Three days. That's how long it took Thomas to finally wake up. Three unlucky people, one claimed each night by the Grievers.

I'm getting lunch, taking a break from studying the maps and the code with Teresa and Newt, when Chuck runs over to me.

"(Y/N)," he pants, "Thomas is awake. He said to find you and call a Gathering."

"Ok Chuck, I'll do that now." I go straight back to the homestead, leaning against the door frame.

"Newt," I say, "change of plans. We're calling a gathering. Teresa," I add, turning to the girl, "I don't think you should come. It's not that I don't trust you," I hurry on, "it's that nobody else does, and things are weird enough already."

"Ok," She sighs, I can see that she understands.

"Tommy," Newt limps through the door, taking his seat, "you barely look sick." I follow, standing back a bit.

Thomas nods. "Yeah, I'm a bit queasy, but other than that I feel fine. Thought it'd be a lot worse." 

"What you did," I shake my head, "that was half brave and half bloody stupid. You seem to be pretty good at that." I don't know whether to be angry or awed, so I settle for a mixture of the two. "I know why you did it," I add after a short pause, "what memories came back? Anything that helps us?" I'm annoyed at my own memories, how they're gone now. I'm sure they would have been useful.

"We need to call a gathering- before I forget this stuff."

"Yeah," Newt nods, "(Y/N) already did it. But why? What did you figure out?"

"It's a test. The whole thing's a test."

"Like an experiment?" I move closer, but Thomas shakes his head.

"No, you don't get it." He's frustrated. "They're weeding the best of us out, throwing variables at us, trying to see which ones of us quit, testing our ability to cope. Sending Teresa here and shutting everything down, it was one last part. Now we have to do the final analysis, the last test. We have to escape."

"What do you mean?" Newt asks, just as I lean forward and say, "You mean you know the way out?"

Thomas puts a hand up to his head. "Just call a gathering." He says.

"Ok Greenie," I say, leaning back in my chair, "get to it."

Two chairs sit by themselves in the corner, a stark reminder of the people taken by the Grievers.

"It's a long story," he begins. "We don't have time to go through it all, but I'll tell you the gist of it. When I went through the Changing, I saw flashes of images—hundreds of them—like a slideshow in fast forward. A lot came back to me, but only some of it's clear enough to talk about. Other stuff has faded or is fading." He paused, gathering his thoughts one last time. "But I remember enough. The Creators are testing us. The Maze was never meant to be solved. It's all been a trial. They want the winners—or survivors—to do something important." He trails off, looking confused.

"What?" I ask and Thomas frowns.

"Let me start over," he says, rubbing his eyes. "Every single one of us was taken when we were really young. I don't remember how or why—just glimpses and feelings that things had changed in the world, that something really bad happened. I have no idea what. The Creators stole us, and I think they felt justified in doing it. Somehow, they figured out that we have above-average intelligence, and that's why they chose us. I don't know, most of this is sketchy and doesn't matter that much anyway.

"I can't remember anything about my family or what happened to them. But after we were taken, we spent the next few years learning in special schools, living somewhat normal lives until they were finally able to finance and build the Maze. All our names are just stupid nicknames they made up—like Alby for Albert Einstein, Newt for Isaac Newton, and me—Thomas. As in Edison."

"Are you saying..." Newt looks like someone slapped him in the face, "These aren't even our real names?"

He shakes his head. "We'll probably never know our real names."

"So you're saying," Frypan leans forward, "that we're a bunch of freaking orphans raised by scientist?"

"Yeah," Thomas looks so bloody depressed I feel sorry for him. "We're supposed to be really smart, so they're studying us, analysing our every move. They've got cameras all over the place. They're seeing who'd give up and who wouldn't, seeing who'd survive it all. Plus, some of have things... altered in our brains."

"Wait," I say, "the thing about the cameras, how do you know? Are you sure they're everywhere?"

"Yeah," he says, frowning, "they watch everything we do. As for how I know, I'll get to that in a minute. Why'd you ask?"

I shake my head, trying to hide the blush I can feel creeping up my face.

"Everything?" Frypan asks, looking disgusted, "That's messed up, man."

"Tell me about it." Newt mutters, glancing sideways at me. I don't meet his eyes.

"So, they're watching us right now?" Winston asks, and Thomas leans back, folding his arms.

"Guys, we're getting of topic. Do you want me to go on or not?"

"Keep talking." I tell him.

"Ok, somehow they managed to wipe our memories. Not just our childhood, but everything leading up into the Maze as well. Then, they sent us up in the box one by one, each month for almost three years. Obviously not everyone made it to this point."

"But why?" Newt asks, "What's the bloody point?"

"To test our reactions to what they call Variables, to a problem with no solution. See if we could work together, even build a community. We had everything provided for us, and the problem was presented as a Maze. This made us work harder, thinking there had to be a solution, all the while discouraging us when we didn't find one." He takes a breath, looking around the room. "What I'm saying, is that there is no solution."

Shouts and chatter break out, and Thomas holds up his hands for silence.

"See?" he shouts, "Most people would have given up by now! But we're different! Your reactions prove my point, we refuse to accept that there isn't a solution. Especially when it's something as simple as a Maze." He's slightly pink in the face now, and everyone calms down, listening to what he has to say.

"Whatever the reason, it makes me sick. All of this, the Grievers, the walls moving, the Cliff, all just elements of a stupid test! Same thing goes for Teresa's arrival, her being sent to trigger the Ending, whatever that is. The Creators are using and manipulating us, trying to keep our minds working at a solution. They're throwing crazy things at us to keep us moving, test our responses. In the end, they want the survivors for something important."

Frypan stands up. "And killing people? That's a nice little part of their plan too?"

"Yes Frypan," Thomas answers, "killing people. The Grievers, they're testing us too. The one a night thing, they're giving us a push. Survival of the fittest. They don't want us all to die before we escape."

"So this is all some kind of game to them? We're just... what, freaking game pieces?" I leans forwards, frowning at Thomas. He nods, not saying anything.

"Well," Frypan sits back down, "you better start talking about this magical escape plan."

"He will," Newt say, quietly. "Shut up and listen."

Minho, who's been silent the entire time, clears his throat. "Something tells me I'm not gonna like what I'm about to hear."

"Probably not." Thomas closes his eyes, taking a breath. "The Creators want the best of us for whatever they have panned. But we have to earn it." Every eye in the room is locked on Thomas. "The code." He says simply.

"What about it?" I ask. Thomas pauses for effect.

"It was hidden in the walls for a reason, I should know. I was there when the Creators did it."

Hi, just me!

So pretty late into writing this chapter I realised that I'd completely forgotten to add in Beetle Blades (forgive me books for I have sinned) and decided that it would a bit confusing to add them now. So, I have taken poetic license, (this is fanFICTION after all) and said that there were hidden cameras. Much less cool, I know, and I'm sorry about that.

Anyway, hope you're mostly enjoying this- I'm sure enjoying writing it! xo