Labyrinth on the Island of Crete

In myth, the great Labyrinth of Daedalus on the island of Crete was built around 1100 BC by well-paid skilled laborers in the employ of the king's best architect.
In truth, it was actually built around AD 900 using computer-controlled armies of microscopic nanobots.
How did the nanobots get there in AD 900??
We're glad you asked. And remember: you asked for this info.
Around 1100 BC, (about 100 years before the real-life Trojan War, (from which even more myths emerged)) there was a real-life king named Minos who ruled an area around the island of Crete. He and his grandson (named after him) earned some fame (and infamy) and spawned many myths and legends.
One of these legends was about Minos' step-son, the Minotaur, which (legend said) was the result of Mrs. Minos having a real fun time with a bull. The legend was specific that the Minotaur did NOT come from the king having a real fun time with a cow, definitely not, nudge-nudge, wink-wink, say no more.
So anyway, the Minotaur was partly human and partly bull, embodying the best of both builds, unless the tremendously larger phallus of the bull were considered the best, which the Minotaur definitely did NOT have according to the myth, just a good solid showing of the human variety, nothing monstrous, but definitely mildly impressive. No one knows why the tales would even mention it, but that's what all the playwrights and sculptors who would depict the legend agreed. Legend of the Minotaur, that is, not legend of the...
So anyway, the Minotaur was reputedly so powerful and displeased with Daddy for some reason that the king and queen had their best architect - a guy named Daedelus, who got lots of legends of his own, and apparently deserved every one, according to even more legends, so take that with a grain of salt - had their best architect design a Labyrinth (Remember the Labyrinth? This is an article about a Labyrinth.) which was so complex that the Minotaur could never find its way out, nor could anyone else that the king and queen might want to toss in there, which, granted, is convenient if you are the sort of person who needs to get rid of people on frequent occassion, which Minos certainly was, allegedly.
The myths got a bit vauge about which Minos they were talking about, the grandfather, or the grandson of the same name. Eventually playrights and bards figured that the older was the nice guy with all of the heroic legends and the latter Minos was the ne'r-do-well with all of the villainous stories to tell, which played well to audiences up to, say, the 18th century, but definitely by the 21st century play audiences were looking for more nuanced characters and could enjoy hearing the legend of King Minos' Minotaur with a hero / anti-hero combo as the progenitor of the beast, who was more of a passive character in his own legend. Throughout history it made perfect sense to bards and fiction story tellers yet puzzled historians why the myths could be so vague and difficult to trace back to the correct protagonist king while being so specific about the certainly metaphorical (representing any regrettable mistake growing into an unstoppable powerhouse) beast's anatomical correctness. But that's the way this legend grew. Great story, right? Or at least it was a memorable one that one couldn't wash out of one's ears with boiling water.
So anyway, time goes on. Roughly 2000 years later, circum AD 950 or so, when three women with technology 15 centuries more advanced than this world, flipped into our world from another nearby parallel dimension, they initiated a scientific experiment to determine whether the human race would have survived had the major myths of various societies actually been true.
They manufactured monsters.
And set them loose on the world.
These women, the Norns, as they preferred to be called, (based on another local myth), allegedly sailed a ship with sails so large and perfectly rigged that with a good breeze it could rise into the sky and sail above the waters and even sail over land, or so said the stories which grew from their exploits. (But that is another legend entirely. This one is about a Labyrinth. Remember the Labyrinth? This is an article about a Labyrinth.)
So when they arrived, they traveled and learned about various local myths. They also seemed to have brought knowledge of a number of myths from their world, and only took interest in those legends that were identical or extremely similar to those from their own history.
At the island of Crete, the three Norns took interest in the legends of King Minos and the Minotaur. They found no buildings nor ruins even remotely similar. Apparently, the Legend of the Labyrinth and the Minotaur was complete whimsy with no basis in reality. They fixed that. They set out not only to manufacture the amazing legendary Labyrinth of Daedelus, but also to genetically manufacture a minotaur to inhabit the Labyrinth.
It turned out to be one of the less destructive legends they brought to reality. The Norns got locals to routinely toss undesireables into the Labyrinth (which mostly meant the 10th, 11th, and 12th-century equivalents of idealistic hipsters). Some of them found their way to the center of the labyrinth, which was the only comfortable place to spend the night, and the Minotaur. Nobody tells a Minotaur what to do, so the Minotaur used them as a source of news and learning, only eating them as a last resort, and only until he managed to grow a garden for his own sustenance out of the seeds of fruits and vegetables occassionally secreted among the clothing of the damned by the occassional sympathetic jailer before tossing the youths into the Labyrinth, which makes sense since bulls and cows are notorious vegetarians.
The Minotaur actually had no need to eat, except to sate the hunger in its empty stomach, because the nanobots which maintained the Labyrinth from inevitable decay also cleaned out the Minotaur's dead cells and encouraged cellular reproduction, even providing microscopic nutrients carried in from far away when necessary.
The Norns' experimental meddling with the history of the World of Athena Minerva was ended by the three Fates, (most notably the member known in history and mythology as "Valkyrie, Chooser of the Slain") who had also flipped into our dimension from a nearer parallel world whose technology was only about twelve centuries more advanced than our own, and who had developed a policy to "look but don't touch" other nearby dimensions, particularly those of a lesser technology level, and were accordingly horrified at the interference and abuse perpetrated by the Norns, and vowed to put it to a stop, which at great personal expense, they did.
After that point in time, the nanobots and their underground nanobot control rings laid awake awaiting further programming, mostly using subtle means to keep the locals away from the formerly mythological creatures the Norns had made, which was a logical conclusion to support the fundamental goal of preventing the locals from learning to reprogram the nanobots, which would have stopped the experiment even sooner.
The Minotaur never did find a way to escape the Labyrinth, thanks to the same automated nanobots which preserved his youth constantly altering the paths, until the 21st century when a young scientist named Sapphire Circe, who by religiously following ancient rituals of empowerment (despite her disbelief that they could have anything but psychological benefit) unknowingly met all of the requirements for the nanobots to allow her to become a "user" of nanobots with priveliges to interact with the Miinotaur and others of their creations.
Circe, although a complete stranger to programming nanobots, used them (plus a 20th century invention called a "credit card") to bring the Minotaur to her sanctum in the United States. But the Labyrinth remained self-maintained and secret until the 25th century when the local invention of nanobots became widespread and eventually unlocked the ancient mystery.
Unfortunately, this caused many scientists to postulate the patently rediculous theory that backward time travel was a possibility. The final nail in the time-travel coffin wouldn't be nailed until the discovery of parallel worlds existing in alternate dimensions, some of whom developed technology at a faster or slower rate, or took a complete left-turn, which was discovered in the late 25th century and was commonplace among dimension-flipping ships of the 26th century. (See Paragon Whoosh!, and The SolarPunk Coloring Book for examples.)