George W. Bush Has a Nightmare
by Nikki Little
It was discovered by accident. One night in Wonderland, Caterpillar and the Mad Hatter got drunk together and Caterpillar dared Hatter to walk through one of his smoke portals. Now everyone in Wonderland knew that Caterpillar's smoke portals served as a kind of teleporter to any location in Wonderland, but no one had ever heard of anyone ever being teleported to a location outside Wonderland. Until now. Caterpillar had told the Hatter that this portal would place him "uptop" just outside the Rabbit Hole. Well, Hatter just couldn't stand to be called a chicken and stumbled through the portal. Cheshire, I, and the entire Gnome village, after discovering that Hatter was missing, spent the next few hours searching for him. No luck. Finally Caterpillar confessed to what had happened and guess who ended up having to go fetch Hatter. Yup. Why me?
Caterpillar blew a second portal for me and I stepped in. Poof! In an instant I was "uptop" and just outside the Rabbit Hole. Hatter was snoozing away in a most innocent manner against the side of a tree. Sleeping it off. I woke up Hatter and walked him over to the Rabbit Hole. Now Hatter was still way too shaky to even consider putting him on the ladder. I tucked the still-drunk Hatter under my arm -- he was more hat than anything else and weighed less than Cheshire -- and jumped. My dress spread like a parachute and we landed with a thump in the flower patch next to a couple of newly-tossed Dell desktops and a Compaq laptop. Hmm... I grabbed the laptop for myself.
After this little adventure, it occurred to me that Caterpillar's portals might have other unknown uses as well. I made a visit to Caterpillar's "Oracle Cave" and discussed with him the possibility that his portals might also allow time travel and even the exploration of alternate time lines. Hatter was most game for this having already been a guinea pig for Caterpillar once and agreed to help with Caterpillar's tests. Caterpillar soon discovered that his talents far exceeded anything anyone had ever previously conceived. Yes it was possible to travel in time via his portals, and, even more important, it was possible to explore alternate timelines. The most important characteristic of time travel via Caterpillar's portals was that the travel was more virtual than real: you could see the past or the future, but you could not interact with it. You couldn't be seen or even touch anything. The moment you stepped through one of Caterpillar's time portals, you became something like a ghost -- an invisible shadow. The ability to explore alternate time lines was the most intriguing of all, and I soon had one of my mischievous ideas: what if I took the imperious King George W. Bush through a series of time portals each exploring what would have become of him had he been born to a different social class? Would King Bush learn anything from such trips? Would he develop the slightest bit of compassion for the less fortunate if he were to see what could have happened to himself? I simply had to find out and began making preparations for the trip.
The most important preparation for the trip was that I had to learn Caterpillar's technique for blowing smoke portals myself. Not only did I need to learn his technique, I needed a portable version of his famous Hookah to accomplish my intended task. Hatter agreed to take care of that problem. Hatter agreed to make a sort of miniature "bong" to hold the powdered mixture that Caterpillar used in his Hookah to blow his smoke portals. Caterpillar agreed to teach me how to blow a smoke portal. Now you might think Caterpillar might be reluctant to teach me or anyone else his greatest secret, but Caterpillar and I had once been compatriots in arms in Wonderland's own civil war which had taken place nearly thirty years ago when we overthrew our own tyrannical Red Queen. Caterpillar was willing to do anything for me, and the lessons proceeded over the next few months.
I was a rather dense student as it quickly became apparent that Caterpillar, in terms of genius, was in a category all of his own. Not even Hatter could match Caterpillar in terms of sheer genius, and Hatter was the Thomas Edison of Wonderland. It took me months and all sorts of harrowing mistakes to learn Caterpillar's purely mental techniques of blowing smoke portals. I had to learn to discipline my own chaotic, disorganized mind. In the course of our lessons, Caterpillar had discovered that I had two personalities: my other personality surfaced when I lost my temper. For lack of a better identifier, he identified this personality as "The Queen of Hearts." I had thought that my little episodes were rage potion flashbacks, but instead I really did have this horrible demon lurking inside. Caterpillar sought to reassure me that this "Queen of Hearts" was an essential part of myself and that I should not attempt to suppress her. Without her, I was a much lesser person. My fiery temper made me Alice. No temper, no Alice.
