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Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII – The Black Queen

At any rate, I’ll never go THERE again! ” said Alice as she picked her

way through the rough that lay all around the Grand Entrance Hall to the

Castle of the Constitution and headed out toward the green. “It’s the 

stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life! ”

Just as Alice said this, a tree  sprang up right in front of her, stopping

her short.

Alice thought she must have blanked out for an instant and changed

directions, for she hadn’t noticed it before. “How curious! ” — Not that a

tree should pop up out of nowhere, but that it seemed to be the very 

same one that overhung the table at the Tea Party.

“Now, who would move a tree ?” thought Alice, “And why  would they

move it? And so fast !” It almost seemed to be everywhere at once.

“Ubiqui-tree !” exclaimed Alice, proud of herself. “What a fun word!” She

had made it up right on the spot.

A tree that was everywhere could be useful. No matter where you went,

you would always have shade if you wanted it.

Having piqued her own curiosity, Alice tiptoed ’round the bole only to

find a door  in the back.

It must  be the back, for there was moss on the bole, signifying North.

The top of the door reached only to Alice’s shoulder, and there was a

wooden plaque on it marked “Private”.

“Now, why would anyone put a door, let alone a back  door, into a tree?”

thought Alice. What possible use could there be for that?

Perhaps there was a stairwell inside, she mused, that led somewhere

important .

Alice quite forgot her original intent of heading out to the golf course.

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Now she noticed, for the first time, some fine  print under the word

“Private.” In small, carefully carved letters, it spelled out the following

prohibition:

“You may not  go in by a back door, if you may not  go in by a

front.”

How peculiar, thought Alice. There was  no front door. So you could

hardly be prohibited from going in by  it.

The only fair conclusion Alice could draw was that where there was  no

front door, the interdiction lacked significance. At most, it might be

another riddle. And, if not, then it was English again, but with no sense

in it.

Alice quickly reached a decision. “Everything’s curious today,” she

reasoned, a bit self-servingly. “I may as well go in at once.”

But, when she reached for the knob and turned it, Alice was

nonetheless struck that it wasn’t locked.

“Now, why would anyone put a door in a tree, and a sign on the door

marked “Private,” and then not bother to lock it? Indeed, there was not

even a keyhole. It must be a riddle, after all.”

At this, Alice brightened with expectation, and stooping, she began to

get her head in under the lintel.

“Where do you think YOU’RE  going!” interrupted a stern female voice

with a bit of a French Haitian accent in it.

Stunned, Alice whipped her head out, tapping herself on the noggin, only

to see a tall Black Queen in a bell-bottomed pant-suit standing there,

glaring imperiously at her.

She must be a Queen, for she was holding a champagne glass in one

hand, and twirling a crown on a finger of the other.

“Oh, your Majesty!” cried Alice, alarmed. “You don’t want to drop that !”

The Queen immediately settled her champagne glass on the ground,

while twirling the Crown so fast now, it began to look almost like a

pinwheel.

“No! No!” cried Alice, “The Crown ! Not the cocktail!”

“And who are you  to be giving me  political advice?” demanded the Black

Queen.

“I wouldn’t normally give advice to a Queen,” said Alice, exculpatorily.

“But in this particular case— ” and Alice paused, for now the Crown had

built up such momentum that a wind was rising around the two of them,

stirring the leaves overhead; Alice would have to raise her voice to be

heard.

As the treetop rustled and the wind rose, the sky in the distance

darkened and an ominous twinkle corruscated off the horizon.

“Good grief,” said Alice, “that could be lightning,” and here they stood

under a tree discussing Crowns and cocktails.

“Please, Your Majesty,” begged Alice, “Just put the Crown back on… a

storm  is coming.”

At that very instant, a gust of wind blew the Queen’s Crown off her

finger.

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Alice caught the Crown as she uttered her warning. But the Queen was

oblivious. Invigorated by the wind, Her Royal Highness stretched both

arms wide and ran off crying “Wheeeeeeeeeeee! ”, as if she were flying.

