The Maze - The Lost Labyrinth Part 13

Boom!

It reminded me of a rock concert I'd gone to in my rowdier days. I'd had front row seats. The ba.s.s was elevated at such a level that each new thud and beat was like a slap to the face.

Boom!

It sounded like a giant hammering away at an enormous door.

"Connie?" I hoped she might still be close by, but Connie wasn't in much of a giving mood at the moment. It was up to me to figure out what was causing all the commotion. I just wasn't sure I wanted to.

Boom!

It was the kind of concussion that would accompany the demolition of a skysc.r.a.per by dynamite.

Boom!....

--came the cannon fire.

Boom!....

--was the sound of two cars colliding head-on at ninety miles per hour.

The noise seemed to come from everywhere, like Connie's voice, only much, much louder.

"Why won't it stop?" I placed both hands over my ears to help block out the roar.

The thunderous sound suddenly stopped as quickly as it had begun. I wondered if I was to blame. Still, I knew there wasn't time for quiet introspection. There was only time to keep pus.h.i.+ng forward and to react in whatever way the maze demanded. My family was depending on me although they didn't realize it.

I walked ahead bravely, hoping Asterion hadn't figured out where I was. I wasn't even sure where I was until I saw a sign.

"The Hall of Silicon Eden." I read the notation carved into the base of a statue made in the likeness of a snake devouring its own tail.

Chapter 27.

Even before I reached the beginning of the hallway, I heard the static. It sounded like white noise from a million televisions. The cacophony was loud enough to make me cover my ears, and I s.h.i.+vered involuntarily at the thought of electronic snow.

My imagination went wild at what might lie ahead. I prepared myself for cybernetic storms, frequent white-hot crackles of lightning, and a lifeless, bleak landscape overwhelmed by nuclear winter. That picture in my mind changed once the static was replaced by a barrage of voices that spoke in serious, authoritarian, and clearly enunciated sentences. It was like listening to those same million televisions when they were all tuned in to news stations from around the globe. Although it was impossible to discern what was being said, I heard a similar tone being used every night at six and ten o'clock by the local talking heads.

The media spoke and I tried to listen, but it was hard to dial in to a specific voice. As is so often the case, the media said a lot while really saying nothing at all. Despite the sheer volume of words, their message was lost on me. I wondered how many other messages were missing their mark in this place.

I ignored the voices for the moment and progressed deeper into the maze, keeping an eye out for anything scaly. That snake statue made me wary of serpents. Something crackled underneath my feet, and I froze, not sure of what I had stepped on. Looking down I saw that it was a skin that had been shed, but not like any I had seen before.

It felt a little like aluminum and crinkled easily in my fist. Ordinarily I would have thought it was just trash that had found its way out of the garbage can. But this was different. This was one continuous piece of ultra-thin sheet metal that was patterned and stamped to resemble reptile skin.

A name was stamped on the backside of the skin in blue ink.

"Daedalus."

I chuckled. This place didn't fail to miss a detail. Daedalus was the original architect of the labyrinth at Crete. Apparently, he had expanded his repertoire since those days and now worked on things like synthetic snake skin. I wondered what other parts of this place he might be responsible for.

I thought about the image of the snake devouring itself and wondered what that had to do with the news media---or with me. Everything in the maze was tied together, and I had no reason to suspect that this was any different. But I just couldn't make any kind of connection between the two. The snake in this case was symbolic of the circular pattern of life. Life existed because of death. Death was a direct byproduct of life. You couldn't have one without the other. I knew all that, and yet I knew nothing.

I pondered the mystery as I walked deeper into the Hall of Silicon Eden. I could hear the droning hum of something that sounded like an electrical transformer. The hair on my head and on my forearms stood at attention, and I felt the static in the air. Snake sigils had been emblazoned into the cobblestones beneath my feet.

"Please don't let there be a real snake."

I prayed that this was one of those symbolic tests the maze was so fond of. Anything literal would send me running and shrieking in the opposite direction like a schoolgirl. I hated snakes.

I kept my eyes open for anything slithering and listened for the sound of hissing. Even the most mundane of things seemed terrifying here, and I could only imagine what sort of perverse twist the maze could put on something as menacing as a serpent.

I turned abruptly at the end of the hallway and found myself in a bizarre sort of orchard. Row upon row of crystalline trees filled the pa.s.sageway, glimmering as if they were made of diamonds. I realized that wasn't the case, however, when I saw the series of ones and zeroes imprinted on each leaf, on every inch of bark, on every limb, on every piece of fruit. Designed in binary, these trees were made of silicon and clear plastic and platinum. They were wired and coursing with electricity. They s.h.i.+mmered in the darkness, wavering in and out of focus on the horizon. It was like watching quicksilver on a desert highway.

