#I realised I could just post this design instead of leaving it collecting dust in my art folder

[deeva-arud]

Ohh Playful Land Deeva save me

[uxannie]

Beneath the surface

Ideas about the invisible world beneath the soil have pervaded my thoughts for as long as I can remember. As a child, I read books about the underground homes of animals in books like Mrs Frisby and the Rats of NIMH by Robert C. O’Brien and Fantastic Mr. Fox by Roald Dahl.

Fast forward to 2014, when I made the above drawing attempting to visualise an interconnected web of plant roots. This drawing contains a web of India ink and acrylic gesso sprawling across a 2 meter square of thick paper, whose size and depth fail to translate to this tiny digitised version.

But the real physical version of the drawing too felt like it failed to translate my mental picture into physical form— failed to inspire the sense of interconnectedness of my vision, and thus never felt finished. Alas, after a few months of work on my web of roots, I gave up, pulled the pins out of the wall and rolled it up. It found its home in a storage closet with the rest of my rejected artefacts, deemed unworthy of display in my home, and yet somehow still too precious to discard. It has remained rolled up collecting dust ever since.

The unrealised vision for this drawing had begun to inhabit my mind after learning about mycelium and mychorrizae for the first time from mycologists in Eugene, Oregon, where I was living and studying landscape architecture at the time. The video below by ecologist Suzanne Simard summarises the knowledge that gave rise to this vision, explaining the astonishing interconnectedness of communities of trees in forests.

Fast forward again to 2020 when one of my Creativity in Design module leaders put a task to the class to fill out sheets of paper with a series of prompts:

‘when the city was: ___,

what if: ___,

and the city then became: ___.’

Before thinking, I found my hand scrawling a scenario:

‘when the city was: bombed in World War II,

what if: everyone moved underground,

and the city became: a labyrinth of tunnels.’

My classmates found this idea quite dismal; after all, life underground would not involve much light or fresh air, they aptly pointed out. And yet, I remained inexplicably enchanted by the idea of a subterranean metropolis.

Later in the term, when my design team pivoted away from the idea of a ‘game of plant life’ and returned to questions about plant agency and plant communication (explored in my last couple of posts), this underground web resurfaced in my thinking.

We found a book called The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate- Discoveries from a Secret World by Peter Wohlleben and learned more about what he called the Wood Wide Web: networks of tree roots and fungi which serve as an infrastructure for the sharing of information and resources.

As the team brainstormed different ideas, we shifted from the design of a game to the design of a site-specific art installation and honed in on the idea of ‘tiny forests’ or liminal patches of green space dotted throughout the city. The goal, carried through from our work all term but clarified now, involved engendering human empathy for plants, or in other words fostering the connections between humans and plants. Only now, we were in lockdown as a result of COVID-19.

The COVID-19 crisis has had varying impacts on our lives so far, but the most pertinent felt impact for our team at the time was a pervading feeling of isolation. Fortunately, we were able to keep working together thanks to the internet. We reflected on the notions of isolation and interconnection, and the infrastructures of the city (e.g. the world wide web) that foster our connections in absentia.

Meanwhile, we had to choose a site for our intervention that we knew from memory. We chose to explore hubs of connection where roads, train lines, and people come together in physical proximity but are often disconnected, passing by quickly, unaware of their surroundings. Two sites we knew well were Highbury & Islington and Kings Cross. Since we couldn’t visit sites in person, we visited them digitally via Google Earth and Google Images.

We discussed ways that plants communicate and ways that people connect. We brainstormed ideas and sketched them out. We shared concepts in Google spreadsheets. We considered pheromones as one potential concept. Tons of seemingly random ideas and resources were compiled. Among them, I posted a link to a touch-sensitive LED floor while Rosie posted resources about the Wood Wide Web— what if the sidewalk were a giant screen where people could peer into the underground world of plants? Interesting, but perhaps just a passing pretty picture. We moved on.

Gemma was exploring a vision of a concept of a digital ‘mother tree’ and posted an exhibit from Japan with relevant resources to that idea, which happened to use stillness (as opposed to movement) as a triggering interaction. And then, in a blurry flurry of ideation, some dots were connected-- what if, on the digital floor of tree roots & Wood Wide Web, humans standing still triggered an interaction… what if the people grew roots too… that connected to the plants’ roots?!

We continued to explore other ideas, and I sketched various concepts for mini sites within the greater Kings Cross redevelopment. Among them, a tiny forest at Granary Square, where the roots floor vision unfolded in my sketchbook, and then the realisation: ‘Wait. These trees’ roots wouldn’t be connected.’

I knew from my days as a landscape architect that urban trees living amongst pavement are planted in ‘wells,’ which are essentially boxes underground. This made me feel sad. I had a newfound empathy for these isolated plants because of my current isolation during the Coronavirus lockdown.

This reality of tree wells also threatened the vision of an uninterrupted, interconnected web underneath the sidewalks. It would be a lie in most urban spaces.

