The State Of Limbo/20

Before long, the distinct, four-note humming stopped.

“Red magic,” breathed Alice, exhaling with a grand relief. “You’ve ended just where you should.”

Kneeling in sudden surrender to the shifting room, she curved herself into a loop of her own question—neck pressed to the wall, nose relearning how to sniff.

A soft groaning filled the air, rather like a biscuit attempting to recall a crisp tune.

The mirrors—bent awkwardly like warm toffee, still brimming with dizzling bottles—shimmered faintly, actively composing the next line of the story together.

Their light flickered—brightening, dimming, brightening again—as if modelling with one hand and bargaining with someone on the far side of Wonderland, eager to have a well-reflected story.

Even the bottles quivered within them, their glass caught between cracking and vanishing, as though the words DRINK ME were desperately trying to erase themselves from the code.

Alice, her neck still stiff, cast a sidelong glance at them.

“Hopefully,” she murmured, “the system won’t hang before the next bit loads”—a phrase she’d only learned earlier that morning, and still half believed was a charm.

Nullity and Hum/19

Alice lifted the obliged bottle with extreme care, as though it might uninstall itself at a careless touch. Then, quite without consulting the rest of herself, she took a sip.

The taste was impossible to describe, which of course made it terribly interesting—part strawberry, part apothecary, and part… something that did not quite belong to syllable at all.

For one infinitesimal moment, she felt the room hesitate—as if waiting for her to save her progress.

Then Alice was caught in it.

The walls bent inward like soft clay, the ceiling drooped like a heavy curtain, and the floor curled at the edges. The effect was not gradual but total: her surroundings were reformatting themselves, wrapping up her as they went.

Her thoughts, too, began to fragment—one whispering behind her ear, another straying somewhere about her toe.

What was once a room resolved into a nullity.

And amid that nullity rose a long, sinking hum—the unmistakable drone of a Windows shutdown.

Alas, Alice had no room to hum along—a most regrettable error both in design and in situation, for she was always so fond of a good one.

The Default Bottle/18

Alice paused in the middle, wondering if she’d reached the edge of its story.

But there, after another two steps round the corners, before three mirrors that made a thousand bottles out of one, waited a single bottle—as if that were its default setting; its neck drawn out—perhaps in mild impatience at Alice’s tardiness.

It was filled with a liquid, as red as any garden rose. Its label read, quite clearly, “DRINK ME.” The letters trembled ever so slightly.

“They could hardly sit still to be read,” she giggled. “How very Alice of them!”

“Well now,” said Alice to herself, “it is remarkably obliging for a bottle to ask so nicely.” 

She looked all around, half-expecting a second label to appear with a “PLEASE DON’T.”

She was—as I could have told you—quite as cautious as a download, pausing at ninety-nine percent—and she could never quite master the Hot-and-Cold game—shivering when she should be seeking, flushing when she ought to be freezing, and generally confusing herself, most delightfully, all the while.

When no such warning appeared, something triggered—like an invisible program buried deep inside her curiosity.

The Thirteenth Step/17

Alice might have shouted or cast a bit of magic—nothing could pierce the Rabbit’s perfect ignorance. He whisked himself into a neat little room just round the corner.

"You have arrived at your destination. Welcome home!” chirruped a voice.

No one was to be seen—except, perhaps, a doormat stitched in the pattern of tiny musical notes, lying there and looking suspiciously pleased with itself.

Upon the door shone a bright brass plate engraved with the name W. RABBIT.

Alice nipped inside, as adventurous as ever and twice as curious.

There was no greeting of a cup of tea or some warm, buttery biscuits, which was not at all what she had expected. It was, Alice supposed, nearly tea-time.

“How small!” thought Alice, immediately realizing it was hardly polite to think such a thing, even for half a second. 

But it was true—never deny the truth. She had walked from the front to the back—the full extent of the little house—in no more than ten steps.

“Oh dear, that will never do! I ought to have at least two more. I always find the thimble on the thirteenth step,” declared Alice.

A Most Particular Magic/16

It was the White Rabbit, trotting back again and peering about most anxiously—as if he were hunting for something he had lost. Or so Alice supposed.

“I didn’t take it! Not the watch—goodness, no! I shouldn’t even know how to make it tick properly!” cried Alice, though no one had said a word to her at all.

A wild new thought suddenly bloomed in her mind. “Can a thing truly vanish, so lightly, with only a thought?” she mused, in equal parts doubt and delight. “Very well, I shall think of… of biscuits! Yes—warm, buttery biscuits.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating with all her might. She opened them wide—to nothing. Not a single crumb.

