mazeways

you sit down at your computer and build a maze for Tippy, running her through an ideal version of your very own day. there's that saying, to "write what you know." you know your situation better than anyone, surely.

she runs through the maze of choices like a... well, like a thing that runs mazes, you think. you scratch at your whiskers. your fur stands on end a little, not because it scares you exactly, but because it feels real. you see her happily scarfing down dumplings while walking down the street in chinatown. you've built a kind of mirror.

and in that mirror, there's another mirror. she knows about you – I mean, you made her that way. she never addresses you, never looks at you exactly, but between the two of you, it reminds you of two mirrors reflecting each other. it feels important. it feels very important.

you remember a particular phrase you mentioned to Scalpel once in a moment of divine revelation.

"it's like a double mirror nested toward the gods."

...

it hasn't always been like this

{ quit mazeway }