At the next meeting, we discussed including two sites instead of one and highlighting the juxtaposition of these underground systems. We’ve presented this proposal in a slideshow and produced a document containing a project summary and visual narrative of the design journey.

In the final stages of detailing this design proposal, we connected two more resources, which serendipitously catapulted our concept into a truly radical smart city future.

First, Paul Stamets Mycelium Running: How Mushrooms Can Save The World posits that mychorrizal networks are the ‘neural networks of nature,’ meaning that forests are their own ‘smart cities.’ Stamets also posits that the networks relay vast amounts of information which can be tapped into by humans, and therefore have potential to serve as ‘interspecies interfaces.’

Additionally, the work of Neri Oxman at MIT media lab shows how organic, living matter can be used for building materials among many other innovative uses. Could our internet infrastructures be made of mycelium?

These datapoints led us to expand our vision beyond a world where humans build urban infrastructures in ways that are merely harmonious with plants’ networks. Instead of harmonious but disparate plant and human infrastructures, it is wholly possible that we could share our infrastructural networks with those of plants and fungi.

With this in mind, I’ll leave you with one last thought:

When: humans and plants lived isolated in disconnected boxes,

What if: we came together to merge the world wide web and wood wide web to form one interconnected network,

And then the city became: a living, growing, shared smart city.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTE: An extra long chapter this time! It just happened to be the next one, but I figured I would post it tonight in celebration of A Very Wicked Halloween (if you missed it I hope you can find it online - Ariana Grande's performance of "The Wizard And I" was incredible)! Enjoy! Also... there might be an extra special something coming to this account on All Hallow's Eve itself. Stay tuned.

"Well, the old Lion seems to have followed Dorothy's lead," Fiyero told Glinda the next morning as they tidied one of the basement rooms. It wasn't quite as far down as the dungeons, but also beneath the "ground floor", and seemed to be primarily storage. A lot of it had already been ransacked, and the remaining junk was old, decrepit and rusted. The pile of salvageable materials was a lot smaller than the pile to be thrown out.

"Thank goodness," Glinda sighed as she moved things. For a moment, she paused to glance at the ruin that had become of her once-soft hands. They were still of a dainty shape, and not altogether hideous, but the nails were jagged and short, and callouses were beginning to form from hard work. A slight flutter went through her stomach when she remembered how Elphaba had commented that they were "a real woman's hands" now; though it sounded like an insult to her Gillikin sensibilities, the tone had told her that Elphaba was praising her for not shrinking from an honest day's work, and any praise from her Elphie made her feel a bit giddy, rare as it seemed to be.

"Now, all we have to worry about is old Boq. No progress?"

"None. He's a stubborn little pinhead! But… I suppose he'll just have to work through his feelings on his own. No spellwork can do that, anyway, but I thought we might find a way to turn him back into a Munchkin."

Waving one of his stuffed hands, Fiyero said, "Don't worry about doing that for me. Oh, I'd love to have my old body back, but to be honest… I think I like being a scarecrow better."

"You do?" she asked in bald surprise.

"I do. No one expects much from you when you're made of straw! And besides, I was such a good-for-nothing Vinkan… sure, I was royalty, but I don't think I'd have made a very strong candidate for king. Even as an honorary title in these modern times."

Tutting, she put down the old wash basin she had been carrying — rusted through the bottom, entirely useless now — and came over to grip his shoulder. "Come now, we both know that isn't true. You and I were a lot alike back then, and… well, I think we've grown up a lot. Haven't we?"

"Maybe so," he sighed with a slight smile. She could have sworn there was a twinkle in his painted eye as he went back to sweeping. "Something's certainly different with you."

"Yes, I look like a drowned rat."

"Not your looks. Your whole demeanor, the way you talk. The way you and Elphaba are around each other."

Her heart skipped over a beat, but she tried not to let on that it had happened. "And which way would you mean, Winkie?" At his frown, she corrected, "Vinkan."

"Thank you." Collecting some of the dust into an old bucket, he said, "We both know which way. And if you won't say it, I will, at least in private. You're smitten."

"I am not!" she hissed urgently, cheeks pinkening. And so easily!

"You are! And so is Elphie, even if she won't admit it. And I don't expect her to, as stubborn as she can be."

"Stubborn as an ox." They were both silent for a long moment, focusing on cleaning and inner thoughts. As Glinda pulled open the old wardrobe she had finally unearthed, she asked softly, "Doesn't it bother you at all? I mean… it's… unusual. Not criminal, but you don't see a lot of…"

"'Bunbury Marriages'?"

That made the flush a little worse. During their trip through Quadling Country, she and Elphaba had made a brief stopover in Bunbury, and Glinda had witnessed firsthand that the reports of its citizens tending not to pair off with members of opposite gender, but instead with those of the same, had not been exaggerated. Somehow, the sight of men walking hand-in-hand with other men had flustered her far more than that of women with women; likely because some of the men were behaving in ways she deemed to be quite feminine, a sight she was not prepared for in the slightest. Luckily, this had been before her own feelings for Elphie began to bubble to the surface, otherwise she might never have been able to stand sleeping in the same bed — which would have been an unnecessary expense in those days of nomadic life for the two of them.

