He saw another tunnel branching off from the one he had been in for-had it been days, weeks? It was impossible for him to tell; the tunnels were all identical. What he did know was that he hadn't aged, thanks to whatever alien science was keeping him alive.
He had never seen his captors. He sometimes imagined what they looked like, based on the architecture of the Maze. Not that his imaginings had gotten him any closer to meeting one of them, or finding a way out of the Maze. He could still remember, even after all these years, the feelings of panic that gripped his mind in the beginning. He would run through the tunnels screaming, demanding, then finally begging for his captors to let him go, when he thought he could no longer stand the loneliness.
He had finally gotten to the point where he was resigned to the fact that he was probably going to spend the rest of his life, perhaps even an eternity, trapped in the seemingly
endless gleaming white corridors that stretched around him, while the reason he was here was still as mysterious as the Maze's creators.
At first, he assumed that he was the only person they' d ever captured. However, he now believed that his being kept alone didn't necessarily mean that they hadn' t done
this to others. How many people had mysteriously disappeared throughout history, only to find themselves here and left alone, as he had been? How many of those other hypothetical prisoners had tried in vain to find some way of escaping, and, when that failed, tried out of desperation to take their own lives, when they realized that they weren't aging and might be trapped forever? How many had simply gone insane from the isolation, as he had nearly done? Had Amelia Earhart and Judge Crater been in here, along with the crew of the Mary Celeste?
There's no sense trying to figure these things out anymore, he' d finally told himself.
Talking to himself had been one of the many ways he'd kept himself from going insane.
Another had been remembering as much as he could of his old-what he now thought of as his "Other"-life, and imagining what it might have been like had he never been captured.
Even though his own past now seemed like a stranger's, he'd spent days and weeks
creating entire worlds for himself, complete with a family, friends, a home, and a job that were created down to the smallest detail.Spence-2
He was able to do it because his life in the Maze was a simple one. He always woke up never hungry, and was always washed and shaved, his hair always kept neatly trimmed and combed during each sleep period. He slept when he wasn't walking or jogging through the corridors; when he wasn't doing that, he sat and rested, thinking of new details to add to his "Other" life.
The fact that he was never hungry or thirsty and always kept clean meant that his captors were at least taking care of him, watching over him in their own impersonal way, no matter where in the Maze he was. But he still missed the taste of real food, which he could still remember in dreams. But that part of his past was becoming harder to remember with each passing decade, just as the "Memories" he had created for himself in
the "Other" life became dimmer with the passage of time. It's all going away, he thought sadly, as he paused to rest and studied his vague reflection in the soft light of the wall that curved around him. I can't even remember my own name anymore. The Maze is becoming the only world I will ever know, or remember. And what will happen then?
Will I become like my captors-cold, impersonal, uncaring? Will I even think I'm one of them? And if that happens, will it even matter if I ever do get to meet them?
It finally happened when he found himself at the entrance to yet another corridor. Except that it turned out to be different from the others, because it only went on for a few hundred feet or so, instead of the several miles that he was used to. When he came to its end, he saw that it was connected to a corridor that was even shorter. That corridor in turn connected with another, and another. He went through all of them with growing anticipation and a sense of hope he hadn't felt before, hope that turned into excitement as he realized that they formed some sort of a pattern. It was a distinct geometrical design, the first of its kind that he had seen in the Maze. He began to run, really running, like he hadn't done since the early years, only this time he was running toward and not away from something, driven not by panic or desperation, but for the first time by hope, as the corridors became shorter and shorter?
He came to the middle of what appeared to be a large room. It was a place of gleaming white walls and a high, rounded ceiling that formed a dome overhead. For a moment, he simply stood and stared. This is it, he realized, looking up at the ceiling. This is the Hub, the middle of the great Wheel...
It was cool, quiet, and sterile in here, like the rest of the Maze. The room seemed vast in comparison to the confines of the corridors. As he looked around at the walls, he felt a gnawing sense of fear that this might all still be some sort of trap, an illusion that had been created to give him a false sense of freedom, perhaps to see how he might react, before he was thrown back into the Maze.
But the room didn't feel like an illusion, and he didn't feel like he was being tested. As he stood and breathed the cool air, he realized that this was no illusion; he had actually reached the Hub. So, I'm finally here. What am I supposed to do now? And what happens if I don't go back into the Maze?
He saw the answer in the form of an opening that appeared in the wall on the other side of the room. It opened up like an iris, revealing a dark hole beyond. He saw something moving in the darkness, something that barely looked human as it crawled out of the hole's dark interior and lifted its head to look at him with narrow, dark eyes. For a moment, all he could do was stare at this apparition with a mixture of fear and
fascination. He wondered if it would do him any good to run, then realized that would
only take him back into the Maze. No, he thought. Whatever you are, you're the one who has answers to the questions I've been asking myself all these years. I'm staying here until I get those answers, one way or another.
