The Tree of Knowledge, Daniel Miller [unputdownable books txt] 📗

have been protecting me or pitying me. I want to do this. I need to do this.”

Turner took one long look at the foreboding door ahead of them, one long look back at Ying, and buttoned his jacket.

She put her small hand on his shoulder and clenched, all the while nodding.

He straightened his back and exhaled. “Alright, Ms. Koh, then let’s have at it. Once more unto the breach, dear friends.”

Ying stepped forward and swiped the key card again.

The door opened to a room of glowing white, magnified by the purest artificial light. To the left stood a bright-red door. To the right stood another red door. Straight ahead of them, seven white steps extended to a second floor with a third red door. The room was silent absent the hum of fluorescent lights and air pumping through the vents. They had reached purgatory. All that remained was a choice.

Over a loudspeaker, a calm woman’s voice purred. “Wel-come to Fix Research and Development. You have five minutes to pass through security.”

“Where is this?” said Ying, scanning the blank room for something familiar.

Turner rubbed his salt-and-pepper beard, thinking. “A better question, my dear, would be ‘What is this?’ And it appears that we have stumbled upon some type of three-dimensional maze.”

“A maze? Well, how are we supposed to get through this in five minutes?”

“We will have to move quickly. Do you have a pen?”

Ying began digging through her backpack. “A pen? Umm . . . yeah, I’ve got a pen.”

“Good. The thicker, the better.” Turner held out his hand. Ying noticed it was shaking.

Ying handed Turner a thick blue Sharpie.

“Do you have some gum as well?”

Ying squinted her eyes and then handed Turner a stick of gum.

“A few more pieces, please.”

She looked on as the old professor shoved five pieces of Bubble Yum into his mouth and began to chew. He gnawed on the wad of gum until it molded into a well-formed mass. Then he proceeded to extract the gum and used it to secure the marker to his walking stick.

Ying wondered if the professor had finally gone mad. “May I ask how a big blue pen and some gum is going to get us through this, Professor?”

Turner smiled, drew a long arrow upward on the shiny white wall, and tapped the steps with his walking stick. “Ever doubtful, eh, Ms. Koh? Trust me. I’ll enlighten you as we stroll. Up we go.”

“You have four minutes,” chirped the automated female voice.

Ying and Turner marched up the steps and opened the red door. A long corridor of bright-white paneled walls sprawled out in front of them. Turner continued walking, dragging his walking stick behind him. A bright-blue line on the floor wherever they went.

“To understand what we’re doing, it’s helpful to understand a little bit about mazes.”

“Ohhhkaayy,” said Ying.

“The first mazes were called labyrinths and stemmed from Greek mythology. In the myth, a legendary craftsman named Daedalus built the first maze for the great King Minos.”

Ying remembered the myths her dad would tell her. “Yes, Daedalus designed the labyrinth to hold the Minotaur, which could kill the king and his subjects. The labyrinth was so difficult to escape that Daedalus himself dragged a string behind him to ensure he could find his way out.”

“Precisely. This pen is our string, Ms. Koh.”

“You have three minutes.”

Turner paused. They had reached the end of the corridor, and the maze turned both to the left and right. A red door stood at the end of both hallways. The light reflecting off them generated an ominous red glow.

“What do you think, Ms. Koh? You’re a woman of good instincts.”

“I say right,” said Ying with conviction.

“Then right it is.”

Turner pushed open the door to reveal another set of stairs heading down.

As Ying came through the passage, Turner whipped around and shouted, “Don’t let the door sh—”

But it was too late. The door slammed behind Ying. Frantically, she tried to open the door behind her, but it was locked.

“I’m so sorry, Professor.” Her face was flushed and her eyes frantic.

Turner wagged a finger. “No worries. I should have spoken sooner. As always, from our mistakes, we learn.”

“Is this a ‘loops and traps’ maze?”

“Yes, these mazes are particularly tricky because they have one-sided doors. Let’s press on. How much time do we have?”

“You have two minutes.”

Turner’s face wrinkled with concern, and Ying noticed sweat simmering along his hairline. “OK, we’re going to have to start running, Ms. Koh.”

The pair began jogging down the hallway, the professor dragging a line of blue ink behind them.

“Can’t we just hold one wall of the maze with our hands as we walk, Professor? That would ensure we never repeat the same route. Eventually, we’d stumble upon the correct path.”

“Normally, it would, but years ago, someone very clever, much like the designer of this maze, realized that if you break the maze up using levels and trick doors, then the one-hand-wall method becomes obsolete.”

“You have one minute.”

Turner and Ying reached a dead end and doubled back, running, now sprinting down a hallway to the right with Turner dragging his stick behind him. Again, the pair hit a wall. They continued sprinting in the opposite direction but were stopped again by a third wall.

“You have thirty seconds.”

Ying wheezed, out of breath. “What are we going to do, Professor? We’ve got to get out of here!” Her hands scrambled up and down the white walls looking for an exit, or a trapdoor, a button, anything.

Turner chuckled while struggling to catch his breath. “I wouldn’t worry, Ms. Koh; thanks to our good friend Charles Pierre Tremaux we’ve now reached the point in the maze that must lead to the exit.”

Ying paused in the middle of a junction of four intersecting hallways. At her feet, three lines of blue marker on the floor spanned every direction except one.

She squinted and eyed Turner. “Who’s Charles Pierre Tremaux?”

Turner detached the pen from his walking stick, deposited the gum into his handkerchief, and began strolling down the hallway. He mopped his face with