"Oh, you're such a rascal," she dismissed.

"Maybe, but I'm a rascal that sees you turning red as a ruby." When she only let out another noise of pure exasperation, he chuckled and went on, "Hey, did I say that I blame you for it, or judge you? Not at all. I've seen a good many strange things in this land of ours, some of them in my travels with little Dorothy. You and Elphaba wouldn't even be on that list anymore."

Softly, almost impossible for him to hear, she echoed, "Me and Elphaba… together…"

"She's a catch, she is. But I don't have to tell you that."

"And it doesn't bother you? I mean, that I once had designs on you, and now you've been… well, not 'replaced' exactly, but that my designs are redesigned?"

His stuffed shoulders shrugged as he began to shift the pile of junk closer to the door. "My designs had moved from you to her once upon a time, too, so that much I can fully understand. But that was years ago. Now, I'm just happy that you're happy. If you are, that is… but I suspect you are."

"What's she got that I haven't got?" she groused.

"Oh, she was certainly more mature than you were at the time. More serious, and I think the careless idiot I was felt drawn to that sobriety. Someone who was less callow, less shallow. It's probably the same for you, since we were horses of a similar colour."

"High society idiots." They shared a little chuckle, even though Glinda was still flushed to her roots. "Alright, I guess… you're right. Something about how strong she is, and passionate…"

His painted eyebrows waggled. "Passionate, hmm?" She threw the small copper pot she had just unearthed at him, but he laughed and caught it, looking it over. "Hey, we could probably make use of this."

"Good. Add it to the 'keep' pile, you, you…"

"Handsome straw man?"

"Bale of buffoonery!"

As he continued laughing, she returned her focus to the task at hand, shaking her head. Nothing he had said was inaccurate, even down to the bit about him being a handsome straw man; he was certainly the best-looking scarecrow she had ever encountered. As for the rest… by that point, she was ready to accept that Elphaba might truly be her intended. Even if certain girls from other countries might use the word "deviant", it didn't feel like any sort of deviation to her.

It felt like the yellow brick road leading to her destiny.

So full of Elphaba were her thoughts that she almost didn't realise what she had found when she opened the grimy hat box at the bottom of the wardrobe. It was a broad, handsome belt, glittering with jewels. Perhaps it wasn't made of gold or silver, but the metal seemed to be sturdy and highly polished, even after having laid in a box for Ozma knew how long. Her fingertips traced over the ornate etching along its borders, then to the large buckle. Fascinated, she slid it around her own waist and buckled it, then found it didn't feel quite right.

"Buckles in the back," she observed under her breath, undoing it and sliding it around the other way.

"What's that?"

"This belt I found. It's lovely, don't you think?" Now that it was fastened the proper way, she turned to show off the antiquity to him. "Do you know whose it was?"

"Why should I? This castle might belong to my family, but we hardly ever came up here."

"Ah, that's fine."

"It is a nice enough belt, though. Might you be intending it as a gift to a certain tall, comely witch who's caught your eye?"

Fed up with his teasing, gentle though it was, she snapped, "Oh, I wish you would leave me alone! Isn't it bad enough I'm already-"

But that was as far as she got. Her breath was stolen when she suddenly realised that Fiyero had vanished.

"OH!" she burst out, looking frantically around the room. Where had he gone? Her steps echoed as she ran to peek behind the pile of junk, then craned her neck this way and that. "Come back! Fiyero!"

This time, she actually witnessed him popping in out of thin air. There was a puff of some kind of wispy smoke that accompanied his appearance, which had not been there for his disappearance. She took a staggering step backward, and landed on a mouldy old armchair destined to fall to the bottom of the cliffs surrounding Kiamo Ko.

"Glinda!" he gasped, still looking quite dazed. "What are… oh, wonderful. I think I must have just had a hallucination. Curse my straw-filled head!"

"Where did you go? Just now!"

Surprised by the question, it took him a moment or two to answer. "Well… I thought I was here the entire time, and only had some kind of…" Unable to think of what might have befallen him to make him hallucinate, he moved along to answer her question. "I was in the courtyard, or seemed to be. The chickens were very startled to see me appear out of nowhere. It all seemed so real…"

"Maybe…" The notion was ludicrous. But then again, she was standing there, talking to a living scarecrow, with her green-tinted witch and her cured-of-lameness sister a few floors above. Ludicrousness was a common occurrence by now. "Have you been practicing with the Grimmerie?"

"Of course not. That's nothing I've ever been interested in, I…" Looking stricken, he pressed a hand to his stuffed chest. "You don't think my feeble brains are getting feebler, do you?"

Shaking her head, she pushed a hand into her mouth. "Let me think… I was yelling at you to leave me alone, and you did. If I was holding my wand, I might think I cast a spell on accident, but I wasn't. That only leaves…"

As one, they both looked toward the belt.