Hatter, of course, had no trouble at all crafting a miniature "bong" as a substitute for Caterpillar's Hookah. I began laying my plans for my trip to King George's lair and realized that I needed to leave behind physical evidence of my appearance so that he would not write off my visitation as simply a bad dream. I began practicing a self-transportation technique which involved climbing a tree, throwing the spinning top to create a miniature tornado, and then jumping onto the edge of the tornado for a slingshot effect. The spread of my dress could be used to turn the tornado into a catapult of sorts. Needless to say, this was dangerous. I needed a tall tree and a clearing to practice.
There was a perfect place in Wonderland Woods to practice which happened to be near my favorite mushroom patch. Cheshire dropped by to watch me practice "riding the slingshot." He could not resist getting in a dig at me: "It is a source of neverending amazement to me that you can still go up those trees as if you were twenty years old." I realized immediately that he wasn't really talking about age. Aye! Just because I had a bit of meat on my butt didn't mean I couldn't climb.
With my practice and preparations complete, the appointed day came and I made my visit to my weapons locker for my usual assortment for trips uptop: I took my looking glass (a hand mirror which could make me invisible for about 20 seconds), my Bowie knife (a knife which rematerialized in my upraised hand about three seconds after being thrown), and my spinning top (created a miniature tornado when thrown and also returned to my hand a few seconds after being thrown). I decided this time to also take my ice wand which could both encase anything in ice and also create ice walls. If I aimed it at a floor, it could turn anything into an ice skating rink. That could prove very useful. I also had Hatter create a velcro seal for my apron pockets and my two dress pockets so that none of my "toys" could fall out. The thought of the U.S. military getting hold of one of my weapons horrified me. The most important item was Hatter's bong filled with Caterpillar's Hookah powder mix. One "bong" could hold enough powder for about twelve trips. Caterpillar had insisted that Hatter make three of the "bongs" to ensure that I would be able to get back no matter what happened. Caterpillar had filled all three. I was to put one in an apron pocket and the other two in my two dress pockets. I was most impressed at how worried Caterpillar was. He really did seem like a father at times. I was ready.
I went to Caterpillar's "Oracle Cave" to make the initial trip and was greeted there by Caterpillar, Hatter, and Cheshire. Cheshire had one of my dresses folded up in his paws. "I'd really feel better if you wore a dress that fit exactly rather than your usual practice of wearing one size up if you're going to pull that dangerous stunt with the spinning top." How sweet! He was actually worried. He pulled at my dress and then realized that I was indeed already wearing a dress that fit exactly. I had thought of the same thing while practicing in the clearing. Caterpillar topped off the "bong" and I lit it. In a few moments, I took a mouthful of the smoke and blew it directly in front of me. A swirl of oranges and yellows began to spin and I stepped through.
King George was asleep when I appeared in his bedroom. I had deliberately selected a day when Laura was out of town so that I could catch King George alone. I sprayed the walls and ceiling with the ice wand and King George woke up. "Who the hell are you? And how on earth did you get in here?" He seemed to be more irritated than frightened. Maybe it was because I was a woman that he was not frightened. I still looked as innocent as I had at the age of 19. Appearances can be extraordinarily deceiving. "Take a look, George. Just who do I look like?" He took a long look and scratched his head. Finally he spoke: "You look like some psycho version of Alice in Wonderland." I could not resist smiling at that: "Bingo! My boy! I am here to educate you in what could have happened to you had you not been born to wealth and privilege. I am going to show you the lives you might have had if you had been born to different social classes."
Now George was really perplexed. "Isn't that the wrong book? It sounds like you're talking about A Christmas Carol. I actually read that one." He seemed so proud of himself. Bragging about one of the very few books that he had probably ever read. I suspected that Laura had read it to him.
"I am not the Ghost of Christmas Past. You know who I am." The ice on the ceilings and walls started to melt. Water started dripping on our heads. The water damage that was sure to ensue would later provide evidence that I had, in fact, been there and that King George wasn't just dreaming. I took out the "bong" and lit it. King George looked surprised: "Hey! Is that what I think it is? How about sharing?" I blew a cloud of smoke and the room dissolved into a swirl of oranges and yellows. In a moment, we passed through.
