UN HEADQUARTERS, GENEVA, SWITZERLAND
W e’re too late. The hall is a teacups and saucers festival.
The most surprised of us is the March Hare, staring at the presidents of the world swearing and throwing teacups at each other.
And the worst part is that it’s all being caught on TV.
“Each one has his own war,” Fabiola says. “The Arabs and Jews are throwing all kinds of china at each other.”
“My God,” I say. “The words they say to each other. Humiliating.”
“It’s a centuries-old conflict,” Fabiola says. “And it seems all this peace talk was nothing but a front. The Tea of Truth proves that.”
“North Korea and South Korea, too.” The March points at them in the far corner.
“Is that the Russian and Ukrainian presidents?” I point.
“Not sure,” Fabiola says. “But I’m sure that’s the American president throwing china at the Queen of Hearts.”
“She is enjoying this,” the March says.
We watch her atop a high chair raiding the American ambassadors with her favorite teacups.
“The Queen shoots teacups better than Tiger Woods on a golf course,” a voice says behind us.
A voice we all know well — the Pillar.
“I thought I told you...” Fabiola begins.
The Pillar pulls her down instantly. A series of teacups swoosh above her head and knock a reporter down to the floor. Fabiola looks more annoyed he saved her this time. She waves his hand off and looks the other way.
“Is she always that way?” the Pillar asks me. “I thought nuns had manners.”
“We don’t have time for this.” I tuck a syringe against his chest. “Dip this into the American president’s neck.”
“I’m going to kill him?”
“No. It will cure him of the plague. Sadly, we only have four. So our best shot is to save the American president, Iranian, Israeli, and Egyptian.”
“I’d say the China and German presidents are good ones, too,” Fabiola says. “We’re not sure if offending the Germans won’t give birth to another Hitler.”
“Basically the most powerful presidents.” I duck as another saucer almost knocks me down. “The aim is to cool the world down and stop them from telling the truth about how they feel about each other.”
“You want one in your chest too, Fabiola?” the Pillar says.
She dismisses him and turns toward the presidents. “I’ll take the Jews’ and Arabs’.”
“You should take the American president,” I tell the Pillar.
“Why me?”
“Just do as I say,” I demand. “I’ll make sure you’re doing well and then go look for Carolus.”
“Ah, I forgot. First, make sure World War III won’t happen and then make sure to save the lazy human who’s done nothing to find a cure.”
“That’s it.” I’m not going to argue now.
“I think you will need to stay longer, Alice.” The March grits his teeth against all things crashing around us.
“Why?”
“You need to inject the Queen of Hearts.”
“She is a Wonderlander. She can’t get infected with the truth.”
“Not if it’s inhaled from the Hookah of Hearts, but she injected it into the tea, and that’s a different story. I just remembered.”
“Well, you should have remembered about two years ago,” the Pillar says. “No wonder she is all bonkers, shooting saucers like a short, stocky alien in a movie I never saw.”
“All right.” I grit my teeth. “So, I’ll inject the Queen.”
“Did you notice we’ve been discussing this a bit too long?” Fabiola urges us. “Let’s get going.”
“But they always have long chats in movies when bullets are showering all around them.” The Pillar has one of those childish episodes again.
“Stop it,” I shush him. “Let’s go. In the chest, remember?”
“Wait,” the March itches his ears. “I just remembered something else.”
The Pillar rolls his eyes.
“The syringes don’t work when you pinch them into the chest,” the March says. “It has to be the...”
“The what?” I am as impatient as the Pillar now.
“In the butt.”
Fabiola and I are so shocked we can’t utter a word. But the Pillar curves an eyebrow and has a smile on his face. “Fantabulous. Why didn’t you say so from the beginning?”