"This man really messes with your mind," he remarks. Coming from a man locked in an underground asylum, I feel like I have to admit my insanity immediately.
"Look, I'm trying to save the kids, so either you know where the Snail Mound is or you don't." I sigh. “I guess the Pillar was right. There is something wrong about this whole thing.”
“Ah, Professor Carter Pillar,” he says. “That’s what it is all about. Please don’t trust that man, young girl. He must be using you for something.”
“So you know him?”
“Of course I do. He knows me, too. That’s a long time ago,” he says. “He killed a lot of people.”
“Tell me more about him.” I approach the table. Sit down across from him. “Why did he kill those people? Why are they saying the Alice Underground book drove him insane? Whose side is he on?”
"Let's put it this way, the Pillar is on no one’s side but his own.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you should turn around and leave this place. Make sure you never talk to him again. And forget about anything he’s told you,” Professor Jittery says firmly. “The Wonderland Wars, if you’ve heard of them, aren’t a game. You’d be lost and lose your mind over it.”
“I am already—” I want to tell him that I am insane, but realize we’re off topic here. I need to focus on priorities again. “Okay. I will leave. Just tell me how to get to Wonderland. Isn't the Snail Mound a door to Wonderland?"
Professor Jittery laughs broadly. “I wish it was that easy.”
“So you do know where Snail Mound is. What do you mean you wish it was easy?”
“No one knows where it is now,” he says. “I, of all people, can assure you that. Because I have been searching for it for so long. But for starters, you need to find Six Impossible—”
“Keys,” I interrupt. “I know that. Then why did this man who calls himself the Hatter tell me he hid the rabbit in Snail Mound in Wonderland?”
“That’s impossible.”
“He was specific about it,” I say. “Come on, why don't you tell me how I can get to Snail Mound?”
Suddenly, Professor Jittery’s eyes dart toward the wall behind me. They’re bulging with curiosity again. Wait. That’s not curiosity. This is utter nervousness. Fear. He starts to stare up at the ceiling. Fidgeting in his place. “I can’t tell you,” he whispers. “They’re listening.”
“Who is?”
“Lower your voice,” he insists, his eyes still fixed up. “Come closer.”
I lean across the table.
“Whatever you say, and sometimes whatever you think, they know about it.” He shudders.
“No one can hear us,” I say. “I asked them to stop the surveillance cameras. I assure you, no one is listening.”
He chews on his lip and winces. The chains rattling. “You’re not listening to me.” He sighs. “Come closer.”
“I can’t come closer,” I say. I am on the edge of the table. Reluctantly, I stretch my palms across. I want to gain his trust.
“They don’t need cameras to see what’s in your head,” he whispers. My hands grip the remote tighter. I might need to press the button anytime soon. “They don’t need a recorder. They’re already inside your head. In mine, too.”
“You mean they planted something in your head?” I play along. Conspiracy girl sitting across from a lunatic scientist from Wonderland.
He nods, pupils wider.
“Really?” I am part curious, part acting curious.
“They always do, but most people don’t know it,” he continues. “Everyone is under surveillance all the time. They know what they’re doing. It’s how they control the world.”
“Who are they?”
“You know who they are.” He grunts, frustrated by my utter ignorance.
“Of course.” I keep playing along. “I just forgot their name.”
“They call themselves Black Chess,” Professor Jittery announces. His eyes shoot to the roof; he’s worried they heard him. I realize he is not staring at the roof—he is trying to look inside his own head. “They’re the ones who walk on the black tiles of the Chessboard of Life.”
This isn’t the first time I’ve hear this. The Pillar told this to me, and so did Fabiola, but I have no idea what that means.
“So Black Chess...” I begin.
“Lower your voice,” he says.
“So Black Chess planted something in your head to read your mind?”
He nods. Getting more fidgety and worried. Now sweating a little. “They want to steal my designs. They want to know what I discovered about this world we live in when I studied science. They want to know if I can expose them. Most of all, they want to know the secrets of my gardens.”
I remind myself that the Pillar told me Professor Jittery designed a few of the most famous gardens in the world. Why do I have a feeling I should know more about this? The haze in my head begins to slowly form again.