Directions Either Way
Which Way is Up?
Alexander stood at the threshold of the forgotten structure, his eyes tracing the strange geometry that seemed to twist upon itself. With every step, the certainty of which way was up—or down—became more elusive. The walls, lined with decaying planks and pitted concrete, hummed with the silence of a riddle waiting to be solved.
Either I will find a way, or I will make one.
— Philip Sidney (1554-1586)
This axiom had been the lodestar of Alexander’s pursuits, uttered countless times in moments of both triumph and tribulation. And now, it echoed through the hollows of the enigmatic space that stretched before him. The shadows within seemed to dance, defying logic and inviting him into a puzzle only he could complete.
Laughter bubbled up from Alexander’s chest, incongruous in the somber setting. But Alexander was never one to shy away from the absurd or the impossible. Where others saw a dilapidated remnant of architecture, he saw the canvas for his indomitable will. He started by placing a hand against the cool concrete, feeling the grit and residue of ages, then pushed against it as if willing the wall to reveal its secrets.
Sophia, watching from a distance, marveled at Alexander's peculiar determination. She'd known him to be a man of relentless curiosity, a trait that often led them into scenarios as unusual as this. “He’ll either come out with a grand tale or a grand headache,” she mused to herself, a smirk playing on her lips.
As hours turned into patterns of shadow play, Alexander mapped the M.C. Escher-esque maze, his mind working tirelessly. He climbed, crawled, and at times, defied the pull of gravity itself. His laughter and the occasional exasperated exclamation became the soundtrack to his exploration.
Sophia, perched on a fragment of concrete that served as her throne of observation, scribbled notes and sketches. She documented the journey not only for posterity but as evidence of their escapades, should future generations dare to doubt the fantastic tales of Alexander and his consort in curiosity.
The first rays of dawn found Alexander triumphant, standing—or was it hanging?—at the center of the Möbius structure. “The planks were the key!” he exclaimed, a victor in his labyrinth of choice. The path had been unclear, but with wit and will, he had made it so.
Sophia clapped her hands, her laughter mingling with his. “Only you, Alexander, would dare to find order in chaos, to find ground where there is none.”
Their mirth resonated through the stillness, a human touch within the abstract cryptic. It was an echo of life, of the persistence of joy in the midst of entropy.
The moment was brief, as all moments are, and then the adventure continued. For Alexander was one to rest only in motion, and Sophia found her greatest delight in chronicling the unwritten epic of their lives.
They left the Möbius structure as they had found it, silent and waiting, but in the narrative of their lives, it had become a monument to their unwavering spirit—a testament to the truth that for those who dare, any way can be up.
The sun dipped below the horizon as Alexander and Sophia arrived at the edge of the sea, the waters whispering secrets in the encroaching twilight. They stood side by side, gazing into the unfathomable depths that stretched before them, the last light casting long, quivering shadows at their feet.
I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap in the dark.
— Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679)
The words were heavy with foreboding and wisdom, and yet, they tumbled out of Alexander with an irreverent twinkle in his eye. He was, of course, not speaking of a literal final journey. Rather, he referred to their next endeavor, one which promised to be as enigmatic and thrilling as any they had encountered.
Sophia rolled her eyes playfully. “And here I thought retirement was on the horizon. Should I prepare a eulogy or a picnic basket?” Her wit was the perfect counterbalance to Alexander’s grandiosity, a trait that had endeared her to him from the moment they met.
With a mock solemn bow, Alexander replied, “Why not both? If we’re to leap, let’s leap with full stomachs and joy in our hearts.”
They prepared their small vessel, a sturdy boat that seemed more toy than transport, and loaded it with supplies for their nocturnal adventure. Sophia packed her notebook, determined to capture every moment of this ‘last voyage,’ while Alexander busied himself with charts and compasses, tools of navigation that seemed almost quaint against the infinite canvas of the sea.
As they pushed off from the shore, the laughter began again. It was not the laughter of folly, but of freedom—the kind that knows the risks and embraces them regardless. They rowed into the darkness, the stars above mirroring the phosphorescent life below, a sea of lights to guide them.
The night wore on, a playful battle of storytelling and star-gazing unfolding between the two. Alexander spun tales of legendary sailors and sea monsters of yore, while Sophia countered with sonnets and soliloquies dedicated to the majesty of the ocean.
Suddenly, a swell rose beneath them, a dark shape surfacing from the depths—a creature of such size and grace that for a moment, they forgot to breathe. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, slipping back into the mystery of the deep. The encounter was a silent covenant, a shared secret that bound them even closer.
Dawn found them far from land, the sky blushing with the first light. They watched in silence as the world was reborn before their eyes, a canvas wiped clean only to be painted anew.
“I suppose this wasn’t our last voyage after all,” Sophia said, her voice soft with wonder.
Alexander grinned, his eyes alight with the fire of a thousand voyages yet to come. “Perhaps the ‘last’ in any journey is just the universe’s way of daring us to prove it wrong.”
And with that, they turned their boat homeward, the sun climbing higher, their laughter trailing behind them like a wake. In the lexicon of their lives, ‘the last voyage’ was simply another phrase for the beginning of something extraordinary, and they were the authors of that endless tale.
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