Chapter 22

Eyes watering…












































…as the distance between them…


















































…grew larger.


















































Click.


















































Witticker opened his eyes to another pair staring directly into his. He jumped back and screamed as his observer did the same. The twin screams echoed across the room which no longer lay in darkness. The morning sun illuminated a grand ballroom with fantastic painted ceilings. The paintings were divided into sections, punctuated with intricate plaster molding.
Momentarily distracted by his surroundings, Witticker regained his composure and turned to identify the observer who had already scampered halfway across the ballroom. He stood to follow and found that his soreness prevented any quick chase. From a distance he watched the observer prance across the ballroom as a dancer might across a stage, lightly and nimble. The dancer wore a purple top hat and several dark-colored robes, one on top of the other. After several jumps and turns around the ballroom the observer slid through the main door and out of sight.
Witticker sat back down to gather strength for the long trip across the ballroom. He turned to look out the window and was immediately taken aback at the sight before him. A view of an ancient city spread out before him, tumbled by time. Tall buildings stretched out across the landscape, all at different heights and angles. Each structure lay in a unique state of disrepair, covered mostly, if not entirely, by green growth spawning from the city floor. The vague outline of streets could be traced between several of the buildings, each pathway saturated with a dirty brown substance, presumably dead fauna. The urban jungle stretched for miles with no sign of any human interference. Witticker blinked with disbelief at the unbelievable sight.
After several minutes of observation he decided the next order of business was to find his hosts and discuss the situation, whatever that might be. As Witticker walked across the ballroom he inspected the extravagant painting above. The ceiling was dome-shaped and, amidst other decorations, a mural stretched around the interior. The mural depicted a meeting of the Gods led by Zeus. Zeus stood in the middle with his arms outstretched, presumably giving a speech. The rest of the gods stood in their respective corners listening except for one. A tall black figure, inferred to be Hades with fire and smoke, stood behind Zeus with a sword in his hand. Upon noticing Hades Witticker saw that the expressions on the other gods’ faces had changed. They had not been listening, but were in fact plotting, waiting for Hades to deal the final blow.
Witticker reached the main door to the ballroom and found a short hallway jutting off of it. The floor of the hallway was a dark marble and shone as if it had been polished only moments before. At the end of the hallway stood two giant wooden doors, one slightly cracked open. As Witticker reached for the open door he stopped quick as a sharp voice echoed from inside, the tone reminiscent of the evening prior.
“Damn it, Alice,” howled Henry, “must you continually root about in my wardrobe? Look at you! Is this any way to behave at breakfast?”
No excuse or response was offered until the sound of a pan clattering to the floor rattled throughout the room. Someone in the room laughed heartily and a light applause followed. Witticker propped the door open a little more and peaked inside. Henry sat at the head of a very long wooden table in a large dining hall. Edward sat at his left and both of the men were directing their attention to the dancing figure that had just left the ballroom. Edward aimed his applause towards the unknown person who promptly bowed and, as before, danced out of the room.
Witticker watched his observer bounce out of sight and strained his neck through the door to see where they went. As his head crept through the small space he felt his feet slipping beneath him on the shiny marble below. He grasped for the door, but missed any kind of formal support and fell into the dining hall sending the door crashing against the wall. The two men immediately turned their attention to his overly pronounced entrance. Witticker looked up from the floor and offered a small wave.
“You know, I didn’t believe it when Edward first told me, but there’s no doubt now,” said Henry dryly, “You are no thief.”
“I thought it was excellent,” said Edward, “Come join us for breakfast.”
Witticker rose to his feet and dusted himself off. While he was adjusting he noticed that his clothes, due to recent circumstance, were beginning to show signs of wear. He shrugged it off, reasoning that there was little he could do about it at in his current environ, and headed towards the inviting smell of food from the head of the table. He took a seat on Henry’s right side and looked longingly at the smorgasbord in front of him. He hadn’t eaten since his lunch under the tree and, while the coffee from Harvey had sated his stomach for a time, he had grown terribly hungry. As Witticker eyed the decadence around him Henry stared at him menacingly, tapping his finger against the table in expectation.
“What a nice way to begin the day,” spouted the old man sarcastically, “Perhaps you’d care to act like a civilized person and greet your host properly?”
Witticker immediately realized his uncouth behavior and nearly spoke when Edward suddenly cut into the conversation.
“Please, Henry. The guy’s probably wasting away here. Give him a minute to get some substance back and then we can play house.”
Henry sighed, waving his hands in the air.
“Fine. Go ahead. Eat away. I’m just trying to maintain some kind of social order. You know, this is the problem with the…”
As Henry continued, Witticker turned back to the food on the table and began piling his plate with the feast before him. As he tore into the food Witticker began to listen to Edward and Henry who were in the midst of a debate. Witticker understood little of the conversation but was able to determine that the debate was over who was the best pre-Great Decline Poet or, as they called it, the best pre-GDP.
“Wordsworth has no, nor ever has had any contemporary rivaling his genius,” shouted Henry, “and to believe otherwise makes you a damn fool!”
Edward leaned back in his chair lazily and took a bite of an apple. He chewed the fruit a few times before making his rebuttal.
“Billy Collin’s work is much more accessible and, in my opinion, progressively less vague and ambiguous.”
Henry slammed his fists on the table sending a bowl of grapes up into the air and promptly onto its side. Edward grabbed a grape just as it was about to roll of the table and popped it into his mouth.
“It’s not ambiguous! It’s layered,” said Henry forcefully, “There are levels of interpretation that can only be appreciated after hours of careful and lengthy contemplation. Collins barely advances any genuine ideas and even those are as thinly veiled as a house of cards, blown over by a gentle wind.”
“I understood your simile until the gentle wind bit. What exactly is the wind supposed to signify in that statement?” queried Edward.
Henry shook in visible frustration.
“No matter what I meant by it. Collins is a hack. The Prelude is one of the most brilliant works in existence. Here, listen to this,” said Henry as he grabbed for a glass of water.
Henry took a large swig and cleared his throat. He placed the glass back on the table and sat up straighter than before.

“Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings
From the green fields, and from yon azure sky.
Whate’er its mission, the soft breeze can come
To none more grateful than to me…”

Henry closed his eyes and let out a more than audible sigh as if to amplify the significance of the words. Edward waited a moment and then broke the silence.
“It’s not bad, but why doesn’t he just say that he enjoys the breeze and be done with it? Say more with less! Get to the point!”
Henry stood in a rage, his face colored in red and his robe flailing wildly.
“You, sir, are a despicable example of intellectualism and, if it were up to me, I would have you wander alone for the whole of your time on earth, tainting no one with the filth you call your thoughts.”
Henry sat down again and the conversation ended. Witticker, who had been plowing through his breakfast ravenously, sat back in his seat and watched the two men stare contemptuously at each other. Henry was glaring at Edward through squinted eyes as Edward stared back with a relaxed glaze, obviously not bothered by the tension he had created.
“Well,” said Edward matter-of-factly, “at least Collins found fame on his own. Wordsworth suckled onto Samuel Coleridge like a baby to a mother’s teat.”
Edward had finally tipped the scale and Henry quickly turned to grab his cane. Edward, having realized the offense, moved from his seat and stood behind it as the old man rose to his feet. Henry walked towards Edward muttering curses under his breath, brandishing his cane like a noble crusader bent on destroying evil.
“You,” hissed Henry, “are the foulest, most horrible …”
Both men suddenly halted as the sound of a door swinging open echoed throughout the room. The dancing figure had returned, but had exchanged the multiple robes for a black pea coat that covered the length of its indistinguishable body. The figure bounded towards the quarreling gentlemen as they quickly returned to their seats.
“Well, I suppose, if you must wear my clothes, that dusty old coat will be fine,” said Henry, resigning his argumentative tone as he addressed the strange creature.
The figure moved closer and from under the shadow of the purple top hat the face of a young girl came into light. Curls of red hair dangled from under the enormous hat and small freckles dotted unobtrusively across her face. She smiled shyly and took a seat next to Edward.
“This,” began Henry, “is Alice. She is my niece and is rather fond of wearing my garments.”
Alice hiccupped at the statement and Edward laughed.
“She’s also rather fond of getting under his skin,” said Edward pointing at Henry.
Henry drew a large breath in preparation to make what would have probably been a rather long appraisal of Edward’s manners, but Alice had climbed onto the table and, preempting any other speech, began to address the table in a soft, high voice.

