Oz Reimagined: New Tales from the Emerald City and Beyond

by Unknown

  At first Frank wanted to tell his father that he did not have any letters inside out, but then he realized that Father was joking. Father always made everything either funny or very dramatic. Father was an actor at heart. He used to own a theater but it burned down. Father had written plays. Mother often said that a man like that had no business running a store. Frank heard everything. He remembered everything.

  After school, instead of walking straight home, he went up to the older girl, Dotty. “Why do you care about my father?”

  “I don’t,” said Dotty. “And I don’t care about you.”

  “Why did you say that about him giving credit? Your aunt never paid him back.”

  “She will,” said Dotty. “She is a woman of integrity.” She turned her back on him and started walking along the dusty road, the opposite direction from Frank’s way home. He followed behind her.

  “It’s too late to pay him now,” said Frank. “The store’s already out of business.”

  “It is never too late to pay a debt,” said Dotty.

  “It’s too late for it to do any good,” said Frank.

  She turned to face him. “Do you want me to poke you in the nose?”

  “Why did you tell about your family needing credit to get through the winter?”

  “One must never be ashamed of poverty, my Auntie Bess says. One must only be ashamed of wealth that one does not share with those in need. Your father shared. Auntie Bess says that makes him a good man, even if he does hate Indians.”

  “Everybody hates Indians,” said Frank. “They scalp people and they’re savages.”

  “It’s also good for children to have minds of their own, and not to echo the opinions of adults.”

  “Your aunt says.”

  “I am wise enough to pay close attention to my aunt.”

  “So you echo her opinions,” said Frank.

  Dotty glared at him, but it was not as icy a glare as Bess Krassner’s. “I have independently reached the conclusion that my aunt is right.”

  “About everything?” asked Frank.

  “So far,” said Dotty.

  “Why are you bothering to talk to a six-year-old?” asked Frank. “The other fourth-graders don’t talk to us younger children.”

  “One must be especially kind to the little and stupid,” said Dotty, “or they will not get wiser along with bigger.”

  “Auntie Bess again?” asked Frank.

  “No,” said Dotty. “It was one of my own. Here’s why I’m talking to you. First, your father is a good man, so I owe courtesy to his son. Second, you can already read and write as well as a fourth-grader, but you don’t make a show of it. Third, you followed me and won’t shut up.”

  She stepped out of the lane and into the brown scruffy grass beside it.

  “Where are you going?” asked Frank.

  “I’m following the road,” said Dotty. She continued walking farther into the grass, heading for a cornfield.

  “No you’re not,” said Frank. “It goes that way.”

  “That road goes that way,” said Dotty. “Feel free to follow that road, if you want.”

  “What road are you following, then?”

  “I always follow the yellow road,” said Dotty. She walked on resolutely.

  Frank followed her. “Where is it?”

  “I admit that even I can hardly see it here,” said Dotty. “There’s only a brick or two visible, and then only when the light is right. But by now I know this part of the road by heart.”

  “What bricks?”

  “The light isn’t right,” said Dotty. “But there’s one right there, in the morning, on a clear day.”

  Frank looked where she was pointing. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Because you are not sufficiently observant.”

  “I’m very observant,” said Frank hotly. “Father says so.”

  “And yet you are not observant enough.” Dotty broke into a run.

  “Dotty!” Frank called. “I can’t run as fast as you.”

  “I’m counting on that,” she called back.

  He ran as fast as he could and caught up with her by the scarecrow in the middle of the field, its pants and a shirt and a hat stuck on a pole, with straw stuffed in the clothes. Crows sat on its shoulders. It was clearly not very effective. Dotty was conversing with it.

  “If he can follow me, then he can come,” Dotty said.

  The scarecrow said nothing, but Dotty answered him as if he had spoken. “See? Here he is. Nobody else has been able to follow me this far.”

  Again, silence from the scarecrow.

  “Of course he can’t hear you,” said Dotty. “He hasn’t yet been noticed by the Emperor.”

  Silence.

  “I have so, or I could never have found you and talked to you in the first place. So I’m going on, and as long as he can follow me, I’m taking him with me.”

  Again she seemed to listen, until she grew quite impatient and held out a hand toward Frank. “Hold my hand,” she said. “I’m taking you with me no matter what he says.”

  “Taking me where?”

  “To see the Emperor of the Air,” she said.

  “Where does he live?”

  “In. The. Air,” she said.

  “We’re on the ground,” Frank pointed out. But he made his legs trot along fast enough to keep up with her, despite her long-legged strides farther through the corn. “Are there more yellow bricks now?”

  “Yes, there are,” said Dotty, “and I don’t mind that you can’t see them. Everybody knows I’m crazy, which is why they call me ‘dotty’ even though my name is Theodora.”

  “I’ll call you Theodora if you want,” said Frank.

  “Just keep up,” she said. “You’re doing very well so far, but we have a long way to go before dark. I brought an oilcan, you see.” She reached into her lunch bag and held it up.

  This made no sense to Frank, but it was an adventure, and she was a big kid who admired Father, and he was sure that eventually the small oilcan she brandished would make some kind of sense.

