What is nothingness? When questioned, many would describe it as an empty expanse filled with light or darkness, devoid of object or sound, with nothing as far as the eye can see. Others would describe it to what one sees when one closes their eyes; not true darkness, but swirling shapes and colors that swim beneath eyelids, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of chaos.
These ideas, however, are incorrect; an expanse would be something; it would register to the eye as light or darkness, and in the presence of no sound, one would find that they themselves provide quite a bit of noise, making the place far from silent. If you can see yourself, see that you are moving, then you are not in true nothingness.
The closest one might find to true nothingness (at least in this humble chronicler's opinion) is a sensory deprivation tank. Once submerged and properly nulled to outside stimuli, only then can one come close to comprehending the true nature of nothingness. Even then, there is something in that void, something in that expanse: thought. That is, ultimately, all there is, yet it is still something.
True nothingness is the absence of all, and while beings unfortunate enough to find themselves in what Glen would later refer to as 'the Null' eventually find themselves without thought, there is a period of time where thought is all they have after being rejected by reality.
That begs the question of who or what would be so damned as to find themselves in such an oblivion. Truly such a fate is deserved only by the worst of history's villains (e.g. telemarketers). The truth is far less satisfying; the Null takes those who should not exist: People written out of existence due to time travel shenanigans, those whose reality was erased or destroyed, and as in the case of Glen, those who lose themselves between dimensions.
To Glen, it was like her mind was mired in quicksand; even the simplest thought seemed to take an eternity to complete, and required an enormous amount of effort.
There was something she needed to do, something important … someone she had to find. She needed to escape this place, but that would take energy she didn't have, will that was rapidly leaving her.
Eventually, the effort to even think was so monumental that Glen's will began to give in. What would going back accomplish anyway? More pain, more struggle … but for what? It would be so easy to stop trying, to simply let the nothingness take her away and forget everything.
"Come home, Cel'na."
The voice slipped through the void and wrapped around Glen, filling her with the warmth of love from her wife.
Glen opened her eyes, despite the fact there was nothing to see. Teria … Teria was waiting for her, across the expanse of time. If Glen gave in, she'd never see her wife again, never lay with Teria in bed, feeling the softness of her fur and the warmth of her feathered wings wrapping around them both. Sudden resolve struck through Glen, bolstering her thoughts.
The nothingness stirred; her thought, her action was unwelcome. It was an aberration that must be stopped before it spread through the nothingness. It gathered around her, massing its numbing power to dampen her and put her out like a candle flame.
Glen was ready for it, her mind screaming with effort as she focused her thoughts on her goal. She reached out with a hand she couldn't feel and closed her fingers. The feel of the cold metal of the door handle against her hand strengthened her resolve, further weakening the Null that was fighting to keep her. She could see the door now, and could read the familiar letters on the mounted sign: "Please use Other Door".
She turned the handle only to freeze when she felt something clutch at her legs. For one panicked instant, she thought it was the Null trying to reclaim her. After a few moments, however, she realized quickly that the thing grabbing her wasn't pulling; it was holding on. It clasped to Glen, buoyed by its own determination. Glen could feel a strong spirit … a fierce spirit, a warrior's spirit … so much like Glen's beloved Teria that Glen momentarily forgot that her wife was still over a thousand years in her future. She pulled the spirit close to her, holding it tightly so the Null could not reclaim it.
Nothingness now swirled about her, a feeling of almost anger permeating it at the loss of not one but two of its victims. Knowing she had moments, Glen grabbed the handle and flung it open. Light erupted from beyond the doorway, driving back the Null while Glen hurled herself and her companion through the opening and into whatever lay beyond.
The gentle touch of a small hand brought Glen back into the waking world.
"Teria." She murmured, rubbing the back of the hand only for it to dart out of her reach. Realizing it wasn't the furred hand of her wife, but the smooth skin of a human, Glen opened her eyes to see a little girl staring at her, with a fearful expression.