The creature crawled out onto the floor, rearing itself up on a pair of spindly legs as it
looked at him with alien eyes. He instinctively knew that it had come with only one
purpose: to keep him from leaving the Maze at all costs. He could sense this in the form of a silent command that he heard from the creature's mind: Kill the intruder. Do not allow the subject to escape. The integrity of the experiment must be protected. KILL HIM?
As he absorbed the creature's thoughts into his own mind, he formed a mental response of his own. No, he thought back, with a "Voice" that was so strong that it temporarily halted the creature in its tracks. I will not die alone in here like the others. I've made it all the way through the Maze, and now you will let me go.
The creature hissed as it snapped out of its momentary daze. It came toward him with a sharp, gleaming, metal object in one of its thin hands. Seeing his chance, he reached for the object's curved handle as the creature reached out for him. He grabbed the creature's wrist with both hands, turning the blade back on the creature's snakelike neck. Its dark eyes turned milky white as they clouded over. The creature sagged to the floor, a thin trail of dark liquid that might have been its blood spilling out of its neck as it quickly and
quietly died.
He stood over the crumpled form of the creature's now lifeless body. Then he looked at the narrow hole that the creature had crawled out of. It was still open, but beginning to close rapidly. He took the weapon that the creature was still clutching in its hand and climbed into the hole. As the iris closed behind him, he saw nothing at first except
darkness, with occasional bits and pieces of metal and glass that glinted in the shadows.
He felt his way past them, not knowing where he was going, only that it took him away from the Maze.
He felt what seemed like a seizure then, as space seemed to collapse in around itself.
Falling forward, he landed on rough, uneven ground that was covered in green grass.
Standing up, he blinked in natural sunlight for the first time in what felt like several
lifetimes. People were running towards him, wearing clothing styles that he didn't
recognize, some of them holding up small devices that seemed to be taking pictures of
him. Realizing that he was naked in a public place, he grinned awkwardly as a uniformed police officer-a woman, which was somewhat surprising-came towards him.
He didn't know how long he' d been gone, but he recognized some of the buildings he saw telling him that he was in New York City, while others were unfamiliar. It didn't t
matter. He was home, and this time, he wasn't going away.
In the meantime, the Maze that he'd left behind was empty and silent, as its creators
mourned their dead Observer, and waited until they could begin the Experiment again.
THE END
He had never seen his captors. He sometimes imagined what they looked like, based on the architecture of the Maze. Not that his imaginings had gotten him any closer to meeting one of them, or finding a way out of the Maze. He could still remember, even after all these years, the feelings of panic that gripped his mind in the beginning. He would run through the tunnels screaming, demanding, then finally begging for his captors to let him go, when he thought he could no longer stand the loneliness.
He had finally gotten to the point where he was resigned to the fact that he was probably going to spend the rest of his life, perhaps even an eternity, trapped in the seemingly
endless gleaming white corridors that stretched around him, while the reason he was here was still as mysterious as the Maze's creators.
At first, he assumed that he was the only person they' d ever captured. However, he now believed that his being kept alone didn't necessarily mean that they hadn' t done
this to others. How many people had mysteriously disappeared throughout history, only to find themselves here and left alone, as he had been? How many of those other hypothetical prisoners had tried in vain to find some way of escaping, and, when that failed, tried out of desperation to take their own lives, when they realized that they weren't aging and might be trapped forever? How many had simply gone insane from the isolation, as he had nearly done? Had Amelia Earhart and Judge Crater been in here, along with the crew of the Mary Celeste?
There's no sense trying to figure these things out anymore, he' d finally told himself.
Talking to himself had been one of the many ways he'd kept himself from going insane.
Another had been remembering as much as he could of his old-what he now thought of as his "Other"-life, and imagining what it might have been like had he never been captured.
Even though his own past now seemed like a stranger's, he'd spent days and weeks
creating entire worlds for himself, complete with a family, friends, a home, and a job that were created down to the smallest detail.Spence-2
He was able to do it because his life in the Maze was a simple one. He always woke up never hungry, and was always washed and shaved, his hair always kept neatly trimmed and combed during each sleep period. He slept when he wasn't walking or jogging through the corridors; when he wasn't doing that, he sat and rested, thinking of new details to add to his "Other" life.
The fact that he was never hungry or thirsty and always kept clean meant that his captors were at least taking care of him, watching over him in their own impersonal way, no matter where in the Maze he was. But he still missed the taste of real food, which he could still remember in dreams. But that part of his past was becoming harder to remember with each passing decade, just as the "Memories" he had created for himself in
the "Other" life became dimmer with the passage of time. It's all going away, he thought sadly, as he paused to rest and studied his vague reflection in the soft light of the wall that curved around him. I can't even remember my own name anymore. The Maze is becoming the only world I will ever know, or remember. And what will happen then?