  “Be careful now,” she said. “We’re coming into the trees. And don’t let go of my hand. I don’t want to lose you halfway between.”

  There were no trees at all. Not any.

  “Stop looking with the fronts of your eyes,” said Dotty—no, Theodora. “Stop looking at what everybody sees. This is a magical land if you’re willing to see it.”

  “Says Auntie Bess?”

  “She can’t see anything,” said Theodora. “Or I should say, she refuses to come and refuses to hear me talk about the Empire of the Air, so there’s no chance that she’ll ever see it. But here you are.”

  “It’s a cornfield,” said Frank.

  “But you’re still with me,” said Theodora. “You can still see me. And I’m well inside the Empire.” She stamped her foot. “Yellow bricks all over now.”

  Frank looked at the ground, trying to see anything but dry dirt between the rows of corn.

  “Don’t try so hard,” said Theodora. “Squinting doesn’t work. When your eyes are pointing here, then the bricks start being visible there. And when you look there, you can see them here. At least that’s how it is at first.”

  Frank tried to do as she said, but it seemed to require looking at two things at once.

  “Look at my hand,” she said.

  He looked at the hand that was holding his.

  “Now keep staring at my hand, but notice the fact that my other hand is moving over here. No, don’t look at my left hand, keep looking at my right, but then notice my left.”

  Oh, was that all she meant? That was easy enough, to think about something he wasn’t looking at.

  There was a glint of yellow on the ground. He looked at it, and there was nothing there.

  “You saw it for a moment, didn’t you?” said Theodora.

  “I don’t know,” said Frank.

  “That’s good,” said Theodora. “You didn’t deny what you saw,
you just admitted that you weren’t sure. That’s important, not to deny it just because you know it shouldn’t be there. The more you deny it, the less it’s there—to you. Because people can’t see what they refuse to see.”

  Frank was looking at the hand that was holding his. And now it was definite. That glint of yellow. Not gold-yellow. Yellow yellow. “Like a goldfinch,” he said aloud.

  “I told the old scarecrow you’d be able to see it.”

  “This is very strange.”

  “No,” said Theodora. “It’s the Empire of the Air. It’s just as much a part of the natural universe as anything else. It’s not strange, it’s wondrous.”

  “It’s wondrous strange,” murmured Frank.

  But now he could see shadowy tree trunks on either side. Not if he looked at them; but as long as he kept his eyes forward, he could see that they were moving through a stand of woods—though he could still see the corn on either side, as well.

  “How can I be in two places at once?” asked Frank.

  “You’re in only one place,” said Theodora. “It’s the two places that are in the same place. Because they are the same place. Welcome to the Empire of the Air.”

  Frank blinked. And each time he blinked, the trees were a little more solid, the corn a little more shadowy. So by the time they came to the abandoned carnival, he felt as if he were emerging from a dense stand of trees, and the cornfields were now nothing but a vague shadowy movement in the breeze.

  Theodora led him among the tattered tents, which now held out neither rain nor light. There was not a soul in sight, though here and there a crow landed or rose from the ground as if patrolling the area.

  “I never knew this was here,” said Frank.

  “It’s in the Empire of the Air, not in Aberdeen,” said Theodora.

  “But it’s old and faded and tattered and…gone,” said Frank.

  “Things get old here, too. People stop coming, the carnival goes out of business, and it gets like this.”

  “I bet it was wonderful when it was new,” said Frank.

  “It was a carnival,” said Theodora. “Only the acrobats didn’t need wires or nets or swings, and the lions had no cages, and all the tricks the magicians did were real.”

  “Why would people stop coming?”

  “How do you know they’ve stopped?” asked Theodora. “We’re here.”

  “But you said…”

  He didn’t finish, because they came to the mechanical man—or rather, half-man. From the waist up, he was a man of metal, but the bottom half of him either was, or was inside, a flamboyantly-painted box that was now faded, more gray than anything else.

  “I know he has something to say to me,” said Theodora. “But he just whimpers. His mouth is all rusted up.”

  “Is he real all the way down?” asked Frank.

  She looked at him like he was crazy but then understood. “Oh, I have no idea whether he goes on inside the box, or whether the top half is all there is. But if I can get his jaw working, maybe he can tell us.”

  She waved the oilcan in front of his face. Frank heard nothing and saw no change, but Theodora smiled. “Hear that? He’s so excited.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” murmured Frank.

  “But you can see him,” said Theodora. “So reach out and touch him. Hold on tight, because I have to use both hands to work the can and lubricate the joints, and I don’t want you disappearing on me.”

  Frank gripped the arm of the metal man.

  Theodora applied a drop of oil in several places along the jaw, and then worked the jaw up and down, side to side.

  Meanwhile, Frank tried to do with his ears what he had done with his eyes, to notice sounds that he was not actually listening to, the sounds behind the sounds.

  “Stop that,” said a very, very faint voice.

  “I’ll stop when I’m sure I’ve got you working again.”

  “Make the boy let go of my arm,” said the voice.

  “Don’t let go!” Theodora said to Frank, her hand flying out to grab him. “People here are always trying to trick you into going away, back to Aberdeen. Never obey people here until you’re sure it’s not a trick.”

