Ep. 69- The Second Lesson

int. schoolroom day

A dated schoolroom- chalkboards, desks, green paneled windows which begrudgingly allow fogging rays of afternoon sun into a gray brown room that has all the qualities of a rarely opened junk drawer.

Alice opens her eyes- she is seated in a desk at the back of the room. Her desktop is littered with sheets of paper- illustrations of knights, horses, devils- caricatures drawn without confidence. A small stack of paperback fantasy and science fiction novels is set at the corner of the desk sandwiching a Walkman between them.

Alice instinctively reaches a hand to the back of her neck, massaging it as she crinks it back and forth. She inhales sharply through her nose- an attempt to anchor. Blinkingly she takes in the new surroundings before letting out a sigh.

ALICE
Two more yet remain beyond the first gate…Guess this is what they meant. From my funeral to my old school…guess if we’re keeping with the theme of a living death, this is fitting.

There is no sense of irony in this observation. When Alice considers the many living deaths an atypical soul might endure before the Great Silence, school inevitably floats to the top and this vision matches her memory of that years long sentence- the stifling staleness, the improvised pastimes and most importantly- the remoteness. School was where Alice learned it was possible to spend an entire day amongst people and yet remain unreached. Her desk was her raft, a vessel she clung to daily, her single objective to keep afloat- and unobtrusive- lest she disturb the sharks.

Unless, of course, she wished to disturb the sharks.

And sometimes she did.

And this is what separated Alice from the withdrawn, shy children who were often looked upon with kindness and pity. Alice inspired neither reaction in her childhood ecosystem- because Alice was not content. She was disturbed- not in the negative sense that we ascribe such connotations today, but in the sense that she could see the hierarchy of the world around her, the way the house dealt the cards- and it left her unsettled- and subversive. And while she had no declared cause, her wide-eyed wanderings were cause enough for whispered scrutiny- and a litany of petty punishments that amounted to a simple super objective- to contain and isolate.

As such, Alice doesn’t think to rise from the desk she has appeared in. It’s an unthinkable option, leaving the raft, risking a swim. Instead, her eyes glue to the unmoving analogue clock set above the classroom door. In the midst of her reverie she fails to notice the giant who now towers over her desk with impunity.

The giant clears his throat, inspiring a startled reaction from Alice, who tilts her head upwards- but squint as she might, she cannot see the head atop the masculine tower before her.

The Giant Teacher bends down, scooping up the illustrations from Alice’s desk. The enormous hands deftly shuffle the papers, a scan from on high reviewing each drawing. A low, murmuring voice whispers at each shuffling-

GIANT TEACHER
Devil…Hanged Woman…Queen of Swords…Knight of Cups…the Pale Horse…

The Giant Teacher returns the illustrations to the desk, and Alice instinctively clutches them back.

GIANT TEACHER
Not exactly match homework, is it, Alice.

ALICE
This is the second meeting, right? The next gate?

GIANT TEACHER
(sighs)
Hm. Yes, I suppose it is.

The Giant Teacher leaves Alice and crosses to the front of the classroom. He takes a comically small piece of chalk and begins to write on the chalkboard- but the letters swirl together, becoming a muddled mess of chalk smears.

ALICE
I can’t read…whatever that is.

GIANT TEACHER
Hm. Perhaps you need glasses.

A set of glasses appears on the edge of Alice’s desk. She picks them up and examines them- they are thick, black brimmed things that wouldn’t be out of place on a 50s rock star. She puts them on and the blackboard comes into focus.

It reads: THE SECOND LESSON: FOR EVERY PIECE TAKEN, A PIECE REMAINS

ALICE
I…I don’t understand.

GIANT TEACHER
Close your eyes.

Alice does so.

A flash of memory- of a Pale Horse- black iron boots- the face of a skull- burning ramparts- the bodies of slain royalty- a child crying.

Alice opens her eyes.

ALICE
Those were…the Pale Horse’s memories.

GIANT TEACHER
You have the gift of the Fool- to absorb the elements, to stand apart amongst the storm of your peers. But your gift comes at a cost- the burdens of those you house will slowly become your own. Be wary who and what you take on- lest you become a house of a thousand voices.

Alice again blinks and this time- the face of Temperance- the Tower- a great outcry of the afflicted- floor after floor of barred cells, grasping hands squeezing out from narrow bars. Alice opens her eyes, catching her breath.

GIANT TEACHER
This concludes our lesson- there is nothing else I am required to share with you at this time. You are dismissed.

A schoolbell rings and the classroom fades away.