"Sorry, miss." The little girl said, a look of fear in her eyes, "But you can't stay here. If my aunt finds you sleepin' in the stable, she'll have the constable out here."
"Stable?" Glen glanced around, only to realize the girl was right; she was laying in a pile of straw in a stable … an old stable., the kind with a broken wagon wheel in one corner and where the only metal is in the hoops of the barrel that probably held some variant of moonshine. The horse from the stall next to the straw pile prodded the side of her head with its nose, more curious than anything. The smell was the most striking; a mixture of soot and horse manure that would normally have her reeling. After the null, however, it was like perfume to Glen's nose.
Quickly rising to her feet, Glen said, "I'm back. I'm back, baby! Hoo-yeah, take that, Error!"
Glen was still punching the air when the girl said, "Pardon me, miss, but …"
"Huh? Oh, right." Glen said, forcing herself to calm down. "Sorry; don't want to cause any trouble. Just happy to be alive!"
"Um … why are you in the nuddy, miss?"
"The nuddy? Who says that any-" Glen stopped and looked down to discover that while living beings can enter and exit the Null, their clothing doesn't make the trip with them.
"Ahh!" Glen said, her blush quickly spreading over her body as she quickly ducked into an empty stall. "Stupid null space."
"I beg your pardon, Miss?"
"Er, nothing." Glen glanced around the back alley for a few moments. Once satisfied it was just her and the girl, she snapped her fingers. Light engulfed her body only to fade a few moments later to reveal her normal clothes; loose blue-jean cargo shorts held up by a braided belt, a pair of steel-toe work boots, and a green and gray-striped t-shirt that was so big it hung off one shoulder. She stepped out of the stall and looked herself over for a few moments, nodding in satisfaction.
"Wow." The little girl said. "I wish I could do that."
"Oh, that's nothing. Check this out." Glen plucked a stream of light from the air and twisted it in her hands for a few moments before throwing it in the air. The glowing butterfly flittered around the little girl, much to her amusement.
Smiling, Glen headed for the stable door only for the girl to call out, "Half a moment; what of your friend, miss?"
"My friend?" Glen looked back in the straw to see that the little girl was right; there was another woman lying there without so much as a shred of clothing. She was pretty, with pale skin, short black hair, a slim, petite build, and asian features, though Glen wasn't familiar enough with pre-Devastation geography to know exactly where she might have called home.
"Well, well, well." Glen said, intrigued. "I guess you're the one who hitched a ride back with me."
The woman didn't respond. Frowning, Glen approached her, knelt down beside her, and felt the side of her neck for a pulse.
"Strong heartbeat." Glen commented. "Seems to be breathing okay."
With a snap of her fingers, Glen made an identical set of clothes appear on the young woman. The clothes rustled as they automatically shrank to fit the woman's smaller frame.
"Better appreciate it." Glen murmured. "That's my last set, and you'd be surprised how hard it is to find these shirts."
"Is she okay?" The little girl asked, a concerned look on her smudged face as the butterfly perched on her head like a bow.
"Well, she's alive." Glen said, sitting back and scratching her head. "My guess is she was in that place for a lot longer than me. If that's the case, if might take some time for her to recover."
"It was bad?"
"Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to vacation there. Oh well." Glen said, easily picking up the woman and hoisting her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "We'll get out of your hair. Oh, and keep the sansprite as my thanks; it seems to like you anyway."
Glen took a few steps before an obvious question suddenly occurred to her. Turning back to the girl, Glen asked, "Um, odd question, but … where exactly are we?"
England in the late eighteen-hundreds (Earth history, AD to be specific) was often romanticized by people both before and after the Devastation. As a little girl, Glen sometimes imagined walking through the streets in a nice dress and a silly hat (she never really understood the idea of flashy head-wear, but was always one for trying new things). She used to imagine being friends with people like Alan Quatermain and Sherlock Holmes and going on all sorts of adventures that saw them running through the streets, occasionally with 'bobbies' in pursuit.
