The path Hank followed leading into the estate became the floor of a portico, its columns spaced apart by planters housed in brick, holding perennials of all kind. The gentle curve it had started out with now zig-zagged in a herringbone fashion, forcing those who walked the path to make one turn after another. It seemed like a labyrinth at first, but Hank then realized that the sharp turns allowed a person to better view the garden's plants and trees.

It also kept what was at the end a secret from those not following the path. When Hank rounded the final corner, the portico gave way to a lobby of some kind. Perhaps it was the break room of a swank corporation, but whatever it was, it had only two full walls. One was to Hank's left, and lined with a great many cupboards. Centering them was a white countertop, set atop six pull-out drawers, with more cupboards underneath. At one end of the counter was a double sink, and Hank noticed a dishwasher there, built into an abutting alcove.

The other wall, to his right, was lined with five long rectangular tables, with their short edge set against the wall. Decorative glass windows revealed waist-high hedges growing directly outside. Hank was unsure of the need for the windows, as the path behind him was wide open to all the great outdoors. The two full walls met two partial walls on the far end of the room, one of which held the dishwasher in the alcove. The space between the partial walls was attached to a transverse hallway, where recessed ceiling lights led the way to unseen places beyond.

The black and white cartoon dog was nowhere to be found.

Everything in the room gleamed a pure and spotless white. The countertop was finely grained white granite. The double sink was white, with a white faucet set between them. Above that were two paper product dispensers, one of which held white drinking cups. With curiosity driving him, Hank worked the paper towel dispenser to see what kind of towels came out.

They were white. "Imagine that," he said quietly.

Hank further surveyed the room. He peeked into some of the cupboards and drawers, finding them stocked with utensils and foodstuffs, mostly suitable for warming in the microwave set upon the countertop, and opposite from the sinks. A little two-burner stove was built into the countertop next to the microwave and, as Hank examined this, he became aware of what could only be described as the white elephant in the room.

A gentle hum told him the motor of what appeared to be a full-size refrigerator by the microwave oven had just kicked in. Only he realized it wasn't a refrigerator, but a vending machine, the kind that dispensed cold drinks. It was, as most things in the room, a stark and blazing white. It had no coin slot on it, but what made it the most curious thing was the fact that its faceplate and six wide buttons had no words or markings whatsoever.

No names. No pictures. Nothing. Just six large plain white buttons.

Hank brushed his fingers across its surface before he heard a familiar slurping sound coming from behind. He turned to look for the dog he'd lost track of earlier. Along each of the rectangular tables sat six finely crafted white wood chairs, three on each long side. Each window lined up perfectly with one of the five tables.

Right atop of the center table sat the silly dog. It stared at Hank with its mouth open and its tongue hanging out. As it panted, drool again formed a puddle by its paws.

Hank looked over his shoulder at the sink, so as to not turn his back on the mutt.

It slurped its lips. "Are you thirsty, Boy?" Hank asked.

The dog slurped again. It also wiggled its butt while remaining seated. Hank went to the sink and pulled two cups from the dispenser, filling them with water. He offered one to the dog while bringing the other to his own lips.

"Here you go," Hank said around his cup, as the dog sniffed the one held in front of it.

The near constant malaise Hank had been suffering from since his second PEP test had subsided somewhat, especially now that he'd found this odd dog again. As it stuck its tongue into its cup, Hank began to drink. Instantly, the sickness returned. He remembered having seen a room much like this in the distant garden of his dream. Also in his dream, the water people drown in was foul and disgusting.

He took a tiny sip, and his vision was confirmed. The water didn't taste good. The dog lapped up a small drink of its own before it jumped off the table and disappeared down the transverse hallway.

Again, Hank was alone. He poured the water down the drain. There was no garbage can to be seen, so he put the cups in the sink. He then approached the vending machine. Its six buttons were arranged in two rows of three each. Centered by Hank's knees was a spring door where, presumably, whatever was inside would come out. If it weren't for the cartoon dog, this machine would be the weirdest thing Hank had seen all day.

And today was turning out to be an especially weird day.

He pressed the flat of his hand upon the machine's front panel, feeling the motor hum. He waited for the malaise in his gut to well up again, but mercifully nothing happened. There was no time left, however, for PEP test nightmare analysis. He didn't even have time to see what would happen if he pressed one of the machine's six buttons. Instead he slowly turned, and lowered his hands to his side. The dog had returned to its spot on the table, dripping drool into the same puddle. But that wasn't what held Hank's feet frozen to the floor.

Hank was frozen because he was no longer the only person in the room.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A well-dressed man, about fifty years of age and six-foot-four in height, stood across from Hank, where the hallway met the room. He wore a tailored dark blue suit and patent leather shoes, and easily tipped the scale at three hundred pounds, his great stomach protruding beneath a barrel chest. He gave a signal to the the dog and, with athletic strength, he caught it at full stride as it bounded over and leapt into his arms.

A woman of Japanese descent stood at the man's right side. She also wore a suit, hers charcoal gray and with a skirt. She was over one foot shorter, about half his age, and weighed two-thirds less. She held a metallic clipboard with a pen attached to it on a silver chain. More intimidating than the man, she stared at Hank with unflinching dark eyes, magnified by bright red round eyeglasses perched upon her slightly too-big nose.