"Lurline Above," she breathed.

"Maybe… you ought to take it off," he said in a nervous tone. "Before you say you wish I would fall into a fire. Oh, the last thing I want is to catch fire!"

"I'd never think such a thing!" However, she was beginning to realise that she had been thinking of the courtyard when she demanded for him to leave her be. Just a passing thought, somewhere he could go that would be far enough away that she would not be irritated with him any longer. Now, she was beginning to agree that it might be to blame. "Hmm…"

"What is it?"

"I wish…" What else could she wish for? The possibilities were endless! "I wish for a bowl of cherries!"

Nothing. They waited for a good few seconds, but no cherries appeared. "Ah," he sighed. "Well… that's a shame, really."

"It is," she sighed. "Our food problems could have been over. But life isn't kind enough to simply hand you a bowl of cherries, it's not like that. Oh, how about — I wish for a Tik Tok soldier who will do our bidding!" Again, nothing. "Confound this belt, giving me false hope like that!"

"I'll say," he chuckled. "Wishing for soldiers would have made our battle against the Wizard a pretty easy fight."

"You read my mind. Oh… well, if the only good it does is sending scarecrows outside, then it's not much use." Pinching the bridge of her nose to ward off the headache that was just beginning to brew behind her brow, she sighed and told him, "I'm going up to see Elphie, ask her if there's any spell that can tell us whether some old belt is magical or not."

"Hm?" Elphaba asked, looking up from the Grimmerie. "Not that I know of. Why do you think it's magical?"

Glinda stared in shock. "I… you… Elphie, how did you get down here?"

"Down where?" Her green eyes swept up and down the library, at the rich-but-dusty rugs and the heavy oak shelves filled to the brim with books of all kinds. Light streamed in through the few high windows that bordered the top of one wall. "I've been right here since you left me after breakfast. Studying. Sorry I didn't hear you come in, I've just been trying to figure out whether this is a spell to remove warts or to add them. The phrasing is pretty awful."

But Glinda couldn't care about warts just then. She was too busy trying to figure out exactly how she had found herself in the library. Holding up a finger, she shakily bade her, "Just… one moment, I have to be sure. I wish to go and see Nessa!"

This time, with her eyes open, she watched the world change. Everything grew murky and black for a very brief second, and it was the scariest second of her life. Like she was surging through the very essence of evil itself. But it was over so fast that it was easy to see how one could miss it if they blinked.

Then she was in the kitchens. As she did so often lately, Nessa was bent over the stove, working on her food. Normally, she had the same thought every time she saw her there: that the poor girl really didn't know what else to do with herself, since Glinda and Elphaba were the ones with the most power as witches, so she defaulted to these domestic chores.

However, this time she was distracted by Nessa's companion squeaking and dropping a cake of soap to the floor.

"AH!" Dorothy cried, leaning back against the sink where she had been about to start scrubbing pots. "Miss Glinda, where- how did you get in here?"

Turning at last, Nessa only remarked, "Oh, there you are. Finished in the basements already?"

"No, I… well, I think I found something quite interesting." This was going to be a real test, and her fear was beginning to shift to giddy excitement. "Dorothy, Nessie… I'm going to try a spell. If you find yourself someplace new, try not to be frightened!" Then she gripped her belt and said, "Take all three of us to Elphie!"

And it did.

"WHAT?!" Elphaba cried out, falling back from where she had been hunched over the floor onto her behind. If Glinda had to guess, she would say she had been examining the spot where her roommate vanished to see if there was a hole or a trap door there.

"Sakes alive!" Dorothy was breathing, also falling down bonelessly. Nessa merely staggered and leaned heavily against Glinda, as they were now standing quite close together.

"How did… you do that?" Elphaba demanded, slowly rising with a wary eye on her companions. "I haven't come across a spell that can do something like that yet! Were you reading ahead when I wasn't looking?"

Beaming, she rested her hands on her hips as she gazed around at her friends. "Not at all. Just enjoying the benefits of an honest day's cleaning!" Her index finger tapped one of the jewels embedded in the belt's surface. "This little beauty may just be the answer to all of our problems. Or a couple of them, anyway. Wait, hold on — all of us ought to be here. Fiyero?"

An instant later, he was popping into the room, as disoriented as ever. When he fell back onto the floor, the thump was a lot softer than those of Elphaba or Dorothy, the latter of whom made a second thump in shock at him appearing out of thin air.

"You could at least warn a guy!" he snapped.

"Wouldn't know how to if I wanted to. It doesn't come with a messaging service! Now then… I think we have some planning to do."

                                                ~ o ~

Late that evening, they were all about as prepared as they might be. Without any miraculous way to cure Boq of his unfortunate attitude, and deciding it was best to leave Chistery and his band of Monkeys behind to guard the keep, they were an invasion force of six: Elphaba, Glinda, Nessarose, Fiyero, the Lion, and a very knock-kneed Dorothy. As often as they tried to reassure her that they would do their best to shield her from harm, they couldn't promise everyone would come through the experience safe and sound. It saddened Glinda, but it was just the reality of their situation. If they didn't make this push to change everything…

She didn't want to think about that. What might happen if they failed. To them, and then the Animals… and then to Oz with no one left to stand in Morrible's way. She was the true threat, even above the Wizard.

