TOM TOWER, CHRIST CHURCH, OXFORD UNIVERSITY
I t doesn't take me long to find the door in Tom Tower. I kneel to open it. All I can think of is Alice in the books. Wouldn't it be cool if I had eaten something that would make me shrink, instead of crawling through on my knees?
There is an endless white light behind the door. It only disappears with the Tom Tower's first dong.
I walk farther and find myself in the same place on Tom Quad's roof, a hundred and fifty years ago. I am standing in a room. It looks like a studio. It's filled with all kinds of art, drawings, and photographs. It's nighttime. It's summertime. I come across one of the nineteenth-century cameras. There is also a big table full of photographs of young girls. They are old photographs, in black and white and sometimes in sepia. Most of them are of a girl who looks a lot like me.
I rummage through the photographs and find many other photos of other girls. Names and dates are scribbled on the backs. It's apparent there is a significant purpose for these photos. There are charts, maps, and writings annexed to them. I don't have time to read them all.
I come by Alice Constance Westmacott's photo. She looks almost like the Constance I know in real life. I flip the photo and read it:
Daughter of Richard Westmacott. Remember to ask him which one is the real mask with the cat's grin.
This must be Lewis Carroll's handwriting. I am in his studio at Oxford University.
A little further down, it says: I think the Red Queen was right. The Cheshire can't be beheaded because he keeps appearing and disappearing. The only way is to steal his grin. It's got his power.
I hear sounds down in Christ Church's garden. When I look over, I glimpse someone running, but I miss them. I climb down and follow them to the Great Hall.
Inside, I come across the fireplace with the firedogs. It's not a fireplace yet, but a door leading somewhere. The door is closed but is shimmering with golden light underneath. It shakes to thuds and the sound of fighting. There are screams. I don't know what to do. It's like a war going on behind it. I wonder if Wonderland is behind that door.
Finally, the door springs open. A young man comes out. He is wearing a black priest's outfit and holds the vorpal sword in his hand, the same sword I saw the White Queen holding. He locks the door behind him with a golden key that he hangs around his head after. He is panting from the struggle behind the door. The man has that aura that makes me love him at first sight. It's the same kind of love I felt toward the White Queen. I realize what it is now. Its love shared by those who walk the white tiles on the chessboard of life.
"Alice?" he asks, still catching his breath. "What are you doing here?" He is stuttering. A small white rabbit peeks out of his pocket, nibbling on a carrot. It's a funny-looking rabbit. "Alice?" It imitates the man. "What are you doing here?"
"You see me?" I am bedazzled.
Lewis Carroll laughs. It's a delightful laugh. A laugh of someone who has not lost his childhood to the burden of growing up. I like it a lot. I only wonder why he stutters. "I see you," he says and tucks his hand gently back into his pocket. He takes my hand after. From his touch and my height, I realize I am seven years old, probably dressed in a blue dress. I still avoid mirrors wherever I go.
We walk outside and sit on the same bank I sat on with the Pillar.
"I did it, Alice," Lewis says. "I locked them up."
"The Wonderland Monsters?"
"If you'd like to call them that, yes."
"Is that the door to Wonderland?" I ask him, thinking about the fireplace in real life. It was walled up by bricks.
"One of many," he says. "I trapped the monsters behind each of the doors. They are interlinked, but they can only cross over to the world from the same door where I trapped them."
"And the Cheshire?"
"He is the only one I couldn't get, but I stole his grin," he says. "I hid it the best way I could."
"Oh," I say. I wonder what happens if I tell him I am from the future.
"Are you all right?" He holds my face gently in his hands. I nod. His cold hands feel warm on my cheeks. "I am so sorry, Alice. It's all my fault, but I didn't know things would turn out this way." I don't understand why he is sorry, and I am aware of Tom Tower dinging in the distance. I don't think he can hear it. "Here." He takes off the necklace with the key and wraps it around my neck. "This is one of six keys needed to open each door to Wonderland, where I locked them all in. I trust you can keep this one safe."
The key glitters around my neck. I realize it's the same key drawn on my cell's wall.
"Lewis," I say, "what happens on January the fourteenth?"
"Fourteenth?" he says. "I have no idea. Why?"
"Doesn't matter." I don't have time to tell him about my cell. The Pillar sent me here so Lewis could help me with my decision. "I need you to help me decide something."
"I hope I can," he says.
"If it comes down to saving one girl's life and saving the world, who should I choose?"
"You started saving lives already? I always knew you would." His smile curves like ocean waves I want to crash against. "You really want my opinion on this?"
"You really want his opinion?" The carrot-nibbling rabbit peeks out again. Lewis laughs, hands him another carrot, and tucks him back in his suit pocket. The rabbit stretches its arm out of Lewis's hand pocket. "It takes too much space in here."
Lewis laughs again then turns to me. "Like I said, do you really want my opinion?"
I nod.
"In my opinion, no one can save the world, Alice," he says. "We can save the ones we care about, the ones nearby if we're lucky enough to be able to save them in the first place. Then once we save one, we go on to the next. One day at a time, Alice. One day at a time."
"So, there are no miracles like saving the world?"
Lewis laughs. "There are two ways to live our lives, Alice. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. I like the 'everything' one."
"I like it too," I say.
"A man called Einstein will rephrase this quote many years from now, by the way." Lewis stands up and cleans his sword. "Don't tell him I said it before him. We don't want to shake his confidence."
"Why?"
"He is going to invent mad things, important things for mankind, and no one's going to believe him in the beginning," Lewis says. "That's the way with all mad people. No one believes them in the beginning."
I pull him down and kiss him on the cheek. He blushes. "You're a good man, Lewis. The world will love your madness after you die."
"You think so?"
"Your book is going to inspire millions, believe me," I say, and run back to the Tom Tower.
"What book, Alice?" he says after me. "Wait? I am going to write a book? About what?"
"If you know about Einstein quoting you years from now, you should know you're going to write a book." I don't turn around, but answer him as I run.
"A book?" I hear the rabbit ask. "Lewis, you're going to write a book? Will you write about me, please?
"A book about what, Alice?" are the last words I hear from Lewis before I reach the Tom Tower.
"Madness, Lewis. You're going to write a book about beautiful madness."