Текст книги "Figment"

Автор книги: Cameron Jace

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Chapter 4 6

"I didn't know the cook—I mean the Muffin Man—personally in Wonderland," the Pillar begins. "I didn't even know his name back then. It still puzzles me why they call him the Muffin Man. I think the Pepper Man fits better." He pauses. "Frankly, he was some nobody to me; a third-degree citizen, a middle-aged man with many kids, if I remember correctly."

"Third-degree citizen?"

"The lowest rank in Wonderland. We called them 'Galumphs.' Bloody mean, if you ask me," he says. "There was a rumor he had been one of the Queen's advisors, specializing in crops and farming. But I can't confirm that.

"My assumption is the Queen punished him, galumphed him, and sent him to work with the Duchess, who had always been Queen's favorite. But I'm not sure. I never visited the Duchess in Wonderland. I had always been friends with my mushrooms and hookah more than anything. Whatever the Muffin Man's story is, I believe Lewis knows it better."

"Do you at least know why he was obsessed with pepper, like it was mentioned in the book?"

"I have no idea," he says. "But what I'm about to tell you is a complicated story, so you have to bear with me and listen carefully." He stands up, stretches his arms, and enjoys the drizzle on his face. "Let's take a walk outside the university. I'd hate for you to spend your time out of the asylum sitting."

I comply. He reaches for my hand. I don't comply.

We walk slowly outside on St. Aldate's, saying nothing. It's as if he wants to enjoy the simple things in life for a few seconds. It does help me feel at ease.

The Pillar stops by some kids eating chocolate bars and asks for one. I notice most of these children are overweight, like the ones who died and the ones I saw in Richmond Elementary School. I look up at other kids walking by. Most of them are a little overweight for their ages as well.

A young girl gives the Pillar a chocolate bar, but he returns it and asks for the double bar. "I want the Snicker-Snackers double bar. One for me, and one for my friend." He points at me and ruffles her curly hair.

We keep walking.

"You see this chocolate bar?" he asks. "This is a Snicker Snackers bar, just like Happy Tart Bars, Bojoom Bars, and all the other Alice in Wonderland candy products infesting the world lately."

"The Meow Muffin among the list," I remind him. "What about them?"

"Don't you think this bar is a little too big in both size and portion?"

"You're answering a question with a question. I'm not following."

"Right answers are found if you ask the right questions," he says, unhappy with me interrupting him. "Did you ever stop in front of a junk food store and wonder how many disadvantages this kind of food has?" He is dead serious. "All the exaggerated carbs, the saturated fat, and the oil used over and over again until it has lost its elasticity and natural color? Did you ever think this kind of food isn't much different from slow-poisoning yourself?"

"So?"

"So?" He asks this as if I am a dumb student, unable to understand the professor's lecture. "Did you ever research the ingredients of the hamburger you just ate, or ask what they inject into chickens to make them look so fat and delicious? Why the meat you bought feels so plastic you can't bite through it?"

Having known the Pillar for a while, I'm aware that he never talks in straight and clear sentences. I need to focus and read the truth between the lines. I am hoping this is leading somewhere.

"Actually, I did," I say. "Waltraud Wagner, the asylum's warden, gorges on such stuff all the time. Snacks, sweets, and stuff. She rarely eats a real meal of fruits or vegetables."

"I'm glad you did." He waves his cane higher and walks on. He glances at people as if he was sent down from heaven to inspect human stupidity. "Did any of the questions I just posed ever make you wonder about the government's role in all of this? How is it allowed to sell unhealthy food to a youth whose body desperately needs vitamins, healthy fat, and proteins, not an endless source of glucose and corn syrup?"

"I never thought of it, but now that you've mentioned it..."

"How about why there are only few commercials about vegetables, fruits, or natural foods?" He is like a train of unstoppable questions. "Why mostly chocolate, crackers, and fizzy drinks?"

I pull him by the hand and stop him. He complies. "What has any of this to do with the Muffin Man? What are you saying exactly?"

"This bar in my hand. Why is two pieces, Alice?" He taps it on his hand, a bit violently.

I read the cover. "Because it's for two people, not one."

"When was the last time you shared your Twinkie, Alice?" It's a rhetorical question, just like all the others. "The answer is 'almost never.'"

"Are you saying the Muffin Man is punishing us for allowing our children to grow fat at a young age, for letting them eat food that hurts them more than it helps them grow healthier?" I try to skip the lecture and get to the point.

"If you want to know the Muffin Man better, you need to study his surroundings." He holds me by the arms as if wanting to wake me up from sleepwalking. "Every killer, terrorist, and corrupted person you meet is a reflection of society. Look into the world around us and you will understand his insanity," he says. "You know why most terrorists and those who cause human destruction are never caught, Alice?"

