spawn dfrotz -m -s 123 SoFar.z8 Using normal formatting. Loading SoFar.z8. Hot, foul, and dark. How did indoor theater become so fashionable? Well enough in spring rain or winter, but not in the thick, dead afternoon of high summer. And though looks very fine, shining with electric moonslight in the enclosed gloom, you're much more aware of being crammed in neck-by-neck with your sweaty fellow citizens. Damn the crowd, in truth: your mood was hot, foul, and dark when you sat down. Aessa was supposed to meet you here. She's made excuses before, and you don't think about what it might mean. Try not to think, rather. Just watch the story. One of your favorites. But it's miserably hot, and you just aren't caught up in the play... An Interactive Catharsis Copyright 1996 by Andrew Plotkin. (First-time players should type "about".) Release 6 / Serial number 961218 / Inform v1502 Library 5/12 Standard interpreter 1.1 (on the bench) If nothing else, you have a good seat. The stage is only a few rows to the north. People are jammed on benches in every direction; you think the aisle is somewhere to the west. The play is into the final act. Rito has finally found out about Imita's affair, and he stalks the stage, whipping voice and hands about himself. A footfall behind him; he turns, and sees Imita. She backs a step at the force of his gaze. >about is copyright 1996 by Andrew Plotkin. It may be copied, distributed, and played freely. This is a shortish-to-medium-sized game. More than a short story, less than a full-length novel. Its rating is "cruel." It is possible to make mistakes which will prevent you from winning. Sometimes common sense will serve to avoid such mistakes; sometimes insight is necessary; sometimes neither will help. Save often, and keep your old saved games. Do not expect to be anything like It's not. This game was created using the Inform adventure development system, which was created by Graham Nelson. You can get Inform, as well as other text adventures, from the Interactive Fiction archive: ftp://ftp.gmd.de/if-archive/ This game is free. But if you feel like sending me money, I won't refuse. If you feel like sending me comments or bug reports, I'll be ecstatic. As of the end of 1996, I am at erkyrath@netcom.com Andrew Plotkin 7529 Murray Hill Rd. #322 Columbia, MD 21046 USA Further acknowledgements: Beta testing: Michael "The Inescapable" Kinyon, C. E. Forman, Neil Demause, Jools Arnold, Magnus Olsson, Gareth Rees. Omega testing: Kai Hesse, Lucian Smith, Jon Conrad, Mike Phillips, Matthew MacKenzie, Paul C. Trauth, David Auerbach, Michael Haralambous, Stephen Granade, Dylan Thurston, Dan Shiovitz, Admiral Jota, Mikko Vuorinen, Dylan O'Donnell, Robert Rendell, Joe Mason, Marnix Klooster, Avrom Faderman. Extra ideas: My brain. (Honest, it comes up with stuff all on its own. Sometimes it doesn't tell me the reasons until days later. Then I scream.) Dinners of some relevance: Nikki, Jen, Aleecia, Jody. Surreal confidence: Tom. DJ'ing folk music on the radio for five hours every Saturday night, thus providing me with prime working atmosphere: Mary Cliff. Playing incredibly funny folk music, both on the radio and live: The Foremen. This game is dedicated. (For real.) >stand up You push yourself to your feet. Naturally, your spot on the bench instantly vanishes in the crush. The players continue.... How come you, harlot? Dare you come this way, your skin yet dark with Tato's shadow's stain? Young lord, I will not kneel. And shadowed dark, or white with rays of moon or sun or moon, my flesh is mine. Or nearly so; I find -- Say on! What more has hated Tato done? You shake your head, trying to net your straying thoughts, and catch a flash of copper hair. A few rows back, by the aisle -- Aessa couldn't have shown up and seen you, could she? She wouldn't be avoiding you. >west As you start to push through the crowd, you find a knee jammed unpleasantly in your path. You manage not to trip. The owner of the knee mumbles pungently, jams it out of your way (into someone else's), and curtly gestures you to pass. Oh, do not hate. For dazzled though she was, Imita's put him by; he's naught and gone -- But nearly, for she carries Tato's son. She -- you -- you say -- aah! (He rushes from the stage.) >west You push through the crowd... You are adrift in a sea of knees. People squirm to give you room, glowering politely around you as they try to watch the play. The aisle is nearby, west, and your seat is far in to the east. Imita turns and pleads her dilemma to the audience: "What scourge, what scourge I bear, from what red star / So near to happiness, and yet so far?" She is in despair; but this whispered soliloquy is soon interrupted by voices rising in the wings. Rito, in a fury, backs Tato onto the stage. You can no longer see Aessa, if you did at all. "Shorten it, fat-ass," says someone behind you, sullenly. >west As you start to push through the crowd, someone pushes through even harder in the opposite direction. Stench of the grave on the day of your birth Shadows the shape first your eyes ever saw Curdled with gall was the milk on your lips Foul luck... Enough! It is blood I will have, Good red to flood the black ebb of your luck. >west You push through the crowd... It's actually harder to navigate here in the aisle. People are sitting on the steps, leaning up against the wall, and in some places perched on the gas- lights. The aisle extends north and south from here, but towards the stage it's even more crowded. Your seat is somewhere deep in the benches to the east. I did not look to draw this moment here; Imita's choice has whipped my tongue and soul; I would withdraw. But if my mistress' word Would leash me, yet the wolfish howl will stir The blood of any hound. Attend thy sword! Cease you this play -- In the poisonous marl And the tangling thorn fell the step you first took... (Rito draws as well, and Tato begins circling him, still intoning the ritual.) "Shorten it, fat-ass," grumbles someone behind you, grouchily. >south As you start to push through the crowd, a child darts unrepentantly under your feet. The pure tone of steel against steel. It comes again, and again faster; and then Rito and Tato rush at each other in a fury of chimes, in harmony. The sounds come from off-stage, of course, not from the swords. That's the way it's done. Melody weaves into the ringing, counterpoint to the flow of the fight -- falter, recover, the upper hand lost and gained -- and two men and two swords flicker in electric light. >south You push through the crowd... You're halfway up the aisle on the west side of the theater. It's still full of people, but you can maneuver north and south. Rito gains enough breath between attacks to declaim an insult or three. "War- rat, peace-pup / Love's-fool / Bright-tongue, limp slug..." Tato leaps for him again, another bell-jangle of motion. Dancing, even