The Creeps: A Samuel Johnson Tale Read Free

Dodgers from the biscuit tin. Professor Stefan was wrong about this. It wasn’t “someone” who was stealing Jammie Dodgers.
    It was everyone.
    Brian’s proper title was “Assistant Deputy Assistant to the Assistant Assistant to the Assistant Head of Particle Physics,” or ADAAAAHPT for short.
    Which, oddly enough, was the last sound Brian made before he fell to the floor.
    “Adaaaahpt,” said Brian. Thump .
    The noise caused Professor Stefan, who was concentrating very hard on a piece of data analysis, to drop his pen, and Professor Stefan hated dropping pens. They always managed to roll right against the wall, and then he had to get down on his hands and knees to find them, or send the Assistant Deputy Assistant to the Assistant Assistant to the Assistant Head of Particle Physics to do it for him. Unfortunately, the ADAAAAHPT was now flat on his back, moaning softly.
    “What is the ADAAAAHPT doing on the floor?” said Professor Stefan. “He’s your responsibility, Hilbert. You can’t just leave assistants lying around. Makes the place look untidy.”
    Professor Hilbert, the Assistant Head of Particle Physics, looked at Brian in puzzlement.
    “He appears to have fainted.”
    “Fainted?” said Professor Stefan. “ Fainted? Listen here, Hilbert:Elderly ladies faint. Young women of a delicate disposition faint. Assistants do not faint. Tell him to stop all of this nonsense immediately. I want my Jammie Dodgers. He’ll have to get some fresh ones. I’m not eating those ones after they’ve been on the floor. We can give them to the numbskulls in Technical Support.”
    “We don’t have any Technical Support,” said Professor Hilbert. “There’s only Brian.”
    He helped Brian to sit up, which meant that Professor Hilbert was now technically supporting Technical Support.
    “Guh—” said Brian.
    “No, it’s not good,” said Professor Hilbert. “It’s not good at all.”
    “Guh—” said Brian again.
    “I think he may have bumped his head,” said Professor Hilbert. “He keeps saying that it’s good.”
    “You mean that he’s bumped his head so hard he thinks good is bad?” said Professor Stefan. “We can’t have that. Next he’ll be going around killing chaps and asking for a round of applause as he presents us with their heads. He’ll make a terrible mess.”
    Brian raised his right hand, and extended the index finger.
    “It’s a guh—it’s a guh—it’s a guh—”
    “What’s he doing now, Hilbert?”
    “I think he’s rapping, Professor.”
    “Oh, do make him stop. We’ll have no hip-hoppity music here. Awful racket. Now, opera, there’s—”
    “IT’S. A. GHOST!” shrieked Brian.
    Professor Hilbert noticed that Brian’s hair was standing onend, and his skin was covered in goose bumps. The atmosphere in the lab had also grown considerably colder. Professor Hilbert could see Brian’s breath. He could see his own breath. He could even see Professor Stefan’s breath. He could not, however, see the breath of the semitransparent young woman, dressed as a servant girl, who was standing in a corner and fiddling with something that was obvious only to her. Her image flickered slightly, as though it were being projected imperfectly from nearby.
    Professor Hilbert stopped supporting Brian, who duly fell backward and would have banged his head painfully had not some Jammie Dodgers absorbed most of the impact.
    “So it is,” said Professor Hilbert. “I say, it’s another ghost.”
    Professor Stefan peered at the young woman over the top of his spectacles.
    “A new one, too. Haven’t seen her before.”
    Professor Hilbert carefully approached the ghost.
    “Hello,” he said. He waved his hand in front of the ghost’s face, but she didn’t seem to notice. He considered his options, then poked at the woman’s ribs. His finger passed right through her.
    “Bit rude,” said Professor Stefan disapprovingly. “You hardly know the girl.”
    “Nothing,” said Professor