This was my first time travel jump and it was a rough ride -- like being shot through a swirling funhouse tunnel. King George and I landed without the slightest jolt on the ground behind a shack. We seemed to float rather than exist in this timeline. The wormhole -- I call it that for lack of a better word -- swirled above like a purple whirlwind. The images of the differences in this timeline cascaded through my head in a blinding avalanche -- the headache was immediate and agonizingly intense. King George said something but I didn't hear him. A few moments later, it was over, and I knew what I needed to show to King George. He repeated his earlier question: "Is that it? Is that the Rabbit Hole?" I nodded my head. I didn't feel like explaining what had just happened to this simpleton.
I led King George to a lump of concrete behind the shack and told him, "This is what would have become of you if you had been born to the lower lower class, the destitute." I pointed to the lump of concrete in the ground and King George went over to read it. It was raining lightly, but the moon was bright. It was easy to read the hand scrawl in the rough cement: "George W. Bush" There was nothing else. Not even a date. "You died shortly after birth. You were born in that shack over there in filth. There was no medical help. Not even a midwife. The family did not own a vehicle. There was no way to take the mother to the hospital to give birth. No one ever comes to place flowers on this grave because no one alive at the current time even knows you ever existed. You are forgotten."
King George looked at the stone and said nothing. Nothing seemed to register in his vacant eyes. Did he feel anything? Did the realization of how cruel life was for so many people sink into his thick skull? King George cracked a joke: "I sure am glad I wasn't born to the lower, lower class! Gotta pick your parents carefully! Where to next?" What an idiot. On the positive side, he didn't seem to mind being led around by me. He actually seemed curious.
I took out the "bong" and blew another smoke portal. A swirl of oranges and yellows appeared in front of us and King George and I stepped through together. Once again we rode the swirling funhouse tunnel and then shot through a flash of blinding white. This time we were on a city street in the middle of the night. It was very cold. The same type of blinding avalanche of images passed through my head again and caused an intense headache. This time it took more than a few seconds. It seemed like twenty seconds, and the pain in my head left me exhausted. King George was already shivering. I knew what I needed to show King George and led him to an alley. There sitting on the street leaning against the wall of a building was a middle-aged man with a flask in one gloved hand. He wasn't moving. He wasn't even breathing. "That's you. That's what would have become of you had you been born to the upper lower class, the working class. Your luck in the job market ran out and you became homeless. You were always a drunk. One cold winter night you got drunk in an alley and passed out. You froze to death in your sleep. You were discovered by garbage collectors. Just four blocks down was a Catholic Worker house. There was no reason for you to freeze to death. They never would have turned you away. Not on a night this cold."
King George looked at himself in the alley and said nothing. This time he seemed lost in thought as he shivered. "That's two timelines now and I'm dead in both of them. Are all the timelines going to be like this? How come you don't seem to be cold?"
I answered King George's question about the timelines: "I don't know what happens in each timeline until after we've passed through." I ignored King George's second question. Idiot. I looked again at the figure in the alley and the tears started to come. Damn! I did not want him to see me cry. I did not see the figure in the alley as a monster. King George finally spoke: "You're a strange one, Miss Alice."
I got out Caterpillar's "bong" and blew another time portal. The alley filled with the usual swirling colors and we stepped through. This time the ride did not seem as bad as the two preceding times. We passed through a blinding white light again and landed without the slightest sensation of a jolt. We seemed to be almost floating just as in the two previous trips. Unfortunately, my reception was the same as in the two preceding trips: once again my brain filled with an overwhelming chaos of images and my head was seized with an intense, blinding pain. This time it took almost a minute. When the pain ended, King George looked genuinely worried: "These trips seem to take a lot out of you. If something happens to you, I don't get home, do I?" Leave it to King George to look at everything purely through the prism of how it affected him.
I led King George to a construction site and led him to the sight of a man who had just fallen seventeen stories. "That's you as a member of the lower middle class. You were twenty-six. You went to work hung-over from an all-weekend drunk and you fell. You and alcohol seem to be a dangerous mix." King George looked around and said, "All these people here don't see us, do they?" I left his question unanswered because it was obvious that no one could see us. Such a bright boy.
