THE FUTURE: ST. ALDATES STREET, OUTSIDE OXFORD ASYLUM FOR THE CRIMINALLY SANE
A s I continue using my unmatchable None Fu skills, Tom Truckle hides behind me. He also answers some of my questions. It’s a weird way to have a conversation, but I want to know all about him.
“It’s my fault we lost the Wonderland War,” he says, as I strangle a few Reds.
“We?” I punch another. “Since when were you on the Inklings side?”
“There is so much you don’t know about me.”
“Better talk now, or I’ll do to you what I am doing to them.” I smash Reds into each other. “How come you’re the Mock Turtle? You’re a Wonderlander?”
“A neglected one, actually.” He ducks behind me. “No one ever noticed me back then.”
“I guess that’s why Lewis wrote so briefly about you.”
“Even though I inspired the famous mock turtle soup.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I somersault and kick two Reds in midair. “Its taste sucks. Who eats turtle soup?”
“That’s why I decided I’d be the director of an insane asylum,” he says. “Among the Mushroomers who fear and respect me.”
“I doubt that. They thought you were the maddest one in the asylum.”
“I don’t care what they thought. I had a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Of course. I was supposed to connect with all asylums in the world and make sure they were filled with sane people.”
“What kind of plan was that? Who told you that?”
“Lewis told me to.”