“Now, I certainly do hope that you’re willing to entertain my cordial curios’ty,” the voice continued, but Alice began to ignore it, growing steadily more mesmerized. She reached out and touched the puff of smoke with an outstretched finger, her eyes wide and alit with wonder. The puff curled up and recoiled in an illuminating flash.

“Oh!” Alice exclaimed, tugging her hand back from the billowing papery cloud. “I’m sorry, did I frighten you?”

“You?” the voice said. “Now that’s a funny word. Tell me, who are you?”

Alice opened her mouth to reply, but C beat her to it. “Why, she’s--”

“No, no,” the voice interrupted sharply, “don’t say a word. Her lack of short-term memory doesn’t need to be encouraged any further.”

Alice suddenly felt a surge of authority, something that she imagined the professor must feel quite often. “I beg your pardon, but I do believe my name is something that is part of my long-term memory.”

“Hardly,” the voice rasped. “All I know of you is that you do nothing but change. You girl, what a curious creature.”

Alice frowned, feeling rather slighted. “I’m not just some animal, you know. Not like you.”

The puff of smoke blasted against Alice’s face, causing her to cough again. “An animal? What an assumption, you outright fool. Haven’t you been rehearsing your re-cite-ations?”

As Alice continued retching, C spoke up once more. “Why didn’t you ask sooner? I know my re-cite-ations as well as I know what I’m told, you see?”

“I don’t see, because I didn’t ask you,” the voice sourly replied.

C appeared unfazed, clearing his throat and beginning:

To be included in the stream,

In and out of piece-wise dreams:

The space they reserve for my name

Is used only to start the game.

They won’t remember me, although

I give them all a grand Hello!

They’ll give me nothing in return,

But joy, ‘tis never my concern!

“You have no conception of wisdom at all,” the voice retorted.

“’Tis wise to me!” C shot back. “Why, by what I’m told, this is the building block of all wisdom, you see?”

“Why, most defin’tely,” the voice said, “if your block is built upon the shallowest of rocks. Until you have let your words be drowned in the sifting confines of sand, you’ve drawn nothing from even the prettiest poetry.”

“I suppose you have something better?” C replied.

“That I do,” the voice said, pausing a moment before continuing:

In time, I slept long as I stood

In living rock that melted down;

I donned this skin long as I should

Begin the search for earthly ground.

‘Tis hard to fall on what is true,

The rock that breaks your very frame.

‘Tis hard when none can know you’re you:

I search and search for earthly gains.

‘Twasn’t fear that counted me gone,

But cowards who dared run amok.

I’ll sleep again in sand for long

‘Till I needn’t believe I’m stuck.

C yawned and scratched his head idly. “That’s all pompous rambling, pretty petty characters in a most unpleasant arrangement. You see?” He turned to Alice expectantly.

After she had finally finished her hacking fit, Alice had begun to ignore the verses spilling out around her, trying to piece together what it was she was longing for. The sunset still streamed through the trees, casting warm and swishing shadows along the forest floor. They filled Alice with such anticipation, something she had never truly felt before. ‘What a shame,’ she thought to herself, ‘that this is so foreign to me. Why, none of this feels particularly new, and yet, it’s all held together in such a curious way! I suppose that this is what growing up is: being captivated and contented by this strange and marvelous world around you!’ As Alice continued to ponder, her thoughts suddenly turned sour. ‘Oh, but if I simply stand around and stare at these lovely lights for too long, surely I’ll go blind and become bedridden, an old woman before my time--what a shame! Speaking of which, what is the time?’

In what seemed like a rather silly and embarrassing moment, Alice half-hoped that she would hear a familiar tick-tock clicking over the horizon. Sadly, all she could hear was the incessant droning of her two companions. Nursing frustration and a pair of increasingly pained eyes, Alice slumped to the ground, feeling suddenly melancholy and distant.

“Hey, why aren’t you listening?” C snapped at Alice, recapturing her attention. “You don’t know the poems and you don’t know the loves! Why, exponential loves upon loves, powered in the wedding of the century, you see? How can you stand not knowing?”

“I was doing quite well without knowing about that,” Alice said, referring to the wedding of the century. Unfortunately for her, the puff of smoke thought she was referring to the poems. In a fluttery rage, it scampered over and grasped Alice’s tongue, causing her to shriek in alarm.

