Luci's Labyrinth
Author’s Note
Dear Reader -
The following short story - Luci’s Labyrinth - is inspired by the artwork VIII. Infinite Ceremony by Sam Spratt (pictured below).
The story responds directly to the artwork and is also heavily influenced by the broader tale of Luci as documented by Sam Spratt (@SamSpratt) across multiple digital paintings and written psalms.
I wrote Luci’s Labyrinth in response to the following prompt from Michaely (@Michael_Chestr) and Lord Midas (@LordMidas_ETH) in regard to VIII. Infinite Ceremony: “Create a response to what you see.”
My intent with this story is to consider the character of Luci in a contemporary context. Beyond that, I won’t say much about the story or the setting or what I am trying to say - I will leave that up for interpretation. I will note that scholars of Luci who pay attention will be able to find a number of winks and nods to Spratt’s source material peppered throughout the story.
In service,
Monty
Luci’s Labyrinth
“Dreams are the guiding words of the soul. Why should I henceforth not love my dreams and not make their riddling images into objects of my daily consideration?” - Carl Jung
i.
Many years later, as Luci rested beneath the eucalyptus, they were to remember that distant day when they decided to leave The City.
The air was crisp and the light was slanted. It was early February, one of the first mornings of the year that hinted winter might end soon. Luci didn’t notice. The windows of their 14th story apartment were closed. Two pundits were discussing something consequential on their regular daily news podcast. Coffee was brewing. Luci’s phone buzzed with texts from a client.
BAM.
Luci startled and their body spun them around, though by the time the turn was complete, their mind understood the sound. A bird had hit the window. Luci exhaled. This was a thing that happened from time to time. The cost of progress, Luci always thought. Improbably, the bird had fallen onto a narrow ledge outside, part of the window frame. It was blinking in shock.
Luci walked to the window, and stared at the bird. They felt paralyzed. What were they supposed to do now?
“Thank you for listening, and we will see you again tomorrow!” said the host in a professionally cheery tone. The coffee machine beeped in completion. Luci’s phone buzzed again. The bird was still blinking. It appeared to shiver. Do birds get cold? Luci wondered. Can I touch birds with my bare hands?
A sudden gust of wind blew the bird off the ledge. Luci cried out involuntarily and quickly levered the window open the few inches that it would allow. They looked down. They saw what they usually saw: Steel and glass. A street lined with miniature cars and buses. A steady river of two-legged animals dressed mostly in black and gray.
Luci felt slightly winded for no apparent reason. The morning sun glanced off their cheek, vital against the cold air. The old yellow flag - an inheritance from their mother, now used as a makeshift curtain - hung askew next to the open window, rippling softly in the breeze. Luci stared across The City.
I am in a cave. Or is it a cave? Are those roots? How did I get here?
“Hello Luci.”
I swivel around. I am not alone. She is glowing and beautiful and not quite like me. Trinkets and pages are strewn about. On the ground, bowls overflow with earthy liquids and powders.
“Who are you?” It is all I can think to ask.
“I am Sima.”
“What is this place?”
“You wandered in here Luci. When you left, you didn’t know where you were going, but here you are.”
“Where did I come from?”
“You came from The Empire.”
Luci’s phone buzzed again. They snapped back to their apartment. How strange, Luci thought. It was rare for them to remember their dreams. They gazed across the apartment, overcome by a sudden sense that they were standing in somebody else’s home. Luci’s eyes stopped at the clock. 8:47 AM. Time to go.
ii.
This building is a monument to progress! Tallest building in the Western Hemisphere! That’s what The Boss always liked to tell clients when they first arrived. Luci had to admit that the view was mesmerizing. From up here, The City appeared to Luci like a labyrinth.
But today the view felt different. It made Luci feel dizzy and melancholy. The labyrinth usually seemed like an endless maze of possibility. Today, it struck Luci as a sort of cage, crafted with daedalian precision to ensnare the roiling mass of humankind.
Luci liked their job in the way they liked getting into the car to run an errand. It’s nice to have the car. The car is easy. The car protected them from the elements. The car is a technological marvel. But despite all this, the car somehow still managed to sap their vitality and make them feel subtly alienated from the world. It didn’t always feel convenient to Luci to walk to the grocery store on a cold evening and farmer-carry the bags home, one in each hand, but it made them feel something. Luci wanted to feel something, and this job wasn’t making that happen. But what was the alternative?