Cautiously, still looking for a snake of some sort, I walked through the grove of binary-imprinted trees, listening to them sway in a wind generated by nuclear fallout. The ground beneath my feet was studded with circuitry and paved with microchips. Up ahead, something cried out with a roar that was made up of white noise and the buzz of free-flowing alternating current. The sound was enough to make me jump and look over my shoulder.

I approached one of the trees that had a low-hanging branch and studied the fruit intently for a moment. It was an apple-shaped fruit that seemed better suited to watching than eating. A image flashed across its translucent skin like a scene on a television screen. The snippet of video showed me getting into my car in preparation for the trip across town to Karen's apartment.

Although I'd gotten no clues as to the purpose of this place, I knew what I was watching. This was the exact moment that the idea to cheat on Amy had solidified in my mind. I had gone to the car, still reeling from the fight with Amy, considering the possibility of infidelity while also thinking I might go there with the intention of telling Karen to leave me alone. The moment I opened the car door, however, was the moment I knew what the true desires of my heart were.

All of the fruit on the trees, in fact, were running video feeds of various scenes from my life. I watched myself doing everything from taking out the garbage to eating lunch with Amy and Peter to laying eyes on Karen for the first time in twenty years at Adam's Ribs. It was like an electronic diary of sorts, chronicling every aspect of my existence. I was watching a reality television show of myself.

"Ah, forbidden fruit. How ssssweet it is!" A garbled, electronic voice called to me from the top of the tree. I jumped back, frightened. At first I didn't see anything hiding there. Then I noticed the sparkle of diamond eyes and saw the movement of rotors, of gears grinding, of pistons locking into place. A forked tongue made of platinum moved in and out of a glimmering silver mouth. Eyes like black marbles studied me as if I were some sort of germ underneath the lens of a microscope.

"Your heart is on display for all to ssssee." The serpent sounded like a victim of throat cancer. "You're like a walking museum of iniquity, and I, for one, would willingly pay for a ticket to tour this exhibit. In fact, I suspect the world would pay to see. The ratings would be through the roof if something like this was broadcast in every household."

"My life is not a television show. My problems are private, and I'd prefer to keep them that way."

"But there is so much entertainment value to be had in the suffering of others. You would have a bonafide hit on your hands."

"My life isn't as bad as you make it out to be! There are some far worse than me."

"But none of them are trapped in this maze," the serpent said. "Just think what an interesting reality show your life would make. People would tune in week after week to see if you would make the right choice or if you would sssscrew up like you humans are so acutely p.r.o.ne to do."

"What do you want?" I was more irritated now than scared.

"What does anyone truly want? Life, liberty, the pursuit of carnal knowledge."

"Ah, I get it." I snapped my fingers as I understood what the serpent stood for. "The snake that devours its tail. It makes sense to me now."

"You think you have a clue?"

"You're part of what's wrong with the world today, but we're to blame too. We are the creator of the same problem that kills us."

"Pleeeea.s.sssse elaborate."

"We blame the media for their part in the demoralization of society, for their willingness to showcase the worst in people, for their uncanny knack of portraying humanity in the worst possible light. They go for the most sensational, sordid stories they can find, focusing on l.u.s.t, greed, immorality, and a hundred other kinds of sin instead of zooming their cameras in on all the good that's being done in the world. But we encourage it with our remote controls. We tune in to watch mankind stumble and we feed the snake."

"People are fa.s.sssssscinated by tragedy. Go to the scene of any wreck and you'll see that. People park their cars on the shoulder of the road and get out to have a look. Or they slow their cars down and crane their necks to see if they can spot just a hint of blood on the asphalt."

"And that's where the circle both begins and ends. The snake eats its tail. We delight in the misery of others. Why else do you think reality TV is such a hit these days? We want to see the fights, the debauchery, the salacious behavior. We flog ourselves daily with whips made of coaxial cable as we flip through channel after channel of s.e.x and violence. We open our minds to immorality, and soon the deluge of sin is so strong that we can't close the floodgates."

The serpent smiled, showing its jagged platinum fangs. "You feed the ssssame beast that kills you. The sin may vary from person to person but it's all the ssssame."

"I've already been told that I'm going to die in this place one way or another. I would just prefer to die a more dignified manner than in front of a television set filling my mind with rot."

"The way you die is up to you. I have no control of that. The sssimple fact that you're here is up to you as well."

"I'm here because I need to change."

