The One Who Is Two (Book 1 of White Rabbit)

by Stuart Oldfield

At first the woods were filled with a manic lewdness; the trees twisted suggestive¬ly, the ferns undulated like street girls, lascivious and brazen, and the birdsong trickled into his ears, the honeyed cooing of depraved courtesans. But he hurried on, averting his eyes from the pornographic writhing, repelled rather than beguiled.

  The prurience soon evaporated. The undulations of the vegetation became once again innocently graceful, a gorgeous dance of colour and no more. He began to breathe more easily and slowed his pace to a calm stroll. The path turned to the left and, oblivious to his wishes, started up a steep bank, apparently leading somewhere of its own choice rather than his. This new-found assertiveness on the part of the path was also something of a relief; all in all, he did prefer the traditional system, with the paths themselves deciding on their own routes, restrictive though it was.

  The trees were thinner here, the trunks interspersed with tall stands of fern in dazzling green patterns, reminiscent of fashionable wallpaper from the mid-sixties. As he struggled up the steep incline he heard the yap of an excited spaniel, thankfully far behind.

  Despite their unappealing mistress, though, he had liked the dogs, such sweet little things in their pretty uniforms. What was it that she had said about his shirt and their coats? He stopped and pulled open his jacket. Indeed she was right – his tee-shirt, in lime green with orange lettering, was in the same colour scheme as the blazers. He stretched the shirt out by the hem to read what it said. Unfortunately this was easier in theory than in practice, for not only was the writing upside down, but the letters kept swimming about, like goldfish in a lime green pond, changing positions with each other and slipping away round the back out of sight, or just crumpling themselves up in shapeless orange blobs.

  Eventually, however, with a superhuman effort of concentration, he succeeded, nailing down the letters one by one and forcing each to divulge its identity. The first word was 'SEEKER' in big bold capitals and under this were the words 'LINKAGE SYSTEMS', in capital italics. The last line started with three dots, followed by 'finding solutions' in lower case and then another three dots.

  SEEKER

  LINKAGE SYSTEMS

  …finding solutions…

  The words made no sense at all and yet somehow seemed to be of great significance. He felt that he ought to know what they meant and he sensed something hovering, diaphanous and half-existent, at the edge of his mind that held the secret. As he tried to grasp it, however, it slithered out of reach and was gone.

  Still, the woman had been dead right in saying that it was a nice tee-shirt – the smooth satiny greenness contrasted perfectly with the swimming orange blobs: a perfect combination of colours. Then a sudden darkness scudded through his soul. He had seen these colours somewhere else, somewhere before the dogs. But where? The ferns had stopped smiling – they were watching him now, edging menacingly closer. Again he sensed something hovering at the edge of his awareness, just out of reach. This time, however, the something was more solid, uncomfortably solid, and he knew that if he wanted he could seize it and its secret would be his. His skin crawled at the thought. For this time he very much didn't want to remember, this time he wanted to get away, to leave whatever it was far behind.