yet, Rito falls back. Love's-fool? You think I'd spare my heart To she whose glance you melt to see? I touched her but to touch your throat, Your softer foot that I could sting -- Rito cannot even speak; the pain and horror are all in his eyes. And then they are in Tato's eyes too, and the spear that jerks in Tato's back is barely an afterthought. He jolts forward a step, tries to catch himself on Rito's wrapped velvets. But Rito backs, still silent, and Tato lands on his knees; reaches again; and falls. Imita, spear-hand still outflung, is on her knees as well. "Shorten it, long-muck," grumbles someone behind you, grouchily. You feel the faintest cool breath of air. >feel air It's gone, and there it is again -- a touch of cool air. You turn your head from side to side, feeling... it seems to be coming from a crack in the west wall. Wait. Wait. What's ever cool in this suffocating summer heat? It comes again, slight, smoky, deep with autumn. Impossible. Rito moves forward, slowly, around the shape that lies before him. He draws Imita to her feet. She gazes at his face, with not a flicker at the dark wet that stains his velvets. (And you don't even wonder at the players'-craft that makes it so. The stage is gone; their faces are the moment.) Ah, my love. Can you forgive me? How can I deny you? There is nothing to forgive. >south You push through the crowd... You've struggled your way to the top of the aisle; the theater stretches away to the north and east. Everything east is a solid mass of benches and people, of course, and more playgoers are lined up along the back wall. Wide doors to the south lead outside. The audience sighs, released. The rest of the play is accomplished with commendable speed: wedding flowers, declarations of passion, bells and drums. Tato's corpse is carried reverently away; and the procession follows. As the stage empties, someone behind you begins to clap. "Out of the light, dug-shadow," growls someone behind you, angrily. >south You escape into the searing light of the high summer afternoon. The air is still oppressively hot, but at least it's fresh, and the theater portico gives a bit of shade. People flock here, in the shade of the colonaded portico, talking and drinking sharp beer. The main entrance to the theater is back north; the street runs bright and dusty to the south, and the crowded portico continues to the west. >west More people are relaxing here, perhaps because of the kegman who sells his beer under the theater portico. The main street bakes in sunlight to the south; the front of the theater continues to the north, adorned by some decorative potted shrubs. You feel the faintest cool breath of air. >feel air It's gone, and there it is again -- a touch of cool air. You turn your head from side to side, feeling... it seems to be coming from the direction of the potted shrubs. >examine shrubs You know nothing about gardening. Whatever the shrubs are, they're tall, leafy, and not quite dead of the heat. You notice a doorway, half-hidden behind the shrubs. A couple of people nearby are discussing the moons. That's right; tonight is the night that the astronomers have been going on about. You'll have to be sure to watch. Snuggled in a blanket, ideally... if you ever find Aessa. Again, you feel that cool thread of air across your face. >north Ignoring the sign, you slip inside. This is obviously a service hallway for the theater. You are surrounded by crates and arbitrary stacks of paper, and pieces of scenery lean against the rough planking walls of the hallway to the north. Light glares in from the south. The coolness touches your face again. >feel air The cool air is definitely coming from the north, up the hallway. >north The hallway ends at a heavy door to the north, and a storage room opens west. The wooden planking of the walls is old and unpainted; you notice a narrow crack to the east. The heavy door is closed. Sharp voices filter out through the door. They are too muffled to make out more than the tone of anger. >west Or perhaps ex-storage, since the room is almost bare. A small dirty window to the west admits bright beams, but they fall across only the floor and a battered cabinet against the north wall. The doorway lies to the east. The air here is rich with autumn, brisk and cool. It's impossible, absurd. >open cupboard You swing open the door. The cabinet is mostly empty; bare shelves and hooks and a scatter of dust. But on the top shelf rests an unusual, off-square wooden box, its rich polish at odds with the battered panels that surround it. >examine it A cabinet, chipped and stained, stands against the wall. Sunlight brings a tattered, hopeful glow out of the old wood, but shadow falls behind. The cabinet stands open; an unusual wooden box rests on the top shelf. >get box Taken. The air swirls briskly around you. >examine shadow Blackness lies behind the cabinet. Opaque... in this brightly lit room, no shadow should be so thick. As you step back from the cabinet, the shadow A sunbeam might shine off crystal to paint the whole world white for one angle of an instant; so this shadow widens into a gulf beneath black and wider than everything. Then you move a fraction farther, and it is only a line of too-black behind chipped wood. >enter it The shadow again as you set foot to it. The cabinet is to your left and the wall to your right, never mind the space that isn't there between them, and then never mind anything because blackness has taken the world, never mind, never world, not even you, never you -- [Hit any key.] -- And then daylight smacks you in the behind, ordinary as a dirt road. The sky is almost violet, infinitely distant -- you've never seen such a sky, and without the haze of metallic heat that summer should have. But the wind is sharp and chilly, and the trees nearby are a quilt of orange, red, and gold. Beneath you the road is old, filled with weeds and ragged moss; dirt shows only in patches. To the south, the track is choked with trees, as it runs into the fringes of an autumn forest. It continues the other way, though, towards an immense stone wall that hems the northern horizon. >north You stroll for a while towards the wall. A worn stub of brick juts up here, by the road. It's no more than twice your height; but scattered bricks in the weeds attest to an imposing chimney in time past. Whatever building the chimney served is now just rotted scraps of wood and a few stony ridges, and some mounds off to the west. The road continues towards the wall north, and the distant forest south. >west This was probably a building once. Those ridges lie straight and at right angles; the rotted logs are tumbled too close to be natural. Nothing but field, now. A few mounds by the foundation were probably something once; although a bright vine on one catches your notice. The broken chimney to the east marks the old