“Hmph!” said Alice. “Then it works only for watches.” She concluded with a sigh, “A most particular and useless magic. It must have run up against its tiresome free plan limit”

The Pool That Fed Itself/15

Here was a sharp muzzle that jabbed a flustered Donald again and again, sending him quacking on cue. Here was a tangle of limbs, frozen in midair like a paused cartoon. 

Everywhere were faces, peering out as if asking to be liked or disliked, applauded or ignored.

It was a whole parade of nonsense, as endless as it was absurd.

“How very curious!” Alice murmured. “This must be what a feed is called—a pool that feeds itself, over and over, till there’s nothing left but bubbles!”

Alice looked around at the endless scroll of squabbles and chatter. She felt, in a queer way, proud that it had all sprung from her tears—but the pride sat uneasily. For if the nonsense was hers, then so too were the jabbing muzzle, the suspended violence, the quarrels, the boasting, and the endless noise.

And she wondered, with a small frown that did not suit her face: is it truly a good thing, to have such a pool at all?

Rippling Reflections/14

The Mouse gave a sudden, violent shudder. “C-cat… nasty, vulgar thing!” it cried, then vanished under the surface, leaving only its meter-long tail above the water like a periscope—swiveling about as though it too might catch the signal of the Cat.

Alice could not help but giggle, though she knew it was not entirely polite.

“What a silly mouse! As if my Dinah would swim all the way here. Why, she makes the most dreadful fuss over a mere puddle!”

Just then there was a splash so sudden it set the water fizzing, and up came Bill the Lizard.

He coughed so violently that Alice feared he might shake himself to pieces. 

He coughed and spluttered, until the fit erupted in such a gale of sound and fury, Alice quite expected the Queen to march out of the reeds and order somebody’s head off.

(The Queen, of course, was elsewhere at the time, ordering everybody’s head off, which kept her well occupied.)

Bill seized the Mouse’s tail with one hand, puffed up his narrow chest, and gave Alice such a commanding look that she very nearly believed he was master of the flood. 

But as Alice gazed past him at the waters—her own tears made strange—the illusion vanished. 

They did not merely reflect; they seemed to answer back, their shimmering surface prickling with the promise of comments and likes.

The Hasty Rabbit/13

“Rabbit!” cried Alice, quite suddenly.

This startled everyone. Even me—though I really ought to know better than to be startled.

Presently, the Mouse’s idea hung in despair, spinning slowly round and round, yet never beginning.

This “running” creature was everywhere at once—his entrances always mistimed.

He rushed nearer, muttering, “I’ll be late, so late!”

With a flash of his glowing pocket-watch, he was gone—toggled into Dark Mode.

“Why was he always hurrying, as if being late were the only thing he was meant—or made—to do?” Alice wondered.

Suppose, for once, he erased it all and lingered instead—to pluck mushrooms in the misty morning, or to chase butterflies like Dinah does!

So Alice, eager to be useful, conjured a grand wish of her own.

How curious it would be to see him without that glowing watch—if only she could right-click it and send it tidily to the Recycle Bin.

Dizzy race. Like/12

It was such a dizzy race—everyone whirling around a clock that refused to stop.

“Stop!” cried the Eaglet, flapping to seize control of the chaos.

And at once, the Eaglet was already thinking the other way round.

The sudden halt flung everyone forward; tumbling in surprise, they hung midair—a tangle of limbs, frozen like a paused cartoon.

Silent. 

A muddled silence. 

But silence never lasts.

The Mouse scrolled and called out, “Sit down, close together!”

“Oh, at least I’m allowed to sit.” thought Alice, much relieved—almost as if a daisy had leaned over and whispered, Sit, it’s what I do best.

The Mouse’s eyes twinkled. An idea—splendid, at least to himself—positively itching to be shared, whether the others clicked like or not.

Alice, Tra-la-la-la-ing/11

A small paw tugged at Alice’s skirt. It was the Mouse, his whiskers twitching in time with the music.

“You’re not running,” he squeaked.

“Am I meant to?” Alice asked.

“The Dodo says everyone must run,” the Mouse replied, “It’s the rule.”

“But the rules were never announced,” Alice countered.

The Mouse blinked slowly. “Precisely. That’s the only truly fair system. Now you must run, or you’ll be Still. And to be Still is to be Out.”

“And what does Out mean?”

The Mouse looked at her with profound pity. “Why, it means you’re not In.”

And with that impeccable logic, he vanished into the swirling, tra-la-la-la-ing mass. 

