Alice: The Girl From Earth

12

Alice began by pressing the green button. The door to the time cabinet closed. She arranged her bag more comfortably on her shoulder and held the little archaeologist Purr tightly to her chest. Purr’s single eye widened in terror.

“Don’t be alarmed.” Alice told him. “This is the way it works.”

She pressed the white button.

And then the red.

Immediately a mist covered her, her head spun, the laboratory vanished, and it became impossible to tell if she was flying or standing no walls, no floor, no floor, only some sort of incomprehensible movement which whirled her about and carried her forward.

Suddenly there was a crack of lightning and again she was surrounded by mist.

The mist dissipated.

Morning had already begun. Alice was standing in exactly the same spot where the time station had stood would stand but there was no time station, nor was there a city of dome tents near-by.

Around her was a lush green meadow, further on a woods, and on the other side of the woods she could make out roofs. The roofs were exactly where the archaeologists had excavated the small town. And all this was utterly remarkable, because this very town had been empty, with roofs collapsed and windows like the gaping sockets of an eyeless skull. Nor had there been any trees, or any grass. But the sky was the same as it had been, and the hills around town were the same.

“You’re almost crushing me.” A weak voice came from the bag, and Alice gave a start from surprise. Then she realized she was clutching the small archeologist too tightly to her chest.

“I can’t breath.” Purr shouted. “Set me down and let me out of the bag. Carrying me all the time is going to be very hard.”

Alice opened her arms, completely forgetting that the small archaeologist was not a cat; Purr fell on the ground and groaned.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Alice said. “I quite forgot.”

Purr wiped his bruised feet and answered severely.

“There’s no time to waste. We have to go into town, or the train might leve without us. Then coming here, all we have done, will have been in vain.”

“And what if the machine was wrong? What if the ship isn’t going to land today.”

“It isn’t machines that make mistakes.” The archaeologist answered, and hurried head across the grass toward the town.

Alice walked behind. She grabbed a camomile like flower as she passed and smelled it. The flower did not have any scent at all. A bee buzzed over Alice’s head.

“Go away.” Alice told the bee, and then remembered: if she failed here, in a weak there would be nothing left alive. Not bees, not people, not even the trees.

The archaeologist ran out onto the narrow pathway first.

“Don’t hold back!” He called again and flicked his tail.

“Do you know what?” Alice told him. “You might want to wave your tail a little less. It really doesn’t look all that natural on you.”

“It’s attached tightly.” Purr said, but he stopped waving it back and forth.

They approached the trees. The trees were evenly spaced apart and ran in a narrow band as though they had been specially planted.

“Wait here a moment.” Purr whispered. “I’ll go take a look and see if anyone’s up ahead.”

Alice stopped and from nothing else to do began to pull the flower apart in order to make herself a garland. Alice had a weakness for weaving garlands from camomiles or other flowers, for example, clover. But clover did not grow on Coleida.

“Hey!” Alice heard a high pitched shriek, then growling. She threw away the flowers and ran toward the trees. Something had frightened the archaeologist.

She was just in time. The little archaeologist was running toward her down the path at full gallop, and after him, Purr’s brush tail in his teeth, ran an enormous dog.

“Back! Get away from him.” Alice shouted at the dog.

The dog showed his teeth and growled, but stopped.

Alice picked up the little archaeologist and held him cat-wise; Purr whispered:

“Thank you!”

“Give back the tail.” Alice told the dog, who stood not far off and refused to let go of the furry tail in its mouth. “That’s someone else’s tail. It’s not yours. Give it back now.”

Alice made a few steps toward the dog, but the dog backed away, as though it wanted to play with her. The dog was enormous, shaggy, white with rusty red markings.

A small man hardly larger than Alice came walking toward them from around the bushes.

“What’s going on here?” He asked; Alice understood the question because she had known the local language since yesterday morning.

“Your dog attacked my cat.” Alice answered in Coleidan.

“Naughty puppy!” The man said.

He was dressed in grey pants and a grey shirt, and he carried a long whip in his hands. Evidently, he was the local shepherd.

“And get him to give back the tail. He torn the tail off the kitten.” Alice said.

“What sort of tail is that for a cat?” The shepherd was astonished. “He certainly didn’t grow it.”

“Just give it back.” Alice repeated.

“Rezra, put it down.” The shepherd said.

The dog dropped the tail from its mouth, and Alice, not letting go of the archaeologist in her arms, picked the tail up.

“Thank you.” She said. “Is the train leaving soon?”

“Which train?”

“For the capitol.”

“In an hour.” The shepherd answered. “But just who are you?? Why don’t I know you? I’m certain I know everyone in town.”

