I t doesn't matter how long I inspect Lewis Carroll's portrait; I don't find anything strange. It's devastating. Even the tourists start to get bored, all except the old woman. She is most attentive.
"Tell me, Alice, does Lewis Carroll grin in the portrait?"
"No." I double-check, in case my eyes are giving up on me. I had one shot of my medication early this morning. I might need another one since I'm beginning to tire.
"Damn. That would have been classic," the Pillar says.
"Maybe it's something behind the portrait," I suggest.
"I know what six o'clock might be!" the old woman interrupts. Her grin is ridiculous. She is enjoying this more than a seven-year-old would enjoy an Alice in Wonderland book with pictures.
"Okay?" She might be my last resort.
"Six o'clock is when the Mad Hatter froze time by singing in his awful voice. The Red Queen said that" she says.
"The lady is actually right," the Pillar says in my ear.
"So what?" I ask. "What's the Mad Hatter got to do with this?"
"It might not be a direct reference to the Hatter. What is the Hatter famous for?"
"Tea, his hat, and mad parties," I reply.
"That's the answer," he says, but I don't get it.
"I think it could be the teacups in the entrance of the Great Hall," the old woman suggests. "Wherever the Hatter goes, there are teacups." I don't even know if she knows what's going on. She thinks this is some kind of interactive display by Oxford University to entertain the tourists, I guess.
"I always thought Lewis Carroll's books were suitable for nine- to ninety-year-olds," the Pillar says. "She isn't over ninety by any chance, is she?"
"Shut up." I dart across the hall, pushing the tourists away. I catch the eyes of a security guard, but he doesn't approach me. I wonder if he knows about me.
I arrive back at the entrance with the huge table with plates and tons of empty teacups on it. I check each and every teacup.
"She's Alice Bond." The old woman claps her hands.
"All cups are empty. All but one," I tell the Pillar.
"Does it say 'drink me'?" the Pillar says in his whimsical voice.
I don't even waste time. My fingers reach into the tea in the cup, and they touch something. Here it is, just what I was looking for.
"It's another watch… digital," I say.
"Working?" the Pillar asks.
"No."
"Rub it like you'd rub a bottle with a genie in it." I hear him take a drag. "I'm sure it will start counting downwards."
"Why?" I rub it with my sleeve anyway.
"The last watch in the cheese was ticking, and it probably stopped when you rubbed it. This one will work once you rub it. It's just the kind of nonsense the Cheshire would use."
"But the time was fixed on six o'clock then. He couldn't have predicted when I'd rub it," I say.
"A watch can still tick when its hour and minute hands are fixed, Alice. It's not that hard to do. Now, rub this one."
I do. The Pillar is right. It's a stopwatch. The clock's digital counter starts counting backward. Six minutes, I tell the Pillar.
"So we have only six minutes left. A new deadline," the Pillar comments. "Tick. Rewind. The madness begins again."