“HATTER IS Underland, and Underland is Hatter,” you declare. “If he is in need, I will help him, no matter what.”
“We rather hoped you might say that,” Mirana tells you with a smile. The others clap and cheer.
“And where exactly is this Chronosphere?” you ask, eager to get under way now that you’ve made the decision.
“In the hands of Time, of course,” Chessur says.
“Well, I suppose all things are,” you say, amused by his philosophizing. “But where is it now?”
“In the hands of Time,” Mirana repeats. “It’s his.”
You gape at Mirana. “I’m sorry. Time is a ‘he’?”
“He lives in a void of infinitude,” she explains. “In a Castle of Eternity. Which is where you will go to begin.”
“To end the Hatter’s de-Hatterization,” McTwisp says solemnly.
You stand in front of an enormous grandfather clock in a dusty, hidden room in Mirana’s castle.
Go here to continue.
WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.
…on him.
Unfortunately, you get stuck like this. You can’t stop speaking in puns and cavorting about like a madwoman!
You decide to stay in Underland, where it won’t seem strange at all.
THE END
ALL THESE FUNNY PUNS AND PUNNY FUNS ARE GETTING TO BE TOO MUCH. THE QUESTION IS TOO MUCH OF WHAT? IT MIGHT MAKE MORE SENSE TO GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING, BUT DON’T LET THAT PREVENT YOU FROM DOING SO.
WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.
You shiver, then recite the plan to yourself. “Get into the Castle of Eternity. Borrow the Chronosphere from Time, who is a ‘who’ and not a ‘what.’ Use it to travel back in time to Horunvendush Day. Save the Hatter’s family from being killed and thereby save the Hatter….”
That’s all.
“Simple,” Chessur says.
You see them all trade nervous smiles. You turn to enter the clock, resolved.
Mirana stops you with a light hand on your shoulder. “Time is extremely powerful and apparently quite full of himself. So mind your manners. He is not someone you want as your enemy.”
You nod. “I understand,” you say, even though you don’t exactly. You turn and squeeze into the clock.
You find yourself at the edge of a seemingly infinite space. In the distance, across the black void, is a stark, imposing castle. There seems no way to get there.
It’s eerily silent. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. Then—a distant ticking. You look down and your eyes widen.
Sweeping across the void is a colossal stone clock hand that extends from the distant castle. It sweeps toward you with an unerring tick. Then you understand. You are inside an enormous clock—perhaps the clock that runs the entire Universe. Judging from its relatively swift movement, you’re looking down at the clock’s second hand.
You wait for the second hand to sweep your way, then take a deep breath and jump. You land safely and let out a long exhale of relief. Balancing carefully, you walk across the giant moving hand toward the castle.
You take another deep breath for courage and push open the massive door.
You enter a vast chamber, and the only sounds you hear come from the movement of gigantic cogs and gears. You stride along walkways high above a cavernous space filled with clockworks.
You come to a doorway and peek inside. A large man sits sleeping on a gigantic throne. Man isn’t exactly the right word, though. He’s part clockwork, and a small vent emits steam from his head as he breathes. His bushy mustache flutters with each exhale.
Is this Time? you wonder. Does Time sleep? Is that why sometimes Time seems to pass so slowly? And when will Time be finished with his nap? As if reading your thoughts, he startles awake, making you jump back.
What did Mirana tell you about him? Oh, yes. You should mind your manners.
“Good day, sir,” you say politely from the bottom step leading up to the throne. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you might have time to speak with me?”
“Time? I have all the time in the world, young lady,” he says “The question is…will I spare any for you?”
“That is the question, sir.”
“Do you promise to be amusing?” he asks, tapping his gloved fingers together.
That’s an odd request. Though from your previous dealings in Underland, you’re pretty used to being asked strange things. “I don’t know if I can promise that,” you admit. “It’s rather a serious subject.”
“Well, I’m a rather serious person, myself,” he replies. “For I am Time. The infinite. The immort—wait, what time is it?” He opens his cloak. His chest is an ornate timepiece!
“Hang it all! How infinitely ironic! I’m going to be late! Me!” He strides out of the room, his long cloak flapping behind him. “How could time get away from me?”
You dash after him. Endless hallways stretch out in many directions. “Wait!” you call. If you lose track of Time, you’ll be lost forever in this crazy maze of a castle.
You hurry alongside him. He nods toward your pocket. “Why do you carry that fallen soldier?” he asks.
How did he know? You pull out your father’s broken pocket watch.
Time eyes the watch. “A fine-looking instrument. Though I’m afraid its time has expired.”
“My father was a great man,” you tell Time. “His watch reminds me that nothing is impossible. I wouldn’t part with it for anything in the world.”
“Everyone parts with everything eventually, my dear,” Time says.
You enter another cavernous chamber. An incredibly elaborate timepiece stands in the center, its metronomic ticktock booming through the room.
Time waves a sweeping arm toward it. “Behold!” he announces. “The Grand Clock of All Time!”
