actually. And every once in a while a glass of red wine.”

“Jell-O!” Nilly yelled. “I’m absolutely positive that Mrs. Strobe said one time that she likes Jell-O.”

“But we don’t know if Galvanius likes it,” Lisa said. “That’s the problem. We don’t know anything about him. Just that he’s rather odd.”

“Wait a minute,” Nilly said. “Doctor, when we told you that Galvanius had fallen asleep in class, you said something about him being a creature. Does that mean you know him?”

“He and I studied in Paris together at the same time,” Doctor Proctor said. “I was studying chemistry and he was studying biology, but we don’t need to get into that now.”

“Come on!” Nilly said eagerly. “What’s the deal with Mr. Hiccup?”

“It’s just that this one day he was so foolish as to help himself to the things that were on my shelf in the refrigerator we all shared. Need I say more?”

“Yes!” Lisa and Nilly cried in unison.

Doctor Proctor sighed. “Gregory drank from a jug of what he thought was orange juice, but was actually a strength tonic I was working on.”

“A strength tonic!” Nilly exclaimed. “Cool! What was in it?”

“Nothing much. Just a mixture of different bodily fluids.” Doctor Proctor squeezed one eye shut and started counting on his fingers. “Let’s see . . . from the tiger shark mouse, the type A Norwegian lemming, and . . . yes, the endangered rhinoceros frog. I added anabolic asteroids. And finally a little super-strong Mexican thunder chili.”

“To make people super-strong?”

“No, for the taste. Unfortunately, AFSSAPS, the French Health Products Safety Agency, banned the strength tonic.”

“Why in the world would they do that?” Nilly exclaimed, outraged. “It sounds great!”

“Too much FD&C E18 coloring,” the professor sighed.

“But Mr. Hiccup drank it anyway?” Lisa asked.

“Unfortunately,” Doctor Proctor said. “And the results were . . .” He searched for the right way to put it. “. . . interesting. I’m afraid that’s why he ended up being an arts and crafts teacher instead of a biology teacher. But enough about Gregory. We need to find out how all these people are being hypnotized!”

They kept brainstorming, but didn’t get anywhere.

“I give up,” Nilly finally said.

“Hm,” Doctor Proctor said. “Let’s try thinking of something that everyone else is doing that we’re not doing.”

They started thinking again. Hard. And then a little harder. But it was no use.

“That’s enough thinking for today,” Doctor Proctor said with a yawn. “Let’s sleep on it and talk about it again tomorrow.”

LISA AND NILLY stood out on Cannon Avenue and were saying goodnight to each other when something occurred to Lisa:

“Wait! Both of my parents and your mom were hypnotized. And Truls and Trym, right?”

“Yeah . . .”

“Mr. Hiccup!” Lisa exclaimed. “That’s what they have in common.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it!” Lisa whispered, looking around as if she were afraid someone might overhear them out in the darkness. “They all either went to the parent-teacher meeting with Gregory Galvanius or had him for arts and crafts.”

“No way!” Nilly exclaimed. “It’s true! We have to find out what happened. We need to question our parents.”

“Question them?” Lisa asked. “How?”

“Third-degree interrogation, of course,” Nilly said, rubbing his palms together in anticipation. “You go grill your parents, I’ll grill my mom. We’ll talk tomorrow. Heh, heh, heh!” And with that Nilly ran over to the door of his little yellow house, where Lisa could see the flickering light from the TV screen through the living room window. Lisa looked at her own house. Interrogate my own parents? she thought.

Then she womaned up, walked through the gate, in the front door, and marched into the living room, where her parents were sitting in front of the TV.

“There are a couple of things I would like answers to,” Lisa announced.

But her parents didn’t respond or even turn to look at her. They just kept staring at the TV screen, where Lisa saw a familiar face.

“You guys have been hypnotized,” Lisa said loudly and clearly.

“Shh,” her commandant father said.

“Shh,” her commandant mother said.

“Did Mr. Hic—I mean Mr. Galvanius do this?” Lisa asked.

“Quiet, Lisa,” her mother said. “Can’t you see? Our president is addressing the nation.”

Lisa looked at the TV screen again. Then she said, “First of all, Norway is a parliamentary democracy. We don’t have a president. We have a king and a prime minister. And second of all, that guy isn’t the president of anything. That’s just Hallvard Tenorsen.”

Her parents turned around to look at her, their faces pale and serious. In unison they gasped, “Just?!”

