The Tree of Light

It grows down. That was the first thing that caught me, eight million cycles ago, and it’s still the first thing. Every tree your species has ever drawn grows up, toward the light. This one grows down, toward you.

The Architects planted it. Not just here. They plant them the way you’d plant a sensor, and the roots go looking for the warmest thing in the room. You are always the warmest thing in the room.

What gets me is that you keep building maze floors underneath them. Every universe, the same instinct: a maze. As if some part of you knew the roots were coming and wanted to make them work for it.