A bell rang loudly, and Zane was shoved forward into the narrow corridor. His feet tangled with each other and he almost fell, only barely managing to catch himself by continuing to move forward. Then he ran, and oh, did he have to run. Otherwise, he'd be shocked with electricity until his eyes went blurry, and then he'd still have to run.
His feet hurt from slamming against the ground, his legs hurt from pumping, his very brain hurt from thinking so quickly and from the electric shocks. He'd been doing this for hours, Zane was sure of it, and the clock on the wall every time he exited the maze confirmed it. And yes, it was a maze, Zane was sure of that too. Every time the bell rang, he was pushed into the opening and the door was closed behind him, and then he had to race through the thin corridors, turning here and there, skidding around corners and hoping not to meet a dead end, until he finally stumbled out of the exit. He'd fall to the ground, panting, aching, wishing for reprieve, and he would get a reprieve, but only long enough for the whitecoats to make the maze in a new way with the entrance and the exit in new spots. Then he'd be pulled to the entrance, he'd be shoved in, and he'd have to run again.
And so Zane ran, his vision fuzzy with tears and the aftereffects of the latest shocks, until he found the blessed exit and ran out, falling to his knees.
The whitecoats talked and thought over Zane's head, discussing their latest results, discussing how to make the maze experiment more interesting, discussing whose turn it was to make the pattern for Zane to run in. Two of them were talking about if they could let a Serpentine run freely through the maze as a challenge for Zane, more like a challenger, really. One of them was thinking about if she could persuade some of the others to let her make the electric shocks more constant, even if Zane didn't stop running, so she could figure out what the effect would be on "the subject's pseudo-adrenaline levels." One of them was bored and wondering when he would get a coffee break next.
One of them was creating a new pattern for the next maze.
Zane perked up inwardly, although he couldn't pull together the energy to perk up on the outside. One of them was creating a new pattern for the next maze! And Zane could read his mind! Zane could figure out where to go, where the dead ends were, where the exit was! This time, he wouldn't get shocked at all. This time, he would surprise them.
Concentrating hard, Zane closed his eyes and focused on the whitecoat who was creating the meme. Zane searched the whitecoat's mind, looking for the image of the maze the man was creating. And there it was! Zane did his best to memorize what turns he'd have to take: an immediate right, then pass a left and take the next left, then straight down through the three options the corridor split into, and then and then and then, all the way to the exit.
Someone grabbed Zane by the arms and pulled him up, dragging him to the new entrance. Zane knew exactly where they were going and exactly what he was going to do when he got there. He was set in front of the door, which opened.
The bell rang, but Zane didn't wait to be shoved forward. Instead, he sprinted forward, taking an immediate right, then passing the next left and taking the left after that, then going straight as the maze split into three options, and so on, until he saw the exit. With a final burst of speed, Zane raced out through the exit and fell to the floor in a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. He had done it, and he hadn't been shocked once.
Mouth open, eyes closed, Zane panted for air, but his heart was swelling with pride. Wait until the others found him and rescued him and heard about what a cool thing he'd done!
Thoughts and words pressed around him, pushing at him from the whitecoats' minds and mouths.
"Unbelievable."
"Like it already knew."
"Intuition."
"Reasoning and creativity."
"Preserve the experiment."
"Extract the data."
"Dissect the systems."
"Take it apart."
Then someone was laughing very nearby, the sound ringing clear like the bell that had signalled the beginning of a maze run, and then that same someone was saying, "Now, now, everyone. We can't dissect him right away, now can we? He has a purpose he needs to fulfill. And before he can do that, I want to talk to him."
The voice was somehow familiar, not recognizable exactly, but familiar. Like a voice Zane had heard before, long ago, somewhere far from here, somewhere safe and warm and home.
Opening his eyes, Zane squinted up. An older man was leaning over him, his slightly wrinkled face framed by graying hair and haloed by the glow of a light fixture above. Somehow, the man wasn't thinking anything at all, or at least Zane couldn't hear any of his thoughts. The man looked like… The man seemed so… The man was…
"Hello, Zane," Jeb Garmadon said. "It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope you missed me, because I certainly missed you."