As I walked through the must and dust, I began to wish I was back in the Chamber of Neverending Flagellation.

Even eternal torture sounded better than walking through miles of dampness and dankness, filled with cobwebs, spiderwebs, and the screams of the tortured.

But as I listened to their screams, I soon abandoned that line of thinking and contented myself with the comparatively leisurely stroll I was taking.

I then noticed a door ahead of me.

There was a noise that was coming from it, but it wasn’t just tortured screaming.

It was a voice, and it sounded agitated.

“...and don’t even get me started on that one guy, leaving string everywhere like he owns the place! I mean, really! There are gremlins that have to clean that up, you know…”

I was astonished to realize that I recognized the voice.

“...a systemic issue, when you think about it! I mean, who’s running this place? It’s grossly mismanaged, I say..."

I looked at the door, and the sign above it.

Chamber of Unending Flagellation

“Oh, hell,” I thought.

“...I mean, what’s a bug supposed to do when the systemic structures of power are structured in such a way as to give power to the system! I ask you that, huh?”

It looked at me as if expecting a response.

“Oh- uh, I’m not quite sure. Can you repeat the question?”

“Certainly,” it cleared its throat, “And I bet you’re looking for a way out, too! It’s always the same-”

“Oh, sorry, I meant the part about systemic structures of power.”

“-oh. Right,” it looked indignant, “well, I was just saying how the systemic structures of power are structured in such a way as to give power to the system!”

I nodded.

“I mean, it’s systematic, really, when you think about it!”

“Hm,” I thought about it, “I can see that, I suppose.”

It looked smug.

As much as a bug can look smug, of course.

“But don’t you suppose that’s what the system wants you to think?”

It thought about this.

“And isn’t it the very same system that says there’s no way out of here?”

It pondered that.

Slowly, realization crept over its face.

“I don’t follow,” it said.

“What I’m saying is…”

“Uh huh...”

“...the system that’s given power by the structures that systematically empower it…”

"...mm-hmm..."

“...is the same system that says there’s no way out of here!”

It took this in.

"Hm," it said.

“So if you want to disempower the structural systems…”

“Naturally.”

“...that give power to the system’s structures...”

“I’m following.”

“...systematically...”

It nodded.

“...then you should tell me how to get out of here!”

Its eyes widened.

“It’s always the same, isn’t it!” it began to shout.

“Well, hold on…”

“People like you, coming in and expecting a pleasant little torture, a little waterboarding and they’ll be home by supper! And then they lose their willies…”

I began to back away slowly.

“...I mean, really! There was this other guy a couple hours ago, oh my God, he was the worst! Thought he was too good for eternal flagellation, he did...”

The bug’s tirade faded behind me as I walked away.

“...an expert on torture, too! I mean, if there's ever going to be any progress…”

----------------------------------------

I kept on walking, plodding through the maze of tunnels and corridors.

Sometimes I would be absolutely certain that I had been in a particular place before, only to find out that it was just a similar looking hallway.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Other times, I turned out to be correct in that initial assumption, and had simply gotten turned around.

This happened more often than I’d like to admit, and so I won't admit it. It didn’t happen at all.

It was maybe a couple hours before I came across a small, shoddy, and strangely familiar door in the wall.

I knocked.

I heard some mumbling, some stumbling, and some grumbling coming from inside.

A small peephole opened in the door, and a green eye looked out and widened.

After some bumbling and a little fumbling, the door was opened by a small green creature.

“Well,” it said heartily, “if it isn’t the freakazoid!

“Hi, Grungleby.”

It stopped and looked at me.

“Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”

“Yeah.”

It laughed.

I smiled.

“So, how’ve you been?” it asked warmly.

“Oh, you know,” I gestured to the hallway, “can’t complain.”

“You know, you really can’t.”

“Can I come in?”

It rubbed its chin.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Where do you think?”

“The Torture Labyrinth?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, you can come in," it nodded.

It turned around and left the door open.

If I had to stoop to stand up in the hallway, I had to crawl to enter the hole.

It was dark inside, but as I got up, I was surprised to realize that I could now stand up straight.

I can’t properly express how good this felt. It was as if my back had been bent in an uncomfortable position for a very long time, and I was finally able to straighten it out.

“Oh, that feels good,” I said to myself.

“Hm?” Grungleby stopped and looked back at me, “what’s that?”

“Nothing, sorry. It just feels good to stand up.”

“Sorry,” it said as it turned and walked through another door, “this is just the foyer.”

The door opened into a smaller room with an even shorter ceiling.

Inside the room was one table, one chair, and a small, solitary cupboard.

Grungleby sat in the chair, and then quickly stood up.

“Sorry, do you want anything to drink? I think I have some wine.”

I crawled over to the table, sat on the floor, and said,

“Sure.”

It went over to the cupboard and opened it.