"Guess that's everything," Elphaba sighed, checking the straps on her pack. She had fashioned one that would hold the Grimmerie against her back, hidden beneath her cloak once it was in place. And, of course, the black hat was already stuck upon the top of her head.

"Now I'm sorry I even found that belt, Elphie. I'm not ready to be a… an encroacher!"

Fastening the cloak, she turned to look her dead in the eyes. "Nor am I. Even if my skin is suited to blending into the background once we reach the Emerald City."

"You'd have to be completely nude," Glinda teased.

"Oh? And you prefer that plan, do you?"

For a few seconds, Glinda only sputtered while Elphaba favoured her with one of the wolfish smiles that turned her innards to jelly. Then she snapped, "Do you have to do that?! Out-tease me all the time?!"

"Only when it's fun."

"I'll show you fun! I'll give you a big barrel of fun, just you wait!" Her hands came up and curled into fists, miming a fighting pose she had seen once. Poorly. When Elphaba only chuckled at her, she wilted. "Suppose it's my own fault that teasing me like that works, isn't it?"

That prompted Elphaba to look away slightly. "Suppose so. But we can't think about such things right now. Maybe when we get back… if we get back. The others are waiting for us in the courtyard by now, and I don't want to give the Wizard and Morrible any more of a chance to track us down first. The sooner we drop in on them, the better."

She moved toward the door. Something swelled within the pit of Glinda's stomach, and she knew that it would be a mistake to let the moment slip past for any reason.

"Wait," she breathed, latching onto her forearm.

"Yes?" But when she saw the look in Glinda's eyes, she frowned at her. "Come on, we don't have time for sentimentality."

"It's not just sentimentality. It's mentality. It's…"

"Glinda, I know. But this is war. Or it's going to be war if we can't stop it, and we need to try. Or worse… it won't be a war at all. Just a mass destruction of an entire race."

Much though she wanted to argue that the Animals weren't being destroyed, she knew that as far as Elphaba was concerned, taking away their ability to speak and think was an unacceptable loss. So she didn't try. Instead, she focused on what she wanted to say.

"Elphie… when we get back, we're going to discuss this. For real."

"Of course. I…" This sigh was more scared than the ones she had given when they were thinking about confronting the Wizard. "It's been long overdue."

"Can I have another taste-test before we leave? Just…" Her voice grew tight. "Elphie, if we never come back, and I didn't have a chance to tell y-"

No words would have been adequate. Elphaba was truly a woman of action lately, and the action of taking Glinda's lips hard and fast was merely the latest example. She melted into her strong grip, painting her arms over her shoulders as she leaned up into the sweet mouth, eyes closing to the world and all their problems. In ways she could never have thought possible being brought up in Gillikin high society, she belonged to Elphaba. There was no world without her in it.

And it was equally like Elphie to draw back a half-breath too soon, to brokenly whisper, "We'll… finish this discussion… another time."

"We will," she agreed with a fervent nod. Her lips pushed into Elphaba's chin, unwilling to let the moment go entirely, and she could feel the indecision in her roommate's body. Torn between returning the affections, and doing what she felt was most important to do. "Alright… alright, we should go. Shouldn't we?"

"Nobody else is going to do this for us. But…" A ghost of a smile flitted across her lips. "Thank you for being so stubborn. And such a fantastic kisser."

Glinda's cheeks bunched with the force of her own grin. "Bet you say that to all the witches."

                                                ~ o ~

Dorothy Gale had never been so frightened in her entire life. And she had been frightened for a good many reasons in the past days. First, for being caught up in a twister, the entire house shaking around her as it sailed through the skies. Then for finding herself in a strange land, surrounded by a queer little folk that she had never dreamed could exist. Furthermore, facing down bears and lions, and kalidahs, and even having a Wizard order her to kill a real live witch! How was a humble farm girl from Kansas supposed to accomplish such things? She wasn't a policeman, or a soldier in the army. She wasn't even one of the big, strong farmhands who could wield a hoe or a rake to drive off a fox from bothering the hens!

But everything had changed. Now her poor, simple head was filled with concepts she never imagined.

"It'll be alright, Dorothy," the scarecrow comforted her, gripping her arm with one hand and patting hers with the other. He had a name, they had told it to her, but she had got so used to calling him Scarecrow that she forgot it often. "You'll see. I… I trust them."

"Well, I don't," the Lion hissed in his shaky tone. A little yip from Toto seemed to be in agreement. "This seems like a bad, baaad idea to me!"

Trying to be reasonable, she whispered, "Hush now. We're… the palace is just up ahead. If we keep jammering on so, we'll be overheard, and then we'll really be in the soup!"

