Chapter IV: Present Tense
Alice looked around in the dark, wondering what was going to happen next.
She got an answer when, slowly, a door appeared before her. From beneath it, she saw a ruddy, warm light.
"Enter, Alice Liddell!" came a voice from behind the door, aged and dark, as if it came from the North Wind itself.
Slowly, curiously, Alice opened the door, wondering how something without a room on the other side could hold something so bright within.
She found herself in what seemed to be a storeroom, lit by a semicircle of candelabras. In the center of the room was a literal hill of delicious-looking food: roasted turkeys and geese, Peking duck, chicken croquettes smothered in lovely, golden-tanned gravy, baked potatoes, bowls of mashed yams, suckling pigs, thick ropes of bratwurst, chocolate pies, plum pudding (thankfully, without flame), honey-roasted nuts, bright red apples, large, pink hams cooked with peaches, rare steaks, rashers of bacon, still in the pan, and steaming basins of punch.
And, at the top of this mountain of delectable wonders, was an enormous caterpillar, its wrinkled skin a pale orange, with pupil-less eyes and thick lips in a toothless mouth, wearing a black fez and a long, green, oriental robe, covered in images of white roses, and bearing what looked like a handlebar moustache on its face. It was smoking from a hookah, but, unlike the Caterpillar she knew, this one blew bubbles, not smoke, from its mouth after taking a puff.
"I take it," Alice said, "That you are not my Caterpillar?"
"I am not," the giant larva said, its voice like a warm breeze in her hair. "You may call me the Ghost of Christmas Present. Come forward, and know me better, girl!"
Alice shrugged, and stepped fully into the room.
"Have you never seen the like of me before?"
"I have seen someone similar, but you are not he…I suppose I could say that I haven't."
"Really?" the insectoid spirit pressed. "After all, I have had many older brothers and sisters…over eighteen hundred, in fact!"
"I confess to never meeting them. That's quite a large family to provide for…"
"We are insects. What can I say?"
Alice shook her head, submissively.
"Spirit, if you are here, as the Ghost of the Past was, to try and show me something, let me learn what I can. Conduct me where you will, and I hope to profit by it…last night's apparent lesson is still fresh in my fractured mind."
The Ghost took a drag from its hookah, and then placed it down. It crawled down and held out one of its six sleeves toward Alice.
"Touch my robe. We're going to Wonderland."
Alice hesitated, but obeyed. Instantly, the candlelit room of feasting vanished, and Alice found herself in Wonderland…
She had a feeling she knew where she was going already.
"Where are we?"
"The Pale Realm, at Christmastime."
The Chessland, with its purple sky and chessboard field, tipped at each end by a massive fortress, one white, one red, was just as Alice remembered it. She and the Ghost of Christmas Present were standing in the very center of the Realm, and an apparent standoff was going on between the White King and his brother/rival, the Red King, each backed by an army of Chessmen.
"You summoned me, and all my forces, brother," the Red King said, a suspicious tone in his voice. "To the center of the Pale Realm. Have you come to surrender?"
"Never."
The Red King's violet eyes, which had been filled with a sense of eagerness, grew icy and dark.
"Then what is your purpose for coming here, and having us come to you? Battle?"
The White King shook his head.
"Do you know, brother, what day it is?" he asked.
"…December 25th, I believe."
"And do you know what that means?"
"It's Christmas, of course. What of it?"
The White King took a deep breath.
"Our feud," he said, "Will never end, or else this land will cease to be. But it has come to my attention that, over the past few years, on Christmas, my soldiers are oddly hesitant in battle. Are yours the same?"
"Yes," the Red King admitted, a bit begrudgingly. "Why?"
"We fight every day, Red. I have no desire to fight today. In honor of the Holiday, I propose a truce; for the remainder of the month, starting from today, we will not do battle."
The Red King seemed more than reluctant.
"Also," the White King went on. "For today, in celebration of Christmas, I offer this: a feast, unlike any feast, and all Pieces, Red and White, are invited."
This caused an excited stirring in the Red ranks.
"The Red King will refuse," Alice muttered. "All he really cares about is fighting. A silly thing like Christmas won't stop him."
The enormous, tangerine larva raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
For a while, the Red King just looked at his brother, his purple eyes suspicious, the White King's own eyes soulful.
Slowly, the crimson monarch smiled.
"Truce," he said, and held out a hand.
Somewhat cautiously, the White King accepted it.
Alice expected that, at that point, the Red King would smash the White King's skull in with his scepter, or throw him over his shoulder, or electrify him, or put a knife through his heart…
She was stunned when the two Chess Kings actually shook hands.
A cheer rose up from both the White and Red sides of the board, and then the scene faded away into darkness.
