The Mirror Maze. Almost a chess novella

© Nadezda Zeiglish, 2024

ISBN 978-5-0060-4318-3

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Debut

Only the desperate can be worse than the frightened… The Caribbean crisis of 1962 kept the whole world tense and in fear for several months. It’s no wonder that the order to start the Project was given precisely at that time. Nuclear war stopped being an illusion or the plot of sci-fi novels. A decision was made to seriously begin developing a survival strategy. The order was formulated with special precision: select and make an inheritable tendency to solitude and sedentariness, which would combine with efficiency and work performance capability. An underground bunker was taken as a model for the ideal habitat. It was difficult. Many test subjects fell into depression. They started becoming lethargic and apathetic. Their performance dropped. Claustrophobia. Panic attacks. Numerous suicides. We did not find the correct approach right away.

Now, sixty years later, it became clear that the Experiment had succeeded, however, there was a moment when the whole project was hanging by a thread… 1999. Hikikomori.

They began to be written about. Recluses. Loners. Psychos. Every label imaginable was used to describe them: egoists, idlers, drones… The mass media created many problems. Young people refused to leave their rooms and go to work. This was frightening. Back then the question of the labour force was still relevant, and the “drones’ looked like a bug; a mistake. Funding was almost cut off. Cash flows have always depended on wars. How nice it was during the Afghan war of 1979! Adaptation to life in the bunker didn’t seem so necessary during the peaceful periods, but 9/11 put everything back in its place. My Project became a priority again.

A great journey was completed! I can be proud of myself. Zimbardo1 and Milgram2 are kittens compared to me. They played games and conducted experiments. I, on the other hand, was out there creating a new breed of people. Of course, I could not do it alone. I had a great team. I cannot mention those who are still alive, but Lick died in 1990. You do know who Joseph C.R. Licklider was, don’t you? He led the first research programme targeting rapid messaging. He’s responsible for what everyone now calls the Internet. His article “Galactic Network’, published in the same year of 1962, laid the foundation of my Project. He developed the concept of a global computer network, whereas I began breeding “computer rats’ that would then populate his “network’.

Now, in 2022, I can consider my project completed. It has become self-sustaining. Everything is moving in the right direction. I am not worried for my creation or humanity. We are ready for life in a bunker. Mission accomplished…

Pandora’s Box

On an exceptionally hot evening early in July, I was longing to go to the beach… Excellent. The appropriate playlist is on. Now I just need to move the air freshener closer to the fan. The only thing left to do is close my eyes…

I so enjoyed watching how the trickling down sand inexplicably turned into the thinnest of spires. They collapsed sometimes, but I always started over. But where did this dent come from? A chocolate foot with a pink heel had crushed my castle! I wanted to scream and cry from resentment. I wanted Daddy to fix it. But, no one noticed.

My heart is racing like crazy in my throat. You can choke like that! The sweet memory crushed me along with the castle. I almost became a racist!

I didn’t want to go to the sea anymore. Better to shower, but I’m too lazy. I wanted peace and tranquillity. It usually worked, but not today. I got a damn GIF of a wrecking heel! How do I stop it?! I want to tell that little girl that I feel sorry about her magic castle. It wasn’t good to step on it. Something warm and salty on my lips… tears? It’s been ages since I last cried.

Julia3, Julia, Juliaaaaaaaaa! Damn you! Uh, the morning pages? Well, I cannot write in the mornings! Yes, in the evenings either… I tried to yesterday, and it turned out like this! I don’t even want to remember it! Okay, I’ll start over again today. Oh, look! It’s already light. I don’t even remember how I fell asleep. Looks like I cried a lot yesterday; my lashes have stuck together. It’s hard to open my eyes. What a strange evening I had. I suddenly want coffee. Damn, the bag is empty! There used to be a cafe in the house opposite. Should I order some? But I don’t like their cups. I need to open the blinds and look if there is a free table on the terrace. That’s it, stop writing!