road. >examine vine The vine is actually a muddy color, but the leaves are broad and streaked with bright yellow. Uncounted fine tendrils root deeply into the mound. A single fat red pod, about the size of your fist, clings to the vine at one point. >get pod The pod gives ripely when you touch it. It snaps free, and a drop of oily fluid leaks from the stem. >east A worn stub of brick juts up here, by the road. It's no more than twice your height; but scattered bricks in the weeds attest to an imposing chimney in time past. Whatever building the chimney served is now just rotted scraps of wood and a few stony ridges, and some mounds off to the west. The road continues towards the wall north, and the distant forest south. >examine chimney Most of the chimney is fallen; only a ragged angle remains, casting its shadow far out into the afternoon weeds. Weathered bricks lie uncaring in the grass below. They've been there a while, and they're not moving soon. >examine shadow The chimney's shadow is thick as black silk. Suspicious, you shift your line of vision, and watch the darkness deepen into a gulf, and narrow again to lie calmly on the grass. >north You stroll for a while, up to the wall. The wall looms here, streaked gold with sideways sunlight. The finely-etched stone blocks are each wider than you can reach; they file at least forty feet above you. The gate... would be huge anywhere else. It's a square of dark wood half the wall's height, sealing the road. The road runs from the gate towards the distant forest in the south. On either side of the gate, only a few feet from the wall, stands a massive metal pillar. Each is almost as wide as you are tall, and they reach nearly to the top of the wall. >west You approach the base of the west pillar. You are at the foot of the west pillar; it and the wall lean dangerously against the violet sky. The road and the closed gate lie east. >examine pillar (the west pillar) The pillar is almost as wide as you are tall, and reaches nearly to the top of the wall. It's badly streaked and patched with corrosion. You can even see yellowish vines near the top, crawling down the sides and out along the cable which runs to the gate-track. There's a small hatch outlined in rust at the pillar's base. >squeeze pod on hatch You crush the pod; oil soaks down over the rusty hinges. It seems to evaporate almost instantly, but a slight glistening remains which bodes well. >open hatch More rust flakes down, and the hinges sound like they're grinding your bones, but you manage to lever the hatch open. The pillar sways just a bit. It must be even more corroded than it looks. And then you hear a faint snap, followed by a rumbling high above. The rumbling noise rapidly grows louder. >wait Time passes. There is a concussive within the pillar. Then -- silence, broken only a faint rattling which rapidly dies away. >enter pillar (the west pillar) The pillar rises through hollow dimness, lit only by the daylight pouring through the hatch at your feet. Far above, a few needles of light show that the top of the pillar is decaying as badly as the rust-eaten walls around you. A set of narrow rungs ascends. A dull metal slab rests on the ground in the shaft, making this an uncomfortable squeeze. It's almost as broad as the shaft, and taller than you. >up You scurry easily up the ladder. The pillar sways slightly to your movement. You cling to the rungs at the top of the metal shaft. The walls are miserably corroded, and there are several rust-edged holes around you. The roof above you is solid, but it is not metal; it's an odd black substance. It's also heavily overgrown with yellowish vines that crawl in and out of the pillar. A large metal pulley is suspended here, on an axle that runs across the pillar just below the ceiling. A cable runs into the pillar, around the pulley, and descends a few feet to a frayed end. >get pods Carefully, you pull all three pods from the vine. >down You scurry easily down the ladder. The pillar rises through hollow dimness, lit only by the daylight pouring through the hatch at your feet. Far above, a few needles of light show that the top of the pillar is decaying as badly as the rust-eaten walls around you. A set of narrow rungs ascends. A dull metal slab rests on the ground in the shaft, making this an uncomfortable squeeze. It's almost as broad as the shaft, and taller than you. >out You worm your way out to sunlight. You are at the foot of the west pillar; it and the wall lean dangerously against the violet sky. The road and the closed gate lie east. A small hatch stands open at the pillar's base. >east The wall looms here, streaked gold with sideways sunlight. The finely-etched stone blocks are each wider than you can reach; they file at least forty feet above you. The gate... would be huge anywhere else. It's a square of dark wood half the wall's height, sealing the road. The road runs from the gate towards the distant forest in the south. On either side of the gate, only a few feet from the wall, stands a massive metal pillar. Each is almost as wide as you are tall, and they reach nearly to the top of the wall. >east You approach the base of the east pillar. You are at the foot of the east pillar; it and the wall lean dangerously against the violet sky. The road and the closed gate lie west. >squeeze pod on hatch You crush the pod; oil soaks down over the rusty hinges. It seems to evaporate almost instantly, but a slight glistening remains which bodes well. >open hatch More rust flakes down, and the hinges sound like they're grinding your bones, but you manage to lever the hatch open. >enter pillar (the east pillar) The pillar rises through hollow dimness, lit only by the daylight pouring through the hatch at your feet. A set of narrow rungs ascends the rust-touched wall of the shaft. >up You climb quickly up the ladder. As you approach the top, you find that you must squeeze around a solid metal shape that hangs in the shaft. You cling to the rungs at the top of the metal shaft. The walls are somewhat corroded, mostly beneath a small hole in the north side of the pillar. The roof above you is solid, but it is not metal; it's an odd black substance. A large metal pulley is suspended here, on an axle that runs across the pillar just below the ceiling. A cable runs into the pillar, around the pulley, and descends to a dull slab of metal which fills much of the shaft just below you. >squeeze pod on wheel You crush the pod; oil soaks down over the pulley. It seems to evaporate almost instantly, but the joint and axle now glisten slightly in the dim light. >down You climb quickly down the ladder. The pillar rises through hollow dimness, lit only by the daylight pouring through the hatch at your feet. A set of narrow rungs ascends the rust-touched wall of the shaft. >out You worm your way out to sunlight. You are at the foot of the east