  “I’m not tricking him, I want to get my arm back,” said the faint voice; but it was louder now, and Frank could see that the jaw was moving along with the words.

  “You won’t have your arm back until I oil it, which I won’t do if you make him disappear,” said Theodora.

  “I love him,” said the voice. “He’s very lively.”

  “Are you in the box,” asked Frank, “or on the box?”

  “I am the box,” said mechanical man. “With a lovely metal decoration on top.”

  “He’s a sarcastic twit,” said Theodora. “They all feel so superior to groundlings, which is what they call people who don’t naturally dwell in the Empire of the Air.”

  “Are you a groundling?” asked Frank.

  “Not if I can help it,” said Theodora. “They can’t kick me out anymore, and once I know where things are I can always go back. I’m still a visitor, though. Not a citizen. Yet.”

  “You are a lovely person, and I love you,” said the mechanical man.

  “You love everybody,” said Theodora. “And yet somebody must have been very angry to box you up and metallize you like this.”

  “Some people don’t want to be loved,” said the mechanical man.

  “I do,” said Theodora. “I want you to tell me how to find out where the crow took my mother’s ring, and where I can go to get it back.”

  “Though my heart is filled with love for you, I must respectfully ask how in hades you expect me to know?”

  “Because the scarecrow said that you see everything that passes near you, and the crow carrying the ring passed near you, so spit it out, please.”

  “If only I had any spit to spit with,” said the mechanical man. “How did you find your way here? Just wondering.”

  “I’ve oiled you,” said Theodora. “Can’t you be grateful enough to answer my questions?”

  “Did you oil me so I can walk away from here?” asked the mechanical man.

  “I’ve oiled all the parts I can see. Should I break open the box?”

  “I don’t know,” said the mechanical man. “I have no idea whether there’s any me in there or not.”

  “I can do it,” said Frank.

  “You’re only six,” said Theodora, “and I’m nine, and twice as strong, and besides, you can’t let go of me and him at the same time, which means you can’t have both hands free, so you’re not going to open the box.”

  In answer, Frank kicked the lower-right corner of the box, about four inches in from the bottom and the side. The fabric tore free. Frank reached down with his free hand and pulled the fabric up, ripping it away from the frame. “It’s just stretched canvas,” he said. “Like stage scenery.”

  “Clever wretched boy, exposing my nakedness,” said the mechanical man. “How I would love him, if either he or I were real.”

  Theodora was already on her knees. “He does go on down inside the box, but he has wheels instead of legs. If we tear away this box, maybe we can get him moving.”

  “Wheels?” asked the mechanical man. “No wonder I couldn’t wiggle my toes. I used to have toes, you know. Before I was mechanized.”

  “Did you mean that I’m not real?” asked Frank, thinking back on what the mechanical man had said.

  “Tear away this frame and I’ll believe you’re real, if you want me to,” said the mechanical man.

  Theodora pried apart the wood frame of the box. Frank helped as much as he could without letting go of her wrist. Finally the box lay in slats and tatters on the ground, and the mechanical man on wheels was fully oiled in all his parts. His motor whirred and the wheels spun one way to send him backward and the other way to go forward, and both ways at once to send him spinning in a circle.

  “I’m ecstatic,” said the mechanical man. “I’m filled with joy.�
� His inflection, however, was unchanged from normal.

  “We’ve done what you asked,” said Theodora. “Where did the crow take my mother’s ring?”

  “That way!” cried the mechanical man. Then he whirled and began speeding off in a different direction entirely.

  “That’s all you can tell me?” called Theodora to his back.

  “It’s all I know!” he called back. “I love you so very much! I love you both!”

  “Well, that was barely helpful,” said Theodora.

  “Maybe it was completely helpful,” said Frank. “If you start walking in the direction he pointed.”

  “His pointing was very vague.”

  “I know it wasn’t precise,” said Frank, “but we know it wasn’t that way or that way or that way.” He pointed in various other directions. “So it narrows down our choice of routes quite a bit.”

  Theodora nodded. “That makes more sense than standing here being angry at that ungrateful mechanical toad.”

  “Very much untoadlike,” muttered Frank.

  “He sounded like a toad and he was less helpful,” said Theodora. She had been looking beyond the carnival, in the general direction the mechanical man had specified, and now, gripping Frank’s wrist, she took off at a bold stride.

  “You hold too tight,” said Frank. “Let me hold you.”

  “You’re more useful than you look,” said Theodora. “But you’re not very strong. If I hold you there’s less chance of my losing you.”

  “And more chance of your bruising me,” said Frank.

  “What a clever little poet you are,” said Theodora.

  They reached the far side of the abandoned carnival, and now Frank could see the yellow road, bright as could be, stretching off in just the direction the mechanical man had indicated. Frank couldn’t even see the shimmering of the waving fields of corn; the woods and the yellow bricks were completely solid to his visions, especially when he stared right at them. He said so.

  “Don’t be fooled,” said Theodora. “If I let go of you, you could pop right back to Aberdeen.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Frank.

  “Because I tried to bring my dog a dozen times. A leash doesn’t work. Eventually I had to set him down, and every time, poof, he was gone.”