Alice looked up at the Ghost. To her great surprise, the orange Caterpillar was wrapped up in a chrysalis, with the exception of its head.
"What was all that about?"
"Christmas," the spirit said, "Is a very special time of year. A time for miracles. As the saying goes, 'peace on Earth, good will to men.'"
"This isn't Earth, this is Wonderland. And they weren't men, they were talking chess pieces."
"A minor detail. The point is, Miss Alice, that you're view of Christmas is shallow and tenuous. It is more than simply gain, as you seem to think, and is treasured by all people and things."
The spectral caterpillar's unspoken words hung in the air: Allbutyou.
Alice bit her lip and turned away.
"Spirit…you are cocooned…tell me why."
The Ghost did not answer.
"There is one more visit we must make," it said slowly. "Even though you refused the invitation yesterday…"
Alice's eyes widened.
"Oh, no, not Hatter's blasted tea party!"
The creature nodded, and vanished into its chrysalis. The darkness waned again, and Alice found herself inside the Mad Hatter's Tea Lab.
The Lab had undergone quite a transformation…orange wallpaper, covered in images of blue teapots, was all over the walls. The dissection table and coffee-dipping rack where the March Hare and Dormouse had once hung were gone, imprints on the wooden floor the only evidence of them ever existing. The blood from the wall had been washed out thoroughly, or else covered up. All in all, were it not for the figures at the tea table in the center of the room, one might not have detected anything amiss.
The March Hare and the Dormouse, like the Hatter, had retained their mostly mechanical forms, as punishment for their crimes against the ruler of the Mad Hatter's Domain, just as the Mad Hatter himself was punished for his crimes against them. March wore a monocle, a red flannel vest, a white shirt, and a white glove on one hand. A horse's bit was in his mouth, and bolts were stuck in his ears…his left ear had what looked like a bite mark on it. His left leg was almost entirely mechanical, except for his ankle and foot, while his lower right leg and foot had been replaced with a metal foot and a long, thick metal rod surrounded by a spring. His other arm had been replaced with a mechanical one, the lower arm and hand replaced with a large, decorative blade, sort of like an Indian spear…wait, no…he had put away the blade, and replaced it with a more typical limb, which ended in a metal claw, like that of a lobster. Instead of his joystick-looking helmet, he wore a ridiculous red Santa Claus hat.
As for Dormy, he had traded out his green-and-white checkered vest for a blue-and-red one. He was half-asleep, the clockwork dial in his back that kept him awake beginning to run down. His whiskers were bits of copper wire, like the March Hare's, and his tail was a long, steel cable. His legs had been taken away, and replaced with bicycle tires, worked by gears so that he could move around. His irises were mismatched: one was red, the other yellow. Like the Hare, he had removed his own helmet, which was made from a bell, in favor of a Santa hat.
As for the Mad Hatter himself, he sat at the end of the table, across from the March Hare, the Dormouse by his side. He was laughing loudly, hysterically, as Alice looked at him, a gloved hand on his thin stomach as he cackled.
For all the horrible infections and contagions of the world, there is nothing as catching as laughter. The Hatter's laugh was as infectious as they come; boisterous and wild, with more than a hint at madness, it was nonetheless pleasant to hear since his supposed repentance. As he began to giggle, so did March, and soon the Dormouse, too, was crowing with joy.
"Now, let's play a game!" March laughed.
"Ooh, I've got one! How about a riddle?"
"No, no!" the Dormouse mumbled. "No more riddles. Let's play 'Yes – and – No.'"
"An excellent idea, Dormy!" Hatter said. "I'll start: what am I thinking of?"
"Is it…a vegetable?"
"No."
"A mineral?"
"No."
"An animal?"
"It counts."
Dormy fell asleep, abruptly, leaving March to puzzle out the Hatter's thoughts on his own as he wound his friend back up.
"Is it…a cat?"
"No."
"A horse?"
"Not at all."
"A puppy?"
"Wrong."
"A cockroach?" asked the Dormouse, now fully awake.
"Hardly."
"A cow?"
Hatter paused, a sly smile on his face.
"Yes and no."
A short silence.
"Oh, now I've got it!" March exclaimed.
"As do I!" Dormy squeaked.
"Well, then? Out with it, you two!"
"It's Alice!" the two cyborganic mammals chorused.
"Correct!" Hatter cried out, and clapped his hands, laughing even louder than before.
Alice scowled and crossed her arms.
A piece of the Ghost's chrysalis fell away, revealing its face once again. Alice opened her mouth to say something...then closed it again, changing her mind.
"She called Christmas a Humbug, she really did!" Hatter gasped out between fits of mad laughter.
"More shame to her then," Dormy snorted, and then burst into giggles himself.