Okay, hurry before you change your mind. Mirror. Eyes: dumplings. Need sunglasses. Slippers will do. The main focus is not stopping. It’s so chilly on the stairwell. I hate the elevator. Jesus, how many steps are there!? It’s quiet outside. Too quiet. I need to cross the road and sit at that table in the shade. The sparrows are chirping so loudly here. Cappuccino, please. And something for the sparrows, or against sparrows?

Why is he looking at me like that? Did I think that or did I say it out loud? There must be some way out. Yes, a croissant is perfect. Better two; there are many of them. Two were not enough. It seems I enjoy feeding sparrows. When they eat, they are silent.

I don’t know how long I must’ve sat in the cafe, but the dreaded heat never came. I kept waiting for the sun to cast over my table and force me to leave. Instead, I suddenly had the urge to take off my sunglasses. Looks like I slept past the sun. So, I again have the evening pages… Or maybe I can still go to the beach? For real? No, must work. The idea was generally approved, but there were some nuances. Few emotions? Too dry? Alright then, I’ll show you emotions…

Chapter One: Sunspots

How boastful and self-satisfied I was just recently! I am calm. I am satisfied. We are ready. Ugh! Who would have thought that this little spot on my skin could change everything? My face and hands have long been covered with such spots of various shapes and shades, but today my new doctor decided to scare me. He was staring at yet another mole with such a concerned face. His whole expression said, “This is bad. Very bad. I am concerned.” The dermatoscopy lasted an entire hour! At the end, the doctor asked if I use sunscreen regularly. That’s hilarious! I am ninety years old. I wear sunglasses; without them, my eyes water. But I’m not going to smear anything on myself. Never have!

This doctor is just a stupid boy! It’s a pity that everyone I trusted has already died. This young man thinks that the sunscreen will save him from age spots and death at the same time? I swear, he was almost glad I didn’t use that damn sunscreen. As though he understands everything now. Reason has been found successfully. “Wait for the examination results.”

Fine. I’ll wait. But what good will that do? I was sure that I was going to forget everything as soon as I walked out of his office. And that’s exactly what happened. I couldn’t care less about the results. I’m not afraid of death. There are worse things. What about guilt? Guilt before humanity?

Noah was just building an ark. He didn’t lock people and animals in cages before the time was right. He believed he was saving all life on Earth. I also believed. Only now we are not getting out of the ark…

Two weeks. The answer will come by email. I have to do this. I must examine all the results and allow myself to conclude: was our Project a mistake? That’s what really scares me! I don’t want to think about that anymore; I need to leave. That’s easier said than done. It was chilly in the clinic; all the heat is out here. There’s a bench in the shade, but it’s thirty metres away. How slowly it’s approaching. My shirt is sticking to me like glue, burning my skin. It’s getting harder to breathe. My walking stick treacherously slips out of my sweaty palm, making me fall hard on my bony bottom. I hope everything ends as soon as possible. The heat, sweat, and chills. And this embarrassing weakness. Did the boy really manage to scare me? No, it’s just the heat. I need to find a taxi. I’m just 5 minutes away from home. I typically enjoy walking, but not today… There is a car just two minutes away. I need a break.

Where is the taxi? I’m freezing. My watch is showing six o’clock. I don’t understand; what have I been doing all this time? Doesn’t matter. Here is the nearest taxi. Got in the car. Asked the driver to drop me off at the cafe. Sitting on that cursed bench, I dreamt of getting home as soon as possible. To lie down and sleep. But now I wanted to delay my return, like a prisoner on a walk. I sat down on the terrace and ordered my favourite tea with honey. Its scent of mint soothed me.

I saw a girl in the opposite corner of the terrace feeding sparrows. Her pale skin glistening in the midsummer light was the unmistakable symbol of “our” people. I suddenly wanted to do something nice for her. But what exactly? Buy her sunscreen? She doesn’t need it. She doesn’t go out in the sun. And evidently she doesn’t need croissants either. She just tossed crumbs to the noisy flock as soon as they began to chirp. But still, there has to be something… Her complexion resembles a magnolia at dusk. It’s almost as if she’s asking to be put onto a canvas. Crazy idea, but maybe that’s exactly how I will find out what that flower needs?