You see a spinning, glowing metallic sphere deep within the Grand Clock. It can only be the Chronosphere!
But Time starts walking again, so you follow. He leads you into a comfortable oak-paneled sitting room. He sits in a large overstuffed chair beside the roaring fireplace.
“Now. Ask your question,” Time instructs you. “You have one minute exactly.”
“It’s about the Hatter, Tarrant Hightopp,” you explain. “You see, the Jabberwocky killed…”
Time looks bored, opens his chest clock, and moves the second hand forward.
Suddenly, you’re speaking so quickly you’re amazed your mouth can keep up! He must have sped up time! “…hisfamilyontheHorunvendushDayandI’dlikeyour permissionifyoupleasetoborrowtheChronosphere!” You pause, catching your breath and hoping he understood your rapid-fire delivery.
Time’s eyes narrow. “How do you know about the Chronosphere?”
“I-I’d like to borrow it,” you say.
“Borrow it? Borrow it! The Chronosphere powers Time oneself! It is not something to be ‘borrowed’ like a croquet mallet or a pair of hedge clippers!”
“But—”
“You are asking me to violate the logic of the Universe.” Time stands up and walks to the door. He opens it for you. “The answer is no.”
“But—”
“You are not amusing. Wilkins!” he shouts out the door. “Escort this trespasser out!”
Is your mission going to end here? Now?
Should you try to amuse him? That seems to be what he wants. Or should you leave quietly and try to come up with another plan?
IF YOU TRY TO AMUSE HIM, GO HERE.
OR YOU CAN LEAVE THE ROOM AS HE ASKED AND GO HERE.
WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the sto
ry. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.
YOU HOPE that if you amuse Time he’ll be more open to helping you. But what could possibly be amusing to a being like Time?
“Um, let’s see…er…I know!” Your face lights up as a few jokes you think he might like pop into your head. “If five dodos run after one gryphon, what time is it?”
Time strokes his mustache, pondering the question.
“Five after one!” you declare.
His eyes widen a moment, and then he lets out a guffaw.
Phew! This could work. “So about the Chronosphere…?” you ask.
He gestures for you to continue. “Tell another!”
“All right…um…a very silly chess pawn asked a rook what time it was, and the rook answered four forty-five. ‘Why do you look so confused?’ the rook asked. ‘It’s the oddest thing,’ the pawn replied. ‘I’ve been asking that question all day, and each time I get a different answer!’”
Time slaps his leg hard, chortling. “More, more!”
“Knock-knock,” you say.
“Pardon?” Time asks.
Go here to continue.
WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.
“It’s a knock-knock joke,” you explain. “You have to ask ‘who’s there?’”
“Ah. Who’s there?” He looks intrigued.
“It’s Time.”
He straightens up, excited. “It’s Time who?”
“It’s Time for another joke!”
Time claps. “Delightful! Delightful!”
“Will you remember me in a month?” you ask.
“You?” Time smiles at you warmly. “The most amusing person I have met in some time? Yes, indeed!”
“Will you remember me in a week?”
“Certainly!”
“Knock-knock,” you say, suppressing a grin. You have a feeling he’s going to like this one.
“Who’s there?” he asks, a little confused by the abrupt change in the conversation.
“See? You forgot me already!”
“You are definitely amusing, my good lady!” He laughs. And laughs. And laughs.
The problem is, you are so entertaining Time forgets himself. Time stands still—forever!
THE END
of everything
WHILE TIME MAY THINK YOU A HOOT, YOUR FRIENDS MIGHT NOT FIND IT SO AMUSING TO BE FROZEN IN TIME. TO GET HIM MOVING AGAIN, GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING AND TRY AGAIN.
WARNING! You’re about to spoil a great story by not making a choice! Page back, then click one of the links to advance the story. Otherwise, the next section may not make any sense to you.
YOU SEE that you’ll never be able to change his mind.
You bow politely. “Sorry to bother you,” you say, then turn to go.
“Young lady…” Time begins.
You turn back to face him. He’s gazing at you with a penetrating stare. “You cannot change the past. It always was. It always will be. Although I daresay, you might learn something from it.”
“Thank you for your time, sir,” you say. You follow his assistant, Wilkins, into the corridor.
Suddenly, a shrill female voice calls from the entrance hall. “Oh, tick-tock!”
At the sound of the voice, Wilkins stops in his tracks. You stop, too.
“Miss, would you mind seeing yourself out?” he asks, looking pale. Without even waiting for your response, he hurries off. You frown. What was that about?
You hear echoing footsteps heading your way. You quickly hide behind one of the floor-to-ceiling tapestries lining the hall.
Time strides down the hallway, then stops in front of a mirror. He considers his appearance, trying out various smiles. Then he cups a hand and breathes into it, checking his breath.
He’s getting ready for a date! you realize. You fight back a laugh.
A bell rings through the castle. Time looks up, annoyed. “Ugh…will these interruptions never end?” he complains. He marches off.
