The Errant Tree

The Aagaard Estate and Grounds

The bear-or the bugs, Dylan wasn't sure which-led her through the maze with an occasional backward glance. Dylan followed as close behind as she dared.

Around a bend to their left, someone laughed, and the light-bugs dispersed as a well-dressed couple came stumbling into view. The man spied Dylan and, raising his cup, recommended to her in Norwegian that she try the mead from the bar stationed at the heart of the maze, and that she need only follow the right-hand-rule from where they'd come to find it. Not comprehending, Dylan simply gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and the couple passed her by. No sooner had they gone than the bear reconstituted and once again beckoned her to follow.

The sound of the string quartet had all but vanished, and Dylan got the sense they had traveled relatively far inland-far for such a small island, that is-and that they were traversing the far wall of the maze, as there had been no right-hand turns for quite a while. At a seemingly nondescript section of that wall, the bear suddenly dissipated, and its constituent insects climbed through the hedge and out of sight.

Dylan cursed, calling out, "Hey, I can't do that!"

She jogged to the spot and, upon examining the foliage, saw that there was, in fact, a wrought iron gate hidden within the leaves. Scrunching up her face, she pushed between the overgrowth, the gate giving way with a groan. On the other side, the bear waited, and put a finger to its lips.

"Sorry," Dylan said.

The bear turned and proceeded.

Their path led them up a paved walkway that climbed the central slope of the island toward the main houses. Two of the domes largely obscured the third, and although parts of the interiors were visible through the exterior lattice, they all appeared largely dark, as if unoccupied. Were it not for her luminous ursine guide, Dylan would have turned back, fearing arrest or administration of some algorithmic penalty, but no guards appeared, no alarms went off, and no cameras were apparent, so she continued on.

They had almost reached a narrow passage between the two closest domes. As they approached, Dylan noticed movement in one of the few lit rooms, on an upper floor to her right, and when her attention caught up to her eyes, she perceived a human silhouette standing on the other side of the glass, facing outward, its head tilted down toward the new arrivals. She nearly yelped, and she ducked low behind a meager bush, not comprehending the futility of trying to hide next to a bear made of glow-bugs. A moment later, the figure in the window had vanished, and Dylan was left to agonize whether or not she should flee. She was not left for very long, however, for the bugs had abandoned their formation to create a series of arrows, which wavered horizontally back and forth, conveying a very clear message of urgency.

"Fuck it," she proclaimed, and raced up the hill, heart pounding, the arrows keeping pace to urge her on.

In the triangular space between the three domes (which comprised the island's summit) was a grassy courtyard. In its center, upon a wide pillar, stood the statue of a bear-or, rather, a bear-like, for it did not have fur like a bear, but was covered in thick plates of hide armor like Dürer's Rhinoceros (a rather inaccurate sixteenth-century rendering of one such beast). As Dylan came skidding to a halt, panting, a door slid open on the side of the column, revealing a hidden elevator. The bear reconstituted beside the recent opening and, once again, gestured with a paw. Dylan began to obey.

"Stop!" a voice called.

Dylan spun to behold the man who had been in the window, now fully visible and standing at the edge of the courtyard. He was stocky and muscular with thin hair, a square jaw, and a high nose, and he wore only long, plain T-shirt and boxer shorts as if he had just gotten out of bed.

"You're not supposed to be in here," he said, taking an agitated step toward Dylan. "Didn't they tell you down in the garden?"

"Nobody told me anything," Dylan lied. "I'm just a little lost."

"In that case," the man said, "I'll show you the way out."

"I don't think you're dressed for the occasion."

"Don't worry about that."

He came at her with an outstretched arm.

"Uh-uh," Dylan said, standing as tall as possible and pointing a finger, "No man-handling. Back off."

"Then step away from the door."

"What's down there?"

"None of your concern."

"Just tell me and I'll leave."

"You're leaving no matter what."

The man resumed his approach, this time with even more physical intent, but just as Dylan took a last, desperate step backward, the glow-bugs enveloped her assailant's face, covering his eyes and filling his mouth and nostrils, buzzing aggressively. He coughed and choked, slapping at his face, and Dylan did not need bug-arrows to tell her to dash into the elevator, the door of which closed in front of her, and then there was that gentle fluctuation in perceived gravity that accompanies downward acceleration.

Of all the places Dylan expected to find herself when she spilled out of the elevator, her knees like jelly, the last was a birch forest.

A famous English playwright once obliged a character to observe that all the world's a stage, and we in it are merely players. But there are times when we've more in common with the audience than the actors... when the world overwhelms us with its strangeness, and, having no lines to speak, we become observers. These moments when the ebb and flow of action eludes us and agency evaporates are perhaps the purest, for we are vulnerable then, no longer in command, subject only to the same laws of cause and effect suffered by every other object and creature in the universe. So did Dylan now stumble forward completely awestruck, yet agog for the solution to this strange puzzle. She followed a path from the door that wound between wooded hillocks, gazing up at what should have been the underside of the estate grounds but appeared instead to be sky. From somewhere not far off came the sound of crashing water. Golden leaves fluttered upon ivory branches in the enigmatic breeze. And then she stood at the edge of a clearing, in which stood a man in a clean, white robe.

"Hello, Dylan," he said, spreading his arms wide with a warm smile, "welcome to your audition. I'll let you catch your breath, and then we're going to go over a few rules."