Alice paused, shrugged as if it hardly mattered, and off she ran—darting between legs, bumping the Dodo, treading on the Mouse, nearly tripping over the Duck. 

Her hair streamed wild behind her, her voice tumbling out in song.

“Tra la la la la…” she sang aloud.

Tra-la-la-la-laing like a computer caught in an endless loop---until someone finally pressed Escape.

The Madcap Caucus/10

The race rules were never announced. There was no winner, no prize—and, curiously enough, that never appeared to be a flaw. 

On the contrary, all the creatures ran as eagerly as if confusion itself had been the very point of the game.

They sang along in this Caucus-race. Alice could only catch the refrain: “Tra la la la la…”

“Is it a Caucus-race,” Alice wondered. "or a Circle-dance?"

It was all bounce and whirl, so bouncy and infectious, even the missteps seemed to power it along, each surprise adding its own peculiar energy.

Carroll himself might have regretted the confusion.

The mood flared. The tune hopped like a mite, and doubled back—“Tra la la la la…”

The scene reminded Alice of campfires with her sisters. They would sing London Bridge Is Falling Down, Humpty Dumpty and more.

Yet nothing in those songs, not even a tumbling bridge, could match the sheer craziness unraveling before her eyes. 

"Tra la la la la, Tra la la la la..."

It was as if the whole Wonderland itself flashing Error… Error… 

"Tra la la la la..."

Waddling. Side to Side/9

The Dodo, puffing very grandly, kept on quacking the word ReBoOt.

“Would this change Wonderland?” Alice asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.

The Dodo, catching his breath, answered with pompous pity. “A ReBoOt is simple: one forgets the errors, clears the memory”—he puffed and wheezed—“and hopes the story will run smoother this time.”

“But what if it forgets too much?” Alice pressed.

“Then,” said the Dodo, “Wonderland crashes! Or you crash! Or both—QUAACK!”

No question followed.

The creatures waddled side to side, swaying like a metronome. Wings flapped out of time—up when they ought to be down, down when they ought to be up.

Alice, finding it all perfectly unreasonable and therefore just right for Wonderland, burst into helpless laughter.

The Mouse, usually a champion sprinter, ran oddly slow behind the Duck. Its sharp muzzle jabbed Donald again and again, sending him springing upward—quacking perfectly on cue every time. 

Its tail almost waddled side to side, its little belly sketched along the ground, leaving a faint, zigzag mouse trail behind it.

Quacking in Chaos/8

The pool of tears grew restless.

The Dodo came flapping his wings. ‘QUAACK!’ he bellowed, so loudly the Duck nearly toppled over. "Neither double-deckers nor carriages qualify as followers!" he declared, puffing out his chest with his sudden authority.

The Duck nodded again. Donald always seemed so very clever—though Alice couldn’t tell if he understood the Dodo or was merely fond of the word ‘QUAACK.’

By now, the Mouse’s tale seemed destined hopelessly to run on forever.

But excitement, in this damp and dismal place, never lasted long. A chill soon settled, and everyone was shivering.

“ReBoOt! ReBoOt!” cried the Dodo. “The only cure is a Caucus-race!”

“Does he mean English,” Alice whispered to herself, “or is that another word he's just invented?”

And so, at the Dodo’s command, the wet party began. 

The Lory, the Eaglet, the Duck, and several others whose names Alice couldn’t quite recall, ran round and round in a chaotic, patternless loop, desperate to get dry.

“Rule of Nature,” Alice concluded, “creatures dislike getting wet. That was hard-coded long before I was.” 

She very nearly applauded herself, feeling she had at last untangled one of Nature’s riddles.

Off with the Head?/7

At once, the bustle of a London street bloomed in Alice’s mind: a tangled queue of carriages, the impatient blare of motor-horns, and great crimson double-deckers swarming with people.

“Now listen—you really must attend!” the Mouse insisted, his voice a taut violin string of annoyance.

Snapping back into focus, Alice rested her chin upon her hands and raised her eyebrows, as though he had just said something perfectly ridiculous.

"The Queen, you see, is absurdist to the core,” the Mouse went on. “When she cries ‘Off with your head!’, it hardly means a thing—she only likes the funny noises she makes. Otherwise, my dear, you’d have to worry there’d be no cards left to play with at all.”

Alice noticed the Dodo, the Eaglet, and the Duck all leaning in, nodding as though every word were plain as daylight.

“English, please!” said Alice. She frowned, an expression which rather resembled a search bar awaiting its query—puzzled and empty.

William For Traffic/6

Alice's hand drifted out, almost from habit, as if to scroll.