Luci sat down at their desk and flicked on their monitor.
I begin to look around more. I am no longer scared. I understand this place won’t hurt me. It is sacred.
Sima and I are not alone. We are surrounded.
I don’t need to ask, I understand. My ancestors are with us. And not just my ancestors. My demons. My past. My former dreams.
Mother, is that you? Young Luci…I recognize you.
I close my eyes and let my past wash over me.
“Did you know this is actually the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere?” The Boss led a new client into the conference room.
iii.
Isaac’s Deli had been on that corner since Luci was a child. Luci used to go there with their mother on special occasions, and always on the first Saturday of every month when the two of them would come into the heart of The City. Luci ordered the same thing every time: “Bagel with cream cheese, toasted please.”
Whenever they ate at Isaac’s together, Luci’s mom would enthuse about the unlimited free pickles. “This is how it should be, Luci. This is real hospitality and tradition right here.” Isaac’s no longer offered unlimited free pickles. Regardless, the bagels were still excellent.
Luci didn’t go to Isaac’s Deli often these days, but the morning had left them feeling unsettled, and they wanted something comforting: “I’ll have a poppy seed bagel with cream cheese, toasted please.”
They sat down. The old wooden chairs were the same ones from when Luci was a child. These chairs had seen them grow up.
“Why are you here Luci?”
I pause. Why am I here? I know why I left. There was no other choice.
“I needed to leave.”
“Needing to leave is not a reason. You could have gone anywhere. Why are you HERE?”
I look around me. Others have been here before me. They are paying attention.
“I came here so that I may return.”
“Number 48!”
Luci’s bagel was ready, one dill pickle on the side. Luci ate the pickle first, chewing slowly. Going back to the office right now did not sound appealing, but such is the way of things.
iv.
“Constitutionals are good for the soul,” Luci’s grandfather used to say. Whenever Luci took a post meal walk, they always thought of their grandfather. It was one of the reasons Luci liked going out for lunch, rather than eating at the office.
As Luci walked back toward the office, the melancholy of the morning began to melt away, replaced by an unusual feeling of buoyancy. Luci felt each step took them further than usual, as if they were being propelled forward by some external force. Issac’s bagels always did the trick.
Luci had walked past the old church by the office a hundred times, but had never stepped inside. Today, however, as they were passing by, they heard a choral harmony wafting through the front door. Luci slowed, and then paused. It was a weekday afternoon, so there wouldn’t be a service.
Luci hesitated, then walked up the wide, dirty marble steps toward the massive wood and iron double door. They peeked inside. The choir was huddled together in their carmine robes, but otherwise the church was empty save a few people sitting in the pews. The light was dim and golden. This performance must be a dress rehearsal.
“....Roots hold me close; wings set me free;
Spirit of Life, come to me, come to me.”
Luci let the music wash over them.
“The choice is yours Luci…will you choose to stay asleep or will you wake up?”
I feel the weight of my history, as if I am the 200th page in a closed book, trapped by all the pages that have already been written.
I look down, and as if the cave can read my mind, the book is there. Bound in hide, it looks ancient and weathered. I stare. I am nervous. I reach down and open the tome.
I see them staring back at me from the page. Fifty skulls.
I realize that my eyes are wet. A tear falls onto the page, and the canvas begins to transmute, as if it were a boiling pot of water. From the froth an embodied skull rises, and stares me in the eyes.
It doesn’t speak, but I can feel us communicate. We are one.
I know what must be done.
“Sima…I am ready to wake up.”
I grab the skull from the air. From its base, it casts a light. I flip it around to illuminate Sima’s face, and offer her the totem. She stares into my soul.
“You are ready Luci. The dance can begin anew.”
The choir finished their song, and the members began chattering with each other in low voices.
Luci was in tears. A church volunteer glanced at the newcomer. It wasn’t common that the choir brought people to tears, but it did happen from time to time.
Luci turned away, walking back out the double doors into the familiar roar of The City. The sun was still out. It was turning into a perfect February day. Luci could almost feel the buds on the dogwoods filling with energy. A bus full of tourists roared by. A street vendor selling their wares was shouting.
Luci took out their phone and texted The Boss: “I won’t be back to the office today.”