The Mechanical Messiah by Robert Rankin

and Alice were therefore forced to walk a considerable distance. Although Uncle Charles did enliven the walk with details of the Great Truth he had learned. And how Alice would benefit from this Truth.
    Alice got very hot and dusty during this walk.
    Once her aunt had welcomed her, she wasted no time in popping Alice into a nice hot bath and lathering her up with the soap that Uncle Charles had prepared. And little girls can at times make quite a fuss in a bath and get a lot of soap in their mouths when they are being naughty.
    During that summer Alice experienced a series of intense and dramatic psychedelic experiences. Emerging from these in terror and dismay, she related the details to her uncle. And he, being quite unaware that he was literally doping up his niece with massive doses of hallucinogens, imagined that the ultimate breakthrough had occurred and that she must be in direct contact with God. Thus he wrote down everything that she told him, no matter how absurd, believing it to be a new Revelation. An angelic dictation that came in the form of two gospels.
    At length he would publish these two gospels as separate works, entitled Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There. Uncle Charles of course changed his name to Lewis Carroll and found fame and fortune through the publication of these two gospels.
    It was clearly the Will of God and Uncle Charles was glad to be spreading God’s word. And glad too was he for the money, some of which he spent on building very high walls around his garden.
    But Alice was never quite the same again. The experiences had been so intense that she had no reason to believe that they had not actually occurred. They had truly been magical experiences, of this she had no doubt.
    From that day forth she harboured fears, not only of magic. But also of mirrors and rabbit holes.
     
    In the present day and the morning after the night before, Alice applied her make-up whilst viewing herself in a very small looking glass. When powdered and primped to as near perfection as might be achieved, she pondered on the day that lay ahead.
    She would have to make efforts to find new accommodation. And she would do well to leave her present home by dead of night, before her wealthy patron arrived to discover the full extent of the mayhem wrought upon his premises by the unruly kiwi birds.
    Alice had copied down a number of names and addresses of theatrical diggings gleaned from the backstage notice board at the Electric Alhambra. She would breakfast and then set out in search of a room.
    After kedgeree and coffee, both supplied by her patron and neither composed of sawdust or toenail trimmings, she fed her kiwi birds, placed a purple fascinator on her head, her best gloves on her hands, took up parasol and handbag and went out to face the day.
    The streets of Bayswater were busy and bustling. Horse trains rattled and hansoms clattered by. One of those brand-new flying landaus powered by Lord Tesla’s wireless transmission of electricity purred above the rooftops. Cries of Old London filled the air and newsboys bawled the news. Much of this bawling concerned the untimely death of Harry Hamilton. Ladies and gentlemen took the air. Alice hurried onwards.
    The first boarding house on her list was in Pimlico. The rooms were pleasant, the landlord charming, tall and dark and handsome. The terms, however, were ludicrous and not open to any negotiation. Not that Alice offered any.
    The second was that owned by Mrs Marsuple. Alice viewed the teetering establishment, which quivered slightly as a steam dray rumbled past. No, decided Alice, not in a month of Good Fridays.
    The third on the list, however, proved interesting. It was only a ten-minute walk from the Electric Alhambra and had a handwritten sign in the window which read

    Alice Lovell tapped with the knocker and stood on the red-leaded doorstep. Presently the door was answered to her knocking and she was