JMJ

Chapter Five

The Glass Floor

"Don't get involved," growled Mars marching away from the door he had just slammed.

Venus was unsure whether to be incensed at his unwanted interference or grateful for her temptation to have been retracted.

"My hero," was the snide remark that passed through Venus' lips, and she crossed her arms defiantly.

"It's no secret that he accosted you in the hall," Jupiter remarked.

"Ah, so we're all being so chivalrous," huffed Venus.

"We could throw you back in to the ravening wolves," Jupiter offered.

"Don't side with me," Mars warned.

Venus shook her head. "Look, Jupiter. What are we supposed to do?" She asked this very urgently but very, very quietly as the voices rose and fell beyond the door.

"We have to perform a bit of CPR on the Heart. It was turned off. Likely by the person who hacked into LISE," said Jupiter.

Mars threw his head dangerously to him. "Why didn't you say that before?"

Jupiter didn't answer.

Venus grinned vilely. "Thought your bosses were going to treat you better than the rest of us?"

"No time," said Jupiter. "In fact it's all the better with only a few of us, but there is one hitch even if we do get to the heart."

"I'm seriously gunna strangle you to death, old man," said Mars.

"You mean if the hacker put a bad enough wrench in the works?" offered Venus.

"All our equipment's down," said Jupiter. "If the hacker's work is too complicated…

"Well?" barked Mars.

"Hush!" said Venus. "I'm with Jupiter in the idea that I don't really want to be overheard about this, but how are we going to find this hacker from in here, Jupiter?"

"We'll let them find her for us," said Jupiter motioning to the door.

Venus did all to reveal her skepticism without a word, but she had no more comebacks. Wearily she only nodded after a struggling moment. With that one nod Mars let out a growl at being outvoted.

#

The bank was just as grand and pretentious as one would expect. The tellers were literally all smile and hardly seemed to have eyes or nose much less hair. They did not bother Matthias or Esther for the lines of people and animals with whom they were occupied. However, Matthias did have to look over his shoulder once or twice to see if the smiles were an illusion of some sort or if their teeth could see with the multifaceted vision of a fly.

When Esther looked round, Matthias motioned her forward through a wide open archway where safes in the walls were more like post office mail slots. The numbers were even on one side and odd on the other. As tedious as it was to read all the numbers, which were very small and faded, there was no game to it. They found their box one row from the floor and quickly went about the combination lock. Within seconds they had it opened, and inside was a box. Without a word, they agreed to open the box right then and there.

They sat down on a bench out of the way and Matthias was about to put the key into the lock but found quite suddenly that there was no keyhole.

"What?" he protested.

He made as though to attempt to open the box without the key. He had been expecting a futile struggle, so he cannot be fully blamed for dropping it when the lid actually opened without any effort at all. The key tumbled down with a clunk on the tiles after it, and Esther picked up both in a shot. The contents of the box were now on the floor.

Matthias thought he had been expecting just about anything, but he realized that he was expecting nothing most of all or just a tea bag or something of that nature— or an IOU in reverse for ten shillings and six pence, but what had fallen out was a vial. He laughed.

"It doesn't say 'drink me'," Esther pointed out.

"No, it says 'concentrated brain storm'," muttered Matthias.

"Then what do you do with the vial?" asked Esther.

Matthias took it up and sat back down to examine the artifact, turning the vial round and round. He popped off the cap and smelled with gentle care. "It's oil."

"Not cooking oil," Esther said suspiciously.

"Hardly. It's what I use… or rather, what I should use when oiling metal gears when something's stuck. Not sure what I was using in the ball save a little elbow grease, but…"

"Maybe it's to get the mercury—" said Esther gently but then stopped rather abruptly.

Matthias frowned thoughtfully and pocketed the vial. After a further moment he took the box from Esther. There was a warning note left inside taped to the bottom that read, "Put your ear to the ground." He cocked his head and raised an exaggerated brow.

"I think we should probably ask the Hatter about it," said Esther. "I mean unless you think we should put our ears to the ground?"

