Serial: Maze Chimps Part 1 (2026)
Photo by DAVIDSON L U N A
1: Funny Guy
The poster was pinned so high on the wall that Cramp, a good head taller than anyone else in the party, had to stand on tiptoe to reach it. The images were much like the others they'd seen hastily scrawled on different walls of the building. This particular example contained five crude drawings under a bold heading in a custom font.
'Maze Chimps,' said Limbo, clearly working on the assumption that nobody else in the group could read. 'Look, Bro – that one is definitely YOU.'
Cramp knew immediately that the observation was sound: his likeness had been captured in the sort of detail you only got when the artist didn't want to leave any room for doubt. It was all there: the bony limbs, the narrow jaw line, the shock of blue hair: all of it. The only consolation was that everyone in the group had received the same treatment, albeit without the vibrant colours.
'Don't look where she wants you to look.' The statement came from Blyx, who didn't speak often, so it immediately drew the attention of the entire group. She was chewing the same piece of gum she'd started on way back in the lobby, and her hair was still frazzled from all the shocks they'd suffered in the Electrotherapy Room. 'The devil is in the details.'
Cramp stretched the poster between his hands and tried to see if it contained any hidden message as the group closed in to get a better view.
'Why am I the only one crossed out?' Suki asked, glancing at a sea of suddenly awkward expressions as it became apparent that everyone was wondering the same thing.
Cramp shrugged. 'Why am I the only one in colour? Nothing here makes any sense – and that's exactly the way she likes it. I told you on the way in: none of us is making it out of here alive.'
'I will.'
Everyone turned to regard Mucas, who shrugged and offered no further explanation of the sudden confidence. Mucas was an oddball even by the standards of this gang, but they'd taken him seriously since a knife-wielding maniac had attacked them in the basement and he'd literally HANDED the guy his arse.
'Not gonna happen,' said Cramp, balling up the poster and tossing it aside before Suki noticed the other thing that made her drawing different from the rest. 'You're tough as nails, my friend – so she'll go for you first. That shit you pulled down at Rock Bottom might have saved the rest of us from becoming human sushi, but it also marked you as the only physical threat here. You're toast.'
Mucas, who would have ripped the head from any other man tossing such a casual threat in his direction, cast the gangly youth an appraising glance.
'If you're so ultra-smart, then why did you end up in here with the rest of us?' he asked. 'And why the fuck are you dressed up like a clown?'
'Good question,' Suki echoed, moving around the group to retrieve the screwed-up poster from the floor. 'Your entire personality matrix screams gamer geek, but the outfit is circus apparel, and somehow I can't see you as the sort of guy who takes custard pies for the team.'
Cramp watched as she unfolded the sheet and gave it some careful consideration before tucking it inside her blazer.
'I don't understand computers,' he explained, quickly realising that he was talking to the group as a whole. 'I don't play games, and I'm not ultra-smart.' He flashed the group a miserable, exaggerated shrug. 'Sadly, in this case the outfit really does tell the story.'
He started down a corridor containing a series of neon, arrow-shaped lights.
'So what's your clown name?' Limbo called after him.
Cramp paused beside a door containing a series of strange symbols and glanced back.
'Cheesecake,' he said.
*
The group found themselves in some sort of medical laboratory. Branching off a maze corridor, this should have been something of a surprise, but it was very much true to form: thus far, every room in Her Palace of Nightmares had been different.
There were stretchers crammed in every available space, and a line of workbenches along the far wall was literally cluttered with microscopes, test tubes and racks of other assorted medical paraphernalia.
Limbo swept a line of medical X-rays from one of the benches and climbed onto it, sitting cross-legged in the space he'd made. 'You know that thing where you go through life quietly trying not to make too much of an impression? Yeah...Emony doesn't do that.'
'DON'T SAY HER NAME,' Mucas boomed. If there was any question about the intensity of his feelings on the subject, his scowl removed all doubt. 'I'M FUCKING SERIOUS.'
'Interesting,' said Suki, never shy in fuelling a drama. 'What is that – superstition or paranoia?'
'They're the same thing,' Cramp cut in. 'The opposite of paranoia would be heightened awareness. I agree with not saying her name aloud, though: trust me, it's a calling card in a place like this. If she has other groups...'
'She doesn't.' Blyx shrugged but offered the group nothing else.
'...IF she does, then we want to draw as little of her attention as possible: it could end up being the difference between life and death.'
As hellholes went, House Demeta was more like a theme hotel than a cosmic prison, although it was beyond any doubt the work of a deranged mind. No two corridors looked alike, and each room had been designed with meticulous attention to detail.
Cramp had said more than once that if he didn't hate Emony with such passion, then he'd probably be impressed by the sheer power of her creativity. Nowhere was that more on display than in the rubber room...but they'd barely survived that.
For a moment, nobody spoke. They were all sharing the same portent of dread, delicately sliced into five pieces. It should have been six equal pieces, of course: nobody had foreseen the doom that came to Plankton.
'Don't worry, guys,' Suki said suddenly, directing her attention to Mucus but generally addressing the room. 'We've all seen the poster, and we all know I'm next...despite the effort to whitewash it.' She flashed Cramp some side-eye and smirked. 'Don't stress on my behalf – just be aware that any risks you take are probably going to be fairly safe bets until after I'm gone.'
Blyx had moved into the corner of the room and was positioning a slide on a microscopic tray. She spent a few minutes peering through the lens before turning to the group with a vacant expression on her face. It was precisely in the aftermath of this somewhat forgettable moment that Cramp caught sight of something he would probably take to his grave with him.
'An old lady is decomposing under that bench,' he said, 'and it looks like she's holding a chocolate teapot.'
