Alice and the Looking Glass (Clockwork Wonderland Book 1)

In Which Alice Visits the Opera

The morning after Dr. White's visit, Maria persuaded Alice to stop moping and come down from the loft. For the next two days, Maria patiently instructed Alice on the inner working of her espresso machine. While she'd never make a drink as well as Maria, her attempts were successful enough to feed to Mae, Maria, and the occasional child who climbed up the stools as tall as them to ogle at the shining machine while their parents chatted elsewhere in the cafe. Alice oohed and awed over the whipped cream dispenser so much - it whipped up small batches on demand, in a small, lighting-fast mixer - that even Mae, who'd stepped out from her endless baking for a break, giggled.

Mae was a strange creature. Alice couldn't quite figure her out. The young woman, almond colored skin and rich brown hair, hardly spoke a word. Rather then coming off as standoffish, Alice knew she was simply shy. Maria got the most out of Mae, which is to say the baker would speak more than six words to her at a time. At one point, Maria shooed Alice into the kitchen while she tended to a large party of after show patrons and she helped Mae by washing the myriad of cups and other assorted dishes that clattered into basins of soapy water from the other side of the wall. They labored in comfortable silence for hours, until Alice retreated to bed, too exhausted to see the party to its completion. She wasn't cut out for the restaurant industry, it seemed.

While she managed to stay perky and bright during the day, sleep tortured her. Every night, variations on the same dream made rejuvenation impossible. In part, she hid this from Maria because she knew her friend couldn't help. The other reason was she didn't want any more visits from Dr. White. It took all night to replace the lights, but other than a few gossiping whispers the next morning, no one seemed overly concerned. When she'd asked Maria if such outages were normal, she shrugged, saying over the past two or three years, they'd become a fact of life, though she'd never seen one hit so far from the college. Alice couldn't act as calm as the rest of the city, however. They hadn't made the bulbs explode, after all.

"Alice, what do you think?"

She started, realizing Maria was talking to her.

"Huh?"

Maria sighed, more worried than annoyed. "I asked if you'd like to go to the opera with Mae."

"Mae likes the opera?"

This brought a smile to the other woman's face, making her already crisp white apron and dusty pink skirt look even brighter. "She likes you. I told her about the tickets and, if you can believe it, she offered to go with you!"

"Huh. Wait, what tickets?"

A pause. Then, "Chester brought them. I think they're meant that as an apology to you and I. He said he purchased them but he was lying. They came from Jack. I can't accept anything from Jack, but if you feel comfortable with it, you should go and enjoy yourself. But only if you want to. I'll understand, either way."

Alice pondered this. On the one hand, taking a bribe seemed like admitting defeat, but on the other hand...she'd never seen a steampunk opera. Would there be automatons or giant flying steam-powered birds? The weird gadgets people wandered in with never ceased to amaze her. One man had a self-stirring spoon. A small frame fit on the cup's rim and the silver spoon spun around on a track, powered by some unknown source. Useless. Fascinating.

"I think I'd like to go, especially if he's paying," she winked.

"You'll love it, truly. The performance is a classic piece. It's about a human trapped in the Flower Fields of old."

"Flower Fields?"

"Before Alice and the fall of the Card Court, there are stories about massive communities of flowers who acted like humans. It's mostly a trumped up myth," she shook her head, "but, the show is wonderful. I hear this year they are experimenting with a scent atomizers to simulate the fragrance of flowers and forests."

If they aren't miniature, flying blimps, I'll be so disappointed, Alice thought.

As it turned out, there were tiny blimps. As Mae and she settled into their balcony box, the little contraptions floated around. Soft, amber colored lights made them look like fireflies. Whatever produced the scent wasn't functioning yet. The place smelled like every theater she'd attended: spirits, wine, crackers, and dust. How could even the most immaculate theaters still smell like dust?

The biggest disappointment was the orchestra pit. Rows of players sat in curves, but they all held normal instruments. She'd hoped for massive organs churning with gears or violins made out of copper. Mae shifted beside her.

"Mae, are you alright?" The woman couldn't seem to sit still, her eyes wide and almost panicked looking.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I'm not used to this," she replied.

Alice wanted to reply with something encouraging, but the truth was she'd never gotten used to events that made her uncomfortable either. And "be so bored and numb you don't care" was not appropriate advice for a friend. Then the show started.

"Gentle Ladies and Noble Men, I welcome you to our humble opera house!" A crackling voice filled the hall as the lights dimmed. At first, Alice couldn't pinpoint the source of the speakers, then she realized they were attached to the blimps, which had ceased their gamboling around to hover in strategic locations.

"Tonight's performance is a once in a lifetime treat! Not only are we deploying Dr. Kyle's marvelous devices for the first time, the Scent and Ambiance Atomizer Dispersal Units, but Madame Josanne DeJean has returned from her continental tour for just one night, to reprise her breakout role as Larah!"

Applause rippled through the audience.

"And now, without further ado, I present to you one of the greatest classics of our era: A Journey Through The Fields!"

The blimps hissed, and the scent of a spring meadow filled their box. Alice's head swam at the heady smell. It clogged her throat and nose. She stole a glance at Mae, but the other woman seem unperturbed. Maybe she was just allergic.

The mild discomfort soon faded to the back of her mind when the royal purple curtains lifted, revealing the opening scene. She could scarcely appreciate the singing voice of Madame DeJean, the sight entranced her so.

A backdrop, painted with immaculate realism, showed a wild, untamed hill of flowers, some taller than the large man. Actors dressed in flowing silk gowns and tunics sung the other half of the duet as a chorus. And surrounding them were dozens of silk flowers. But these were not simple props. They moved, they swayed, their vines waved in a choreographed dance. A few gears peaked out from behind silk petals and faux grass, so she assumed something powered them from below.

Juliard graduate or not, Alice never understood the lyrics of operas, so she settled for taking in the luxurious sights and sounds, following along using the brief outline provided in their hand bill, printed on velum with gold lettering.

Scene changes involved various flowers rolling around the stage on hidden treads. During intermission, both Mae and Alice decided to stay in the box, watching the little blimps putter about and sometimes pointing out particularly gorgeous dresses of the crowd milling around below. When the lights dimmed once again and the curtains rose, the flowers were gone, replaced by a dark and foreboding wood. Purple and black trees groaned and shivered, and the blimps sprayed a musky, damp smell. The flowers before felt overpowering, but this time the earthy smell made her vision dim. Another glance at Mae showed she didn't seem to mind. But something was wrong. Alice tried to reach out to tug at Mae's sleeve, but instead of contacting cloth, her hand smacked against the rough bark of a brittle tree trunk.

"What the fuck?" She groaned as slimy vines erupted from the mud and dragged her down by her ankles.