Will I become like my captors-cold, impersonal, uncaring? Will I even think I'm one of them? And if that happens, will it even matter if I ever do get to meet them?
It finally happened when he found himself at the entrance to yet another corridor. Except that it turned out to be different from the others, because it only went on for a few hundred feet or so, instead of the several miles that he was used to. When he came to its end, he saw that it was connected to a corridor that was even shorter. That corridor in turn connected with another, and another. He went through all of them with growing anticipation and a sense of hope he hadn't felt before, hope that turned into excitement as he realized that they formed some sort of a pattern. It was a distinct geometrical design, the first of its kind that he had seen in the Maze. He began to run, really running, like he hadn't done since the early years, only this time he was running toward and not away from something, driven not by panic or desperation, but for the first time by hope, as the corridors became shorter and shorter?
He came to the middle of what appeared to be a large room. It was a place of gleaming white walls and a high, rounded ceiling that formed a dome overhead. For a moment, he simply stood and stared. This is it, he realized, looking up at the ceiling. This is the Hub, the middle of the great Wheel...
It was cool, quiet, and sterile in here, like the rest of the Maze. The room seemed vast in comparison to the confines of the corridors. As he looked around at the walls, he felt a gnawing sense of fear that this might all still be some sort of trap, an illusion that had been created to give him a false sense of freedom, perhaps to see how he might react, before he was thrown back into the Maze.
But the room didn't feel like an illusion, and he didn't feel like he was being tested. As he stood and breathed the cool air, he realized that this was no illusion; he had actually reached the Hub. So, I'm finally here. What am I supposed to do now? And what happens if I don't go back into the Maze?
He saw the answer in the form of an opening that appeared in the wall on the other side of the room. It opened up like an iris, revealing a dark hole beyond. He saw something moving in the darkness, something that barely looked human as it crawled out of the hole's dark interior and lifted its head to look at him with narrow, dark eyes. For a moment, all he could do was stare at this apparition with a mixture of fear and
fascination. He wondered if it would do him any good to run, then realized that would
only take him back into the Maze. No, he thought. Whatever you are, you're the one who has answers to the questions I've been asking myself all these years. I'm staying here until I get those answers, one way or another.
The creature crawled out onto the floor, rearing itself up on a pair of spindly legs as it
looked at him with alien eyes. He instinctively knew that it had come with only one
purpose: to keep him from leaving the Maze at all costs. He could sense this in the form of a silent command that he heard from the creature's mind: Kill the intruder. Do not allow the subject to escape. The integrity of the experiment must be protected. KILL HIM?
As he absorbed the creature's thoughts into his own mind, he formed a mental response of his own. No, he thought back, with a "Voice" that was so strong that it temporarily halted the creature in its tracks. I will not die alone in here like the others. I've made it all the way through the Maze, and now you will let me go.
The creature hissed as it snapped out of its momentary daze. It came toward him with a sharp, gleaming, metal object in one of its thin hands. Seeing his chance, he reached for the object's curved handle as the creature reached out for him. He grabbed the creature's wrist with both hands, turning the blade back on the creature's snakelike neck. Its dark eyes turned milky white as they clouded over. The creature sagged to the floor, a thin trail of dark liquid that might have been its blood spilling out of its neck as it quickly and
quietly died.
He stood over the crumpled form of the creature's now lifeless body. Then he looked at the narrow hole that the creature had crawled out of. It was still open, but beginning to close rapidly. He took the weapon that the creature was still clutching in its hand and climbed into the hole. As the iris closed behind him, he saw nothing at first except
darkness, with occasional bits and pieces of metal and glass that glinted in the shadows.
He felt his way past them, not knowing where he was going, only that it took him away from the Maze.
He felt what seemed like a seizure then, as space seemed to collapse in around itself.
Falling forward, he landed on rough, uneven ground that was covered in green grass.
Standing up, he blinked in natural sunlight for the first time in what felt like several
lifetimes. People were running towards him, wearing clothing styles that he didn't
recognize, some of them holding up small devices that seemed to be taking pictures of
him. Realizing that he was naked in a public place, he grinned awkwardly as a uniformed police officer-a woman, which was somewhat surprising-came towards him.
He didn't know how long he' d been gone, but he recognized some of the buildings he saw telling him that he was in New York City, while others were unfamiliar. It didn't t
matter. He was home, and this time, he wasn't going away.
In the meantime, the Maze that he'd left behind was empty and silent, as its creators
mourned their dead Observer, and waited until they could begin the Experiment again.
THE END
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