Hatter's laughter gradually died down, and, as it did, so did that of his friends.
"She's a comical young woman," Hatter said. "No doubt of that! Still, I'll say nothing against her."
"What? Not even of her temperament?" March exclaimed rising from his seat as he did.
"No," Hatter affirmed. "Her ill whims do her no good, so I am sorry for her."
The Hare and the Dormouse exchanged a curious look.
"Let's think about it for a moment," Hatter said, as if in explanation. "She has no money to make her own Christmas feast in her world, let alone here in Wonderland. Look here: she gets it into her head to take a complete disliking of me – which I can't blame her for, really – and refuses my invitation. What happens? She loses a chance at a dinner...a very good dinner, might I add, Marchy!"
The Hare bowed, and the Dormouse applauded.
"Anyway, I'm sure the ultimate consequences are that she loses some pleasant experiences. So, I intend to visit her every year henceforth, and offer the same chance to her. After all, it's the least I can do."
"How do you mean, Hatter?" Dormy asked, curiously.
"Indeed!" March agreed. "What do you mean? After all, what has the lady done for us?"
"Why, March!" gasped the Mad Hatter. "I'm surprised at you! Have you forgotten who helped you down from your rack, and Dormy off the table, and eventually overthrew the wicked Queen? Who destroyed the Dollmaker and put a stop the rampaging Ruin of the Infernal Train? She did! And, furthermore, who helped us find forgiveness for each other, so that we three are now friends once more, and can thoroughly enjoy our parties together?"
March bowed his head, abashed.
"My apologies...some butter must have slipped into my mental mainspring."
"If so, worry not. I shall repair that in a matter of minutes...unless you'd rather wait for the party to be done?"
"Oh, please! We'll take care of that business afterwards...we mustn't interrupt our own party! Time would be upset!"
"Marchy does have a point, Hatter," Dormy squeaked, nodding vigorously.
"Very well...we'll check it later. In the meantime, I propose a toast...to Alice!"
All three poured a new cup of tea, and raised it high.
"A Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, to the little lady, or whatever she may be! She wouldn't take it from me, but, may she have it, nevertheless! She's brought us plenty of merriment, directly or no, and it would be ungrateful not to drink to her health...both mentally and physically! To Alice Liddell!"
"Here, here!" the "lab rats" bellowed. Then, in a flash, the scene was gone. Once more, Alice was alone in the dark with the Ghost of Christmas Present.
Alice turned toward the spirit, her eyes wide.
The Ghost had shed its chrysalis, and now had a long white beard and large, dull-colored wings, the pattern forming a pair of owl-like eyes.
Alice gulped, and then asked the question she had held in for quite some time.
"...Are all spirits' lives so short?"
"MY time upon this globe is very brief," the phantom replied. "It ends tonight, at midnight."
Alice lowered her gaze...
She froze.
"Er...forgive me, if I seem intrusive, sir...but, beneath your robe...something strange I see. Is it a foot or...or a...a claw?"
The Ghost of Christmas Present let out a long, shallow sigh, followed by a heavy, hacking cough.
"It might as well be a claw," it said, "For the scant amount of flesh upon it. Take a look, here! Look! Look, down here!"
As it said these words, the Ghost raised its robe...revealing a horribly disfigured young girl, with long, greasy brown hair that was unevenly cut and half-covered her small, pig-like eyes. It was dressed in a tattered white sweatsuit, like that Asylum patients wore in states of lucidity (Alice would know), with chapped, thin lips and long, jagged scars on her forehead and cheeks. One eye was blackened, as if it had been punched hard, and her hands and feet ended in long, dirty, chipped nails.
"Is it...I mean, is she yours?" Alice spluttered, unable to think of anything else.
"She is YOURS," the Ghost said. "Her name is Ignorance. Beware her presence, her name, all of her degree, for upon her brow I see that which and which is doom; if you deny her, or make her existence seem less than what it is, or use her for your own ends...then a plague upon you, and all those around you! Again, beware!"
As the spirit spoke thus, somewhere, a clock chimed the dreaded hour of twelve. The ghostly butterfly drew in a short, deep breath, and, as he exhaled, his wings crumpled, shriveled, and turned to dust. Slowly, his form, too, seemed to disintegrate, until only his robe and fez were left, lying in a pile of reddish dust, like that of a ground brick. Ignorance got down on all fours, like a wolf, and let out a cat-like hiss, before scurrying off into the infinitesimal darkness.
As the final chime sounded out, Alice began to look around.
I've seen two ghosts, who seem to want to teach me something. One was of the past, one was of the present...
Which only leaves...
A soft, gloomy moaning sound echoed somewhere behind Alice, and she turned.
Her eyes grew wide with horror as she looked at the Ghost of Christmas Future.