“I came here on a field trip.” Alice said. “And I’m returning home. I live in the capitol.”

“And you speak really odd.” The shepherd said. “As if you knew all the words, but not how they’re spoken.”

“I live a long way away.” Alice said.

The shepherd nodded his head in doubt.

“And you dress very oddly.” He said.

The archaeologist gasped and clutched himself closer to Alice.

“What do you mean by oddly?”

“You look sort of like a child, but you’re nearly as tall as I am.”

“It just seems that way.” Alice said. “I’m over sixteen.”

“I suppose…” The shepherd said.

Then the man turned to Rezra, summoned the dog, and still nodding his head began to walk toward the bushes. But then, when Alice had already thought the danger had passed, the man stopped and asked:

“But what about your cat? If my dog tore off your cat’s tail, there should be a lot of blood.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t let it bother you.” Alice said.

“Show him to me.”

“Good bye.” Alice said. “I’ll be late for my train.”

And she walked quickly off down the path toward the city without turning around and looking back, although the shepherd called after her once or twice. She would have run, but she was afraid that the dog would chase after her.

“Well, is he…” The archaeologist whispered.

“I don’t know. I’m not going to look back.”

The path widened out, flowing into a dirt road; in front of he were warehouses or a market place, and Alice hurried along, sticking as close as she could to the wall to hide herself from the shepherd’s view. She was convinced he would now start to chase after her.

Alice stopped behind the buildings and caught her breath.

“Our cover story isn’t as well thought out as I thought it was.” The archaeologist insisted. “And our pronunciation is off. The idea of a field trip is unconvincing. Why would someone go on a field trip alone in the early morning? Better… Ah remember this: you came here to visit your grandmother and you’re returning now… By the way, I quite forgot: young girls don’t wear their hair quite the way you have yours. They wear it combed down onto the forehead.”

“Well, my hair is short.”

“All the same, comb it forward into bangs.”

“I’ll have to put you down on the ground to do it.”

“No, please! The dogs here are fierce!”

“There are no dogs around here. Do you want me to put you in my bag?”

“In the bag, yes! Perfect. Just take my knife and cut a small hole in the side; how else will I be able to look out?”

Alice placed the archaeologist in the bag with the spray can of vaccine and handed him the remains of his tail. She cut a small hole in the side so the archaeologist could see what was going on around them.

“It’s too bad you don’t have any thread.” Purr said. “How am I going to be able to fix my tail?”

“I told you to attach it firmly.”

“You’ve never had a dog tear your tail off.” The archaeologist shot back. “You wouldn’t be laughing then.”

“I am not laughing. Look around in the bag; there might be a needle and thread in the side compartment. My grandmother always keeps throwing in useless things.”

Alice unclasped the bag on the ‘molnia.’ Then she managed to comb her hair forward onto her forehead, and headed for the train station.

Fortunately, the city was still sleeping. The windows were closed, the curtains were drawn, and not a single person even suspected that in a week’s time the only things moving on streets just as empty would be the emergency services vehicles.

“I’m sorry for you.” Alice told the houses where the people were sleeping. “But you can depend on me.”

“Just maybe we’ll be enough.” The archaeologist’s voice came from the bag muffled, as though from far away.

“Quiet.” Alice said. “If anyone overhears you, you’ll give them heart attacks to hear a bag talking.

The newspaper kiosk was already open. The proprietor looked familiar; she’s seen him in the holographic record when Petrov had carried him to the hospital. If Alice was not successful he would die in that hospital.

Alice pulled a few coins out of her pocket.

“Do you have today’s newspaper?”

The proprietor was a middle aged little man in four cornered, horned rim glasses.

“A moment, citizeness.” He said. “If you’ll wait, we’ll have them shortly.”

“Will it be long?”

“Not very. You heard that train puffing? It just brought the morning newspaper from the capitol. They’ll bring it her shortly.”

“And does the train start back for the capitol then?”

“Yes, in about twenty minutes.”

“Then give me yesterday’s issue.” Alice said.

The proprietor handed her the paper and change.

“You new around here?” He asked her.

“I’m a foreign tourist.”

“A-ha,” The little old man said. “I could guess at once that you weren’t from around here.”

After Alice had gotten away from the kiosk and crossed to the other side of the small square where a monument to an unknown man on a mount stood at present, and which would still be stranding in a hundred years, she told the archaeologist:

“I should have made clothing like they wear here before I came.”

“Who could have guessed it earlier?”

“Gromozeka, of course.”

