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Authors: Andrew Buckley
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applied to Thisiders is somewhat derogatory. But your perception is not entirely mistaken.”
Casting a cautious glance at Jack, who had relaxed only ever so slightly, Robert said, “So you are the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland?”
“You make it sound as if the book produced the characters. What I can tell you is that you’re looking at it backwards, as only an Othasider could. Yes, we inspired many of the stories that you know as fairy tales but the vital piece of the puzzle that you’re missing is the how . Of course, it’s all to do with the doors. Many Othasiders used to fall through the doors into Thiside but thanks to improved and stronger magic, we have all but abolished the problem. Long ago, it was a common occurrence. Most Othasiders fell through doors by accident and were quickly delivered back by members of the Agency. In fact, as I recall, the Agency spent much of its time chasing down Othasiders, performing forget-me-not spells and dropping them back off in Othaside.”
“Then how did your likenesses,” said Robert carefully casting a quick glance toward Jack, “end up on the pages of some of our greatest literature in… Othaside?”
The Rabbit sipped his tea. “Probably the story I can best relate to is the Alice in Wonderland that you mentioned. In 1852, a young man named Charles Dodgson fell through a door in North Wales and ended up not two miles from where you’re sitting. He is probably the most well-travelled Othasider ever to come here, as he made it all the way to the Northern Territories before the Agency caught up to him. The forget-me-not spell was performed, and he was dropped back into Othaside. The spell works extremely effectively when an individual is conscious. However, it was discovered that when the individual is asleep, the spell has no effect and their experiences in Thiside often creep to the surface. It was further discovered that if the individual suffered any kind of sickness that affected the mind, then the influence of the spell would waver. As was the case with Charles Dodgson, who you probably know better by his pen name: Lewis Carroll. Charles suffered from a combination of epilepsy and micropsia, which caused cracks in the spell and caused recollections to float to the surface of his conscious. Believing them to be the result of a vivid dream, he wrote the story of Alice and her adventures in Wonderland. Some of the fairy tales in your reality date back hundreds and hundreds of years. And as you’re probably now realizing, the fairy tales, although they may have similarities, are not entirely accurate.”
“This is amazing. Those stories, those fairy tales are a basis for life lessons in Othaside. They’re taught to children, parents read them at bedtime, movies are made about them.”
“It’s all real,” assured Lily. “The folks who wrote all those stories, or at least the original writers of the original fairy tales and stories, had probably been here.”
“So you are the White Rabbit. Who is the Dwarf? He can’t be one of the seven Dwarves?” ventured Robert.
“Don’t be preposterous; those Dwarves are miners, not killers. They’re good working folk and I have the utmost respect for them,” said the Rabbit. “The Dwarf who appeared in your bathtub is Rumpelstiltskin. And the fact that he appeared in your bathtub is very interesting indeed.”
There was a crash as the door swung open and a bright blue ball of light hurtled into the room. The ball hovered and the light dimmed to reveal Veszico.
“I see your Agency Fairies are still ignorant of all manners,” complained the Rabbit.
Lily held out a hand, and Veszico landed softly into her palm. The Fairy threw a dirty look at Robert before looking at Lily and speaking. To Robert, the sound of her voice was nothing more than the ringing of a tiny bell but he could tell from her body language that the Fairy was distressed. She pointed back toward the Exchange several times.
“Do you
Casting a cautious glance at Jack, who had relaxed only ever so slightly, Robert said, “So you are the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland?”
“You make it sound as if the book produced the characters. What I can tell you is that you’re looking at it backwards, as only an Othasider could. Yes, we inspired many of the stories that you know as fairy tales but the vital piece of the puzzle that you’re missing is the how . Of course, it’s all to do with the doors. Many Othasiders used to fall through the doors into Thiside but thanks to improved and stronger magic, we have all but abolished the problem. Long ago, it was a common occurrence. Most Othasiders fell through doors by accident and were quickly delivered back by members of the Agency. In fact, as I recall, the Agency spent much of its time chasing down Othasiders, performing forget-me-not spells and dropping them back off in Othaside.”
“Then how did your likenesses,” said Robert carefully casting a quick glance toward Jack, “end up on the pages of some of our greatest literature in… Othaside?”
The Rabbit sipped his tea. “Probably the story I can best relate to is the Alice in Wonderland that you mentioned. In 1852, a young man named Charles Dodgson fell through a door in North Wales and ended up not two miles from where you’re sitting. He is probably the most well-travelled Othasider ever to come here, as he made it all the way to the Northern Territories before the Agency caught up to him. The forget-me-not spell was performed, and he was dropped back into Othaside. The spell works extremely effectively when an individual is conscious. However, it was discovered that when the individual is asleep, the spell has no effect and their experiences in Thiside often creep to the surface. It was further discovered that if the individual suffered any kind of sickness that affected the mind, then the influence of the spell would waver. As was the case with Charles Dodgson, who you probably know better by his pen name: Lewis Carroll. Charles suffered from a combination of epilepsy and micropsia, which caused cracks in the spell and caused recollections to float to the surface of his conscious. Believing them to be the result of a vivid dream, he wrote the story of Alice and her adventures in Wonderland. Some of the fairy tales in your reality date back hundreds and hundreds of years. And as you’re probably now realizing, the fairy tales, although they may have similarities, are not entirely accurate.”
“This is amazing. Those stories, those fairy tales are a basis for life lessons in Othaside. They’re taught to children, parents read them at bedtime, movies are made about them.”
“It’s all real,” assured Lily. “The folks who wrote all those stories, or at least the original writers of the original fairy tales and stories, had probably been here.”
“So you are the White Rabbit. Who is the Dwarf? He can’t be one of the seven Dwarves?” ventured Robert.
“Don’t be preposterous; those Dwarves are miners, not killers. They’re good working folk and I have the utmost respect for them,” said the Rabbit. “The Dwarf who appeared in your bathtub is Rumpelstiltskin. And the fact that he appeared in your bathtub is very interesting indeed.”
There was a crash as the door swung open and a bright blue ball of light hurtled into the room. The ball hovered and the light dimmed to reveal Veszico.
“I see your Agency Fairies are still ignorant of all manners,” complained the Rabbit.
Lily held out a hand, and Veszico landed softly into her palm. The Fairy threw a dirty look at Robert before looking at Lily and speaking. To Robert, the sound of her voice was nothing more than the ringing of a tiny bell but he could tell from her body language that the Fairy was distressed. She pointed back toward the Exchange several times.
“Do you
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