I led King George around to a deserted spot and blew another portal. Again we stepped through with the same results as before. After another intense one-minute headache, I led King George down the street to a McDonald's restaurant. As before, we seemed to be floating and were invisible to everyone around us. We went inside and there King George saw himself behind the counter in a unit manager's uniform. He was an old man. A newspaper lying on a table had the actual current date on it. "That's you as a member of the upper middle class behind the counter. You hate this job like you've hated every job you've had since graduating. Truth is, there aren't many options for college graduates anymore. The good jobs have vanished and bad jobs such as restaurant management have proliferated. You've lasted three years in this job which is much longer than the average tenure as a fast food manager. Every night you go home and think about suicide, but you haven't done it because you think that you'll be able to retire in just a few more years. You don't have any friends anymore because no one can take your constant ranting against free trade. Your former friends all think you're a Red and want nothing to do with you. You despise them as well. You think they're sleepwalking and are oblivious to what has been happening in this country for at least the last 27 years. Congratulations! Not only are you alive in this timeline, but you're also politically awake."
"We have one more trip to make which will show you as a member of the lower upper class which is usually known as the newly rich." I blew another time portal and we stepped through. After another intense headache, I led King George to a sidewalk in front of a very tall building in Houston, Texas. A man was face down on the sidewalk and had obviously jumped from the top of the building. "That's you. You had a sizable trust fund and you squandered it. You couldn't cope with the idea of living without wealth. You were bankrupt and you jumped. End of story. Now it's the end of our time together. I have to take you back home." King George looked befuddled and seemed to want to talk.
"This wasn't too pleasant for me, but you're the most interesting person I've ever met. Can't you give just a few moments for a few questions?"
"Okay, George. Go ahead. Ask."
"Is there really a Wonderland?"
"Yes, there is. I'm living proof."
"Can I see it?"
"Out of the question. Everyone there hates you, and I would not protect you from my own friends and neighbors."
"How come you don't have blond hair and blue eyes?"
That did it! I gave this vapid waste of protoplasm a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to ask questions about a place thought to be mythical and he confuses me with a Walt Disney film! I felt a volcano underneath about to explode. The last thing I wanted was to let King George meet "The Queen of Hearts." I figured I had five minutes at the most before I "turned." The horns, the red eyes, the claws...I was sure they would soon come. I suddenly had the idea of taking King George back to a place other than his bedroom in the White House. I blew another portal and roughly shoved King George through. Then I stepped in. We shot through another swirling purple funhouse tunnel and landed with a thump outside a tent somewhere in Texas in the current day. This time we were visible to everyone because we were in our own timeline in the current day. Another agonizing headache, and I then knew what to say to King George. "That's Laura in that tent over there. She doesn't know you're here. Go say hello to her. She'll be glad to see you." King George ran over to the tent and I decided to put some distance between him and me. What a gullible sucker! I threw my spinning top and jumped on the edge of the tornado. I had always done this from twenty feet up in a tree before, but I hoped it would work from ground level. It did, and I was safe from the possibility of King George suddenly jumping through a portal back to Wonderland with me. I lit the bong for one last smoke portal and laughed to myself. "Wait until King George finds out I lied to him," I thought. The woman in the tent wasn't his wife Laura. It was Cindy Sheehan. I looked down at my hands. I had turned.
The End
About the author:
Miss Alice lives in Wonderland with the White Rabbit and a little green lizard named Bill whom she once booted up a chimney. It's a shared housing arrangement, and all three earn their keep by brewing up all of Wonderland's hooch. Miss Alice is officially single, but sneaks off to the mushroom patch daily for a "wrestling match" with the Cheshire Cat. Every Saturday night in Wonderland involves the ritual showing of the Matrix trilogy and everyone agrees that Keanu Reeves would have looked silly in a blue dress and white apron.
This story is based on the characters created by American McGee. Electronic Arts (EA) owns the rights. Also a nod to the science fiction series "Sliders". The idea of the spinning top as a weapon is my own invention. Pity it's not in the game.