"She's right; we probably ought to get moving. Nobody's going to pick us up in a horse and buggy and take us inside."

Having said so, the scarecrow took a step forward, redoubling his grip on the enchanted broom. The Lion on her other side leaned in closer, and she wound her hand into his mane for both their comfort. Steeled as best they could be, the trio made their way the last few steps along the Emerald City street to the front doors of the Royal Palace, Toto trotting in their wake.

To herself, she whispered, "Just remember what Aunt Em would say: 'we all have to make the best of our lot in life'." Then she rapped on the green-painted wood.

"Yes?" the guard asked. Then he leaned further down through the lookout hole in the door to view Dorothy's glimmering shoes, green mustache bristling as he whistled to see them. "Oh, it's you! Well, now, we've been expecting you for some time!"

"Thank you," she said, her curtsy somewhat awkward due to her unwillingness to let go of her two companions. "Might we go on up to see the Wizard, if it please you?"

"You may, indeed." In a quieter voice, he added, "Though I hope for your sakes that you've got good news; the Wizard is fairly easy to please, but that new press secretary of his…" Instead of elaborating, he merely pulled a face before pulling wide the door.

On the other side, she was relieved to see Jellia Jamb waiting to escort her. At least there was a familiar face. The young page bowed stiffly, then motioned for Dorothy to follow.

"Jellia? Or shall I call you Miss Jamb?"

"Call me whatever you like," Jellia said as she walked briskly, nose buried in a small notebook full of little notes. Her tone was neither unkind nor overly affectionate; a professional. She reminded Dorothy of the woman who worked at the general store in town.

"Right, y-yes. Well… I wanted to ask… do you like working for the Wizard?"

Withdrawing a pencil from behind her ear that had been hiding within her green hair, she answered, "Doesn't matter one way or the other. It's my job."

"Oh, and of course it is — and of course you do a fine job, you really do! Only… well, don't you have any opinion as to if you like doing it? Is the Wizard a nice man to work for?"

For a time, they walked on in silence. She exchanged a glance with the scarecrow; maybe Jellia was so pressed for time that she had no time to answer such trivial questions. But around the time they were ascending a great staircase, she did respond after all.

"This job was… simpler before he took on the new press secretary."

"Oh?"

"Yes. And that is all I feel comfortable stating. Now, if you need for me to fetch you a new dress before you see His Wizliness, or to have a bath drawn, or some cakes sent up, I can handle those duties just fine. But I can't give you any deeper opinions, Miss Gale." Her eyes seemed very vaguely sad as she glanced over her shoulder, but the look was so quick that she could have been mistaken.

"Oh. Well, that's alright. Thank you just the same." Glancing down at her knees, at the clean-but-ragged dress she had been given within the Emerald City in the first place, she sighed and forced herself to say, "N-no, I would like to see the Wizard right away. He'll understand."

And even if he didn't…

Soon thereafter, Jellia let Dorothy into the great hall that was so like the one in Kiamo Ko, except grander, and still fitted with rich finery and jewels. On the throne sat the great head, but she tried to remember what she had been told. It kept her from turning tail on the spot.

"I AM OZ! THE GREAT AND POWERFUl! WHO ENTERS HERE?"

"It is I, Dorothy! The small and meek! Your… remember me? You sent me to try and kill the Witch of the West?"

"YES! AND HAVE YOU DONE THIS?"

Perhaps the largest obstacle to this plan was that Dorothy hated to lie. Not only that, but she found herself so afraid of the consequences of being found out for lying, for hurting anyone in such a way, that she couldn't bring herself to do it easily. But there were always ways around obstacles if one knew where to look for them.

"Well, I did what you said!" It was true: she had thrown water upon Elphaba. Mopping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as best she could, she went on in a carrying voice, "And… and you said that I ought to bring back something of hers?"

Her round head nodded toward her companion, braids bobbing. The scarecrow stepped forward and held the broom out with both hands. Only a moment passed before Jellia hopped to attention, bringing the broom from his hands to lay before the Wizard's great head.

"VERY GOOD. NOW YOU MUST GO AND LEAVE ME BE. YOUR SERVICE HAS BEEN NOTED!"

After only a brief pause of surprise, she started forward. "B-but wait! You were to… I thought you said you'd help me get home if I did what you asked! It isn't decent to break a promise!"

"PROMISES WERE MEANT TO BE BROKEN! BUT FEAR NOT, CHILD — RETURN TOMORROW AND YOUR WISH MIGHT BE GRANTED!"

Unfortunately for the Wizard, "might" was not "definitely," and Dorothy was not satisfied. However, she had not expected to be; this was all for effect. The entire time they had been conversing, her eyes were darting from side to side, and she was leaning slightly to help afford her a better view of the back of the head itself. Only now that she had been bade return on the next day did she finally spot what she was looking for.

"But I want help going home now! Or else… I'll have to talk to the real you!"

"I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN!" This time, even though the voice thundered and seemed to shake the very foundation of the Palace itself, it did seem the slightest bit less confident.

