I remember walking through cold fog, breath steaming, hands numbing within my gloves. The bronze statues rising up ahead of us like forgotten gods. Blank eyes, staring. Icy rain dripping from outstretched hands, mouths open in motionless, soundless cries for help. But the maze ahead called us closer, with a more insistent voice. We couldn't do anything to help them, not from out here. The key to those metallic prisons lay within. So we walked on, trying not to meet those pleading eyes. Could they see us, walking past them? Would they hear us if we tried to explain why?