The King of Ephyra

“Pick up your bag, Syd.” a voice said, “Get up.  Let’s keep going.”

Syd.  His brain registered the word.  No, not a word, a name.  Who’s Syd?  He focused on the owner of the voice.

Is that Syd?  No.  Can’t be.  He’s talking to Syd.  Why’s he so tall?

No.  Wait.  Not tall, just standing.  Uphill.  Backlit.  Sun’s behind him.  So bright.  He winced and looked down, away from the sun.  That’s better.  

A dirt path.  The voice belonged to a man standing on it.  His eyes kept tracing the path, following it down till he found his feet.  They were sprawled out in front of him.

I’m sitting, he realized.  He’s telling me to get up.  I must be Syd.  He paused.  Am I Syd?

A backpack was on the ground in front of him, its zipper open.  He reached out, grabbed the nearest strap of the bag.  He recoiled, surprised that it was wet.  Sweat, he thought, my sweat, he relaxed.  He saw a label stitched to it, “Syd” it read.

My bag, he thought, I’m Syd.  He looked around.  Why am I on the ground?  He mulled this over, puzzled.

“Quite a fall you took there, you alright buddy?” asked the voice.

I fell?  He thought, processing this possibility.  His body hurt.  I fell, he concluded, with more conviction.  

I should get up, keep going, he concluded.  He stood, dusting himself off.  His muscles protested.  Injured?  He gave this some thought.  No, just achy.  Overexerted.  He zipped up his bag, grabbed the wet strap again and heaved it onto his back.  It was heavy.  The padding at the back was soaked, it felt cold.  Also my sweat, he thought.  His clothes stuck to him, he realized he was drenched with sweat all over.

He looked up again towards the voice.  Zed, a voice in his head told him, that’s Zed, your friend.

“Zed” he said, not quite a question but not a statement either.

“No, it’s Thor the Thunder God.” Zed said, sarcastically, “Yeah buddy, it’s me.  You alright?  Did you hit your head?”  He sounded concerned.

“No.” he replied, unsure.  He rubbed his head, checking for bumps.  “No,” he said, with confidence, “just dazed I guess.”

“Well, buck up buddy,” said Zed in a jovial tone, “we’re burnin’ daylight, gotta summit and then get to camp before it gets dark.”  With that, he turned on his heels and started up the path.  

Summit?  His head was groggy, where are we going?  He wanted to ask, but Zed’s form was already disappearing around a bend.  Syd scrambled with uncooperative hands to clip himself into his bag, then followed.  Up ahead, the summit was visible past a thick wall of foliage: an almost vertical jagged rock scramble leveling out to small alpine trees silhouetted against a bluebird sky.

“Zed!” he yelled, rounding the bend and finding no sign of his friend.  Damn, he’s so fast.

“Yeah, buddy?” came the reply from somewhere ahead.  Syd’s eyes followed the sound and he could see movement behind the trees of the next bend, could faintly hear the rasp of Zed’s nylon pants.

“Hey slow down,” he complained, “I don’t want to lose you, it’s like a maze in here”. 

His feet were on fire and it felt like needles digging into his arches every time he took a step.  Forest is too thick.  I can’t see the summit past the trees anymore, he thought to himself.

A laugh came from up ahead, “And you’re the rat in the maze?” Zed asked.

“Well I wasn’t making that analogy,” said Syd, annoyed now, “but yeah now that you mention it, it kinda does feel that way.”  He tried to speed up, to catch sight of Zed’s back.  He tripped on an outgrown root, twisting his ankle and grunted in pain.  Gotta keep going, he told himself as he half limped along, ignoring the pain, can’t lose him.

“Do you think the rat knows?” came the response from up ahead.

“Do I think the rat knows what?”

“Do you think the rat knows it’s in a maze, or do you think it’s just focused on the goal at the end?” he asked, “Focused on the cheese?”

“What does this have to do with you slowing down?” Syd shot back, thoroughly pissed now.  He stopped abruptly, almost running headlong into a boulder.  He had reached the rock scramble.

“Just an interesting thought.” came the reply from somewhere in the rocks above him, “Is the rat smart enough to recognize that it’s in a maze?  To know that there’s really no point in getting to the center?”

Syd looked up towards Zed’s voice at the same time that a shower of stones came cascading down.  One hit him in the head.  He felt a sharp pain and a warm wetness, he touched it and his hand came away bloody.  Damn, he thought to himself, gritting his teeth.  A small voice in the back of his head wanted him to stop but he couldn’t, he felt compelled to keep going.  Syd gripped the nearest rock ledge and hauled himself up, his body protesting with every exertion.

Just get to the summit, Syd thought to himself, climbing,  just gotta get there and I can rest.  His injured ankle buckled beneath him and he fell backwards, landing painfully on his side.  He thought he felt a rib crack and yelled out in agony, then caught his breath and got back up to keep climbing.  Up above, he could see the sky past the rocks.  The summit, he thought, excited, it’s close.

“Do you think it remembers having to repeat the same path over and over again?”, came Zed’s voice from the summit.  He sounded genuinely curious and thoroughly unfazed by the climb.

Syd hauled his body up over the ledge, collapsing onto the dirt path.  He slung off his bag and laid there on his face, panting.  Thirsty, he thought, water.  He sat up and reached to open his bag.  He unzipped it only to find…a boulder.  He sat there, stunned.  Nothing else could fit in the bag around the rock perfectly nestled inside.

“Ah,” came a satisfied voice from beside him, “your burden.”

Syd looked towards the voice, coming from a man backlit by the sun.  The summit was visible behind him: an almost vertical jagged rock scramble leveling out to small alpine trees silhouetted against a bluebird sky.

“Pick up your bag, Syd.” a voice said, “Get up.  Let’s keep going.”