It was apparent to Alice, who had a bit of skill in 3-dimensional space

and geometric objects, that the Queen was tracing an ellipse through

the brush that lay all around the outside margin to the Castle of the

Constitution.

If Alice only stayed put, Her Royal Highness would soon arrive againwhere she had started. So, standing civilly, Crown in hand, Alice waited

to return it.

“I’m very glad I happened to be in the way,” said Alice, extending the

Crown in deference as the Black Queen nosed in for a landing. Then,

reproving the Queen as gently as she could:

“A Crown is not a toy, Your Majesty. You ought to be more careful with

it.”

As she said this, Alice helped the Black Queen put the Crown back on.

As if magically, the sky cleared and the sun came out, shedding a grandchessboard of light on the ground all through the leaves of Alice’s

UbiquiTree.

“Next time,” exclaimed the Queen, as if surprised she had lost it, “you

shall see me pin it on again, all by myself! ”

“But, you must not lose  the Crown, Your Majesty,” said Alice, softly. “It

isn’t a plaything.”

Now, the Black Queen only looked at Alice in a helpless frightened sort

of way, and began repeating something in a whisper to herself that

sounded like “Par ! Par ! Par !”

So, Alice ventured: “Will Your Majesty play Golf  today?”

“If there is lightning ,” declared the Black Queen, still somewhat

breathless from her flight in the rough.

“I certainly hope  not,” said Alice, glancing at the horizon in search of a

twinkle, and glad there was none. “Lightning is the last thing you want

on the golf course!”

“And, what is the first ?” countered the Black Queen.

“That’s not what I meant ,” corrected Alice, “I meant , you don’t want

lightning at all !”

“Then you must learn to say what you mean,” said the Queen.

“I mean what I say, said Alice; I mean, I didn’t— ”

“Hup! Settled!” cried the Queen. “Lightning it is!”

Now, Alice felt unwilling to speak at all, so frightened she was of putting

her foot in her mouth.

Best she remain silent, and gather her wits.

What’s more, she could have sworn she’d had the same conversation

earlier that day, but the other  way around. How did things get topsy-

turvy in so short a time?

“Come, child,” said the Queen, “There’s no time to pout.”

“I’m not pouting, Your Majesty, I’m just hungry,” said Alice, attempting

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to redirect the conversation.

“Whenever I’m  hungry, said the Queen, I have jam. Can you jam?”

“I’m not quite sure, Your Majesty,” said Alice. “Do you mean jam as in

tarts, or jam as in session?”

“Gezundheit!” bellowed the Queen, and pulling a handkerchief from a

Royal pocket she began dabbing at her eyes, which, unaccountably,

were leaking large, round tears.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but I didn’t sneeze.”

“You will,” sobbed the Queen.

“But why  are you crying ?” asked Alice.

“Queens don’t cry,” said the Black Queen curtly before shouting one

staccato word: “PEPPER !”

However, there was not a hint of pepper in the air. The sky was balmy.

“That’s the effect of living backwards,” said the Queen.

“Living backwards !” said Alice in astonishment. “I’ve never heard ofsuch a thing.”

“You’re doing it now,” said the Queen. “Better get used to it. We Royals

are.”

“What has being Royal  got to do with it?” queried Alice.

“That’s the law of conquest,” said the Queen, “We  invented it.”

“Conquest?” echoed Alice, “Didn’t that end in the Middle Ages…”

But, the Queen sailed on: “That’s the great advantage in

Referendumland, memory works both  ways.”

“I’m sure mine works only ONE way,” retorted Alice, who was beginning

to feel as if the Black Queen were putting her on. “I can’t remember

things before they happen.”

“You will,” said the Queen. “A smart girl like you has Royal potential.”

Alice thought that remark was at least a little encouraging, given its

origin.

“What sort of things do you  recall before they happen?” urged Alice.

At this, the Black Queen grabbed Alice by the wrist and began to run so

fast, pulling her along, that their clothes flew back in the wind created

by the two of them.

“I REMEMBER,” said the Queen, shouting into Alice’s left ear to be

heard over the roar of the wind, “that THINGS which will happen NEXT

WEEK are beginning to have their effects NOW.”