"You're here because you didn't change in time." The serpent spoke in that eerie, mechanical voice I was starting to hate. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Otherwise, we might have never met."

"You're the tempter."

"And you're doomed."

"So I'm told. But that doesn't keep me from trying."

"You're wa.s.ssting your time."

"I really need to get going."

"There's no hurry," the serpent said. "You haven't had a chance to hear what I have to ssssay."

"Unless you can show me the way out of this place, I don't need to hear what you have to say."

"Are you sure of that?"

I paused, not certain of anything.

"I didn't think so." The serpent's voice was hollow, emotionless and electronic. "I know why you're here, and I know what you wanted. What would you ssssay if I told you I could give it to you?"

"You can give me my family back?"

"You weren't on your way to see your family. Let's not forget that. You were on your way to have a nice cup of tea---or ssssomething---with little miss Karen. You were at a fork in the road, and you chose the road that led to her. You chose to take your life in a completely different direction, and the only things that brought you here were the prayers of a certain group of people who were concerned about you. But who's to ssssay that absolution is the best thing for you? Maybe you'd be happier with the life you were about to choose. I can give you that."

The apple in front of my eyes showed a different scene on its picture-tube skin. It showed Karen and me walking hand-in-hand along a beach, watching a gorgeous sunset as the waves tickled our toes. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Seagulls glided across the water, plucking unsuspecting fish from the currents.

The serpent made its way down the trunk of the tree, and I was surprised to see that it had cybernetic legs of some sort that allowed it to scurry down.

"Do I have your attention?" The snake noticed the way I intently studied the forbidden fruit. "Am I showing you what you want to see? If this is little more than another channel on TV, then you can change the channel at any time or you can watch a bit more. The choice is yours."

"I don't want to feed you."

"Then don't. This is still a place of free will. Just keep in mind that I didn't create the desires of your heart. I merely have the ability to give them to you."

I tried to be strong. "I want my family back!"

"So change the channel."

"I'm---not sure I can."

"You're not sure you want to."

"No." I knew that this snake would soon be eating its own tail if I didn't change soon, but I didn't know how.

"You determine whether I starve or fea.s.sst."

"Yes." I tried not to show the misgivings in my heart.

"I can hear the hesitation in your voice. I can see the greed and confusion in your eyes. You aren't sure that you really want your old life back."

"I do." I spoke slowly.

"You aren't sure of that at all. But I'm reasonable. I can let you try out that life for a while, like a new suit of clothes. If you like the suit and it fits you well, you can keep it. If it's not to your liking, we can go back to your old life. What do you say? I can offer you a bite of this apple. It will be up to you to decide if you want to eat the rest."

"Go away." I thought about the way the razor-blade plants had cut me in a thousand different places and how that pain had represented a fraction of Amy's heartache. She didn't deserve any more punishment.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. We've got some unfinished business to attend to first."

"I don't have any business with you."

The serpent crawled down the remainder of the tree and stood before me. Its body whirred and hummed and creaked as its internal machinery did its work. "I'm afraid there is one little matter to contend with. A test."

"Of course, you work for Asterion. How stupid of me. What do I have to do now? Jump through hoops of fire? Correctly guess the number of stars in the sky? Recite the alphabet in reverse order?"

"I have a riddle for you."

"Exssssssscellent," I mocked the snake. "Give it to me."

"As you wish, but first the rules. You will have one minute to solve this riddle. Success will buy another hour of safety for your family. Failure will put them in harm's way."

"A minute?" I was surprised at how sharply the stakes were rising. "That's barely enough time to think."

"A lot can happen in a minute. A president can push a b.u.t.ton that will ssssend hundreds of nuclear warheads into the air. A drunk driver can ssswerve into oncoming traffic and end an innocent life. A man can choose to leave his wife and ssson for a woman he never really stopped loving."

"Enough with the guilt trip," I growled. "Just give me the riddle."

The serpent tested the air with its metallic tongue before it spoke: "The dying can live, he's been given a gift It's like air for the soul, gives the spirit a lift This gift is the difference in black and in white This gift is the difference between death, between life This gift is the choice between Heaven and h.e.l.l This gift buys your freedom so choose and choose well."

My mind felt like it was filled with cement, muddied with the ramifications of failure. I knew Darrell Gene was inside my house, and I knew the danger the serpent spoke of involved him. A hundred different possibilities flashed through my head. All of them involved blood, torment, and abuse.

I felt like Atlas at that moment, balancing the weight of the world on my shoulders. I felt like I was about to be crushed beneath the stress.

"The clock is ticking," the serpent said.