Somehow, I manage a grin. This is it, I think: the diamond cutter’s blade, descending.
“No, thank you,” I tell him.
The major’s eyes soften, just a little. “That’s the spirit, lad.”
He marches back to where the firing line is, and raises his hand. “Ready…”
Rifles come to shoulders.
“Aim…”
Eyes squint – the men take aim.
Which of their bullets will strike my heart, I wonder – and which has a blank in his barrel? I hope it’s the young one with the freckles; he doesn’t deserve to carry this burden.
“Fire!”
Bullets punch into my chest: the pain sharp, taking my breath away. I slump to my knees, twisting as I fall.
Tattered bits of white hang in the air above me. The bullets must have struck the pack of cards in my breast pocket, I think, as the pieces flutter down upon me – creamy white, like the feathers they pin to cowards.
A fragment of the Queen of Hearts lands upon my lips, and sticks to the blood on them.
Alice, giving me one last kiss.
I finally understand what Tom was grinning about, that night in the dugout. He could feel what was coming, sure enough: he knew we were all going to die. So, he set me on a different path. With five more cards gone from the deck, Tom would complete his royal flush. And then he’d lean forward to collect his winnings, just at the right moment to have his head blown clean off. And I would go mad, and be sent here, and meet Alice.
Lucky in love, I think as the blood pumps from my chest.
Lucky in…
OPERATION: LOOKING GLASS
Patrick Bollivar
Arthur grew tired of trying to read on the new e-reader his children had bought him. What use is the thing if it makes my eyes hurt so bad? Still, he found the biography of Alice Liddell to be fascinating. She’d inspired Lewis Carroll and lived in a real age of wonders.
His eyes needed a rest, so he grabbed his flashlight and made his way to the observatory.
Arthur didn’t believe any of the rumours of strange happenings in the telescope room. Nothing interesting ever happened in Greenwich, unless you counted discovering new galaxies.
The route to the onion-domed building wasn’t pleasant. The storm lurking overhead tried to blow his cap off. He held it tight and ran inside.
Arthur climbed the stairs. Upon reaching the door, he found it had shrunk to a quarter its size and changed from a wood finish to eggshell blue.
He scratched his balding head. “How odd.”
The lock still accepted his key. “Luckily my cooking is bad.” He pulled his skinny frame through the small door.
Standing, he shone his flashlight and gasped. “Oi! What do you think you’re doing?”
A girl in her late teens glanced through the viewfinder of the giant telescope rising like a brass beanstalk toward the sky. She wrote in a notepad, a parasol swaying on her puffy sleeve, then went back to gazing through the view-finder.
A woman crouched next to her in front of a large wooden crate. Older, but not by much, she studied a mask with tubing running into the crate.
Neither paid the watchman any mind.
Arthur felt a revolver press into his side.
“Drop the bobby stick, if you please, sir,” said a dapper gentleman in a three-piece suit, who sported a thick moustache under his bowler hat.
Arthur dropped his flashlight.
“I thought you locked the front door, Edith.”
“I did, Harry,” said the girl. “He’s obviously got a bloody key though, don’t he?”
“Speak like a lady please, Edith,” said the other woman, before glancing up. Her eyes sparkled in the lamplight. She examined the two men with a piercing gaze. “Harry, I hardly think the pistol is necessary.” She brushed hair from her face. “What’s your name, good watchman?”
“Arthur, Miss.” The older woman appeared to be in charge. They were dressed like Victorians; maybe it was some sort of a rehearsal. Then he studied the telescope. “Hold on, is that the twelve-inch Mertz?”
“If you say so.”
“But that hasn’t been in here since the 1890s!”
“Ah,” said the woman. She put the mask down and arched her back, wincing. She wore a silver breastplate over her bodice, leaving the sleeves free, and a holstered pistol dangled from a belt above her skirt. “Mr. Carroll did warn us of potential temporal displacement along the Mean Line. Should go back to normal, once we’re done. In the meantime, have no fear, Arthur. We’re here on official business, by order of Prince Leopold.”