“The sun shines brightly
on dandelion brothers
plagued by nakedness.”

Edward applauded as Alice bowed and Witticker looked around the table in confusion. Henry, apparently fed up, stood and began to walk away from the table. As he reached the door he turned back to the remainder of the breakfast party and raised his cane.
“You’re a bunch of damn fools, you know? It is no great wonder that the world is in such a state!”
With that he swept out of the room, but could still be heard shouting curses down the hallway. Alice walked down the table, stopping in front of Witticker. With a quick spin she sank to her feet, sitting cross-legged in front of him.
“And who are you?” she asked beamingly.
Witticker gazed at the girl in front of him in awe.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, surprisingly honest in his shock.
The girl smiled and rolled her eyes.
“Me either,” she whispered, “but I tell people my name is Alice. I’m sorry I scared you this morning. When I came into the ballroom you were shaking in your sleep. I was looking to see if you were alright.”
Witticker was surprised to hear of his shaking, but immediately wrote it off to his recent and dramatic change in routine. He shrugged towards Alice who promptly laughed and jumped off the table into the chair that Henry had been occupying only moments before.
“I put all your things in the corner there,” said Edward gesturing towards the corner of the room nearest to them, “I’m sorry that I looked through them without your permission, but I don’t know you and I don’t need anymore trouble.”
Witticker wondered how Edward would react if he knew the amount of trouble he might be involved in.
“In any case, you seem to be harmless. I took the liberty of dispensing of the thermos of ‘coffee’ you were carrying. Whoever gave that to you was not thinking of your best interests.”
Witticker’s mind jumped to his parting with Harvey a day before. He couldn’t imagine that the old man had been trying to do him any harm when he offered him the thermos. Thinking on it again Witticker longed for the feeling the beverage had given, a robust taste and soothing fragrance.
“Almost all the coffee circulating through the distrip lately has been laced with a particularly nasty barbiturate. Gives you an incredible high, but when you come down you never know where you’re gonna land. Heard about one guy that lit himself on fire after a cup of the stuff. Nobody knows why, but, either way, that stuff isn’t good for ya. Anyway, I haven’t gotten your name. We have to call you something. Anything you prefer?”
“Brisby,” answered Witticker quickly, “just call me Brisby.”
“Sounds good, Brisby,” answered Edward, “and with that, we should be off.”
Edward stood up from his chair and began stuffing his pockets with rolls from the table. Witticker looked at him in bewilderment.
“Henry is great, but I don’t like goodbyes,” said Edward as he pushed his chair in, “Come on and grab your stuff. I want to be gone by the time he comes back and I’m sure he’s nearly thought of something to complain about by now.”
Witticker stood up in a panic and ran over to his briefcase to make sure all of his personals were in order. Edward turned towards and Alice and bowed low to the floor.
“It has been a pleasure, my lady, and I bid you a wonderful afternoon.”
Alice giggled and jumped up from her chair.
“Thanks Edward. Come back as soon as you can. This place is no fun without you. He just sits in his room and stares out the window.”
Alice mimicked a large yawn with her hands and then pranced towards the ballroom door.
“Have a fun time,” she yelled from across the room before passing through the door.
Witticker found that everything was where he had left it and was ready to go when Edward turned towards him.
“Follow me,” said Edward, “but be very quiet. If he finds out we’re leaving he might fall down trying to chase us.”
Edward slipped into a dark hallway from the door that Henry had left from moments before. Witticker looked into the darkness and wondered where it would lead to next. Alice poked her head back in from the other room and whistled at Witticker.
“Good luck Brisby. Hope you find out who you are,” she yelled.
Witticker waved and hopped through the doorway after Edward. He hoped he would find out too.