“Ahem. I serve a different function." sighed the Mouse. “He clicks, I talk.”

Giggling, Alice tucked her hands into her lap. “How curious! Do you tell stories?”

“Indeed,” said the Mouse while whacking his tail.  “Short stories—shorter than this.”

“Then tell me about William the Conqueror. No longer than a meter.” Alice suggested eagerly.

“William the Conqueror,” the Mouse began—“Hrrmph!” (as solemnly as a mouse could manage)—“flanked by a swarm of grown-drones, drove his AI- guided limousine, armoured in diamonds, straight into the heart of battle...”

“That’s not the William in my lessons!” Alice broke in, a little rudely (though she did not mean it).

“Little lady, listen close!” the Mouse squeaked, puffing his whiskers, “Everyone—yes, everyone—loves absurdity!”

He twitched his tail for emphasis. “It’s the only thing that truly generates TraFFic."

Tumble-Tumble Trouble/5

Alice went tumble-tumble — splash! — into something wet.

“Oh no,” she sighed.

“What is this?”

“A pool of your own tears,” whispered a voice.

“My tears? But… I don’t recall weeping.”

She tapped at her soil-tangled hair, while pictures upon pictures skittered through her mind.

I ought to be ashamed of myself, she thought.

So busy for a little girl — yet she noticed something drifting near: fur, whiskers, a long, twitching muzzle.

“Clumsy, big-footed… Ratty,” Alice guessed.

The creature bristled.

“Mouse. Handsome. Tail a meter long. On your desk sits my cousin.”

Stamping the water, he insisted — almost desperately —

“Mouse!”

Windows For Alice/4

“Double-hung? Casement? Or Bay Window?” cried the White Rabbit.

He looked excited, as though he knew everything — which a rabbit seldom did. And, most surprising of all, he seemed to have the upper paw.

Alice blinked, puzzled.

“Double… this sounds rather big,” she whispered.

The Rabbit tapped his pocket twice; the air rippled, and a glittering windowpane shimmered into place, floating in midair.

“Step through!” urged the Rabbit.

“Quickly now — before it shuts itself down.”

404: Queen Not Found/3

“I don’t permit this,” the Queen gasped, invoking her authority.

“Where is my court?” she demanded. Only silence bowed.

Stamping her foot with magnificent indignation, she cried, “Bring me the Knave! Bring me the cards! Bring me something to command!” — and so issued order upon order, each more impatient than the last.

Alice regarded her with wide eyes. “Me?” she ventured.

The Queen’s eyes flashed. “Press the Ctrl–Alt–Del button.”

“Now?” said Alice timidly.

“This instant!” thundered the Queen. “I—”

But before the last syllable escaped her lips, she vanished — quite completely — as if erased from her own decree.

The White Rabbit — still in his waistcoat and pocket watch — pretended he understood it all.

“Well?” he squeaked. “You’re late! Unpardonably late.”

“Rabbit hole again?” murmured the bewildered Alice.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. “Uh… Let’s use Windows instead.”

Offline in Wonderland/2

The moment Alice was unplugged from the Rabbit Hole, the effect was immediate and immense—even the Queen of Hearts, quite by accident, seemed to be vacuumed somewhere else entirely.

“Who is this?” the Queen demanded, sharply—before she could make sense of what had happened, or where she herself was supposed to be.

No one answered.

“Idiot! Off with your head!” she screamed, trying to hide her fluster and floundering. Her voice bounced back against nothingness—a hollow echo, almost curious about itself.

Alice’s eyes, wide and uncertain, reflected one undeniable truth: she had crossed into another space—a place that was nothing, yet everywhere, both within and beyond herself.

And Wonderland, never one for subtlety, began to wink and whistle. 

The sky hiccuped.

Letters tumbled and winked.

Y O U A R E O F F L I N E.

The Opening Episode/1

Alice had grown—just like all of us; memory had grown too, along with bits and bytes that hummed softly in the background.

The heat was intense, the breeze sluggish, and every word in the book crawled along as if on crooked legs. Alice’s eyelids grew heavy.

The Rabbit appeared again. He stopped, peered back, and muttered about being late—so very late.

Alice followed. She crouched down as quickly as she could. She would never want to be left behind. Returning to books without illustrations would certainly bore both her mind and her senses—she rather agreed.

Ah, only her nose caught the familiar scent. ChatGPT kept silent…—until a hidden tug, a subtle pull, unlatched her world.

This warm, physical touch needed no wires, no Wi-Fi—only a little Alice-shaped curiosity..