Wait

An allegorical adaptation of real-life scenarios so typical, made into a riddle of sorts. Can you figure it out?

I find myself, so to speak, in a maze. This maze is quite literally the largest maze anybody has ever known; and yet, it is larger for some than others. It also takes different shapes for some people than others. And, as a particular detail of this maze, when viewed from the inside, it resembles anything but a maze. And nobody ever views it from the outside. Not that I know of.

And who am I? I could tell you my name, but that wouldn’t be relevant, as I could say that my name is “guitar”, “strawberry shortcake” or “fleetingly”, and none of those words (much less my name itself, which possesses considerably less of a denotation) would mean anything to you. Of course, if I were to think of a name for myself which had any meaning, I would tell you that. But until said event occurs, you will not call me by any name.

However, that still raises the question of who I am. Who we are, of course, is solely determined by our previous experiences, in a physically deterministic sense; even if you’re one of the believers in free will, you have to agree that my past experiences have to have shaped me to some degree.

But, in this case, past experiences aren’t nearly as relevant as present situation.

I find myself in a crossroads. Very likely the largest crossroads you can ever lay eyes upon. Or maybe not. It’s big, though. I’m square in the center, right in between a very large amount of, well, roads. They all emerge from where I’m standing. I’ve almost lost track of the one I came from. Almost.

Far away, in some of the roads, I see people I know. Daphne’s in one of them, and she can see I’m upset. But she can’t abandon her road. So she falls asleep. And while I’m wondering why she fell asleep, I hear a voice behind me.

“Hey!” And as I turn around I see it’s her, only slightly transparent. I try to hug her, but I barely feel it before she phases through me, intangible.

“Sorry for only being half-here,” she says, “I can’t really stay long, but I saw you needed me.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking the other way, “you always read me so well.”

I look back at her soon enough to catch a smile. “What’s the matter?” she asks.

“Well I’ve been stuck here long enough,” I say, “Why can’t I just go on the road I picked?”

“Patience, love. Don’t you see I’m stuck on my road too? Haven’t moved in ages.”

“Well,” I reply, looking down, “at least you have a road.”

She gives me a look like she’d really want to be able to really hug me now; before regaining her composure, that is.

“Scoop up some of the dirt on the floor and put it in your left pocket.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

I did so.

“Now,” she said, “after walking a hundred steps on your road, toss it on the ground and call me.”

“I’ll call you way before that,” I said with a smile.

“Good,” she said, returning my smile.

And she started to take off.

“Wait,” I stopped her. “This still doesn’t answer my question.”

“It will,” she said, facing me again.

“B-but, what if the road I pick isn’t the right one?”

“It’ll answer that question too,” she said, turning around.

A second later, she disappeared, leaving me to wait until I could start my road and she would continue hers.