“Do quiet yourself,” the voice said sternly. “You don’t know how poor off you are, you silly girl. If you can’t hold your tongue, someone else will simply have to do so for you.”

The forest dirt turned to swirling sand. Alice coughed and sent the puff of smoke tumbling to the ground. “If someone is truly to hold my tongue, then that someone certainly won’t be someone like you!”

As the smoke cleared, Alice strained to make out what she thought looked like an incredibly familiar creature. “Cat--caterpillar?”

The once-caterpillar managed to heave itself up, shivering and flying on limp and unimpressive wings. “How often has your head been struck by lightning? You’ve forgotten your name to the point where all other names escape you. Shame, you don’t even know my name.”

Alice thought that she might open her mouth to reply, but she pursed her lips instead, knowing that C would surely have something more prevalent to say. Sure enough, he babbled right along.

“There isn’t a single soul this side of the system who hasn’t gotten themselves simply spliced with splendor over the wedding of the century!” he exclaimed gleefully. “Why, ‘tis gone and assigned new values to the hearts of all, invariably declaring the happy happier and the mad madder!”

An annoying memory suddenly came back to Alice. “Mad--?”

“He’s truly mad, only as a hatter!” C sang. “You see? I make profound poetry!”

“A hatter!” Alice exclaimed. “What reason would a hatter have to get married?”

“Oh, come now!” C playfully (although Alice thought it quite rude) slapped Alice on the back. “Have you gone and given up golden nuggets of nonchalant know-how? The road to a man’s heart is through his superior vena cava, and the road to his stomach is through his esophagus! ‘Tis what I’ve been taught & told, you see?”

“I surely don’t see what this all means,” Alice replied.

“But that’s the easiest part!” C continued. “Such a neighborly intersection intertwines infatuations! The bride can give the groom his fill, and about time too! Ever since the projection gave way to imagination, his knows no bounds! He’s simply made new, you see? This glorious wedding, ‘tis a clean slate free of glatches and gobbledy-gook! ‘Tis a newness that surely won’t be deleted!” He turned to the once-caterpillar. “You, my shudder-fly companion, you know what I’m talking about! You’ve gone and adopted a whole new mask, you see?”

The once-caterpillar sighed, waving the topic aside. “’Tis all imaginary to me, a truly one-sided affair.”

Alice frowned. “How queer that you’d use such a word.”

“Affair?” the once-caterpillar droned. “What makes that so queer? Are you involved in the bridal party? Do you fancy yourself bequeathed to the groom instead? Who are you?”

“That’s not what I meant at all!” a flustered Alice replied.

“Perhaps not what you meant, but what you implied, for all intents and purposes, given your type and timing of response,” C interjected. “You see?”

Alice looked at C, then at the once-caterpillar, then back at C. The conversation between the two of them was simply becoming too much.

“Well, if both of you think you’re so much better off than me, I’ll show you! I can be the bigger person here!”

Instinctively, Alice reached for a patch of mushrooms poking out of the sand. Grasping the fungus and giving the once-caterpillar a triumphant glance, she bit the entire right half of the mushroom.

The lights that had twinkled in Alice’s eyes now seemed intent on boring through them. She squeezed them shut and began to tumble about, colors scarring her line of vision as tears streaked down her face. The leaves of the trees below shuffled relentlessly against her thighs while the sand rolled helplessly underneath her feet. Alice hoped that she wouldn’t fall lest she crush the entire countryside under her weight. ‘Nobody would be pleased if I were to interrupt the wedding of the century,’ she thought. ‘Then again, nobody has been altogether pleased with me lately. Oh, now I’m much too big for anyone to be pleased with! If only there were some way of reaching out and finding one creature that might just listen to me for once!’

As the thoughts made her grow progressively melancholy, Alice caught sight of a small speck darting across a nearby hill. The pattern was curiously erratic, almost as though the creature was frantically trying to look for something--but only trying. Leaning over as far as she could manage, Alice put out her massive hand, her fingers as large as tree branches. The flustered creature paused, seeming to abandon all resistance while approaching the hand cautiously and tiptoeing along Alice’s pointer finger. Going as slow as possible, Alice brought her hand back up, trying to give the creature the sweetest expression she could. Her thoughts suddenly ran to Ethan Lent and his kind eyes. Before Alice could wonder what that boy was up to at the moment, she squinted and realized that the creature in her palm was going to be very late indeed.