Dizzy race. Like/12

It was such a dizzy race—everyone whirling around a clock that refused to stop.

“Stop!” cried the Eaglet, flapping to seize control of the chaos.

And at once, the Eaglet was already thinking the other way round.

The sudden halt flung everyone forward; tumbling in surprise, they hung midair—a tangle of limbs, frozen like a paused cartoon.

Silent. 

A muddled silence. 

But silence never lasts.

The Mouse scrolled and called out, “Sit down, close together!”

“Oh, at least I’m allowed to sit.” thought Alice, much relieved—almost as if a daisy had leaned over and whispered, Sit, it’s what I do best.

The Mouse’s eyes twinkled. An idea—splendid, at least to himself—positively itching to be shared, whether the others clicked like or not.

Alice, Tra-la-la-la-ing/11

A small paw tugged at Alice’s skirt. It was the Mouse, his whiskers twitching in time with the music.

“You’re not running,” he squeaked.

“Am I meant to?” Alice asked.

“The Dodo says everyone must run,” the Mouse replied, “It’s the rule.”

“But the rules were never announced,” Alice countered.

The Mouse blinked slowly. “Precisely. That’s the only truly fair system. Now you must run, or you’ll be Still. And to be Still is to be Out.”

“And what does Out mean?”

The Mouse looked at her with profound pity. “Why, it means you’re not In.”

And with that impeccable logic, he vanished into the swirling, tra-la-la-la-ing mass. 

Alice paused, shrugged as if it hardly mattered, and off she ran—darting between legs, bumping the Dodo, treading on the Mouse, nearly tripping over the Duck. 

Her hair streamed wild behind her, her voice tumbling out in song.

“Tra la la la la…” she sang aloud.

Tra-la-la-la-laing like a computer caught in an endless loop---until someone finally pressed Escape.

Circle-dance. Error/10

The race rules were never announced. There was no winner, no prize—and, curiously enough, that never appeared to be a flaw. 

On the contrary, all the creatures ran as eagerly as if confusion itself had been the very point of the game.

They sang along in this Caucus-race. Alice could only catch the refrain: “Tra la la la la…”

“Is it a Caucus-race,” Alice wondered. "or a Circle-dance?"

It was all bounce and whirl, so bouncy and infectious, even the missteps seemed to power it along, each surprise adding its own peculiar energy.

Carroll himself might have regretted the confusion.

The mood flared. The tune hopped like a mite, and doubled back—“Tra la la la la…”

The scene reminded Alice of campfires with her sisters. They would sing London Bridge Is Falling Down, Humpty Dumpty and more.

Yet nothing in those songs, not even a tumbling bridge, could match the sheer craziness unraveling before her eyes. 

"Tra la la la la, Tra la la la la..."

It was as if the whole Wonderland itself flashing Error… Error… 

"Tra la la la la..."

Waddling. Side to Side/9

The Dodo, puffing very grandly, kept on quacking the word ReBoOt.

“Would this change Wonderland?” Alice asked, wide-eyed with curiosity.

The Dodo, catching his breath, answered with pompous pity. “A ReBoOt is simple: one forgets the errors, clears the memory”—he puffed and wheezed—“and hopes the story will run smoother this time.”

“But what if it forgets too much?” Alice pressed.

“Then,” said the Dodo, “Wonderland crashes! Or you crash! Or both—QUAACK!”

No question followed.

The creatures waddled side to side, swaying like a metronome. Wings flapped out of time—up when they ought to be down, down when they ought to be up.

Alice, finding it all perfectly unreasonable and therefore just right for Wonderland, burst into helpless laughter.

The Mouse, usually a champion sprinter, ran oddly slow behind the Duck. Its sharp muzzle jabbed Donald again and again, sending him springing upward—quacking perfectly on cue every time. 

Its tail almost waddled side to side, its little belly sketched along the ground, leaving a faint, zigzag mouse trail behind it.

Caucus Race. ReBoOt/8

The pool of tears grew restless.

The Dodo came flapping his wings. ‘QUAACK!’ he bellowed, so loudly the Duck nearly toppled over. "Neither double-deckers nor carriages qualify as followers!" he declared, puffing out his chest with his sudden authority.

The Duck nodded again. Donald always seemed so very clever—though Alice couldn’t tell if he understood the Dodo or was merely fond of the word ‘QUAACK.’

By now, the Mouse’s tale seemed destined hopelessly to run on forever.

But excitement, in this damp and dismal place, never lasted long. A chill soon settled, and everyone was shivering.

“ReBoOt! ReBoOt!” cried the Dodo. “The only cure is a Caucus-race!”

“Does he mean English,” Alice whispered to herself, “or is that another word he's just invented?”

And so, at the Dodo’s command, the wet party began. 

The Lory, the Eaglet, the Duck, and several others whose names Alice couldn’t quite recall, ran round and round in a chaotic, patternless loop, desperate to get dry.

“Rule of Nature,” Alice concluded, “creatures dislike getting wet. That was hard-coded long before I was.” 

She very nearly applauded herself, feeling she had at last untangled one of Nature’s riddles.