They sat together on the sand, the Blue Knight, Sheba and the Sphinx, once the Strait had been repaired and all the rulings written there. The newscasters had moved to another scandal, more profitable.
And they asked the Thread to tell, in its own time and tale, where it came from and some epic of length.
In long ago I was first spun, began the Thread, settling to its task. Ariadne auf Naxos (She went there later), had need of my infinite length and directionality. Although unlike the classic lines of Euclid, I have no defined direction, only length and then some more, infinite one might boast. Of course, I also maintain a tiny value of breadth and depth, where Euclid’s has none. His line is notional, I am real.
You may know, if you did not, that all the stories are Threads and stray filaments are woven of the whole.
Anyway, Theseus had ambition to entering the cave of labyrinths, to stop the sacrifices there. Ariadne for her part, had spun a thread, and that was me, to lead the hero from the maze and save from eternal wanderings, in dead end streets and alleyways, that no one had survived before, seemed somewhat less, or was it more?
Was it left or right you went? the Blue Knight asked, whilst drinking rum, It’s most important that we know, in case it ever comes again, that maze beyond the wit of man.
To be honest I just followed my nose, said the Thread, I can say with confidence that it is rarely straight-on for any great length of time
Go back and colour all the scenes, she Spinx said, Unusually, I was not there.
Well, said the Thread, by some mysterious movement of the stars, a Minotaur was at large in a labyrinth. His story and unusual provenance are not here withdrawn. Every now and now the King of all that island, one Minos, there must send some innocents to become an offering and keep the Minotaur from causing uproar and disquiet. No one wants to see an unhappy Minotaur.
This went by the year, until brave Theseus arrived upon the shore, leaping down from his ship, in some kind of leathern kilt, counting out the grains of sand and wondering if there were more than stars up in the sky, when a woman hurried by, dressed in ancient Greek festoons, that were not proof against the wind.
Hello, he said, And who be you?
Ariadne, she replied, I’ve got to go, see you inside.
Inside what? our hero asked, You do know I’ve only just arrived.
Inside the palace over there, tonight the sacrifice is set, our innocents, washed and scrubbed, and we must send them inside the labyrinth tonight. It is sad but true. The inhabitant therein, heist Minotaur, must be managed.
I shall enter this maze of cobbled streets and have a word with this fellow, said Theseus, Then, when the threat has been extinguished, I shall invite you to come with me to Naxos, where I shall abandon you.
Good for you, said Ariadne, I shall come with you across the chartreuse dark sea if you can quell the monster, but I am disappointed about the abandoning part. Could you not have held that back, to avoid disappointment?
If you enter the maze unattended you will never return, she continued, So I shall spin a thread that will guide you.
Thanks, said Theseus, Sorry about the abandoning thing, it is written.
I, the Thread, entered in the maze as Ariadne had designed and as I entered in, the voice of the Minotaur was heard to whisper thus:
I was lost, I was lost, crossed the tracks and could not return. Crossed wires and shorted out, crossed the Rubicon, the road, could never go back.
It was all dark, except for the lamps, where did they come from? I was lost in the maze. Almost done, I’m almost done.
Lost in here, lost in there, I cannot find the way. I follow the light, I follow the stars. There is no light, there are no stars.
Where did these lamps come from?
I woke and there was a losing in the nature, so I walked the corridors of stone to find, but all I could discover was innocence so I devoured it, as all children will, I discovered myself, as all children will, eventually. I asked the way and answer came there none, only the whisper of my voice in repeat of where and how.
If I follow the left-hand touch, will I eventually? Or just go around in circuits? Circuits made of gold upon my wrist, circuits of gold upon my ankles.
If I follow the right hand, will I go straight to the centre? Where the information and tourist pamphlets are ranged in rows? Their coloured pictures vying for my attention.
If I close my eyes and walk, will I end up in the light? Where did those lamps come from and who is renewing them? They never burn low or gutter. They look like the kind that has to be dipped in pitch or another available fuel at regular intervals and must need constant attention.
I shall take a pamphlet and bending to its will, I will take a tour on the open-top bus that travels the maze day by day? It never reaches the outer edge and gives no sustenance. The driver is hidden behind the glass and speaks an ancient tongue, with hieroglyphs in brackets, the meaning is lost on me. The driver always smiles.
I shall glide along on a glass bottomed boat, with warm sweet drinks in the wind. But there are no fish. The maze is dry and cracked here and there, with stones settling but never falling.
The Whales and Doflins will not grace us with their acrobatics. They have all gone to live in the museum, where everything is stylized and decorative. I shall help them to invent the mobile phone, then I can navigate the maze on groogleplan, which has never failed to send me Downtown when I wanted to go Up.
I shall piece together all the broken information found in shards below. I shall read the inscription about the goddess who is waiting for me. When I emerge, finally, from this tricky place. She wants to welcome me with open arms, the snakes wrap around her arms to keep us safe. We will drink wine from pretty cups dipped into the enormous vats which lean against the palace walls and look so fragile waking up. She keeps a cat upon her brow.
I shall walk, I shall walk. Always walking, never sleeping, I wish those lamps were on a timer so that I could get some rest.
I heard all this, continued the Thread, As Theseus crept deeper into the Maze and played me out so I might indicate his ingress.
Eventual, he came face to bullnose with the Minotaur and asked why he was so unhappy with his lot.
The drums, we cannot get out, said the Minotaur.
Here is the plan, spoke Theseus, I will take you from this place using my trusty Thread. That’s me, said aside. You will hide in my ocean-going open topped sports barge under a blanket in the back seat. I will tell Mr Minos that I have nullified the threat in the maze. Implying, but not saying directly, that we had an enormous battle and I finally cut off your head. Mr Minos will say what’s mine is yours etc. I will ask for Ariadnes hand in partnership (I’ve already told her that I will abandon her on Naxos). Then, you, me, Ariadne and the Thread will leave and seek adventure on the choppy sea. What do you say?
Fine, said the Minotaur, Do you know who maintains these lamps? They are remarkable in that they never go out.
No idea, said Theseus, Allons-y.
And that, said the Thread, is the true story of my first example.
The Guardians of the Cave 