nor his room nor even the house was anywhere in sight. What had started as make-believe was now very real.
“What a strange thing to happen,” he thought (just as you must be thinking). “This game is much more serious than I thought, for here I am riding on a road I’ve never seen, going to a place I’ve never heard of, and all because of a tollbooth which came from nowhere. I’m certainly glad that it’s a nice day for a trip,” he concluded hopefully, for, at the moment, this was the one thing he definitely knew.
The sun sparkled, the sky was clear, and all the colours he saw seemed to be richer and brighter than he could ever remember. The flowers shone as if they’d been cleaned and polished, and the tall trees that lined the road shimmered in silvery green.
WELCOME TO EXPECTATIONS said a carefully lettered sign on a small house at the side of the road.
INFORMATION, PREDICTIONS, AND ADVICE CHEERFULLY OFFERED. PARK HERE AND BLOW HORN.
With the first sound from the horn a little man in a long coat came rushing from the house, speaking as fast as he could, and repeating everything several times:
“My, my, my, my, my welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome to the land of Expectations, to the land of Expectations, to the land of Expectations. We don’t get many travellers these days; we certainly don’t get many travellers these days. Now what can I do for you? I’m the Whether Man.”
“Is this the right road for Dictionopolis?” asked Milo, a little bowled over by the effusive greeting.
“Well now, well now, well now,” he began again, “I don’t know of any wrong road to Dictionopolis, so if this road goes to Dictionopolis at all it must be the right road, and if it doesn’t it must be the right road to somewhere else, because there are no wrong roads to anywhere. Do you think it will rain?”
“I thought you were the Weather Man,” said Milo, very confused.
“Oh, no,” said the little man, “I’m the Whether Man, not the Weather Man, for after all it’s more important to know whether there will be weather than what the weather will be.” And with that he released a dozen balloons that sailed off into the sky. “Must see which way the wind is blowing,” he said, chuckling over his little joke and watching them disappear in all directions.
“What kind of a place is Expectations?” enquired Milo, unable to see the joke and feeling very doubtful of the little man’s sanity.
“Good question, good question,” he exclaimed. “Expectations is the place you must always go to before you get to where you’re going. Of course, some people never go beyond Expectations, but my job is to hurry them along whether they like it or not. Now, what else can I do for you?” And before Milo could reply he rushed into the house and reappeared a moment later with a new coat and umbrella.
“I think I can find my own way,” said Milo, not at all sure that he could. But, since he didn’t understand the little man at all, he decided that he might as well move on – at least until he met someone whose sentences didn’t always sound as if they would make as much sense backwards as forwards.
“Splendid, splendid, splendid,” exclaimed the Whether Man. “Whether or not you find your own way, you’re bound to find some way. If you happen to find my way, please return it, as it was lost years ago. I imagine by now it’s quite rusty. You did say it was going to rain, didn’t you?” And with that he opened the umbrella and walked with Milo to the car.
“I’m glad you made your own decision. I do so hate to make up my mind about anything, whether it’s good or bad, up or down, in or out, rain or shine. Expect everything, I always say, and the unexpected never happens. Now please drive carefully; goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, good…” His last goodbye was drowned out by an enormous clap of thunder, and as Milo drove down the road in the bright sunshine he could see the Whether Man standing in the middle of a fierce cloudburst that seemed to be raining only on him.
The road dipped now into a broad green valley and stretched towards the horizon. The little car bounced along with very little effort, and Milo had hardly to touch the accelerator to go as fast as he wanted. He was glad to be on his way again.
“It’s all very well to spend time in Expectations,” he thought, “but talking to that strange man all day would certainly get me nowhere. He’s the most peculiar person I’ve ever met,” continued Milo – unaware of how many peculiar people he would shortly encounter.
As he drove along the peaceful road he soon fell to daydreaming and paid less and less attention to where he was going. In a short time he wasn’t paying any attention at all, and that is why, at a fork in the road, when a sign pointed to the left, Milo went to the right, along a route which looked suspiciously like the wrong way.
Things began to change as soon as he left the main road. The sky became quite grey and, along with it, the whole countryside seemed to lose its colour and assume the same monotonous tone. Everything was quiet, and even the air hung heavily. The birds sang only grey songs and the road wound back and forth in an endless series of climbing curves.
Mile after
mile after
mile after
mile he drove, and now, gradually the car went slower and slower, until it was hardly moving at all.
“It looks as though I’m getting nowhere,” yawned Milo, becoming very drowsy and dull. “I hope I haven’t taken a wrong turn.”
Mile after
mile after
mile after
mile, and everything became greyer and more monotonous. Finally, the car just stopped altogether, and, hard as he tried, it wouldn’t budge another inch.
“I wonder where I am,” said Milo in a very worried tone.
“You’re…in…the…Dol…drums,” wailed a voice that sounded far away.
He looked round quickly to see who had spoken. No one was there, and it was as quiet and still as one could imagine.
“Yes…the…Dol…drums,” yawned another voice, but still he saw no one.
“WHAT ARE THE DOLDRUMS?” he cried loudly, and tried very hard to see who would answer this time.
“The Doldrums, my young friend, are where nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes.”
This time the voice came from so close that Milo jumped with surprise, for, sitting on his right shoulder, so lightly that he hardly noticed, was a small creature exactly the colour of his shirt.
“Allow me to introduce all of us,” the creature went on. “We are the Lethargarians, at your service.”
Milo looked round and, for the first time, noticed dozens of them – sitting on the car, standing in the road, and lying