The reality wasn't all mansions and cobblestones, however; it was dirty. Dirty streets, dirty houses crammed together, dirty people who looked like they hadn't even heard of the concept of bathing, and a smell that Glen knew would stick with her for a long time.
Still, part of Glen was excited as the little girl led her from the alley that led to the stable; even with everything that'd happened, she'd made it right to where she needed to be. Even better, Headache's dimensional analyser indicated she'd made it back to J-27, her home universe. Obviously, she was a bit further back in time than when she first entered the Underground, but it still felt like a step in the right direction.
That excitement faded however when she realized just how difficult her task was. London was a sprawling mess of streets not so much filled as it was packed with people. How was she going to find the person she was looking for, especially with her new friend in tow?
A tug at her shoulder made her look down. The little girl was standing beside her, just outside the stable. The sansprite was perched on her shoulder like a dutiful pet, its glowing wings giving a little flap every now and then.
"Do you need a place to stay, Miss?"
Glen was inclined to turn down the girl's offer; after all, she was in a time where people were still prone to yelling 'witch' at sufficiently advanced tech, to say nothing of her Dreamer abilities. Still, she was already catching attention, largely due to her unusual clothing. Then there were the gender issues of the time; there were more than a few leers in the passing faces, followed by the inevitable cat-calls. Realizing she'd need to lay low for awhile, Glen said, "You've got somethin' in mind?"
The little girl led Glen to the front door of the house directly beside the stable. While it was made in the cramped style adopted by a society with too many people and too little space, it was by no means the smallest in the street. The sign above the door was faded, though the word orphanage was still faintly visible.
"You live here too?" Glen asked, glancing at her diminutive new friend.
The little girl nodded. "Ever since me mum died."
"Ouch." Glen said, ruffling the little girl's hair. "I'm sorry. I lost my parents too."
"Did they die of the sickness?" The little girl asked.
"Uh, no." Glen rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. "I, uh, actually lost them. Something bad was about to happen, and I sent them somewhere safe … only, I don't know where it was they ended up. I keep hoping I'll run into them some day."
"Oh." The little girl said, obviously not sure what to make of that. Shaking her head, she opened the door without knocking and led them inside.
The inside of the house was a bit of a mess; unlike the streets, however, this was the sort of mess you'd expect in a house full of children. Toys lay in the hallways, clothes hung on dressers and like, and there was just a general air of mess all about the place. It was larger than Glen expected, though with the crowded nature of the streets, it came as no small surprise that she couldn't tell where one house ended and the next began.
"So, um … who runs this place?" Glen asked, her eyes on a painting of a rather stern-faced man with glasses. Someone had draw a pink mustache on it, and the label looked as though someone tried to scratch it off with limited success, leaving only the word 'Bumby'.
"The White Queen." The little girl said as though it were the most normal thing in the world.
"The White Queen?" Glen repeated with a frown. She wasn't a stranger to nicknames herself, but the name 'White Queen' seemed sinister. "Her Majesty won't be upset that you invited me here?"
"She likes helping people."
"Oh. Well, I guess we'll get along fine then."
"Besides, if you're dangerous, she has a really sharp knife."
Glen felt her smile twitch slightly. "Noted."
They passed a few other children in the hallway. Some were doing chores, some were clustered in groups playing, and still others were simply sitting in chairs, staring silently at walls in a most disconcerting manner. It didn't take Glen long to start questioning the nature of the White Queen by the company she kept. She shifted her friend from the Null onto her other shoulder, wondering into what mess she was walking.
The little girl led her to a large study with shelves full of books. There was a small crowd of children surrounding (and in some cases, sitting on the back of) the largest chair. A young woman was seated in the chair properly, clearly the subject of the children's attention. She was mostly obscured by an old blanket, and moth-eaten shawl. Though she didn't appear that much older than the children ("Twenty or younger, or I'm an elf", Glen thought to herself) when she spoke, Glen could hear in her voice an age beyond her years.