pillar; it and the wall lean dangerously against the violet sky. The road and the closed gate lie west. A small hatch stands open at the pillar's base. >west The wall looms here, streaked gold with sideways sunlight. The finely-etched stone blocks are each wider than you can reach; they file at least forty feet above you. The gate... would be huge anywhere else. It's a square of dark wood half the wall's height, sealing the road. The road runs from the gate towards the distant forest in the south. On either side of the gate, only a few feet from the wall, stands a massive metal pillar. Each is almost as wide as you are tall, and they reach nearly to the top of the wall. >west You approach the base of the west pillar. You are at the foot of the west pillar; it and the wall lean dangerously against the violet sky. The road and the closed gate lie east. A small hatch stands open at the pillar's base. >push pillar (the west pillar) You heave at the pillar; a faint sway encourages you. You lean your full weight. It gives more... and, with a terrible howl, begins to buckle. Rusty shards spray from the ancient metal. The pillar, slowly, leans. Then it is swinging around; the pillar is caught by the cable that runs from its top to the gate-track. Below, the gate twitches. You stare as the west corner of the gate jerks up, just a thread. Then the east side rises as well. The pillar slams into the wall, and scrapes; it is still leaning. The gate rises, rises, as the west pillar falls. The cables whine and hum. But they hold; and the pillar slows, approaching its mate to the east. A final creak. Stillness. The west pillar hangs suspended, leaning towards the east pillar which stands still straight; nearly reaching it; not quite touching. The gate is open. >east The wall looms here, streaked gold with sideways sunlight. The finely-etched stone blocks are each wider than you can reach; they file at least forty feet above you. The gate... would be huge anywhere else. It's a square of dark wood half the wall's height, suspended above the road. The road runs from the gate towards the distant forest in the south. The pillar to the east still stands, but the western one tilts wildly over your head. It leans toward its partner as if it had a secret to impart. But bright sky slices thin between the two dark shapes. >north Wide as it is, the gateway presses briefly around you with its sensation of weighty stone; but sunlit hills are beyond. The wall stands, massive and unyielding, to the south. The road issues from its open gate, though, and leaps merrily over a rise to the north, and beyond it. Ivy-wound towers are visible, somewhere at the road's end. >north A dawn-tale, ivory castle stands far to the north, heavily strung with ivy and reddening sunlight. The road runs towards it, and back to the south, over a hill that hides the stone wall. A branch of the road also leads northwest, towards a dome, which seems to float in a magenta lake. A large pile of pipes and cable is sprawled untidily by the road. >nw The magenta lake resolves into a broad growth of lichen that spreads raggedly around the dome. The dome rises to the west, without looming; its curve is gentle. A rough arch leads within. The dome's surface is a polished brown-grey, a bit mottled, and the whole structure is very slightly irregular; a homey, reassuring effect. The ground beneath you is a shocking contrast. Bright lichen covers everything with magenta tufts; there's not a blade of grass or stick of shrubbery within fifty yards of the dome. The olive-mossed roads are the only relief; they run northeast, towards the castle, and southeast. >west You pause for a moment, as sun-dazzle fades from the dim interior. This dim space curves to fill the east edge of the dome. The only light comes from the bright archway to the east. The west wall curves as well, but toward you, obviously outlining a chamber in the dome's center; a closed hatch lies that way. Closed doors lead northwest and southwest, around the dome's perimeter. A pull-cord hangs above a tiled depression by the eastern exit; several potted plants sit in corners of the chamber, but broad patches of the magenta lichen show that this place has gone long untended. >open hatch You set your feet and pull. Dust sifts down from the rim as you haul the hatch cover open. >touch plant A cloud of vapor jets from the flower, in the instant that you touch it. You jerk back, but you still catch a whiff of herbal scent which chills your throat. >breathe vapor You lean into the cloud. The chill herbal scent drowns you, an icy blast which sweeps your senses aside. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Even the light seems ice-blue. The vapor begins to disperse. >west You are in a room which is round, high, and nearly empty. An open hatch leads east. A faint, dust-grey light falls from a ring on the domed ceiling. In the center of the floor are two identical blocks of dull metal, each about the size of your head. The herbal aroma clings in your lungs, cool and powerful. >move left block The position is awkward; you are leaning practically flat and scrabbling your toes on the floor for purchase. But you manage to shift the left block a bare inch. >again You shove the left block a bit closer to its partner. They are now lying four inches from each other. The room seems brighter. The herbal aroma clings in your lungs, cool and powerful. >again You shove the left block a bit closer to its partner. They are now lying three inches from each other. You notice faint reddish stains on the floor, by your feet. In fact, the patches seem to be shaped like your footprints. >again You shove the left block a bit closer to its partner. They are now lying two inches from each other. The room is definitely brighter. The icy, herbal aroma still lingers in the back of your throat. >again You shove the left block a bit closer to its partner. They are now lying only an inch apart. The ring overhead burns with a stark white light. A faint hum has begun, somewhere below you. The red stuff is growing visibly now, like thick blood boiling up. The reddish patches are growing, and darkening. They seem slightly rough. A subliminal hum is coming from somewhere in the dome. >east This dim space curves to fill the east edge of the dome. The only light comes from the bright archway to the east. The west wall curves as well, but toward you, obviously outlining a chamber in the dome's center; a open hatch lies that way. Closed doors lead northwest and southwest, around the dome's perimeter. A pull-cord hangs above a tiled depression by the eastern exit; several potted plants sit in corners of the chamber, but broad patches of the magenta lichen show that this place has gone long untended. The icy, herbal aroma still lingers in the back of your throat. >east The bright violet sky glares, and you blink painfully for a