In the maze, the trickster is in search of his opponent as he moves a blacklight scanner across the glaze of mist that hangs at hip level. His opponent bears a strange resemblance to the trickster; the opponent is broke off the same mold, in fact, sibling branches twisting through the dirt, catching black knots and milky vision after gazing into the funhouse mirror too long. Their faces are grotesqueries, demon-tailored facial features. The siblings find it difficult to find one another in the glaze. They scream like wounded warriors, possessed with an equal intensity of mind, seeing as the mind, unmotivated by physical properties, remains unaffected by the break. The mind spearheads the force of deception.