For the first time, this isn't a rhetorical question. The Pillar expects me to answer it. It explains why the Wonderland Wars are beyond the reach of the police—the police who only follow physical evidence and logical procedure, dismissing the core method of catching a lunatic: knowing who he really is.

"Because in order to catch those madmen, we have to..." I look the Pillar in the eyes. It's a moment of epiphany to me. "We have to step into their shoes and live their insanity to know how they think."

The Pillar lets go of my arms and smiles. I am his smart and dedicated student now. He is a satisfied professor. He adds, "And be willing to live with the consequences of being exposed to such horrible minds."

"Are we done with the lecture now? Are you going to get to the point?"

He nods with closed eyes.

"Then tell me something," I say. "Tell me something that is an actual lead in this case."

"Gorgon Ramstein." The Pillar opens his eyes.

"What?"

"Professor Gorgon H. Ramstein."

Chapter 4 7

"Isn't that the man who owns the Fat Duck restaurants that are most famous for the mock turtle soup?" I ask, remembering Dr. Tom Truckle's obsession I with that soup?

"Yes, but he is much more than that," The Pillar says. "Gorgon Ramstein is an Oxford University professor who challenged a Fortune 500 company a few years ago, one of the world's biggest food manufacturers, to be precise."

"Go on."

"Years ago, trying to quadruple their profits, this high-profile company released this double chocolate bar," he says, pointing at the one in his hand. "One huge piece of hard candy, double its previous size, which had been big enough already that doctors advised against eating it a few time before."

"And?"

"Gorgon, specializing in Global Health and Development, scientifically proved this bar's drawbacks. Gorgon's proved that eating this bar for a whole year, say a bar per week, is nothing less than slow-poisoning yourself, and a strong reason for obesity for children. Thus, a slow death for the youth of Britain."

"I'm not getting—"

"Gorgon also proved that this bar messes with kids' brain cells and gets them to want more; they're addicted to the high amounts of sugar in it. These kids are just growing up; they are sensitive to everything."

"Did any one specialized authority look into Professor Ramstein's research?" This begins to interest me.

"Academically, everyone found his research plausible. The government, on the other hand, treated him as if he were the invisible man," he says. "Professor Ramstein filed a case against the food companies, based on his academically approved results."

"What was the verdict?"

"The court was persuaded by scientific research, and ordered the production of the huge bar to be stopped. They also fined the major company a hefty amount of millions of pounds," the Pillar replies.

"Fair enough."

"A year later, the tycoon company tricked the court and re-released the sugar-infested bars as a double bar, half for each person," the Pillar says. "It was a clever way out, and legal. There was no conclusive evidence that half of the bar did any immediate damage. But we all know that once a kid gets his hands on that bar, he will eat it from head to toe. The double was only a hoax."

"And the older verdict?"

"It meant nothing," the Pillar says. "We were practically talking about a new product."

"What happened to Professor Ramstein?" I suppose all his should tie together in the end.

"He didn't give up. He filed a few other cases, but they were all useless because the older court's members had been replaced. The newer ones seemed to favor the food company all the way. The case was lost."

"Even though Britain scientifically backed up the dangers of the portion of the bar?"

"Of course not," the Pillar says. "Ramstein’s research was noble, and most probably accurate, but in the insane world we live in you can't even prohibit smoking. Hell, there are countries in the world were killing hasn't been prohibited yet."

I can't seem to connect all of this to the Muffin Man, but I am sure the Pillar will eventually. Also, I find myself genuinely interested in the story. "Where is Professor Gorgon Ramstein now?" I ask.

"Where do you think, Alice?" The Pillar tilts his head and imitates the Cheshire's grin.

"Dead?" I resist clapping my hands on my mouth. "Assassinated by the Cheshire Cat?"

"They killed Ramstein's lawyer in a fabricated car accident first," the Pillar says. "You know who ordered the assassination?"

"Margaret Kent." The words force themselves out of my mouth. The Pillar nods and I let out a long sigh, connecting the dots. Every awful thing is always threaded to the ugly Duchess somehow. "But why? Who is Margaret Kent protecting?"

"The same people who hired the Reds to chase us in the Vatican. The same people who protect and stand behind corruption in the world. The same people who profit from wars, famine, and poverty," he says. "I don't have a name for them, but The White Queen likes to call them 'those who walk the black tiles in the chessboard of life.' 'Black Chess' for short."

I take a moment to digest all of this. Is this really how the world outside works? Are all the bad guys connected and intertwined in a spider web of cruelty and deception? Are the few good ones who try to oppose them—I imagine Fabiola leading them—helpless and weakened?

Of course, whose side the Pillar is on will always baffle me, but it seems irrelevant now.