moment. The dome rises to the west, without looming; its curve is gentle. A rough arch leads within. The dome's surface is a polished brown-grey, a bit mottled, and the whole structure is very slightly irregular; a homey, reassuring effect. The ground beneath you is a shocking contrast. Bright lichen covers everything with magenta tufts; there's not a blade of grass or stick of shrubbery within fifty yards of the dome. The olive-mossed roads are the only relief; they run northeast, towards the castle, and southeast. The icy scent is fading from your palate. >ne The lichen gives way to more normal meadow weeds as you approach the castle. The road curves around the west side of the castle, edging the trench. To the north, it falls into the shade of trees; forest has grown down to the castle's north edge. A smaller road branches off towards a dome that squats to the southwest. A neat stack of pipes and cable sits by the edge of the trench. Close by, a plain brass lever juts from the stonework. You can no longer taste the herbal odor. >pull lever The lever clunks solidly, and springs back. A loud hum begins... and the pile of pipes trembles. The topmost pipe begins to rise into the air. Cables pull taut -- you see some actually being drawn into their anchorage in the ground -- but somehow this extends the entire pile into the air. It telescopes, pipes hanging crazily in their web of cables, and then begins to curve over the moat.... With a final twang, the tip of the web touches the castle balcony. >south The road curves east as it circles the castle. The main road ends here, at the edge of a deep dry moat. Or nearly dry; a trickle of dark water crawls past jagged rusty edges of iron, far below. A broad stone arch spans the trench, up to the ivy-choked facade of the castle. A smaller road follows the moat's curve, east and west. >south A dawn-tale, ivory castle stands far to the north, heavily strung with ivy and reddening sunlight. The road runs towards it, and back to the south, over a hill that hides the stone wall. A branch of the road also leads northwest, towards a dome, which seems to float in a magenta lake. A large pile of pipes and cable is sprawled untidily by the road. >south The wall stands, massive and unyielding, to the south. The road issues from its open gate, though, and leaps merrily over a rise to the north, and beyond it. Ivy-wound towers are visible, somewhere at the road's end. >south You duck, quite unnecessarily, as you pass under the massive hanging gate. The wall looms here, streaked gold with sideways sunlight. The finely-etched stone blocks are each wider than you can reach; they file at least forty feet above you. The gate... would be huge anywhere else. It's a square of dark wood half the wall's height, suspended above the road. The road runs from the gate towards the distant forest in the south. The pillar to the east still stands, but the western one tilts wildly over your head. It leans toward its partner as if it had a secret to impart. But bright sky slices thin between the two dark shapes. >south You stroll for a while, back to the ruined chimney. A worn stub of brick juts up here, by the road. It's no more than twice your height; but scattered bricks in the weeds attest to an imposing chimney in time past. Whatever building the chimney served is now just rotted scraps of wood and a few stony ridges, and some mounds off to the west. The road continues towards the wall north, and the distant forest south. >enter shadow The shadow as you set foot to it. The old brick of the chimney looms impossibly above you, blotting out the sun, the sky, the darkness before you, your name -- [Hit any key.] -- Everything drops silently into place again. You are staring at a bale of hay. You are alone to the east of a long wooden platform. This must be the back, for a slat fence runs around this small field, enclosing you, assorted rolls of canvas, and a small mountain of hay bales. A small closed gate breaks the fence to the north. The sun is bright, but the air is mild and fertile-scented. You see motion up on the platform -- people, though they're facing the other way. >west You pull yourself up the ladder. No heads turn. The platform sweeps gently down to the west, in a series of low, wide, sunny steps. And the steps are filled with people. Quiet people; they sit and gaze intently out to the west. A long oval of earth is spread out below you in that direction. Clearly this is a cyclia of some kind. The platform is mostly fenced, but a broad path leads southwest, and a ladder drops down the east side. The platform is now crowded with people. Slowly they stop looking at each other, and begin watching the arena below. >sw You make your way down the steps. This broad yard is the center of the compound, if the worn and cross-tracked earth is any sign. A road runs east under a brick arch; a path leads northeast to the seating platform; a wide gate stands open in the fence to the north; and unpainted wooden buildings stand west and south. The west building's door is closed, and the south door is open. An odd creature with a bony crest stands at one edge of the yard. A tether is looped around its neck and tied to a post near the west building. Two men, one in yellow and one in blue, enter from the east. Without speaking, they nod formally to each other, and then pull open the large gate to the north. They take up position at either side of the gate, waiting... and then a stream of animals and people pours across the yard, from the south building, through the gate. A woman in bright checkered cloth untethers the crested animal, and they join the procession. >east A busy crowd surrounds you, here in the sun. Spacious brick buildings line the square; a road runs east, a path leads west under a wide arch; and to the south the plaza continues, a stream of cobblestone, trees, grass-cuts, and lively people. Lively, but... quiet. Feet moving, smiles, waving hands, but not one voice. It feels too normal to feel odd. In the center of the cobble circle that forms this end of the mall, a statue rises from sprawled shrubbery. There is a stout dark-haired woman here, in yellow silk. A stumpy old woman wearing blue silk stands here. The stout woman in yellow walks away south. >south The crowded mall stretches north and south, a cheerful bustle of people, trees, benches, and grass. The hush of the crowd is merely restful. Ornamental building facades stand along the sides of the plaza, although a dark and narrow alley slips between brick walls to the east. There is a stout dark-haired woman here, in yellow silk. A tall, muscular man in blue silk stands here. The muscular man in blue walks away north. A tall young man in blue paces toward you from the south. The stout woman in yellow walks away south. >east As you approach the alley, the tall young man in blue frowns. He glances