Beyond The Hedge Maze.

August 2008.

Purgatory.

You joke that the company you work for should bear that name. Or at least you'd like to joke about it.

But you don't really talk to anybody.

You stumble in, bleary-eyed, and sit amongst the squared semi-circle of computers. Your job requires, rather than a badge, for you to place your right hand into a device, arranging your five fingers to contact three posts in order to clock in and out. Yet, you sit down in front of a piece-meal computer that might have been top of the line even before the Millennial grid dropped.

One of your co-workers is dropped off by her parole officer. It is likely she will never be able to legally drive a car again. You want to ask, but dare not, about the obviously razor-inflicted scars across the upper arms of the girl two seats down from you. To your left, your older co-worker at one point described an incident where, after drinking an entire bottle of rum in his darker days, he hallucinated a rare record he was coveting on the track of a subway, and the train severed his legs shortly after he leapt down to retrieve it.

"What legs you got on tonight, honey?" asks a sassy black woman three seats down.

He rolls his pants legs up to reveal a pair of leopard-spotted prosthetic shins. Everyone chuckles in approval.

You've arrived every weekday morning at this same industrial park, same floor, same room for as long as you can remember, but you begin to realize there is another door on the other side of the building you have never passed through.

One morning, while driving in, you catch something peripherally you have never noticed. Over the dense foliage that typically frames your trip to work, you suddenly notice a tower... a tower with tubes? A water slide?

A water slide in your industrial park? What is this?

And suddenly you remember that door.

The next day at work, during your first break, you confidently exit through the other door.

Was it this bright out two hours ago? You stumble around the previously unseen anterior region of the building only to find yourself inexplicably facing...

A hedge maze.

Further confusion.

It's not a particularly difficult maze, likely recreational. You quickly reach the center, where there is indeed some sort of miniature water park. Very appealing in the middle of August.

The spire you noticed this morning is probably about 50 feet tall, with three water slides of differing complexity. Everyone is in comfortable swim attire, but are also in ceramic animal masks. You hear much laughter and you witness much embracing. It looks like so much fun.

Instantly, you are seized at the wrist by a hooded figure, also in an animal mask. You know then that you will have to go back the way you came. You do not belong here.

You're late back from break anyway. And you really do need this job. There is no use resisting.

You find no good reason to bother to relate this story to your coworkers. And eventually you drive back to your place, alone.