"I have another question," I say. The sun is sinking to the weight of the Pillar's revelations. "Before I ask you what all of this has to do with the Muffin Man, I want to know the name of the company that sold the bar."

"Who else?" The Pillar straightens his back and rolls his cane a full vertical circle around his hand. "Muffit N Puffit, the same company that produced the Queen of Hearts Tarts and Meow Muffins."

"That's a lame name for an evil corporation that is almost secretly ruling the world."

"Of course," he agrees. "Muffit N Puffit are only a branch of the mother company, which is rarely mentioned and I think is operated by the most evil Wonderland Monsters, but that's way too soon to get into."

"Does the major corporation have a name?"

"What else, Alice?" he says. "Black Chess."

Chapter 4 8

"So, how is the Muffin Man related to all of this?" I manage to ask, finally.

"The Muffin Man thinks he is doing the world a favor," the Pillar says. "Like I said, I don't know his full background, but he is persuaded by the Cheshire to do this, so they expose us."

"Expose us?" I laugh.

"By us, I mean humans," the Pillar says. "The Cheshire wants to expose us to ourselves. Never heard of serial killers trying to wake up the world against committing the seven sins? A man bombing innocent civilians to prove a point? The world is full of this kind of madness."

"But the Cheshire didn't say anything about that—nor did the Muffin Man."

"I'm sure we will hear from them soon," the Pillar says. "Somehow they will explain the crimes and maybe ask humanity to repent or something. Who knows what goes on in this cat's head?"

Replaying this conversation in my head, I wonder about some of the Pillar's behavior. "Frankly, I don't trust you, Professor Pillar," I say as it starts to rain heavily. "You have been eating like crazy the past two days, doing crazy things related to food, and now you tell me the Muffin Man is punishing the world for letting their children eat deadly food." I spit some rain out. "Then you tell me all you know about Gorgon Ramstein, and I have no idea how you knew about it. You sound like you care about humanity while I know you don't give a damn. Are you expecting me to believe that you care about people?"

"Not at all," he says. "I don't give a Jub Jub about the world." He summons a buff man walking by, trying to shade himself from the rain. "Do I look like I give a Jub Jub about the world?"

"Jub Jub this." The man shows him the finger and walks.

"You asked me about the Muffin Man and why he kills. I am just telling you, Alice." The Pillar turns to me, his eyes catching too many people staring at their phones at the same time. The activity makes me suspicious as well. But I have a conversation to finish.

"Prove it, then." I step forward. "Prove that all you just told me is true!"

"I don't need to," the Pillar says as he pulls his phone from his pocket. At the same time, my phone buzzes.

What's going on?

I click a link sent to me in a message. I am transferred to a video. I click it to open it. It's a live-stream, the same one everyone else, including the Pillar, is watching now.

It's the Muffin Man, aka the cook, aka the watermelon killer is live online, talking to the world.

Chapter 49

The Muffin Man's presence on TV puts everyone to silence. The people on the street are watching their phone screens with the utmost attention.

The Muffin Man heartlessly streams a photo montage of the killings: the head in the football in Stamford Bridge, children's heads discovered by the police inside watermelons, the sneezing crowd in the Theatre Royal. The carnage is streamed worldwide.

The camera then shows a headshot of the Muffin Man. He is sitting in what looks like a huge Victorian kitchen with an oversized fireplace behind him. The scene is surreal. The uniqueness of the kitchen suggests he is almost broadcasting from the past. It can't be. There must be another explanation.

The Muffin Man still wears the cook's uniform; his double-breasted coat is turned to show the straitjacket's side. On his head, he wears a French toque. His hair, like strands of a bending palm tree, covers his face, all but his scarred lips. Next to him, two glinting kitchen knives are visible.

"Good day, citizens of Britain," are his first words. He talks slowly, confidently yet carelessly, and inhumanly. "I would like to make this short and to the point." He clears his throat. "Like my friend, the Cheshire, warned you before..." People around me shriek at the mention of the Cheshire Killer. "Any interfering by any of your 'authorities' will be annihilated immediately. I ask you to stay away, as this is a matter of the Wonderland Wars."

In any other scenario—in another, saner world, maybe—this would be a laughable phrase.

A matter of Wonderland Wars?

But it isn't. This the real life, as insane as it's exposed to be.

"I am not a ruthless serial killer," he begins to read from a paper. "I am what you'd think of as a 'wake-up call.' My so-called 'killings' have a greater purpose," he confesses. "I kill children..." Britain gasps in one breath. "Fat children," he elaborates. "Fat children who aren't supposed to be as overweight and unhealthy as they are today." He stops and holds one hand up to stop himself from sneezing. It makes him look a little vulnerable. Just for a fraction of a second. He must be immune to the pepper or has unprecedented control of his sneeze. "You filthy, ungrateful caricature of a society," he continues as a strand of hair shifts, briefly giving way to one of his eyes. Or should I say the vacancy of one of his eyes, and a darkly hollow socket instead.