around, tense. But his search seems to be in vain, and he makes no move towards you. Blank walls stand close, all ways but west. The sun, hovering low over the west horizon, shines almost directly into this alley; the brick walls are streaked with the vivid scratchy shadows of their own roughness. A lumpy chunk of granite stands here, embedded end-on in the cobblestones. It's taller than you... and then the curves click, and you are looking at an abstracted human figure. A woman, you think. Its shadow is black syrup poured down the alley and up the east wall. The back of your neck itches. You glance and see a wiry woman in yellow in the plaza behind you. She is angrily tight-lipped, but after a moment, she shakes her head and passes beyond your view. >enter shadow The shadow in every direction as you dash into it. Sudden hurried footsteps behind you become muffled, then merge into the faint rustle of a thousand silent people in a crowd that stares at you, invisible, inaudible, not there at all -- [Hit any key.] -- And the wind ruffles you, and you are merely alone, beneath vast sky. Not a flat tame greensward, mind you; you are surrounded by wild, waist-high, reed-yellow growth that hisses and rattles in the dry breeze. The grasses roll to every cloudless horizon. Above you towers an immense tree -- the only one visible anywhere in this prairie world -- and its shadow slices blackness past your feet. A path of flat, trampled grass cuts south down the hill. You can see a muddle of tents down at the base of the hill, spreading around most of the west side. You hear the sound of dripping water, from somewhere to the west. >south The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. You are on the south flank of the grassy hill. The flattened path runs up the hill to the north, towards the towering tree, and also leads west. The unconstrained grass spreads everywhere else. The sound continues, precise... you're not sure it's water now. The sound is too rich; it almost echoes. >west The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. You are on the southwest edge of the grassy hill. The path hugs the base of the hill, running east and north from here. A tiny clear rivulet burbles from a crack in the earth, just off the path; it trickles away through the grass to the west. A disorderly cluster of tents runs along the west side of the hill. Twenty yards or so of tall grass separate the path from the encampment. There is a large cleared area among the tents, some way north; it is surrounded by motionless figures. A second tapping noise begins, off-stepped from the first, at an odd angle of harmony. >north The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. You are on the western face of the hill. It leans serenely above you, with the sunlit tree alert at its crest. The flattened path runs north and south. A disorderly cluster of tents runs along the west side of the hill. Twenty yards or so of tall grass separate the path from the encampment. There is a large cleared area among the tents, directly across from you; it is surrounded by motionless figures. The rhythms speed, glancing up and down an unfamiliar chord. Under-steps and syncopations are creeping in. >north The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. You are on the northwest side of the hill. The path runs south along the hillside, but continues north into the open grassland. A disorderly cluster of tents runs along the west side of the hill. Twenty yards or so of tall grass separate the path from the encampment. There is a large cleared area among the tents, some way south; it is surrounded by motionless figures. A deep wail splits the wind; the harmonic rhythms fall into support. The wail is unearthly, a powerful resonance that nonetheless has the shape of a human voice. A man leaps into the cleared area, whirling in dance. His face is painted with a narrow black mask; and as he turns, a woman spins in, balancing his movements from behind white mask-paint. >north The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. The grass is trampled down in a circle here, a few yards wide. A flattened path runs towards the hillside to the south, and another leads southwest to the encampment. A disorderly cluster of tents runs along the west side of the hill. Twenty yards or so of tall grass separate the path from the encampment. There is a large cleared area among the tents, some way south; it is surrounded by motionless figures. A man and woman circle each other in an intense dance, in the cleared area to the west. His eyes are painted across a black stripe; hers with white. A youngish man is sitting in the circle's center, slumped sideways, clearly asleep. A spear rests laxly in his hand. Lying very near the man are a steel knife, a clay jar and a green crystal rod. More voices join, higher and lower, all with that shimmering strength. The beating rhythms surge. The dancers leap into an intricate series of turns, forward and backward around each other's motion. >get knife You gently lift the steel knife from the ground. The man snorfles slightly, but does not stir. The wailing harmonies rise and fall. The man drops forward; the woman takes one final leap towards him, and is borne upwards, as he extends and launches her out of the circle entirely. But without a pause, another woman whirls into view. Her garb is identical to the first woman's; but her mask-paint is grey, and she is roundly pregnant (or so her costume's shape suggests). >get jar You gently lift the clay jar from the ground. The man snorfles slightly, blinks sleepily at you... and then snatches at his spear and dashes off to the southwest. The music cuts off instantly. A wave of people -- men and women -- pour out of the tents to the west. They are all holding spears or knives. Holding, not brandishing or waving them; they look very businesslike. They are running through the grass towards you, needless to say. >se The grass crunches and crackles as you wade through it. You are on the slope of the hill. The tree stands on the hilltop, immediately to the south. A few shouts ring over the noise of the mob, which is crashing through the grass towards you, from the west. >se You wade through the tall crackling grass. You are on the slope of the hill. The tree stands on the hilltop, immediately to the west; the sun hovers low behind the branches and turns them to white fire. A bar of blackness falls across the grass, lying east-west. A few shouts ring over the noise of the mob, which is crashing through the grass towards you, from the west. >enter shadow The shadow with a claustrophobic sensation, as if the tree is falling towards you, or on you, while the ground falls up and the black sky falls down -- [Hit any key.] -- You slump against cool brick. Blank walls stand close, all ways but west. The sun, hovering low over the west horizon, shines