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but I received no word that anyone would be in this room tonight.” Arthur worried she might be crazy, that they all might. He glanced nervously at Harry, who gave him a wink. “And since when do you need weapons to gaze at the stars? You’re not here to steal something, I hope.”
“Do we look like robbers?” the armoured woman replied.
“Robbers and ‘nappers,” said a voice in the corner, causing Arthur to jump. It seemed to have come from a cloth-covered cage – too small for a person – near the telescope.
“Shut it, Mr. Do,” said Edith, whacking the cage with her parasol. The woman rolled her eyes at the teenaged girl.
Arthur glanced around, searching for an escape, but Harry had the exit blocked. He saw another cloth-covered object against the wall, tall and rectangular against the wall. A sudden fear seized him, and he wondered if he’d be making it home to his wife and kids. “Fallen down the rabbit hole, I have.”
“What did you say?” said Edith. She stormed up to Arthur, heels clacking. Arthur felt briefly amused by her fierceness, which did not fit with her short stature, or her dress. She smacked him on the nose with a rolled parchment. “Are you a Wonder disguised as a watchman? A spy, perhaps?”
“No, I don’t even know what a Wonder is!”
“He isn’t a Wonder, Edith,” said the other woman, sighing. “Show him Prince Leopold’s order.”
Edith thrust the parchment into Arthur’s hand. “This gives us free rein in this bloody observatory.”
“Edith, language! My apologies, Arthur, but Leopold’s soldiers have been a bad influence on her. Speaking of which, come here, and power up the Influence Machine, Edith. I need to test that the capacitor is functioning properly.” Edith glowered at the other woman. “Now, young lady.”
Edith glared a final warning at Arthur, then marched over to a long table. Steel balls on poles rose beside it, nailed to a board. The table was laden with odd objects, including four bell jars, each lined with metal foil and full of liquid.
Sparks shot between the steel balls as Edith turned the wheel. The four jars began glowing white. The woman beamed. “The Leyden jars are working perfectly! As soon as you find the right ascension, we shall be in business.”
“In other words, get back to work,” grumbled Edith as she returned to the telescope.
The woman tightened the straps on her breastplate, caught Arthur watching, and cocked an eyebrow. “We really are on important wartime business, Mr. Watchman.”
Arthur wasn’t sure to what war she referred, but thought it best to play along. “Well, if it’s for the war effort, I won’t get in the way. Can I go now, sir? Er, Miss?”
Harry raised an eyebrow. The woman frowned. “No, best to stay, I think. Stand over there, please, out of the way.”
“Harry, I need the scope adjusted: twenty-five degrees, counterclockwise, if you please,” said Edith as she applied her notes to a star chart laid out on the floor.
Harry went over to the wall that operated the dome’s rotation. Below the wheel rested an iron curb of cannonballs running the length of the polygon-shaped room. “Give me a hand, Arthur,” Harry said.
Arthur hesitated. Winches and cannonballs? The armoured woman touched his hand, removed the parchment, and smiled encouragingly. Arthur found himself playing along.
The two men cranked the winch’s handle, which rotated
the dome, the telescope pivoting with it.
“If you don’t mind my saying, sir, it’s a little stormy for star-gazing tonight,” said Arthur.
“You’re quite correct, but stars are not what we’re gazing for.”
Arthur laughed. “No? What then?”
“Wocks, and snaps, and slithy toves,” said the thing inside the cage. “They’ll broil you alive come brillig time.”
“Only if things go wrong, Mr. Do. Only if you’ve lied to us about the time of the tea party.”
“One minute to midnight, one minute before doom!” said Mr. Do.
Arthur blanched. “If you don’t mind my asking, sir, what war are you fighting?”
Harry laughed. “You really are a temporal displacement, aren’t you? Fascinating. Where you’re from, does Queen Victoria still reign?”
“No, sir. What year is this?”
“1871. The war with the Wonders is in full swing. Every stitch of grass between Oxford and Land’s End is in their hands, and now they move west toward London.”
“We’re almost ready, Harry,” said Edith. Her brown curls flopped around her face as she gazed into the viewfinder. “Bring over the looking glass.”