“For example,” shouted the Queen, “Take the Knave — he’s in prison

now, being punished, but the Trial doesn’t begin till next Wednesday – 

“You mean Jean Chrétien?” shouted Alice, perhaps a bit hopefully – 

“– And of course, the crime comes last of all!”

To Alice’s relief, the Queen let go her wrist, and as the wind fell, the two

of them sped to a halt on exactly the spot where they had begun. They

had gotten nowhere at all!

“You mean secession?” said Alice, recovering her equilibrium. “But,

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suppose he never commits  the crime?”

“That would be all the better, wouldn’t it?” said the Queen, who, to

Alice’s consternation, removed the Crown from her forehead and once

again spun it like a hoop on her index finger.

Alice felt there was no denying it. Things would  be better without

secession.

“But suppose he never commits  the crime?” she repeated.

“Oh, he will,” said the Queen, “the effects are already happening.”

“And what are they ?” asked Alice.

At this, the Black Queen sneezed and a curl came loose where the

Crown had been.

“But what about the Unity Fund?” pleaded Alice, “and Plan B?”

“That’s  the crime,” said the Queen, tossing her curl aside and peering

intently at Alice.

“By the way,” said the Queen, “Have a bumper sticker.”

“Thanks? I think ,” said Alice, accepting a long narrow strip of — oh no,

not more cardboard  with the words “OPTION CANADA” painted on it.

Alice examined the cardboard backwards and forwards: “CANADA

OPTION” — “OPTION CANADA.” Either way, Alice found the epithet

gloomy.

“But, Canada’s not  an option ,” insisted Alice (for some odd reason at

that moment thinking of stock  mergers and acquisitions). Canada’s a

NATION.”

“Tell it to Chrétien,” said the Queen, it’s his  campaign.

“I will,” said Alice, who was just beginning to say: “When will they

release him? –” when the Queen began screaming so loud Alice had to

leave off her sentence to cover her ears.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHfffffffff with his head !” cried the Queen.

“But, why are you screaming now ?” asked Alice, uncupping her hands

to hear the answer.

As if ignoring Alice, but coincidentally answering at the same time, the

Queen snapped a definitive “Too late! The sentence has been

executed; and the verdict  is coming in.”

“Oh, dear,” thought Alice, fearing the worst. “What could that  mean?”

And then, aloud to the Queen:

“There’s a mistake, Your Majesty. The verdict comes after  the trial, and

the sentence  after that .”

“Not here,” said the Black Queen matter-of-factly: “First the verdict,

then  the trial. That way we know what to expect, don’t we?”

“The execution?” said Alice, lifting her eyebrows.

“Ah! You’re starting to remember!” said the Queen.

“No, I’m not!” pleaded Alice, “Besides, I refuse to think backwards,

there’s no future in it.”

“But there’s a great deal of legal certainty,” said the Queen. “It lends

order and stability, whether your memory works backwards and

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forwards, or just one way. “The Fourth Branch will tell you that.”

On this, the Black Queen scooped the wayward curl from her ear to the

Royal forehead and clipped the Crown over it, like a barrette.

Alice breathed a little more easily.

“But, how do you explain  the Secession Reference?” objected Alice to

the Queen.

“Can’t explain,” said the Queen. “The democratic  vote is every otherday: today isn’t any OTHER day. Ask me any OTHER day, and I’ll

explain it then.”

“I don’t understand,” said Alice. “If you can’t explain TODAY, but you

could explain TOMORROW, which is any OTHER day, when tomorrow

comes, it’s today  again, so you can never explain!”

“Exactly!” said the Queen, admiring Alice’s acumen. “You catch on fast,

for a commoner.”

More  rudeness in Referendumland: Alice didn’t like the place at all.

Moreover, as Alice recalled, this  Queen, herself, had once been acommoner. “How short one’s memory served once one became Royal,”

she thought; then, aloud:

“No, I don’t  catch on at all, it’s dreadfully confusing.”

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