almost directly into this alley; the brick walls are streaked with the vivid scratchy shadows of their own roughness. A lumpy chunk of granite stands here, embedded end-on in the cobblestones. It's taller than you... and then the curves click, and you are looking at an abstracted human figure. A woman, you think. Its shadow is black syrup poured down the alley and up the east wall. You see a wrinkled woman in yellow and a stumpy woman in blue in the plaza to the west; they pass by the alley without a glance. >enter shadow The shadow in every direction as you dash into it. Sudden hurried footsteps behind you become muffled, then merge into the faint rustle of a thousand silent people in a crowd that stares at you, invisible, inaudible, not there at all -- [Hit any key.] -- And the wind ruffles you, and you are merely alone, beneath vast sky. Not a flat tame greensward, mind you; you are surrounded by wild, waist-high, reed-yellow growth that hisses and rattles in the dry breeze. The grasses roll to every cloudless horizon. Above you towers an immense tree -- the only one visible anywhere in this prairie world -- and its shadow slices blackness past your feet. A path of flat, trampled grass cuts south down the hill. >south The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. You are on the south flank of the grassy hill. The flattened path runs up the hill to the north, towards the towering tree, and also leads west. The unconstrained grass spreads everywhere else. >west The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. You are on the southwest edge of the grassy hill. The path hugs the base of the hill, running east and north from here. A tiny clear rivulet burbles from a crack in the earth, just off the path; it trickles away through the grass to the west. >fill jar (with water from the tiny spring) You dunk the jar and let water bubble in. >north The crushed grass muffles your footsteps. You are on the western face of the hill. It leans serenely above you, with the sunlit tree alert at its crest. The flattened path runs north and south. >east The grass crunches and crackles as you wade through it. Not a flat tame greensward, mind you; you are surrounded by wild, waist-high, reed-yellow growth that hisses and rattles in the dry breeze. The grasses roll to every cloudless horizon. Above you towers an immense tree -- the only one visible anywhere in this prairie world -- and its shadow slices blackness past your feet. A path of flat, trampled grass cuts south down the hill. A drop of water falls on your leg. >enter shadow The shadow with a claustrophobic sensation, as if the tree is falling towards you, or on you, while the ground falls up and the black sky falls down -- [Hit any key.] -- You slump against cool brick. Blank walls stand close, all ways but west. The sun, hovering low over the west horizon, shines almost directly into this alley; the brick walls are streaked with the vivid scratchy shadows of their own roughness. A lumpy chunk of granite stands here, embedded end-on in the cobblestones. It's taller than you... and then the curves click, and you are looking at an abstracted human figure. A woman, you think. Its shadow is black syrup poured down the alley and up the east wall. You see a muscular man in blue in the plaza to the west; he passes by the alley without a glance. >west The crowded mall stretches north and south, a cheerful bustle of people, trees, benches, and grass. The hush of the crowd is merely restful. Ornamental building facades stand along the sides of the plaza, although a dark and narrow alley slips between brick walls to the east. A tall, muscular man in blue silk stands here. Water is trickling across your fingers. You glance down. The jar isn't tilted, or cracked; the trickle seems to be oozing straight from the clay, just above the smudge. The muscular man in blue walks away north. A stout woman in yellow walks toward you from the north. A slender man lifts a smoking tube to his lips. >wait Time passes. A tall young man in blue paces toward you from the south. The stout woman in yellow walks away south. A wiry woman in yellow walks toward you from the north. A young girl lifts a smoking tube to her lips. As she vanishes into the crowd, something tiny drops from her sleeve to the cobblestones. >get square Taken. The tall young man in blue walks away north. A stumpy woman in blue paces toward you from the south. The wiry woman in yellow walks away south. A slender boy lifts a smoking tube to his lips. >north A busy crowd surrounds you, here in the sun. Spacious brick buildings line the square; a road runs east, a path leads west under a wide arch; and to the south the plaza continues, a stream of cobblestone, trees, grass-cuts, and lively people. Lively, but... quiet. Feet moving, smiles, waving hands, but not one voice. It feels too normal to feel odd. In the center of the cobble circle that forms this end of the mall, a statue rises from sprawled shrubbery. There is a lean, wrinkled woman here, in yellow silk. A tall, peculiar-looking young man in blue silk stands here. A stumpy woman in blue walks up from the south. She paces formally up to the tall young man in blue; they bow slightly, and the tall young man in blue vanishes into a building. The wrinkled woman in yellow walks away south. A stout woman in yellow appears from a building's doorway. Copper hair swings through the crowd, familiar for an instant, then gone. You search the many faces around you -- Aessa couldn't be in this strange place, could she? You do not see her now. If ever. >west This broad yard is the center of the compound, if the worn and cross-tracked earth is any sign. A road runs east under a brick arch; a path leads northeast to the seating platform; a wide gate stands open in the fence to the north; and unpainted wooden buildings stand west and south. The west building's door is closed, and the south door is open. Two men flank the open gate. The tall one is wearing blue silk and the fat one yellow, in identical styles; but you'd guessed they have some formal function just from the way they stand. >ne The platform sweeps gently down to the west, in a series of low, wide, sunny steps. And the steps are filled with people. Quiet people; they sit and gaze intently out to the west. A long oval of earth is spread out below you in that direction. Clearly this is a cyclia of some kind. The platform is mostly fenced, but a broad path leads southwest, and a ladder drops down the east side. Two animals are lying in the arena, with the rest leaping over both of them. Then two, and now three; the leaps grow longer. The people around you wave their chains harder. >east You let your eyes wander east, and let your body absently follow, until you reach the ladder. Unnoticed, you descend. You are alone to the east of a long wooden platform. This must be the back, for a slat