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Description
Labyrinth

An enormous clicking gear shaved the skin on Harold's neck as he squeezed between two huge pipes. Some valve beneath him whistled out an explosion of steam. The smoke billowed past him, eerie in the blue glare of his lantern. Squinting into the darkness, he could see nothing but winding, twisting machinations for miles, wires hopelessly entangled around moist pipes next to throbbing motors bristling with greasy belts and rust-encrusted gears. Sparks lit the vicious jungle at intervals, indicating some badly maintained connection, doubtless assisted of the unidentifiable creatures that skittered to and fro in the web of machinery. The roar was deafening. The ever-present drones of the engines and drills in the mines seemed all combined and intensified in the jumble of sounds that confused his ear. Hissing columns of gas obscured the whole, giving it a nightmarish hue.

How long it had been since he had entered that fateful tunnel, Harold could not tell. He had eaten once and drunk twice, before the bag had gotten stuck and he had left it behind, too weary to empty it of its contents. He had not slept, though, so it could not be more than a day. As to direction, up and down were the only two he still had sense of, and even they were doubtful. The cramped conditions and Harold’s own slightly disoriented state of mind had rendered gravity immaterial long ago.

Harold had given up trying to think of this as an escape. The idea almost made him panic from its sheer impossibility. No one escaped from the Mines. It was beyond human capability. Therefore, this could not be an escape attempt, or else it would be impossible and he was doomed to failure.

No, Harold was not escaping. He was just climbing, reaching, concentrating on the next task ahead of him and doing it. Nothing more.

He hoisted himself through the shaft and clambered onto the pipe next to him. Completely exhausted, he braced himself against the surrounding objects and relaxed a moment. Glancing about, he wondered how much farther he had to go.

Suddenly he froze. There, to his left, a familiar-looking bag poked out of a narrow crack, rotten apples and stale N-RGY bars peeping out. Two or three creatures were investigating it.

Harold swept them off with a violent movement, then hoisted himself closer to the bag . A quick inspection of the bag confirmed it as the one he had left behind some hours ago. He had gone in a complete circle.

Despair swept over him. He wildly grabbed at the shaft he had just clambered down and clawed desperately back up. Thoughts racing in perfect bewilderment, he dashed, grappled, squeezed and clambered at inordinate directions before collapsing, wedged between a quivering motor and its power cable.

How long he slept he did not know, but when he awoke, he knew himself to be irrecoverably lost. The Mines were a hopeless to reach as the Surface. Even his light had been dropped in his mad rush, leaving him in utter blackness. He had no food, no drink, no light, no directions, and no chance.

It is strange to mention that this realization gave him a remarkable sense of calm. After looking about placidly, and making sure of his dilemna, he closed his eyes and folded his hands, murmuring a few indistinct words. Then, eyes gleaming, he chose a seemingly random course and shoved himself forward upon it with purpose.

**************************************

This chapter is a little confusing. If you don't get it, don't worry, nothing really crucial to the story is going on. The main points are that Harold gets hopelessly lost and has no idea where he is and what direction is up and down.

Just one more to go. Bear with me here.

Part 40: Free [link]

Description
Labyrinth

An enormous clicking gear shaved the skin on Harold's neck as he squeezed between two huge pipes. Some valve beneath him whistled out an explosion of steam. The smoke billowed past him, eerie in the blue glare of his lantern. Squinting into the darkness, he could see nothing but winding, twisting machinations for miles, wires hopelessly entangled around moist pipes next to throbbing motors bristling with greasy belts and rust-encrusted gears. Sparks lit the vicious jungle at intervals, indicating some badly maintained connection, doubtless assisted of the unidentifiable creatures that skittered to and fro in the web of machinery. The roar was deafening. The ever-present drones of the engines and drills in the mines seemed all combined and intensified in the jumble of sounds that confused his ear. Hissing columns of gas obscured the whole, giving it a nightmarish hue.

How long it had been since he had entered that fateful tunnel, Harold could not tell. He had eaten once and drunk twice, before the bag had gotten stuck and he had left it behind, too weary to empty it of its contents. He had not slept, though, so it could not be more than a day. As to direction, up and down were the only two he still had sense of, and even they were doubtful. The cramped conditions and Harold’s own slightly disoriented state of mind had rendered gravity immaterial long ago.

Harold had given up trying to think of this as an escape. The idea almost made him panic from its sheer impossibility. No one escaped from the Mines. It was beyond human capability. Therefore, this could not be an escape attempt, or else it would be impossible and he was doomed to failure.

No, Harold was not escaping. He was just climbing, reaching, concentrating on the next task ahead of him and doing it. Nothing more.

He hoisted himself through the shaft and clambered onto the pipe next to him. Completely exhausted, he braced himself against the surrounding objects and relaxed a moment. Glancing about, he wondered how much farther he had to go.

Suddenly he froze. There, to his left, a familiar-looking bag poked out of a narrow crack, rotten apples and stale N-RGY bars peeping out. Two or three creatures were investigating it.

Harold swept them off with a violent movement, then hoisted himself closer to the bag . A quick inspection of the bag confirmed it as the one he had left behind some hours ago. He had gone in a complete circle.

Despair swept over him. He wildly grabbed at the shaft he had just clambered down and clawed desperately back up. Thoughts racing in perfect bewilderment, he dashed, grappled, squeezed and clambered at inordinate directions before collapsing, wedged between a quivering motor and its power cable.

How long he slept he did not know, but when he awoke, he knew himself to be irrecoverably lost. The Mines were a hopeless to reach as the Surface. Even his light had been dropped in his mad rush, leaving him in utter blackness. He had no food, no drink, no light, no directions, and no chance.

It is strange to mention that this realization gave him a remarkable sense of calm. After looking about placidly, and making sure of his dilemna, he closed his eyes and folded his hands, murmuring a few indistinct words. Then, eyes gleaming, he chose a seemingly random course and shoved himself forward upon it with purpose.

**************************************

This chapter is a little confusing. If you don't get it, don't worry, nothing really crucial to the story is going on. The main points are that Harold gets hopelessly lost and has no idea where he is and what direction is up and down.

Just one more to go. Bear with me here.

Part 40: Free [link]