She looked at the floor skeptically.

"I think it has something to do with picking a brain or rather my once common thought in the ball," Matthias said.

"What's that?"

"That a brain should to be able to be taken apart and put back together again just like a clockwork machine."

"But it can't be," said Esther.

"That's never stopped people from trying. They do it all the time," shrugged Matthias lightly. "They love taking it apart and they're very good at that figuratively more than physically."

"And mentally," Esther rolled her eyes.

"They're never quite able to put that mind back together again however they do it," said Matthias.

"Then it's just telling us what we already know again," Esther sighed looking away up at some impressive stained glass that was of nothing in particular even if it did somewhat remind Matthias of a supernova in brilliant colors out in a dark universe.

"Of course," Matthias shrugged leaning back as he gazed at the abstract explosion stuck in time

The shadows of trees blowing in the wind made the image shimmer as though the explosion was trying to emerge from its time-prison.

As his voice and focus trailed off a moment, he mused over the gears and hours poring over them as the mechanic of Heartland. How many of those projects had been real? Not that he was not good with his hands normally, but the steam punk impossibilities were ridiculous. Then again perhaps since Heartland had always been in Wonderland, it really should not be a matter of questioning how he did them, but if he could utilize that craft now… well, the thought was fleeting. There were no gears at hand and his mind was not made of a single one.

He shook his head and turned to Esther with a grin. "Were you expecting any less?"

"It's kind of a paradox since we didn't know Wonderland existed and yet here we are," retorted Esther.

"Sure we did," chirped Matthias. "Everyone does. Just some people are foolish enough to think it's real."

"Isn't it?"

"Just because it isn't real doesn't mean we can't see it."

"But then where are we?" demanded Esther.

"In our own minds," said Matthias.

"Doesn't make much sense," said Esther.

"Who said Wonderland does?" asked Matthias. "Other than the scientists, of course, and they're just lying to themselves."

"Hmm?"

"If they think they can control a place that does not exist then they're crazier than the people of Wonderland. They're trying to learn something from Wonderland that they don't know, so they'll never find it."

"I never thought about it that way before," Esther admitted. "But since I didn't know that, well, you must've so… our Wonderland is merged into one?"

"Isn't that what being married's all about?" asked Matthias.

"I… suppose," Esther shrugged. "But that still doesn't help us with what we're supposed to do, and I still don't think everything about this is 'things we already know'…"

"Maybe not about Wonder itself," agreed Matthias, "but everything about ourselves in it. Like making up a story. You may not know the end until you get there, but you can't make an ending with knowledge you don't have. Wonder can't figure out what Wonder is scientifically, either, so I really think you just shouldn't worry about that. Call it divine if you want to. Creativity is anyway in a way."

"Then what do you think we should do, Matthias?" Esther sighed again, growing weary of such talk.

Honestly, Matthias was getting a little weary of it too.

"Find a place to spend the night?" he offered. "You'd think there'd be a hotel or something around here."

"Let's hope not a hostel," said Esther despite herself, her disappointment about the box and the Hatter in general was only too obvious.

"I just had a thought," Matthias said, suddenly standing up.

"Really?"

"Well, nothing that fantastic, but we could just ask someone if there's a pond around to cross."

"Or we could follow the White Rabbit…"

Matthias frowned, and then turned to the soft, almost hazy voice of Esther staring out past him like one unsure if what she saw was real. Quickly he looked for himself, and above a certain doorway, that was admittedly rather a low one, there was a sticky note sticking to the glass surface of it that was definitely shaped like a rabbit's head. It was at the Hatter's highest reaching point, admittedly, but many people in Wonderland were about that same height.

It's worth a shot anyway, Matthias decided.

"Keep hold of the key, Esther. We may need it yet," he said without turning his attention from the door.

Esther slipped off the bench and came up behind him as Matthias leaned down to read the note. It only had an arrow pointing forward. Or rather up as it was a two-dimensional plane. There was no signature, so it was difficult to say it was a message for them. It may be a dream world and it may not, but he was not going to presume that everything in their path was for them alone entirely even if they could learn from most of it.