Dream

It’s morning. Today I was not mistaken. I am definitely writing. Everything is as it should be. Knock-knock – a beak pokes at my window. My alarm-woodpecker turned out to be a silvery seagull. Many call these enormous birds cormorants. It’s a pity, really; cormorants are black. Odd how I found the sparrows incredibly annoying yesterday, yet enjoy the bellows of seagulls. I would also be screaming like that. I love these bellowers and frequently feed them on my windowsill. The fact that they swallow puppies and kittens whole doesn’t seem to bother me. Was it not this winged stomach, capable of digesting everything in the world, that was chanting Richard Bach4?

I don’t usually remember my dreams, but today’s became an exception. I had to not only write it down, but also send it to my best friend. After all, I had a very demanding dream. It made me memorise it word for word, persistently repeating the text:

“Sleep resembles a dinosaur egg. Put it in water and wait. Better in the evening. If you are lucky, the shell will crack by the morning, and you’ll see the hatching. Now you see how it swells slowly, but your dinosaur actually grew during your childhood. Images are hidden in words. Do not rush. Let them appear. When you see the picture, pass it on. Copy and send a friend everything, including this blinking green text ‘THIS IS NOT A DREAM!’”

Before sending, I quickly concocted a neon gif for dramatic effect.

Ugh, nostalgia is torturing me. I need to go to visit one of my favourite pets.

Meet Trico from The Last Guardian!5

Oops… It took all day. And evening…

Nightmare

I hate mornings! Looks like my defence mechanisms have officially broken down. I know what dream I had yet again. I feel this gross sensation. It’s not only in me, but everywhere. As though I ate raspberry with a flea in it, only the mouth is my room. After all, my nightmare happened right here. I want to go back and disable this “dream saving” feature. Where is the “clear” button? I need to get rid of this!

They broke in in the morning, waving some kind of lurid piece of paper called a “Lease Agreement”. They placed their things and started cooking breakfast. A whole tribe! Children were shouting at each other and fighting. Adults were no better. I’m lying. They didn’t do anything bad. They just lived their typical energetic life: stormy, ebullient, with the smell of garlic and meatballs.

I stood and looked at them, numb with horror. My house. My shelter. My mink! I can’t seem to live without it, and now, there are strangers in it! They don’t even acknowledge me, and there’s nothing I can do about that. I can’t even scream.

It was as though I died, and my apartment was rented out.

In this nightmare, I was a disembodied ghost, unable to prove my existence and kick out the strangers. Even after waking up, I couldn’t stop thinking about the horror I’d experienced. I can still smell the aroma of their cooking. Well, I can get rid of this stench! All we need is a lighter. I love to watch the bluish smoke of the sticks sway in the air. Mmmm, vanilla! I seem to understand dogs now, and their obsession with marking territory. This is my house, and it will smell my way!

How the tables have turned: the night guests are now ghosts, which I have smoked out of my house successfully. The dream awakened my protective instincts. It’s stupid, but suddenly I wanted to bury the teeth and claws of some faithful and brave defender under the threshold. Evidently I’m not fully awake yet, if such crazy ideas are coming to my head. Oh god, the first time I saw my defender was on the beach next to my ruined castle! He bit through that pink heel and came back to me. My fearless mongoose!

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1

Philip George Zimbardo (born on 23 March 1933) was an American psychologist and has become known for his 1971 Stanford prison experiment.

2

Stanley Milgram (born on 15 August 1933) was an American social psychologist and scholar, best known for his experiments on obedience to authority and connectivity of social networks (Six Degrees of Separation).

3

Julia Cameron (born on 4 March 1948, Illinois, USA) is an author of poetry, plays, and television scripts, but is best known for her best-selling books on human creativity. Her most famous book is “The Artist’s Way”.

4

Jonathan Livingston Seagull is a fable written by Richard Bach about a seagull learning the art of flying.

5

The plot of The Last Guardian is dedicated to the adventures of a boy trying to get out of the ruins of a huge castle. During the game, he makes friends with a huge gryphon-like creature named Trico – the second main character of the game.