You secretly follow him until he stops in front of a room with a sign: UNDERLANDIANS: LIVING. He enters, leaving the door wide open. You peek inside. Thousands of open-faced pocket watches hang from chains, ticking in limitless blackness.
“Who has stopped?” he asks as he passes down the endless line of watches. “Who has ticked their last tock? Tocked their last tick?”
He holds up his hand. A chain drops down, delivering a stopped watch to his palm. He looks at the name on the casing. “Ah, Brilliam Hinkle. Time’s up.”
He snaps the watch closed and exits on the other side of the room. You scurry after him. Now he enters a room marked UNDERLANDIANS: DECEASED. This room is silent, filled with closed pocket watches. You observe as he flicks through a row of watches, reading the names engraved on their backs.
“‘Higgens, Highbottom…’” he mutters. He pauses at a gap, then shrugs and moves on. “‘Highview, Himmelby’…ah, ‘Hinkle.’”
Time gently hangs the watch on an empty chain. “I hope you used your time well. Good night.”
This must be what happens when anyone in Underland dies, you realize.
You’re startled by footsteps behind you in the hallway.
A dark shadow on the floor gets larger and larger as the person approaches. A shadow with an enormous head. It’s the Red Queen, Iracebeth!
You’ve got to get out of here!
You quickly retrace your steps to the empty Chamber of the Grand Clock. You hesitate a moment; then, reminding yourself what’s at stake, you squeeze into the clock.
You are crammed tightly among millions of interlocking pieces moving together in the world’s most intricate timepiece. And deep within, at its center, just visible past the swinging pendulums and spinning gears, glows a silver light.
“The Chronosphere…” you murmur. You reach out and grab it.
It crackles wildly in your hands. Scared but determined, you yank it hard to detach it from the gazillion widgets, gewgaws, and thingamajigs holding it in place. You hear an enormous cracking sound, like a thousand lightning strikes.
You leap out of the clock—and discover Time waiting for you.
Uh-oh.
Armies of ticking men swarm into the room. “Stop her!” Time bellows. “Seconds into Minutes!” he orders. “Minutes into Hours!”
The ticking men gather together, forming larger and larger units. A towering mechanical man lurches toward you. “My Hour,” Time hollers, “get that Chronosphere!”
You stumble backward and trip, dropping the Chronosphere. Its lights start to pulse. With a blinding flash it expands into enormous revolving brass rings.
Without a second thought you run inside the Chronosphere’s spinning rings. You face an impossible array of levers, switches, chains, and buttons. One lever has a note dangling from it: PULL ME.
So you do.
The Chronosphere instantly rolls forward, gathering momentum. You fly out the door of the Chamber of the Grand Clock.
The bands on the Chronosphere revolve faster and faster, the whirring sound increasing in pitch and volume as the vibrations jar your bones. Then, suddenly, POOF!
The world around you melts away and you find yourself above a vast ocean: the Ocean of Time.
The days are transparent beneath you. You see Time’s castle directly below and all around you a patchwork quilt of all the days in history. You begin to move into the past.
Soon you spot flames on the horizon. Then you hear the terrifying screech of the Jabberwocky!
“Horunvendush Day!” you exclaim.
That is your destination. You must get to that day and save the Hatter’s family.
You pull a combination of levers, and the Chronosphere spins down into the ocean—straight into Horunvendush Day.
“Wh-what happened?” you murmur. You’re lying on the ground, the Chronosphere beside you. It’s back
to its normal size. “Need to work on landing,” you mutter. You roll over, grab it, then sit up and glance around.
The field is a charred, smoking ruin. You stand slowly, horrified by the devastation around you. A silent young man gazes down at a burning top hat. The Hatter! He seems lost, broken even.
“Hatter?” you call gently.
But this younger version of the Hatter just runs off. You are about to call out again when you hear thundering hoofs. The Red Queen’s knight, Stayne, rides toward you, Vorpal sword in hand. You dive for cover and peer out from behind some bushes to watch him.
He carries a small burlap sack—which appears to be moving. You wonder what he captured, since it seems as though he has living creatures in that sack. You feel bad for whatever—or whomever—his prisoners may be.
Stayne’s horse rears and whinnies as he pulls it to a stop beside Iracebeth. She’s also on horseback, gazing down on the wrecked fairgrounds. She smirks, and then she and Stayne ride off.
They’re up to something; you’re sure of it. But you must stay focused on your mission—to help the Hatter!
You sadly look around at the scorched fairgrounds. Everything is still smoking. You are too late!
You trudge through the destruction. As you pass an old oak tree stump, a bright color catches your eye. You stop to see what it is.
You peer into the hollowed-out stump. “The blue hat!” you exclaim. What does it mean? You reach for it, but a strange screeching startles you. It sounds as if some ancient door is being wrenched open.
Your jaw drops as you see a rip opening in the sky. A bizarre contraption, kind of like a railroad handcar, tears through it. Steering it is Time himself. It seems he has built a clunky, hand-powered time machine.
“Give me what is mine!” Time demands. “You have no idea of that in which you dabble!”
Through the Looking Glass Page 3
