THE FUTURE: LONDON
R unning wild in the streets, chased by a horde of mad people, I glanced at what once was the Big Ben again. Not only does it look like a weird mushroom made of what looks like marshmallow bricks, but it has a cuckoo bursting out of it when the clock strikes. The cuckoo has a husky voice, shouting, “We’re all mad here!” three times.
There is much more madness that surrounds me, but I try to focus on two things. My survival, and finding a way out of London to Oxford University.
Pictures of the Queen of Hearts are everywhere. A few statues too. One of them shows her chopping off a flamingo’s head. The following words are carved underneath: She finally did it!
I take a left onto what I think will lead me to the road out of here. The madmen are right on my tail. From the signs, I believe Great Britain is now called the Great Republic of Wonderland, just like Tiger told me.
And that’s not all. There are maps on the walls of buildings. Maps of the empire of Wonderland. Apparently, Black Chess colonized the rest of the world like the British Empire of the past. Mushrooms are Black Chess’s trademark, planted in every country they set foot in as a marker of territory.
Damn. The Queen’s plan really worked.
Now I take a right, as I elbow one of my attackers hard enough to throw him back. I think I am stronger now. I wonder how.
There is a map that shows that the republic’s most proud achievement: conquering Uncle Sam’s land. The United Loons of Wonderland is what the US is called now. Hell, there is a picture of the Sphinx in Egypt with the Queen’s head instead of a lion’s.
This, by far, is the worst-case scenario. How did we lose the war?
A couple of my chasers manage to grab my hand and slow me down. I kick one in the crotch and slice a shard of glass through the other’s neck. What the heck am I doing?
But I have no time. I keep on running before the others find me. This is insane. The world is chasing after me. I don’t even know why.
And here it is. Oxford University. How did I step out of London into Oxford this fast? I wonder if it has something to do with time traveling. Does time collapse distance this way?
But here I am, staring at… Wait.
At first, I am surprised that the university buildings are left as they were. No mushroom structures or other sorts of nonsense have touched it. Then I read the sign hung atop the Tom Tower. It says: Welcome to the Oxford Asylum for the Sane and Mundane.
Pictures of Einstein on the outer walls, depicted as a madman with a hookah pipe and flapping white hair, say it all. There is a bubbling quote coming out of his mouth: Time? What about time? Time is mad.
But I’m not that surprised. It has all gotten out of hand already.
What does surprise me is that my chasers are now split into two groups. Left and right. Now I can’t enter the university — I mean the asylum — surrounded by mad people in all directions.
I’m stuck with a shard of glass for a weapon, between two groups of mad folks wanting to kill me — or so I believe.
I stand in place, circling slowly, my eyes meeting theirs. They’re approaching me. They’re not in a rush. Why would they be? We have all the madness in the world.
What are you going to do right now, Alice? Die in the future? What does that even mean?
I realize that what really bothers me is that I am a mother now. Who is going to take care of Lily and Tiger if I die?
But I’m not even supposed to be here. Time traveling is really messing with my head.
The madmen and women approach me with grins worse than the Cheshire’s. I swallow hard. What am I going to do? I guess I will have to fight them. Can I confront all of them?
I pray my None Fu skills have evolved tremendously, or I will die a mushroom in the future.
Suddenly, a huge vehicle stops nearby. A red one. Its wheels screech to a halt. It’s a fire truck. Before I know it, the madmen, including me, are thrown backward by the rush of water pressure out of a fire hose.
Left and right, mad people glide and slide on the floor.
Who is doing this?
The mad people beg whoever is doing this to stop. But he keeps drowning us, and we’re unable to see who he is behind a wall of moist air.
“Alice!” I hear someone call.
Who is that?
The water stops. The silhouette of a man appears.
I squint as he approaches me, shooting a couple of madmen with a rifle on the way.
And slowly, I can see.
The man wears a hat and a blue suit and white gloves. He is unbelievably dry in all this slippery wetness.
“Pillar?” I stand up, not believing what I am seeing.
He shoots another mad attacker then stares at his pocket watch. “Hmmm,” he mumbles. “A bit too late.”
“What?” I am not sure whether to laugh or cry now. “Late for what?”
“For an important date.” He winks and pulls me by my hands. “I told you I’d see you again in fourteen years. Did you put some weight on?”