"I'm sorry about the water," the man said, his voice booming, yet pleasant. "The land here is low, and too close to the bay."

He paused, expecting Hank to respond, or perhaps just for effect. The dog squirmed in his arms during the prolonged silence, while the woman adjusted her posture.

"Perhaps you'd like to get a drink from our vending machine," the big man said.

Hank wanted to ask questions about the machine and its design, but something about the man made him hold his tongue. Although huge, the man wasn't intimidating, yet his voice held the authority of someone who expected obedience. Since he'd been wanting to do so anyway, Hank pressed a random button on the face of the machine. Something solid clunked in the area behind the spring door.

Hank bent to retrieve the item with his eyes glued on the woman. She stared back in a way that let him know she was a person to reckon with. Dangerous perhaps. Even deadly.

Just before Hank reached into the machine, the man spoke very loud. "You didn't say what you wanted."

"A Misty Dew," Hank replied. Twenty ounce wide mouth, he thought.

A plastic bottle lay behind the machine's spring door, feeling cold to the touch. Hank didn't look at it after pulling it out, but instead kept his eyes on the couple. The man smiled kindly, as did his goofy dog. The woman didn't exactly smile, but at least she no longer looked like she was going to kill Hank by shooting laser beams at him from her eyes.

Hank turned his attention to the bottle, and was surprised that he didn't drop it. It was indeed a twenty ounce, wide mouth Misty Dew. The room would have been silent, except the dog slurped at the sight of the bottle.

"Uh, okay," Hank mumbled, to no one in particular. "That was a neat trick."

"I assure you," the man said, "what you did was not a trick. This is very real." He placed the wriggling mutt on the floor before it drooled on his suit. "Rio? Will you please take Bumbles into the next room for a moment? I need to speak with our guest."

Hank turned his head the scant bit it took to focus his attention on the woman the big man had called Rio. She made a notation on her clipboard before securing it in the crook of her arm. She then stood stock-still for a moment, focusing a final laser beam stare at the one Hank had focused on her. He felt his temperature rise when she pushed her round red glasses up her cute and too-big nose. Hank had felt anything but normal since his nightmarish day at the PEP Center, but what he felt at this moment seemed as natural as anything he'd ever felt in his life.

She's perfect.

Her business jacket was cut long, allowing only a few short inches of the skirt beneath to show. She looked powerful—shapely legs with narrow hips and strong, yet feminine shoulders. She was well-proportioned for her height, but when she bent to pick up the dog, the panels of her suit gave way as her breasts shifted magnificently.

Hank thought it might be difficult for a woman who was so short and busty to pick up a slobbery dog while holding a clipboard under an arm, but that was not the case. Rio righted herself with grace, the dog secured in place beneath her free arm. After a shake of her head to get her wavy black hair out of her eyes, she turned to exit the room. With mighty effort, the dog broke free, skittering across the floor to pant and drool at Hank for one more adorable time.

Rio didn't stop walking as she called to the dog. "Come on, Bumbles. Let's go."

Even her voice is perfect.

With a good-bye yip, the dog caromed off some nearby chairs and then ran after Rio. Hank realized he was slobbering over her almost as much as Bumbles slobbered over everything. He swallowed hard while staring at the spot where Rio had last been in view.

"That's not a real dog," Hank said to the spot where he was staring.

The big man laughed. "No, I suppose he's not. He certainly looks funny!"

Hank felt a bit funny himself.

"I'd like to get to know you," the man said. "So sit, please, and let's have a soda pop together. Then maybe we could talk."

Heaving from the effort, the big man lowered his frame into one of the sturdy wood chairs at the table nearest him. Again, Hank felt compelled to do as he'd been told. It was as if the man were a hypnotist, but even so, Hank couldn't think of a reason not to obey. He'd followed Bumbles onto the man's property, after all. So he went for a chair at the fourth table in the room, one table away from the man.

"Wait," the man said. "Before you sit, get a soda pop for me, if you wouldn't mind."

Hank looked at the featureless vending machine. He was hesitant to touch it again, yet curiosity drove him to do it. He wanted to see what would come out next. As he reached for a button, the man interrupted.

"Oh, but make mine a Diet Poppsy, please. I'm not a fan of Misty Dew."

"What?" Hank asked, unsure of what the man had said.

"Don't worry. Just do it."

Just do it.

Hank pressed a random button, and a clunk sounded behind the door. What came out from it this time was a twenty-ounce Diet Poppsy. He stared at it simply.

"Come, Hank. Sit and talk," the big man said with ease.

Hank complied. "Okay. Explain how I did that." He then realized something. "And how do you know my name? What's yours?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Curiouser and curiouser!" cried Alice, for she was so surprised that, for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English.

I love the fact that Lewis Carrol invented so many words, simply for the fact that he wanted his Alice in Wonderland story to live in its own world.

I hope somehow, in my own way, I'm doing the same for DOTS. What do you think so far?

I will manage the best I can. Perhaps I shall give Hank a new pair of boots every Christmas. :-)

The Book of LIBERALITY - Chapter THREE

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