Dorothy motioned for the Lion to stay put, on alert, and began to creep forward. When Jellia's eyebrows shot upward, she raised an index finger to her lips; it was a silly thing to do, for she expected the servant would still shout for the guards, or at least warn her to step back. However, Jellia actually did as she was requested, and straightened her back, staying silent but watching with wary eyes. She had a feeling that if she produced a sword and attacked, the girl might spring for her, but as long as she continued not to be a threat she would treat the guest as precisely that: a guest.

"Well… I mean… this!"

When Dorothy threw the curtain aside, she had been expecting to see a fiendish man, a devil out of the illustrations in Sunday School. Instead, here was a small, wrinkled old man with very sparse white hair and spectacles, his suit handsome but also rumpled from his stature. Fascinated as she was by that sight, and her own disbelief that it was true, she was very slightly distracted by the sight that had so captured the Wizard's attentions that he couldn't even focus on the matter at hand.

A woman who looked more angelic than mortal twirled within a glittering diamond cage. Hair like waves of gold cascaded down her shoulders and along her back, skin glinting like a lighter hue of bronze, and her eyes were closed in a bliss that Dorothy likened to tasting the first spoonful of fresh jam her Aunt Em had canned herself. The vision's dress seemed to be spun from the air itself, or else spiderwebs, and even changed colours when they caught the light. As she twisted and flowed from one pose to another, elegant, trim arms weaving symbols in the air that seemed only to fade after the hands had moved along, legs nearly a blur, she could swear the entirety of girl and her robes turned translucent, and she could see to the other side — but then she would be solid again, and Dorothy wondered if she had imagined everything.

It was the dancing woman who noticed first; the Wizard was too enraptured by her display to have eyes for anything else. A breathy "oh!" escaped from her when she spotted Dorothy standing there, agape. A half-moment later, the dazed old man whirled.

"OH!" he repeated. "What are- that is, YOU DARE-"

The last had been spoken into a device like the broad end of an ear trumpet, and came booming out of the great head behind Dorothy, but he seemed to realise with a start that it would do no good to attempt deception any longer. Frowning in annoyance, he dropped back from the horn and the surrounding levers and cranks that reminded her of the inside of a train engine, nearly bumping against the near side of the large diamond cage.

"So it's true!" she breathed in disbelief. Even up until that point, she had been uncertain, in the same way children always want to believe in the deities of their parents because they've been told for so long that they are real. "You really are a humbug!"

"Now, now," he attempted with both hands raised. "Let's not be hasty. And how dare you throw around such accusations!"

"But you are, you old fraud! Oh, how silly I feel — this is nothing but a… a big puppet!" Her hand reached up and thwacked the cheek of the head, and it made a hollow thunk that definitely didn't make her think it was alive. "And ordering me to go and kill the witches! How could you?"

Frowning yet deeper, he went on, "Alright, alright! So you've found me out. How can you blame me? The Ozians want theatrics and magic, and I'm only good at the former, so… the latter had to be feigned to keep up appearances! Don't you see?"

"But you're so…" This was scarecrow, who was too shocked by what he saw to hold his tongue. Especially since he technically didn't own a tongue anymore. "I mean, that's Oz!" His finger levelled at the girl in the cage. "At least, that's how he appeared to me when I asked for my brains!"

The accused was most definitely afraid of these reactions, shrinking even further to the back of the cage. In a calming voice, her jailor said, "Shhh, it's alright! Oh, don't frighten her so; Polly really is a sweet girl. I invited her to play my part once in awhile, to switch things up. Isn't she something? Oh, I could watch her dance all day… an old man can get lonely cooped up in a big palace such as this, you know."

"You have her locked in a cage," Dorothy countered.

"So? I can't have her running away all the time; no, no, that wouldn't do. Though I do let her out during cloudless days, when I can be sure she won't get far if she tries to escape. Really, it's not so bad, is it?"

"It is! You can't just keep young women in cages, that's an awful thing to do!"

His pout was more that of a child than of a cunning old man who had become the Supreme Ruler of an entire nation. "But… well, she can't be allowed to escape now. She's seen too much, knows too much! The best I can do for her is provide a nice, comfortable bed in her cage."

Looking back and forth, Dorothy said, "But there isn't any bed. And besides, it's the keeping her locked up part that's unkind!"

At this, Jellia appeared at their sides and pulled a secret lever. The floor beneath "Polly" changed, rolling over until a fairly large and comfortable bed was now revealed in one corner of the cage. Its occupant approached, hesitant but hopeful, glancing back at the Wizard as if to silently ask if it was alright.

"Go on, my dear. You've done more than enough for today."

"Can't she talk?" the Lion asked, as if too surprised that a woman couldn't where he could.

"She could, once upon a time. But the hex Morrible placed on the cage when she captured her…" The telling of this seemed to pain him, and he looked away. "Oh, but it would be nice to have someone to chat with again…"

Dorothy was through listening to his excuses. "And you let her do these things! Really, a man of your age ought to know better! She ought to be let go, and you've been doing Heaven-knows-what to her, and… oh, how shameful! My Uncle Henry would send for the sheriff!"

