HAPPY HEARTS LOGS

SO (PLEASE DON'T) TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES

Days are almost meaningless, here in Wonderland. With the eternal twilight outside the windows and many of the hotel's amenities open around the clock, it can be hard to keep track, can't it? But you must sleep, or at least return to your room, some time. It's on one of these times that you may begin to notice a faint sound coming from inside the walls. Or is it the ceiling? The floor? Something that sounds like scratching, or tapping, or the strained whir of machinery. Then it fades away. Whether it's moving on to another room or stopping entirely, it's hard to tell.

After a few nights, or days, of this happening, it suddenly stops. There's a brief period of peace, and perhaps you even get some rest. Then there's a series of thumps, sharp clicks and a loud stuttering sound that signals the hotel's air conditioning unit giving out.

At first it's not so bad. It's dark out, right, how hot can it really be outside? The air itself still seems to be circulating, albeit more slowly, but it's enough that you can breathe. But the heat seems to keep building, and building, the air hanging heavy and thick and leaving a lingering feeling that it's pressing down on you. Even sitting still no longer becomes enough to ease the suffocating heat.

The staff don't know what's happened to the air conditioner, when you ask. "Oh, that finicky thing", they say, as if it's a minor inconvenience. They assure you that the Queen's mechanics will have it fixed in no time — they always do. In the meantime, can they interest you in a refreshing iced tea? Perhaps a dip in the pool?

Is it your imagination, or do a few of the staff seem a little uncertain as they try to brush off your questions? A little less confident than they always have been before? Whatever their demeanor, it seems they still have no answers to give. The astute may notice that after a conversation with one of these staff, they can't seem to be found again.

As if that weren't enough, the scratching in the walls starts up again. With the oppressive heat, the rising tension and frayed nerves, is it any wonder that the staff might seem more apprehensive?

THAT IS JUST SO TYPICALLY ME

It's not clear how many days it's been since you arrived in Wonderland. With it stuck in perpetual twilight, it could have been days, perhaps longer — everything starts to blur together, in this artificially joyful place. Maybe you've started to feel like you you're getting used to it, maybe not...

But eventually, something happens to break the monotony. Your ears begin to ring, and ring, and ring and then — stop. The lights become blinding, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and try to rub the afterimage of all that light from them — but when you open your eyes, you still can't see.

The staff don't understand when you ask them what's happened to you. "You've always been like this", they insist. They sign at you, or try to hand you papers written in braille — if you insist you've never signed in your life, or that you can't read braille, they laugh at your funny joke. You begin to wonder — have you always been this way? You were so sure... But everyone around you is equally sure of their truth, and their voices are so much louder.

As if that weren't enough, nothing in the hotel can be found in the same place twice. All the shops keep switching places, once you enter one area it's as though everything shifts in the minutes before you leave again. Getting back to your room is a struggle — where are the elevators? Finding food is nearly impossible — the Pig & Pepper was there, but now it's not. The staff are equally useless here — they have no idea what you mean about moving shops. Where would you want to move to when all your needs are accounted for right here?

What is going on?