Harry wheeled over the tall cloth-covered item. Arthur crept forward, curious. The white cloth over the object billowed, as if a wind rustled the sheet. Edith moved, and Arthur saw light projected through the telescope onto the white canvas. Was that an image of the sea? Something flew over the water, quickly passing in and out of view. He swore it had wings, the front body of a bird, the hindquarters of a lion.
Harry helped the woman pull a brass breathing tank from the crate. Gears spun on the back of it while a pump rose up and down at the top. Harry held the tank as she slipped the straps over her shoulders and clasped the leather buckles at the front. She pulled the mask over her face, and lowered her goggles.
“Breathing okay?” asked Harry. She gave him the okay with her fingers.
“Declination is off by a quarter,” said Edith. “Spin her half a turn clockwise, Ensign Liddell.”
“Aye, aye, First Mate Liddell,” Harry said, grinning. The telescope moved as the toothed wheels groaned.
Arthur watched, trying not to stare as the tank pumped away on her back, occasionally emitting steam. Things began to slide into place. He wished he had his e-reader now. Harry had been the brother. Edith, the youngest sister, some said a paramour of Prince Leopold himself. And the woman. He laughed as he realized who they pretended to be.
She glanced his way, and lowered her mask. “Hand me my gun, please, Mr. Watchman. This suit is very cumbersome.”
When he didn’t move, she pointed to the strange weapon at her side. Arthur unclasped the holster strap, and slid out the gun made of blown glass – fat at the back, and thin as a needlepoint at the tip, the colour of strawberry cream. Nothing more than a toy. “Here you go, Miss. Er, if you don’t mind me prying, but the gent and young lady said Liddell. Is that your last name also?”
“It is.”
“So, you’re Alice, are you?”
“Oh, heavens, no. I’m Lorina, her older sister.”
“Then who’s playing Alice?” said Arthur. “I mean, where is she?”
“Through the looking glass, of course, but with hope, not for long.”
“I see them!” Edith cried. “Remove the cloth!”
With a yank, Lorina revealed the mirror, its edges etched with butterflies, caterpillars, and smoke curls. Both sides were made of smooth glass, reflecting nothing but fog twisting and drifting across the surface. The Liddells stared nervously into its depths.
“Do you hear music?” asked Edith.
“Yes,” said Harry. “It’s coming from the telescope.”
A low melodic song drifted towards them, the words lost in the telescope’s brass chamber. Light gleamed through the viewfinder as if the sun shone through the lenses.
The looking glass’s fog swirled, revealing a shadowy glimpse of giant mushrooms, with houses underneath. A castle made of cards stood in the background, on a hill. “Wonderland,” whispered Harry.
Lorina moved towards the mirror.
Edith grabbed the hem of her dress. “Wait, you idiot! We still have to hook you to the telegraph.” She dashed to a wooden box on the table, decorated with spools of copper wire, and a brass handle that Arthur recognized as a telegraph communicator. Edith took the wires and tried to attach them to a spindle on Lorina’s belt, but her skirt interfered. “Oh, blast and tarnation,” said Edith. She undid the buttons, and removed it, revealing Lorina’s petticoat.
“Avert your eyes please, sir,” said Harry, sounding affronted by Arthur’s stare. Arthur glanced at the table instead, feeling oddly embarrassed.
Edith returned to the telegraph, and rotated the crank on the Influence Machine. The Leyden jars sparked to life. “Okay. Check that it’s working.”
Lorina reached down to a small telegraph transmitter on her belt. She typed quickly.
The brass handle on the table moved rapidly up and down against the metal plate, which Edith translated, reading from her notepad. “Don’t call me an idiot, you dolt. Stop.” Edith snorted. “Okay, now you can go. I want you in constant communication. If anything goes wrong, we pull you back.”
“Of course, dear,” said Lorina. “Be ready with pistols and sword should anything come through whilst I’m gone. Oh, and Harry, if I should die, roast that lying Dodo for me. I think he would be very tasty stuffed with bread crumbs.”
“Will do, Lorina,” said Harry.
From within the cage a voice said, “Such barbarism! The Queen shall chop off all your heads if you pluck one feather from me.”
“Oh, shut it,” said Harry. He picked up a hook attached to a spool of rope, and secured it to Lorina’s belt.