On the other side of the square was a small public garden. On both sides of the paths stretched large concrete boxes with flowers. The flowers had bloomed, spreading wide to cath the sun. A city bus stopped in front of the train station and little people in work clothing came out of it and went inside the statio. A column of stream rose over the low building of the train station and the steam engine hooted.

“Have you read the newspapers yet?” Purr asked.

“I can’t do that while walking>“

“Then give it to me.”

Alice rolled the newspaper into a tube and put it in her bag. Purr immediately handed it back to her.

“Where did you get the idea that I can read in a bag?” The archaeologist whispered. “It’s far too ark, and I can’t even open it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have asked.”

“Find us a bench.” The archaeologist said. “Sit down and read it.”

“First I have to buy a train ticket.” Alice said. “Or we’ll be late, and then you can read as much as you want. Why has your mood gotten so sour?”

“Motion sickness.” Purr answered. “Have you ever been carried around in a bag?”

“No.”

“Me neither. By the way, there’s something very uneven about your gait. You’re jumping all the time.”

“I am not!”

Still squabbling with the archaeologist Alice went in through the station’s door and saw the ticket window. She knew where to look for it because the archaeologists in the future had excavated almost the entire train station. In fact, it turned out that they had not determined the precisely the meaning and usage of everything correctly, but at the moment that did not play a role.

“One children’s ticket, round trip to the capitol.” Alice said, handing her money beneath the cashier’s glass window.

The cashier’s round face seemed to stick out through the little window. She looked Alice over from head to foot and said,

“Such a grown up little girl, and you want to save money on your ticket. That will be seven regals for a full fare.”

“But I’ve always paid the children’s…”

Then Alice cut off; Purr was kicking at her through the bag.

“Oh yes, of course.” Alice said and reached into her pocket for the money. They did not have much money left all of ten coins “And when will te train be leaving…”

But the cashier made no answer and slammed the window shut.

“The cashiers here are anything but polite.” Alice said. “We don’t have any like that at home.”

Alice went out onto the platform and stopped in the shelter of an iron column. She did not want to be seen walking back and forth.

The train stood beside the platform; the engine was belching steam and the numerous passengers were saying their good-byes and finding seats. A number of them were still half asleep, as though they had just awakened.

Alice selected a car with no one else in it, and hurried toward it. A conductor in a tall orange hat stood beside it.

“Your ticket?”

Alice handed him the ticket.

“Can’t you read?” He asked. “It’s written right here third class. This is the first class wagon.”

“And what’s the difference?” Alice asked.

The conductor looked her over from head to foot and said:

“The price.”

Alice hurried to the next open car in the train to keep him from getting a good look at her; it was poorer looking and filled with people. She heard him say:

“Look at her! What do you make of that? Is she a foreigner or what?”

And so Alice decided to tell everyone that she was a foreigner. She stopped beside the train car but did not go into the doorway, bent over the bag and asked Purr in a whisper:

“What will happen if I tell everyone I’m a foreigner?”

“Tell everyone you’re from the north and not, I repeat not, from the south.”

“Why?”

“Because they have a trade pact with the north, but they’re getting ready for a little border war with the south.”

“It won’t start.” Alice shook her head. “They won’t have time.”

“But with your aid, they will.”

“And with whom are you speaking citizeness?” An official voice came from behind her.

Alice stood straight up. The voice came from a thickset man in a yellow uniform with a large gold hammer on his cap. She decided he had to be some sort of policemen and her first move was to run away, anywhere. But there was nowhere to run that would not be seen.

“Stop!” The little man in yellow grabbed her by the sleeve. “Where do you come from? Who have you been talking to, I ask you?”

“I’m from the North.” Alice said. “I’m a foreigner. A foreigner from the North.”

“You hardly look it.” The little official said.

But then the steam train’s whistle began to call. Alice torn away from the man and jumped on bottom rung of the moving wagon’s steps.

The little man in the yellow uniform seemed to be thinking what he could do, but at the same time Alice had shown her ticket to the conductor and made her way into the packed train car. She was able to find a compartment occupied by three people in poor clothing and tattered hats. The people were sleeping. The fourth place was unoccupied.

“Who was that?” Alice asked when she’d had a chance to catch her breath and could bend over the bag.

“That was the porter.” The whisper in answer came far too loud.

The train gathered speed and, clattering the rails, headed for the capitol.

“Could he have arrested me?”

“I don’t know.” The archaeologist said. “Are you sure that no one can hear you?”

“No. They’re sound asleep.”

“Then we’ll finally read the newspaper. Put the bag on the floor. It won’t rock as much.”

Alice unfolded the newspaper. It was yesterdays; on the front page a read headline blazed:

“We did it then.” Alice whispered. “We made it in time. The Temporalists were right on.”