Alice: The Jabberwock's Door (A Wonderland story)

3. Time for Tea

The door swung shut, leaving them in a small, empty room. Alice was sure she could touch a fingertip to each stained wall if she stretched. Perhaps under normal circumstances it would have felt enclosed, but after the tight press of the streets outside, it was practically spacious.

The room contained nothing but another door. She was about to ask White if they should carry on through, but she turned to look at him, and he was leaning purposefully against the wall at a peculiar angle. While it could simply be a nonchalant kind of slouch, his posture thus far had been too dignified for her to buy that.

"What-" she began, but her question was answered as the floor gave a lurch. It started to tilt.

"You might want to hold on," he advised, tucking his cane under his arm and offering her his hand.

Fighting for balance as gravity underwent a change of heart, she snatched it in desperation.

It seemed that the floor was very determined to become the ceiling. White took this quite calmly, and it was only his guidance that saved her from a painful tumble. He moved from floor to wall, from wall to ceiling, a procedure that seemed to require only leaning back, re-adjusting the angle of that lean as the the room turned and taking the occasional step forward. Evidently he'd had much practice.

As they finally jolted to a halt, he steadied her before letting go. "There we are then. If you would follow me?"

Still stunned, Alice felt at a loss for words. She wobbled after him, strangely dizzy as he led her through the door and down a corridor. That settles it, she thought to herself, this is a dream... or a hallucination, or something... It did little to ease her panic.

At the end of the corridor was another door, which opened to a large, brightly lit room, overflowing with sound. There was chatter everywhere, and the clink of china, the faint plunk of a poorly tuned piano attempting to play itself. People sat at tables throughout the room, some gathered in groups, others alone, most locked in conversation. None of them glanced at the new entrants. She almost took a step back, overwhelmed by the sudden contrast, but White carefully nudged her forward and closed the door behind them. It's a dream, she reminded herself, it's okay. None of this is real. Regardless of that, she couldn't fight the sense that something was wrong. She remembered with a start that they were upside down... not just her and White, the entire room, all it's occupants, even the furniture... someone had thoughtfully painted the ceiling beneath her feet with black and white tiles, but it did not disguise the truth.

Biting her lip, she glanced at White. "We're the wrong way up."

He shook his head. "There is no wrong or right way. What makes this way any more wrong than the other? It is simply a change of perspective."

"But... we're... upside down."

"I would say we have acquired a new upside, but regardless of how you wish to think of it, I would keep quiet about the matter if I were you."

"Why?"

"Well..." he said, "remember when I said it was a change of perspective? If you start changing the perspective of everyone here, the room may well decide to change as well. Reality is, after all, subjective."

Alice sighed. "This is weird."

"You will get used to it," he replied shortly, before setting out through the throng of busy tables. Unsure what else to do, she followed.

It was the tables at the far end he ventured to, mostly rejected in favour of the more central, better lit spots. While not entirely unpopulated, it was less crowded, and the thunder of voices dulled to a distant, background murmur. Here, out of range of the other patrons, slouched a man drinking a cup of tea with an air of thorough boredom. He looked up as they approached. "Not late, are you?"