Lorina squeezed Harry’s shoulder, then advanced upon the mirror, one hand gripping her gun, the other reaching forward. Her gloved fingers touched the surface, and continued inside, as if she slid into calm water, ripples flowing outward. Her whole body disappeared into the mirror.
“Jesus!” said Arthur, stepping backward. “Just like in the book! How did you do that?”
“So, you’ve read Carroll’s propaganda, have you?” said Harry. “Not just like the book, Arthur. Mr. Carroll’s whimsical stories were meant to prevent people believing in Alice when she returned from Wonderland. There are far worse horrors than the March Hares and talking caterpillars beyond the glass. The jabberwock and the frumious bandersnatch are numerous, and under the Queen’s control, and the Mad Hatter makes Bluebeard seem positively gentlemanly toward the ladies.” Harry peered intensely into the mirror, one hand on the unspooling rope, the other tight on his revolver. “Edith, I’ve lost sight of Lorina. What you?”
Edith squinted into the mirror. “Yes, I see her. She’s hiding behind one of them mushrooms, watching the castle. She’s moving forward now, her weapon out. I think she sees something. Balls, now she’s gone over a hill.” Edith typed on the telegraph. “What’s happening? Stop,” she said as she tapped the key.
A reply took a while to come. “There’s a party ahead. Stop,” read Edith. “The animals are playing croquet as the Queen sits for tea. Stop.”
“Croquet?” asked Arthur, grasping for something familiar in all this insanity. “With hedgehogs?”
“They are using human heads. Stop. Alice is with the Hatter and what might be a jubjub bird. Stop. I’ve never seen one up close, so not sure. Stop.”
“I have, on the battlefield,” said Harry. “If she gazes into its eyes it will induce hysterical fits of laughter. I saw a man die from it, outside Slough. He was unable to stop his jocularity for three days. Couldn’t breathe in the end.”
“Monstrous,” said Edith.
“Indeed.”
The telegraph tapped away.
“I’m in position. Stop,” read Edith. “Release the distraction. Stop.”
“Help me, Arthur, there’s a good chap.” Together they dragged over a cr
ate pockmarked with holes. Arthur smelled hay, and heard snuffling, which made him nervous. “Right up against the mirror, now. Jolly good.”
Harry grabbed two pieces of fence, and lined them up on either side, from crate to mirror. Then he opened the front gate. Nothing happened.
“Give it a whack,” said Edith.
Using Arthur’s flashlight, Harry banged the back of the crate. Something moved. A nose peeked out. Pink, and wiggling up and down. Then another, with long white ears. Harry whacked the back of the crate again and they took off, six rabbits, straight into the mirror.
Arthur watched, fascinated, as the rabbits transformed on the other side, reared up on their hind legs, and suddenly shouted, “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!” before they ran off in different directions.
“It’s the aether,” Harry explained to Arthur. “The air in Wonderland is not like our own. An unnerving gas, so to speak, changes people, and animals. Too long inside, and you would lose your mind, Watchman.”
“The bungabear, and dandyboats come frolicking in the froth. Stop hop, hop stop,” read Edith. “Dammit, her breather mustn’t be working properly.” She quickly typed, “Check your attachments, you’re typing nonsense. Stop.”
“Stop, stop, drop the gop and sew the— Sorry, it’s fixed now. I’m fine. Stop,” Lorina sent.
Edith wiped her brow. “That was close.”
The mirror wobbled briefly, then lay still. “Did you see that?” said Harry, his revolver ready.
“Yes,” said Edith, pulling a thin rapier out of the casing of her parasol. They carefully surveyed the room.
“What is it?” said Arthur, the sudden stillness frightening him.
“Could be nothing,” said Harry, though he handed the watchman back his flashlight. Lorina’s rope suddenly shot into the mirror, burning Harry’s hand. He tried to hold on, and nearly lost his head for his troubles. A large, oval object shot out of the mirror, knocked him aside, splintered through the crate, and then skidded across the floor.
A large turtle shell spun on its belly before slowly coming to a stop. It was the colour and size of an old copper tub. Arthur laughed at the sight. “It’s just a turtle.”
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