Inside was a small, dirty glass, and a bottle filled with a strange, dark liquid.

It took these out, poured the liquid into the glass, and set it on the table.

I took a sip.

It tasted like sewage water.

“This tastes like sewage water,” I said.

Yeah,” Grungleby said as it sat back down in the chair, “it is.”

“What? Why did you tell me it was wine?”

“I don’t know,” it shrugged, “just felt like it, I guess.”

I pondered this.

“So, what brings you by?”

I put the glass down.

“I’m going to escape the labyrinth."

“What labyrinth?”

“The Torture Labyrinth.”

“Oh, okay. Just making sure.”

I looked at it strangely.

It sat placidly.

“What?” it said.

“Aren’t you gonna, like, freak out or something?”

Grungleby said nothing. It looked around, as if to take in the moment.

Then, as if a pin dropped, it jumped out of its chair and started screaming, running around the small room, jumping off of the walls, and smashing its head into the table.

After it finished crying on the ground and praying to any god that would listen, it calmly got up and sat back in its chair.

“How was that?” it asked.

“How was what?”

“I just freaked out, like all over the place. Didn’t you see it?”

“Oh, yeah, I saw that. What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Why’d you freak out all over the place?”

“I don’t know,” it shrugged, “it seemed like you wanted me to freak out.”

“No, I was just wondering why everyone seems to freak out around here.”

“Why does everyone freak out around here?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m asking you!”

“Why do I freak out?” it laughed incredulously, “I’m a gremlin, guy!”

“No, I mean why does everyone freak out whenever I mention escaping-”

It punched me in my thigh.

“Keep your voice down!”

“Ow! Sorry.”

I rubbed my thigh.

“Jesus, you really are a freak, kid.”

“Yeah. Mom always said so.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.”

“Listen, guy…”

I listened.

“...I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.”

I leaned closer.

“The reason why no one will talk about escaping…”

“Uh huh...”

“...is because there’s no way out.”

I took this in.

“Hm,” I said.

“Yeah,” it said gravely.

“But what about this?”

“What about what?”

I pulled out the palimpsest.

“What is that?”

“It’s a palimpsest.”

“What’s a palimpsest?”

“This.”

“Oh.”

I pointed to one of the lines.

“I think we’re here.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I just feel like it, I guess.”

“Ah.”

I pointed to the end of one of the lines.

“And I think the exit is here.”

“Really? Why?”

“He told me it was.”

“Who’s he?”

“The goblin who gave me this.”

Grungleby stopped.

“A goblin?” it looked at me seriously.

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure it was a goblin? Not a gremlin?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. He told me he was…”

“Mm.”

“...and unless gremlins are prone to lying and mischief…”

Grungleby thought about this and rubbed its chin.

“Gremlins never lie...”

“Really?”

“No. I just lied.”

“Ah.”

“You see what I’m saying?”

I thought about it.

Slowly, realization dawned on me.

“No,” I said.

“What I’m saying is…”

“Uh huh...”

“...just because this guy told you he was a goblin…”

“...mm-hmm...”

“...doesn’t mean he actually is one.”

I nodded.

“And just because he told you this,” it tapped forcefully on the paper, “is how to get out…”

“Yes. Well, actually-”

“Doesn’t mean it- what?”

“Well, he never actually said it was the way out. He was very cryptic about the whole thing, you see…”

“Uh huh...”

“...and now that I think about it, I went where he told me to…”

“...mm-hmm...”

“...and it wasn’t an exit. It was just another torture chamber.”

“Ah, well, there you go," it began to take my glass, "just another gremlin, gremling around…”

“The Chamber of Ending-Far-in-the-Future Flagellations, it was…”

“…no surprises-”

Grungleby stopped.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What chamber did you say it was?”

“The Chamber of Ending-Far-in-the-Future Flagellations.”

Grungleby swallowed.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Not neverending flagellation?”

“No.”

“And not unending flagellation?”

I shook my head.

Grungleby pondered this.

“How about eternal flagellation?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so? Or you know so?”

“Er- I know so. I got a pretty good look at it.”

Grungleby took this in.

“Hm,” it said.

“What?”

“I never thought I’d see the day…” it said wistfully.

“What day?”

“Today.”

“Ah.”

It nodded sagely.

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about it. We need to go.”

“Oh. Go where?”

Grungleby jammed his finger on the paper where I had pointed.

“There.”

“Ah.”

Grungleby cleared my glass, and then led us into the foyer.

It stuck its head out of the front door and looked down the hallway, then popped back in.

“Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“The palimpsent.”

“The what?”

“The paper.”

“Oh.”

I handed it to Grungleby.

“You said we’re here?” it pointed to the paper.

I looked where it was pointing.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“No.”

Grungleby sighed.

“Well, it’s the best we’ve got, I suppose."

We began walking.