"Sirs Froderick and Squiggles did glance upon my personage, both clad only in a thin layer of tar covered with feathers, upon which did Squiggles exclaim, 'See? I told you so!'"
The crowd of children erupted into laughter, and even Glen couldn't help but chuckle. "Funny how those two get around, ain't it?"
The crowd of children turned at the sound of Glen's voice, as did the figure in the chair. Glen was momentarily taken aback by the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. They seemed to pierce straight through her, giving Glen the impression that she'd just had her mind scanned.
"Angela." The woman said with a sigh, closing the book. "What have I told you about bringing strangers into the house?"
"They need a place to stay, your Majesty."
The woman sighed again, this time with a faint smile. "And if I asked you to please stop calling me that?"
"It would be improper to do otherwise, your majesty." The little girl said with a giggle and a curtsy. Other children were giggling as well now.
"Is that lady dead?" one of the children asked.
Before Glen could respond, another asked, "Why are you wearing trousers?"
"She's got a tattoo! Did it hurt, miss?"
"All right, off with you little scamps." The woman said, making shooing motions with her hands. "Attend to your chores."
As the group of children filtered out of the room, the White Queen stood from her chair, her shawl falling to the floor. She was quite pretty, her slim form and pale face reminding Glen of that of a porcelain doll, framed with long dark hair that hung to her waist. Her eyes stood out the most, however; brilliant green and piercing, they seemed far wiser than her age.
"Please, have a seat … both of you." The woman said, gesturing to the mismatched chairs around the room.
Glen set the woman from the Null in one of the other chairs, taking care to position her so she wouldn't fall out. Seeing the White Queen's questioning glance, Glen chuckled and said, "Found her in a bit of a bad way. Couldn't just leave her behind."
"No, you couldn't." The White Queen said. "You've lost too much to turn away from someone in need of help. It gets you into trouble, which is why you've become something of an expert on getting out of trouble."
Glen stared at her for a few moments before letting out another chuckle. "I'd say lucky guess, but something tells me luck isn't part of this."
"It's a long story."
"Aren't they all?." Glen sighed and looked at the unconscious woman. "To be honest, I don't really know a thing about her. My guess is she's in a self-induced coma brought on by a prolonged period in a sensory-deprived environment."
"That's quite specific." The White Queen said.
"Well, I was there too. Not as long as her, but long enough to know it wasn't the sort of place you'd want to take a vacation. Oh, I'm Glen, by the way. Glenda Adams Soleil, but just Glen is fine, your majesty."
Chuckling, the woman said, "Don't you start on that too. Call me Alice."
Glen's eyes shot up to Alice's. "Alice? As in Alice Liddell?"
A worried look fell over the woman's face, only to quickly change to a stern glare. "You know of me? Come to call me mad?"
"Yeah, that'd be rich coming from me." Glen said, relief pouring over her. "Nah, but I was wanting to talk to you."
"Were you? And who gave you my name?"
"Barbara Jagger. Well, the dark force using her image … under a lake … in the United States … about a hundred or so years from now …"
"I can certainly see why you're reluctant to call me mad." Alice said. Though there was a teasing smile on her face,
Sighing, Glen said, "Look, this is gonna take a little while to explain."
"Indeed? Then I shall make us some tea. Make yourself comfortable." She paused halfway out the door. "I do beg your pardon, but … do you really know Squiggles and Sir Froderick?"
"Alice, in my experience, everyone knows Squiggles and Sir Froderick. Those two take trouble-making to a whole new level."
"They do indeed." Alice said with a pleasant smile.
Once she was gone, Glen let out a laugh and did a quick fist pump. "Out of nothingness, and right back in the game! Finally, I'll get answers!"
Shifting from the chair beside hers made Glen turn to her friend from the Null. The woman curled up slightly, the side of her face now resting against the armrest of the chair.
"Jack …" She whispered before falling still once again.
"Some answers." Glen corrected. She patted the woman's hand. "Don't worry, Miss; we'll find some for you too once you wake up."
