Lighting pats.
She walked through the labyrinth, its high green walls lined with images resembling the ones on the staircase where she grew up.
In the green halls, she shifted and aged as she walked, changing without noticing.
The labyrinth grew darker the farther she went. Fewer and fewer paths remained lit.
One day, she stumbled. On the floor, something was buried—just enough exposed for her to notice it.
She knelt and dug, uncovering a music box. Brushing away the dust, she inserted a key she wore on a necklace.
The music box began to play, and suddenly one of the darkened paths flickered back to life.
Holding the box, she followed the blinking light. The path was thick with cobwebs and dust; she hadn’t been there in a long time. Along the walls were more pictures, and inside was a dining room with a wooden table.
At the end of the path, set into the green walls, stood a metal door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
She removed the key from the music box and unlocked the door.
Inside was a wall of monitors, each displaying a different path she could take.
In that moment, she understood: she had found the center of the maze.
As she stepped closer to the control panel, her key began to glow. To the right was a red button, protected beneath a clear plastic cover that could only be opened with the key.
She inserted it and turned. The cover slid smoothly into the desk, revealing the button.
As the key glowed brighter, the panel responded, growing brighter with it. Slowly, a little nervous, she pressed the button, initiating a system reset.
For a moment, the monitors went dark while the desk shone intensely. Then, one by one, every path that had gone dark reappeared—clearer than before.
She stood there, watching, letting it sink in.
Then she stepped out of the control room and saw the labyrinth lit once more. Every path was visible again. She could return to them, walk them, and be present there as before.
Her key powered the lights—and kept them on.