There was no Cheshire Cat giving direction, nor was there the Hatter there to lead the meandering way, so with a shrug, Matthias opened the door. Esther followed behind him. There were no doors in the long corridor or anything hanging upon the wall. It reminded Matthias of a long corridor to a pool or an ice rink. There was a slight chill that grew as they went along it.

"An ice rink is often called a pond," he muttered out loud.

"What?" asked Esther.

Matthias smiled. "It could be the pond we're looking for."

"But skating ponds are outside not inside," said Esther.

There was a staircase at the end of the hall, the railing and spokes of which was art deco incarnate that zigzagged up into the unknown. The steps were made from colored tiles, and the top of the handrail had a stripe of gold along it.

"This must be where the bigwigs keep their stash," said Matthias. "And maybe stash their thousand dollar stache grease for all we know."

"I doubt the Hatter counts as a big-anything," said Esther.

Matthias laughed. "If he can afford to sit at a tea table for eternity then he has money, Esther."

"Isn't that thinking about it too hard?"

"It's making hard-edged comments," shrugged Matthias simply.

They ascended the stairs to another corridor that was as beautiful as a five star hotel. Diamond shapes overlapped with hexagons and nonagons deftly and deeply indented into the wainscoting and the ceiling. Real diamonds, or at least more realistic, studded the crown molding like a ringlet of a king with an irregular shaped head like some complicated inversion of what would soon become a more recognizable shape. This corridor had many jutting alcoves, though none of them seemed to have much use as the doors were all along the main corridor and the alcoves were more like wide-open antechambers. The main corridor was adorned with electric chandeliers, but these antechambers had no windows and nothing to sit on; though there were pedestals on which many plants were adorned. Often these were stacked precariously on top of each other while allowing the growths to come through.

Esther had to inspect one of these plants, and she was surprised that she could not rightly tell whether it was artificial, especially as the pots were filled with actual dirt that was perfectly moist.

"Where do they get their photosynthesis from?"

Matthias suggested, "Perhaps they are simply synthesized to use ceiling lamps instead."

"There's no one here is what's truly creepy," said Esther as they continued on. "Well, I don't think even a Wonderlandian would find much to do here, except maybe whoever takes care of the plants."

"Maybe the whole corridor is just for looks," suggested Matthias. "photo-synthesized?"

"Are you just stuck like that?" Esther asked but with a beautiful smile nonetheless.

"Take a picture and it'll last forever," Matthias said beaming.

There was one more flight of stairs that zigzagged even tighter and was much narrower than the first. Light poured down as from the spotlight of heaven— at least in a cinematic setting, anyway. It was probably just a skylight or even a bright open corridor to contrast with the first corridor, but Matthias was so distracted by the light itself that he did not notice when its source suddenly erupted in front of him. Or rather, the stairs they ascended ended so abruptly that he almost smashed his face into the glass door at the end of it.

"Wah!" he cracked, and swaying he almost fell backwards.

Esther caught him and he grabbed the rail.

"You okay?"

"Sorry," Matthias grinned and straightened his coat.

Then both he and Esther looked through the glass. It was as white as snow inside the very cube-like space from what he could tell. He had barely to touch the door handle and the door lifted up of its own accord with silent and elegant grace like some wonderfully vintage science fiction building. The space beyond was a bit dizzying.

The floor was white. The walls were white. There was no door on the other side, and the only thing inside was a Tiffany-styled floor lamp with a glass shade as large as an umbrella, though it was only in shades of off-white rather than colored in any fashion. Not even the stand was anything but silvery when it was not also just as white. The way the light bounced along it, it was too difficult to tell whether the lamp was on or that the light from above merely danced in just the right way to give off a sort of illusion that it was.

As Matthias looked back along the gilded doorframe, he saw nothing but a sign of an arrow after the fashion of indoor signs pointing to restrooms and stairways. He followed its advice just as Esther was doing without the suggestion. They looked up.

