Alice in Wonderland on Top of the World by Gerrard Wllson
Chapter Twelve
How Can You Possibly Be Me?
After everything had disappeared, instead of finding herself outside, in the cold, and the snow, Alice was pleasantly surprised to see the narrow, winding path, ahead of her. “Hmm, it seems Mortar was right,” she said, making her way up to it. “You are wherever you want to be… I’m sure that’s how he put it,” she said, stepping onto the path and looking both ways, wondering which might be the correct one to take. Both directions beckoned her on. “To be sure, I have no idea which way to go,” she said, forgetting Mortar’s wise words. So taking a guess, she said, “Eany, meany, miny, mo, which way to follow, which way to go. Left or right, up or down it makes no difference as time turns round.” After this, Alice turned right, then left, and then right again before marching off down the winding path.
Although it was the same path, Alice saw many strange new things as she walked along it. Despite feeling in no way threatened by them, they did, nevertheless, pep up her step, hurrying her on her way to find the elusive White Rabbit.
The first thing that Alice came across was a beautiful brown leather handbag, cast carelessly across the path which, suddenly growing arms and legs, ran speedily away from her, when she leant down and attempted to pick it up, Then she found a coin, an old one, a thruppeny bit. Picking it up, she said, “I shall keep this for our Christmas pudding.” Another thing that Alice saw was a hedgehog curled up, still and silent. “If I had a flamingo,” she said, gently prodding the animal with a foot, “I might begin a croquet match, if there were some people for me to play with, that is.” The last thing she came across was the strangest, weirdest of all. You see, turning a particularly sharp bend in the path, Alice came face to face with – herself.
The two Alices stood there, facing each other, neither one daring to move, first. All each of them did was stare silently at the other, inspecting every small detail of her facsimile’s appearance. And while their physical appearance was truly identical, their clothes were most certainly not. The original Alice (we shall call her Alice number one) was wearing warm boots and a fur hat and coat, but Alice number two was wearing only her blue dress and apron.
“How can this be?” Alice number one mumbled. Hearing this, Alice number two repeated the very same words. Remembering her experience with the Looking Glass, Alice number one raised a hand, to see if the other Alice might do the same. She did, but it was slower and in a slightly different manner. On seeing this, Alice number on jumped back in fright, until pulling herself together, deciding it was quite foolish to be afraid of – herself, she circled the other Alice, trying to work out who she might really be.
“I do wish you would stop doing that,” said Alice number two, “it’s making me frightfully dizzy.” On hearing this Alice number one jumped back again. “I also wish you would stop that silly jumping about,” she complained. “Anyone would think you had just seen a ghost.”
“Are you really me?” Alice number one asked, having finally picked up enough courage to speak.
“I am me,” Alice number two replied. “Does that means you are me?” she asked, by way of return.
“I am Alice,” Alice number one stated as assertively as she was able, considering the bizarre situation she found herself in.
“And so am I,” said Alice number two, equally as assertive.
The two Alices continued to inspect each other.
Finally, Alice number one had an idea, and she said, “Are you on your way to find some fertilizer?”
“I am, and might I assume that you are also looking for some, despite wearing such inappropriate clothing for the task?”
“You might assume it,” Alice number one replied happily, having an idea of what actually was going on. “But if you did, you would be making a big mistake.”
“I would?” Alice number two replied, eying her counterpart, quizzically.
“Yes, of course,” explained Alice number one. “I have already secured the fertilizer, spread it all around the aspidistras and since then travelled far from there.”
“You have? Then where does that leave me?” her facsimile asked, in growing her confusion.
“Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“See that it’s Mortar.”
“Mortar? What has a gun got to do with it?”
“No, not a gun – or some silly old plaster,” said Alice number one.
“I said nothing about a plaster,” said Alice number two. “Have you cut yourself?”
“NO, NO,” Alice number one retorted, frustrated with having to deal with so many misunderstandings.
“Then what are you talking about?” asked Alice number two, stamping a foot on the ground, showing her annoyance with her double-talking double. “And there’s no need to shout, you know.”
“I am sorry,” Alice number one replied. “Please listen.”
“Go on…”
“Not too long ago, I met a tiny man called Mortar–”
“Is he an elf?”
“No,” Alice number one replied. Then she asked, “Why did you say that?
“I, I don’t really know,” said Alice number two, trying to explain how she was feeling. “It’s like words and thoughts are entering my mind. Fle is one of them. Does that name mean anything to you?” she asked.
Feeling that she had already said too much, that there were other things at work, things that she didn’t understand, Alice number one came to the inevitable conclusion that she must have taken the wrong direction, and thus travelling the wrong way. So, saying no more on the subject, she wished the other Alice good travelling, and bid her goodbye.
“But,” said Alice number two, in bewilderment at her copy’s sudden departure, “you never explained about Fle…”
“You don’t need to know,” said Alice number one, “its best that way… you must find out and learn for yourself…”
Retracing her steps, Alice, (the original one that is) saw no more of the strange things along that path. Indeed, the return journey was so uneventful, she found herself wishing that she had some company, someone to speak to.
