"I don't suppose she is really a duchess in this time and age." I stop next to the Pillar, watching the news on a TV that's for sale behind a shop window. He came down from the rooftop, and we started walking, but something about the TV caught his attention.
"Of course not," the Pillar says absently, glancing at another TV next to it. It's broadcasting news about people being evacuated from their homes. "I told you the Wonderland Monsters were reincarnated into modern-day people. The Duchess is reincarnated into what you'd call the equivalent of a duchess in our time." He is still taken by the news. There's a documentary about poverty in African countries. I don't know what's so interesting to him, and I can't read his face.
"Equivalent? What is she?" I ask. "Wait. The Duchess isn't the Queen of England, is she?"
"Oh, no." The Pillar finally looks away from the horrible news from all over the world. "That's just silly," he tells me.
"As if all the rest isn't."
"Silly is different from nonsense. Queens of England have always been fond of Lewis. As a matter of fact, Queen Victoria was a good friend of his."
"Then, who is the Duchess?"
"Margaret Kent," the Pillar announces.
"Who?"
"A very well-known woman in Parliament," he says.
"The British Parliament?"
"No. The Parliament of Oz. Focus, Alice." The Pillar pouts. "She is a TV superstar." He points at another TV behind the glass window showing a meeting of the British Parliament. There are too many important people in suits. I don't know who Margaret Kent is. "I don't expect you to recognize her. You've been living underground for years. But she is loved by most sane people."
"How is the Duchess loved by other people? Isn't she supposed to be a Wonderland Monster?"
"Like most politicians, she's fooled them by promising the impossible," the Pillar says. "Did you ever notice if you promise the possible, people won't believe you?"
"She is one of those people with two different faces. How wasn't she exposed until now?"
"Some have tried, actually. A year ago, a young man drew a caricature of her in the Daily Telegraph , mocking her as the ugliest woman in Britain."
"Is she that ugly?" I scan all the women of Parliament on the screen. They all look just fine.
"In fact, she is modestly beautiful, with all her plastic surgeries, pearl necklaces, and elegant blonde hair," the Pillar says. "Her ugliness mentioned in the newspaper stems from all the ugly things she does under the table. Bribes, extortion, and tampering with trials in favor of the big guys. One of the rules of the sane world… the poor keep getting poorer, and the rich keep getting… bitchier."
"Margret Kent?" I try the name on my lips, as I recognize her from the plate in front of her as she speaks on TV. She looks like the perfect female politician, a face everyone would normally trust.
"Of course, the artist who drew the caricature was mysteriously assassinated by a 'terrorist' a week later."
"That's awful."
"Alice." The Pillar holds me by the shoulder. "You're not focusing. The artist was assassinated by someone sent by Margaret Kent because he was exposing her dirty laundry."
"Are you sure?"
"And do you know who assassinated him?" The Pillar's face is too close to mine. I have an idea about the answer, but it just refuses to surface on my lips. "The Cheshire Cat was the Duchess's grinning cat in the book. In real life, he is her private assassin."
I take a step back, my hands on the wall. I'm dizzy, and I get that feeling again, that the world in my private cell is a better place than all of this. "This can't be." My voice is almost inaudible as it starts to rain all of a sudden.