"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."
"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
"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."
"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.
"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.