He surely doesn't look vulnerable now. A woman faints on the street next to me.

"Here are a few facts you should know to understand why I do what I do," he reads on. "One person in every four British people is overweight." He takes a short breath. "The average person in Britain is nearly three stones heavier than they were twenty years ago. Your children are a generation of overweight and unhealthy lads who have the highest rate in history for being diabetic and seriously sick at the age of ten."

The Pillar folds his hands next to an old woman and whispers, "I don't care. I'm on the Dr. Oz diet. Not the wizard, the doctor."

The woman dismisses him, her eyes glued to her phone.

"The food industry is as imposing a threat as the cigarette industry." The Muffin Man sounds far more educated than a Victorian cook for the Duchess. "The food industry is slowly murdering our nation. I know you are worried about an apocalypse, but believe me, you won't even live long enough to see it if you keeping eating their food." He reaches for a glass of water, sips slowly, and clears his throat. The way he holds the glass of water suggests a man of a different caliber than what I thought he'd be. Who are you, Muffin Man? I feel I should know but can't put it together. "The companies spend millions of pounds on marketing their products. They make triple that money by seducing our children to force their parents to buy it. The child grows up and gets sick. The medical industry profits from the same person, now a patient. Then doctors prescribe us medicine that promises to make us better—and never does—so we spend even more money. It's a vicious circle that never ends."

"That's a Catch-22!" The Pillar clicks his fingers together. A few people shoot him piercing looks. He puts his fingers back in his pocket. "Sorry, I should've known finger-clicking is rude."

"You have to ask yourself who benefits from this." The Muffin Man faces the camera, abandoning the paper. "People wake up and ask how they became this fat and sick and penniless, and if it ever was their fault."

"Of course it's their faults," the Pillar says. "No one forced them to eat that much."

People eye him again. The Pillar pantomimes zipping his mouth shut.

"We live in the age of 'buy one, get one, get one free,'" the Muffin Man says. "Nothing in this world is for free."

"This Muffin Man rather reminds me of Willy Wonka in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." The Pillar can't help himself. "He used to scare the panty pants out of my oranges."

No one eyes him this time. I think they can't even hear him. The Muffin Man's message demands attention whether they believe in his theories or not.

"Now that I have your attention, here is what I want," the Muffin Man says. "First, the easy part." The killer makes the rules now. "I want a personal apology from the Queen of England and Parliament toward the people of Britain for allowing the food industry to manipulate us and deteriorating our children's health." He pauses. "The second part is that I want a thorough investigation about the food industry, backed up with Professor Gorgon Ramstein's research, and have those responsible thrown in jail. I demand their profits divided among the poor citizens of Britain equally."

"Pretty noble demands from a man who stuffs children's heads in watermelons," the Pillar muses. "Would he be kind enough to show us how he actually stuffs heads in watermelons?"

The Pillar is mostly talking to himself.

"If these demands aren't met by five o'clock tomorrow," the Muffin Man announces, "I will poison most of Britain's children with the same candy that made them fat." This time his pause is longer, as if he is contemplating what he is going to say next.

I look around me. Everyone is holding their breath. They know they are about to see something they aren't ready for, but are forced to experience.

"In case there are still any doubts after all those killings," the Muffin Man says, "here is a footage of Mudfog Town, which is about seventy miles from London, a few minutes ago."

The broadcast shows the town of Mudfog as silent and dead as the most abandoned place on earth. Then the camera zooms to show everyone dead on the ground, white foam spurting out of their guts. Closer, the camera shows endless packages of Snicker Snackers, Queen of Hearts Tarts, and all other kind of food and drinks open and dropped to the floor. The footage then changes to "one hour earlier." It shows the few citizens of Mudfog nibbling on these snacks everywhere. Then suddenly, a kid begins to vomit uncontrollably, holding his stomach with one hand, a Wonderland snack in the other. And the rest of the town of Mudfog follows one by one.

"It only took a few minutes to kill a town of seven hundred citizens." The broadcast returns to show the Muffin Man. "If you have suspicions about my ability to poison all your food, ask yourself how I was capable of stuffing heads in watermelons."

"See?" the Pillar says.

"It shouldn't take me more than a few hours to kill everyone in London," the Muffin Man says. "And then I will poison your water. Give back to the people you cheated or you will die." His warning tone is confident and unmistakable. "Even if you live, ask yourself this: if I can poison all food, what will be left for you to eat?"

The broadcast ends abruptly with the Cheshire Grin logo on the screen. Silence crawls on every building and soul in Britain.