Her scolding did seem to be having an effect on the man, and his cheeks warmed. But he finally reached his end and stood a little straighter. "Now, just you listen here! Seems to me you're insinuating something that isn't true, and I'll put that to rest forthwith! I haven't harmed so much as a hair on Polychrome's head, much less anything more unseemly, and I'll thank you not to throw around such accusations!"

"Accusations like what? Keeping prisoners? Because she is — that's a cage if I've ever seen one! Like she's a parakeet!"

"Begging your pardon, Wizliness," the scarecrow went on in a softer tone, "I, um… I don't think she's saying what you think she's saying. Little Dorothy isn't the sort to think about such matters."

She hadn't been thinking of anything besides Polly's well-being and freedom, it was true. Her straw-headed friend had been very protective of her innocence, up to and including the incident in which Tin Man had been telling her scandalous things about Elphaba and Glinda. They had nearly fallen to fisticuffs over the matter.

"Oh?" At that information, the Wizard seemed to notice afresh that Dorothy was a younger girl, and wasn't quite looking at him with the level of disgust he had been expecting. "Oh. Well… alright, we can leave that lie. I might be a humbug, but not a cad." Then he cleared his throat. "Now then, to business. You seem to have unearthed a little secret that I really would prefer didn't reach the ears of the rest of the Emerald City. You've done me a great service in ridding me of the serious challenge to my power, and for that, I'm quite grateful. Might we still hold to the original deal?"

"Just a moment," she warned him, holding up a finger. "Let's you and I talk about that. Can you explain to us why you're being so mean to the poor Animals, like my good friend, the Cowardly Lion?"

The Lion merely hung his head a little lower at that description. Not that it was undeserved; Dorothy meant no disrespect, other than to point out the fact in the hopes he would continue to be more brave to combat such a label.

"Now, now, that's an internal matter," he tried to warn her with a genial smile. "Nothing for a pretty girl like you to worry her pretty head over."

"And if you're such a keen Ruler, you can tell a pretty girl like me all about it. Even in a way I might understand." This might have sounded sarcastic to the Wizard, for he bristled slightly, but Dorothy meant it in earnest; she knew next to nothing except how a farm is run, and a handful of other things. Still, she felt as if she were entitled to that much of an explanation.

And it was making the Wizard uncomfortable. They had caught him red-handed, and he had no choice but to capitulate. "Very well. You see, where we come f- that is, er… oh, but they are Animals, aren't they? Lions eat little girls! So it only makes sense to me that we tame and domesticate them, not let them go around teaching at universities! It's just preposterous!"

"But Dr. Dillamond was a fine teacher," the scarecrow volunteered. When they turned to him with surprise, he went on blithely, "Or so I've heard. So you can't say he was going around bleating and kicking the students, because it simply isn't true. Not a student who's ever been in his class would say so."

"I agree that having Lions walking and talking isn't something I'm used to," Dorothy said. "Or having them around at all, not in Kansas! Not unless the circus is in town! But, well… it seems to me if they talk and think and can be civil, then they ought to be allowed to, oughtn't they?"

"My dear, my dear, come now. As I said, I'm the Wizard, and the current ruling head of the Land of Oz. I brought unity to these four countries where there was only division when I arrived! No more squabbling with the Quadlings, no more trade embargos with the hinky Winkies… what I'm doing, I'm doing for the good of these fine people! So might I be given the benefit of a doubt when it comes to this, as well?"

Even before he finished, Dorothy was shaking her head. It frightened her to be disagreeing with an authority figure of any sort, but this one had already proven himself to be a charlatan and a swindler, and had attempted to trick her into murdering a group of highly-slandered "witches". Her aunt and uncle had always encouraged her to do what was right in the eyes of the Lord, and even though no one in Oz seemed to have heard of that particular Lord, that didn't mean she could turn her back on her convictions purely because she was abroad.

"I'm sorry," she told him earnestly, taking a step back. "But… I'm afraid… I don't think you're fit to be the President here, Sir Wizard. Not if you're going to tell Lion he can't talk anymore, or… or send me to hurt three perfectly lovely ladies who only w-want to help the Animals! Especially if you might have k-killed an innocent little baby! You're a very bad man!"

At the last condemnation, his brow furrowed. He was about to ask her what she meant by that, but Dorothy was already springing into action. Completely mortified by the idea as she was, she whipped the hem of her dress up to reveal a pair of culottes that had been hidden underneath; probably had belonged to some long-dead resident of Kiamo Ko. Around the waist of said culottes lay a wide, shining belt, glittering with jewels. Luckily, he was at least chivalrous enough to avert his eyes when she did this, but that chivalry would prove to be his undoing.

"Bring the witches to me!" she announced firmly as her hands closed around the belt. And in a blink and a puff of smoke, it did that very thing.

                                                 To Be Continued…