“Oh, how I wish someone were here,” she said, picking up a daisy flower from the side of the path, “someone to have a conversation with.” She stooped down and picked another one.
“Hello!” a voice weakly called out.
“Who said that?” Alice asked, in surprise, for she saw no one at all.
“I did,” the diminutive voice replied.
“But who?”
“Me.”
“Me? What sort of a name is that?” she asked, unable to see who was addressing her.
“That’s not my name, you silly thing, it’s who I am!” it replied.
“If you are me,” said Alice, struggling to get her head round the invisible person’s peculiar style of conversation, “Does that, in the same way, make me you?”
There was a short pause, and then the voice said, “I am me, and you are you, I think. It’s all getting so terribly complicated. You don’t happen to have a grain or two of fertilizer, do you? That usually sorts me out, when I begin to feel flustered, like this.”
“You aren’t invisible!” said Alice, looking down and laughing at a patch of daisies by her feet. “You’re a flower!”
“I am, and mind you don’t stand on me,” it warned, “why only last week–”
Searching through the patch of daisies, Alice interrupted the plant, asking, “But which one of these lovely daisies are you?”
There was another short silence before the plant continued, it said, “None of them, they’re all fast asleep!”
“Soft ground?”
“Yes, it’s far too soft over there. Turn round,” it said, “I’m behind you.”
Turning round, Alice came face-to-face with the plant that was addressing her – a large, yellow flowering Feverfew plant. “I am pleased to meet you,” she said in the usual polite manner she saved for meeting new acquaintances.
“And judging by your size,” Alice continued, “I don’t imagine you have any need for fertilizer, or concern that you will be walked upon.”
The Feverfew spoke again, though avoiding any mention of the said fertilizer, it said, “And might I be so bold as to ask what you want to speak to me about?”
It’s true, Alice had wished for someone to speak to, but being asked by a plant to choose a topic of conversation knocked her for six. So returning the question, she said, “No, you are my guest, you choose the topic.”
“In that case,” said the Feverfew, “the topic of conversation will be – you.”
“Me?” Alice asked, astonished that it had actually chosen her as the topic of conversation.
“Yes, and the first question will be – who do you think you are?”
“Who do I think I am?” said Alice, still in some shock that she was the chosen topic. “Didn’t we only just discuss this?” she asked. Then narrowing her eyes she said, “You don’t happen to know Alice number two, do you?”
The Feverfew, laughed, but failed to answer; instead, it just asked her another question, “Where are you?”
“I am here!” Alice replied forcefully, “and so are you! And whether it pleases you or not, I feel obliged to tell you that I have already had this, or at least a very similar conversation, with someone already (Alice implied Mortar, but, at this point, had no intention of divulging his name).”
“You can ask me a question...” said the Feverfew, precipitating another pause in the planned conversation.
Kneeling down, closer to the plant, to address it at its own level, Alice said, “How can I ask you a question, when the only topic of conversation is me?”
“Are you telling me that you already know everything there is to know about yourself?”
“I should think so, lest I might forget who I am, if I didn’t.”
“Then where were you the day before yesterday week, two years ago?” the plant asked, feeling justified in its chosen topic of conversation, and also its line of questioning.
“How can I remember that?” said Alice, flummoxed by the Feverfew’s unexpected question. “That was so long ago, it must be ancient history by now.”
Once again, the plant made no reply. As the seconds ticked past, Alice began to see the point in the plants argument, and she realised just how little she knew about herself. “All right,” she said, “I will ask you a question about myself, but you must promise to tell me the correct and full details. I’m a bit tired of getting only half answers, while in this place, wherever it happens to be (you see, Alice was unsure if she was still at the top of the world, or somewhere else completely).
“The question?”
“Yes, to the question,” said Alice, sitting herself comfortably upon the ground. “The question,” she said, “is whether or not I am going to have another adventure after this one?”Another pause followed, and during this time Alice thought she heard the plant’s roots moving about underground – perhaps looking for information, she thought. When the plant finally resumed speaking, Alice’s blood pressure shot up, for instead of answering her question, it asked her for some fertilizer.
“Why are you obsessed with fertilizer?” she asked. “You are by far the strongest plant along this entire section of path.”
“We plants can never have enough of a good thing,” it replied loftily. Then believing that none was forthcoming, it turned her question upon her, asking, “Do you want another adventure, before you have even finished this one?”
“No, no I do not, and I never said that I did!”
“Then why ask?”
“Because you asked me to…”
Because I asked you to ask a question about yourself, or because you wanted to ask it?” said the Feverfew, resting its case with those words.
“Because I wanted to ask it,” Alice humbly admitted, “but I don’t want to know the answer anymore. One adventure is more enough, at any one time.”
The plant whispered, “Still no chance of some fertilizer?”
Now understanding why she had met her double – because she had drifted away from the tiny man’s wise words ‘you are wherever you want to be’, Alice said, “I am sorry, plant, but there will be no fertilizer passing along this path, today. I must dash…” And with that she skipped happily away, forgetting all about her double, the Feverfew plant, the wrong direction she had taken and the many other distracting things that she had seen along the way.