The ceiling was very high up, or the "skylight", it might better be called. It was all made of glass, and beyond it was a golden sky so golden it almost did not look like sky at all. The clouds were like the waves or a sea made from pure liquid gold or some other tawny metal.

"Well, looks like we've reach our limit," said Matthias.

"Unless this is an elevator," said Esther.

Their voices were sucked into the boxy room and echoed ear-splittingly as the sound waves tried to escape in vain from their amplified prison.

"No, it's a glass ceiling," said Matthias.

"I don't believe in glass ceilings," said Esther with a sniff. "At least not in the way a feminist does!"

Matthias laughed at such sudden indignant flustering.

"Well, I may believe they exist," said Matthias, "so you can blame me all you want to, but I don't think they matter, is all I can say. I mean, if there's a place you're barred from, it doesn't mean in and of itself that it's anyplace you really want to be anyway."

"Well!" Esther said. "Any woman who breaks the glass ceiling only seems unhappier than ever as far as I've ever seen.

"How many have you seen?" teased Matthias.

"I guess… is that gold…?"

"I can't tell," said Matthias shaking his head.

"Well, then you'd just drown in it then, and so what about it?"

"It's no pond," was all Matthias cared to say, though he mused up at the gold trying to decide if he could somehow make it into one in his mind without stretching it too far. "I mean unless it's a 'fish in a pond' metaphor of some sort."

"Mph," Esther shook her head. "Are you sure it's not an elevator? There's got to at least be a vent or something with all the air sucking."

"Maybe the skylight's leaking," offered Matthias.

"But the air's so cold," said Esther.

"So's the air of the elite unless they're fighting amongst themselves," Matthias shrugged.

"Alright, no more philosophy," said Esther. "Let's just see it there's an invisible door on the other side or something or if there's a hole under the lamp."

"Ah! Just skirting the glass ceiling by a back way that nobody knows! I like it!" said Matthias.

So out they stepped into the empty space beyond. There was really nothing for it, otherwise. Backtracking in Wonderland probably did no good. Matthias had a good guess they would never be able to find their way back to anything they had already seen unless it was completely by accident.

Their own footsteps were deafening, but the sucking air was louder still once they passed through the barrier of the doorway. Hardly had they reached the lamp in the exact center of the room, and it was apparent that the air was not only a detriment to the ear but a detriment to their balance. It was very difficult to stay upright, and suddenly there was something even worse.

A dizziness swam over him like being spun round or being upside-down. Before he could look at Esther to see if it was somehow mercury in his head causing it after all, he suddenly realized that the glass ceiling was beneath them and the lamp was above far more like a chandelier now. It made more sense that way even with their feet touching nothing at all. And the glass?

Was it glass?

It was the floor now either way unless it was a vat of some icy golden liquid beyond the comprehension of earthly physics. And after that brief weightless prickling pause as though from some slow motion centrifugal force, they fell.

CRASH! Through the barrier.

He could not tell if it was glass or water or some other substance altogether but down he went. The air was suddenly like the air of a dry furnace, down, down into a whirl of golden dust. It swirled round as in an unquenchable thirst to drain the humans of any liquid into that dust themselves.

The metaphor fit completely well, he found himself thinking beside himself as though a third party was falling with them idly drinking tea in midair, but he did not and could not look to see if even Esther was falling with him

Down, down, down. Was he even falling or simply going round, round, round in a giant dust devil? Suddenly through the tossing and turning, churning and burning, there was another crash. Tumbling madly round and round again, at least he could tell it was the momentum of his ride that was fighting actual gravity in what could be none other than sand that eventually pulled him to a stop.

Then lying there hardly daring to breathe, he could not help the notion that the glass had regressed in time into its original state somehow. He could think of no metaphorical reason behind it unless it was simply that a glass floor was more impossible to break through without consequences than a glass ceiling or that a glass ceiling was only a floor upside down or if…

He gave up and breathed out a huff into no thought at all. A final spell swallowed him as though the sand buried him with sentient purpose into an early grave.