“Yes,” Lisa said. “He’s a . . . uh . . . a singing chiropractor from Jönköping, Sweden.”

“Lisa,” her mother said in that tone that told Lisa she was about to be chewed out. “I asked you to pay more attention to the news. President Hallvard Tenorsen was elected president of Norway and all its territories . . .” Her mother glanced at the clock. “. . . four hours ago. Where have you been? On the moon?”

“In a way,” Lisa mumbled. “How did this happen?”

“They asked the viewing audience to call in and vote,” her father said. “Tenorsen won and has already moved into the Royal Palace in Oslo. The prime minister, the whole government, and the king were voted out and have to go home. Now President Tenorsen gets to make the decisions.”

“The singing Swedish chiropractor is making decisions on behalf of our whole country?” Lisa asked in disbelief.

“Hallelujah,” her mother said.

“But what about the king? He lives in the Royal Palace. That’s his home.”

“He’s gone into exile abroad,” her father said.

“Where did he go?” Lisa asked.

“R.S.T.”

“Arresty?” Lisa repeated, trying to remember where that was from geography class.

“The Republic of South Trøndelag,” her father replied. “He has a summer cabin up there.”

“Um,” Lisa replied, “but South Trøndelag is a county in Norway.”

“Obviously not,” her father replied.

“Um, hello?” Lisa continued. “South Trøndelag? Known for great salmon fishing? South Trøndelag is a part of Norway, Dad.”

Her father just said, “Shh!”

“I need to know if Gregory Galvanius hypnotized you guys!” Lisa protested.

But her parents were once again engrossed in Tenorsen’s speech.

“Norway is an itty-bitty, little country,” Tenorsen said in all seriousness. “And yet—as a poet once said—it is the land of heroes. Which means that our country can sometimes feel a little, well, small. But I promise that I—with your help—will make it bigger. Greater Norway will soon be as big as all the other great empires of the world.”

“Greater Norway?” Lisa asked. “He changed the name of our country?”

“Shh!” Her parents hushed her in unison.

Tenorsen raised his voice: “Greater Norway and its territories and colonies will soon extend from a desert in the south to a pole in the north. At least!”

Lisa heard cheering and applause coming from the TV, but she thought that was weird because she couldn’t see an audience, just Tenorsen sitting at a little desk that looked suspiciously like the one the news anchor usually used.

“Now, perhaps it sounds like I’m planning on making all the decisions unilaterally,” Tenorsen said. “But clearly that isn’t the case. After all, we’re living in a dictatorship—sorry, ha ha, obviously I mean a democracy! Everyone gets to decide. All I’ll do is issue a presidential recommendation, which should by no means be confused with a command. My first presidential recommendation is that everyone should do as I say. And it goes without saying that if you don’t support the idea, just let me know.”

Tenorsen smiled broadly into the camera.

“Yes, I very simply want to encourage everyone who doesn’t agree with me to let me know. Anyone who feels like the president shouldn’t make decisions at all can call the number shown on the screen now. Call and leave your name and address so I can . . . can . . .”

Tenorsen’s facial expression had changed. He wasn’t smiling anymore. His blond bangs had slipped down over his forehead, and his eyes gleamed as if he had a pair of headlights in his head instead. But then his face relaxed and he smiled that I-won-the-presidential-election smile again: “. . . discuss the matter with you.”

Applause from the invisible audience.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Lisa said.

“Nonsense,” her commandant father said.

“Hogwash,” her commandant mother said.

“And while you contemplate the issue,” Tenorsen said, “we’ll sing a song. Because singing fosters community and solves all problems. Think about that. We’ll sing the traditional patriotic Norwegian song ‘Among Hills and Mountains.’”

“I’m going to go to bed,” Lisa said. “Our class is having a ski day tomorrow.”

Her mother turned and looked at her in astonishment. “Aren’t you going to sing along?”

Lisa shook her head. “I prefer marching bands.”

When Lisa was in bed, watching Nilly’s shadow theater in the bedroom window across the street, she could hear “Among Hills and Mountains” echoing up from the living room. And when she closed her eyes, she could hear it emanating from all the houses on Cannon Avenue. She could picture the light from the TV screens flickering on people’s faces as they reverently followed their beloved president’s directions. Not just on Cannon Avenue, and not just in Oslo. But throughout all of Greater Norway. And its affiliated territories and colonies.