Figment - Jace Cameron - Страница 36
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"But you never admitted seeing him."
"I pointed at Jack in the theatre and asked the host to make him wear the Cheshire costume, didn't I?"
"You may have been bluffing." I am guessing. "To get rid of the Cheshire's costume. Even so, why did you pretend you didn't see him before? Why did you say I was going to be with Jack in a few minutes if I died in the theatre?"
"Knowing Jack's true identity isn't going to make your life easier, Alice." He says it with all the confidence in the world.
"But you will tell me when this mission ends?"
"I can tell you now, if you want." He turns and dares my eyes.
I don't stare back. I didn't expect him to say that. My jaw drops. I have too many mixed feelings orbiting in my chest.
"I thought so," the Pillar says. "You're not ready to know. It's typical of people to keep seeking answers they can't handle yet. Questions are easy. Everyone's got many. Answers are hard, and usually unlikable."
Again, I hate it when the Pillar is right. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Delaying the truth a day or two isn't going to kill me. I am so afraid Jack is a figment of my imagination. I can't handle it if he is. Who has their boyfriend return from the dead? It's such a blessing, I can't deny.
In the darkness of my closed eyes, I glimpse a faint image of the homeless children in Victorian England. It urges me to open my eyes again and ask, "Now, tell me why you're really here."
"I know who the Muffin Man is, and the reason behind his killings."
I lean forward and stare directly at him. "I'm listening."
Chapter 4 6
"I didn't know the cook—I mean the Muffin Man—personally in Wonderland," the Pillar begins. "I didn't even know his name back then. It still puzzles me why they call him the Muffin Man. I think the Pepper Man fits better." He pauses. "Frankly, he was some nobody to me; a third-degree citizen, a middle-aged man with many kids, if I remember correctly."
"Third-degree citizen?"
"The lowest rank in Wonderland. We called them 'Galumphs.' Bloody mean, if you ask me," he says. "There was a rumor he had been one of the Queen's advisors, specializing in crops and farming. But I can't confirm that.
"My assumption is the Queen punished him, galumphed him, and sent him to work with the Duchess, who had always been Queen's favorite. But I'm not sure. I never visited the Duchess in Wonderland. I had always been friends with my mushrooms and hookah more than anything. Whatever the Muffin Man's story is, I believe Lewis knows it better."
"Do you at least know why he was obsessed with pepper, like it was mentioned in the book?"
"I have no idea," he says. "But what I'm about to tell you is a complicated story, so you have to bear with me and listen carefully." He stands up, stretches his arms, and enjoys the drizzle on his face. "Let's take a walk outside the university. I'd hate for you to spend your time out of the asylum sitting."
I comply. He reaches for my hand. I don't comply.
We walk slowly outside on St. Aldate's, saying nothing. It's as if he wants to enjoy the simple things in life for a few seconds. It does help me feel at ease.
The Pillar stops by some kids eating chocolate bars and asks for one. I notice most of these children are overweight, like the ones who died and the ones I saw in Richmond Elementary School. I look up at other kids walking by. Most of them are a little overweight for their ages as well.
A young girl gives the Pillar a chocolate bar, but he returns it and asks for the double bar. "I want the Snicker-Snackers double bar. One for me, and one for my friend." He points at me and ruffles her curly hair.
We keep walking.
"You see this chocolate bar?" he asks. "This is a Snicker Snackers bar, just like Happy Tart Bars, Bojoom Bars, and all the other Alice in Wonderland candy products infesting the world lately."
"The Meow Muffin among the list," I remind him. "What about them?"
"Don't you think this bar is a little too big in both size and portion?"
"You're answering a question with a question. I'm not following."
"Right answers are found if you ask the right questions," he says, unhappy with me interrupting him. "Did you ever stop in front of a junk food store and wonder how many disadvantages this kind of food has?" He is dead serious. "All the exaggerated carbs, the saturated fat, and the oil used over and over again until it has lost its elasticity and natural color? Did you ever think this kind of food isn't much different from slow-poisoning yourself?"
"So?"
"So?" He asks this as if I am a dumb student, unable to understand the professor's lecture. "Did you ever research the ingredients of the hamburger you just ate, or ask what they inject into chickens to make them look so fat and delicious? Why the meat you bought feels so plastic you can't bite through it?"
Having known the Pillar for a while, I'm aware that he never talks in straight and clear sentences. I need to focus and read the truth between the lines. I am hoping this is leading somewhere.
"Actually, I did," I say. "Waltraud Wagner, the asylum's warden, gorges on such stuff all the time. Snacks, sweets, and stuff. She rarely eats a real meal of fruits or vegetables."
"I'm glad you did." He waves his cane higher and walks on. He glances at people as if he was sent down from heaven to inspect human stupidity. "Did any of the questions I just posed ever make you wonder about the government's role in all of this? How is it allowed to sell unhealthy food to a youth whose body desperately needs vitamins, healthy fat, and proteins, not an endless source of glucose and corn syrup?"
"I never thought of it, but now that you've mentioned it..."
"How about why there are only few commercials about vegetables, fruits, or natural foods?" He is like a train of unstoppable questions. "Why mostly chocolate, crackers, and fizzy drinks?"
I pull him by the hand and stop him. He complies. "What has any of this to do with the Muffin Man? What are you saying exactly?"
"This bar in my hand. Why is two pieces, Alice?" He taps it on his hand, a bit violently.
I read the cover. "Because it's for two people, not one."
"When was the last time you shared your Twinkie, Alice?" It's a rhetorical question, just like all the others. "The answer is 'almost never.'"
"Are you saying the Muffin Man is punishing us for allowing our children to grow fat at a young age, for letting them eat food that hurts them more than it helps them grow healthier?" I try to skip the lecture and get to the point.
"If you want to know the Muffin Man better, you need to study his surroundings." He holds me by the arms as if wanting to wake me up from sleepwalking. "Every killer, terrorist, and corrupted person you meet is a reflection of society. Look into the world around us and you will understand his insanity," he says. "You know why most terrorists and those who cause human destruction are never caught, Alice?"
For the first time, this isn't a rhetorical question. The Pillar expects me to answer it. It explains why the Wonderland Wars are beyond the reach of the police—the police who only follow physical evidence and logical procedure, dismissing the core method of catching a lunatic: knowing who he really is.
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