fence runs around this small field, enclosing you, assorted rolls of canvas, and a small mountain of hay bales. A small closed gate breaks the fence to the north. The sun is bright, but the air is mild and fertile-scented. >enter shadow The shadow in the way you are coming almost to understand. Again the blackness falls upon you, and your thoughts, scattering and wearing them down into their own ends -- [Hit any key.] -- And the world begins again in the rich autumn wind. A worn stub of brick juts up here, by the road. It's no more than twice your height; but scattered bricks in the weeds attest to an imposing chimney in time past. Whatever building the chimney served is now just rotted scraps of wood and a few stony ridges, and some mounds off to the west. The road continues towards the wall north, and the distant forest south. >north You stroll for a while, up to the wall. The wall looms here, streaked gold with sideways sunlight. The finely-etched stone blocks are each wider than you can reach; they file at least forty feet above you. The gate... would be huge anywhere else. It's a square of dark wood half the wall's height, suspended above the road. The road runs from the gate towards the distant forest in the south. The pillar to the east still stands, but the western one tilts wildly over your head. It leans toward its partner as if it had a secret to impart. But bright sky slices thin between the two dark shapes. >north Wide as it is, the gateway presses briefly around you with its sensation of weighty stone; but sunlit hills are beyond. The wall stands, massive and unyielding, to the south. The road issues from its open gate, though, and leaps merrily over a rise to the north, and beyond it. Ivy-wound towers are visible, somewhere at the road's end. >north A dawn-tale, ivory castle stands far to the north, heavily strung with ivy and reddening sunlight. The road runs towards it, and back to the south, over a hill that hides the stone wall. A branch of the road also leads northwest, towards a dome, which seems to float in a magenta lake. A large pile of pipes and cable is sprawled untidily by the road. >north The main road ends here, at the edge of a deep dry moat. Or nearly dry; a trickle of dark water crawls past jagged rusty edges of iron, far below. A broad stone arch spans the trench, up to the ivy-choked facade of the castle. A smaller road follows the moat's curve, east and west. A subliminal hum is coming from somewhere below. >west The road curves north as it circles the castle. The road curves around the west side of the castle, edging the trench. To the north, it falls into the shade of trees; forest has grown down to the castle's north edge. A smaller road branches off towards a dome that squats to the southwest. An airy web of pipes and cables arches neatly over the moat, touching the balcony. The lever juts from the stonework near its base. >east You step gingerly onto the bridge. For all its delicacy, it barely sways, and you climb easily across the gaping moat. The mosaic paving is every shade of scarlet and grey, a shocking contrast to the castle walls, the ivory stone which was all that was visible from the ground beyond the moat. Even the ivy that chokes the walls above and below you does not venture far onto the colored tiles. A small arch would lead east into the castle, were it not entirely filled with vines. To the west, wild ruffling meadows spread under the violet sky; the dome is visible to the southwest, in its magenta stain of lichen. An airy web of pipes and cables arches neatly over the moat, just touching the balcony, casting a pool of shadow across the mosaic tiles. >enter shadow The shadow across everything, dimming the vines, the darkened mosaic, the black sky -- [Hit any key.] -- Deathly cold strikes like a soundless slap; you are dazzled by sun-glaring snow. Blue sky glares above you, to the dead-white horizon, and between them is nothing but wind and the cold. Snow crunches gently beneath your feet. Above your head, a wind-sculpted spire of ice twists fantastically, and its shadow lies as strange and utterly black against the glittering snow. You can make out something dark to the south, a pole or column of some sort. >south Your feet scrape numbly through the snow, for a time. The air slices you without remorse. The horizon is an irregular wall of dirty white against blue, and the snow beneath you is marked only by a few pawprints. To the east and southeast, though, the ice falls away into an abrupt, shadowy crevasse. A metal pole sticks out from the snow. At its foot sits a red, fuzzy bundle, neatly folded and quite outrageous in this chilly-white world. >get blanket Taken. You are shivering violently. Needles of ice are forming in the jar of water. >wear it You wrap the blanket awkwardly around yourself. A bit of warmth begins to creep back. The wind slackens, then blasts again. >west The horizon darkens as you walk. After a while, you can make out the face of a low cliff ahead. It rises, until -- still distant -- it blots out the sun; you pass into shadow. The unbounded and bitter ice is broken, to the west; a low cliff rears up all along that curve of the horizon. The sun is hidden behind the stony wall, but soft beams of light seem to radiate from the cliff-edge, across the sky and over your head. Pawprints track through the snow nearby. >nw Your feet crunch softly in the snow and cold. Eventually the ground slopes up, as you reach the steep slope that is the northern extremity of the cliff. You stand on a steep angle, digging your feet carefully in the snow, trying not to slip. The crest of this ridge rises to the west; the sun is hidden behind it. To the south, the slope steepens. There's a gleam of metal in the snow -- a twisted bit of rod, pronged; perhaps a key of some sort. The water in the jar has a thin skin of ice on it. A knife of icy wind seems to lay open your bones. >south You move across the face of the slope, slowly upward. As you rise, the snow thins; after a time, you move across bare chill stone. You stand on the edge of a cliff, a silent wave of weathered stone; it stares out over the equally silent sea of ice that lies to the east, and below. The stark edge gentles and descends to the north, and the cliff steepens to the south. A narrow crack runs through the rock, a few feet from the edge. You thought the wind was deadly on the plain below... this stone is thrust like a challenge into the bitter sky, and the sky assaults it. A constant roar of ice blasts across you from the west. You would not care to climb higher. >pour water in crack (the quantity of freezing water in the narrow crack) You crack away the layer of ice, and upend the jar. The water fills the crack neatly. The stone must be whole, beneath, for the level isn't sinking. >wait Time passes. Delicate crystals of frost are forming in the crack. >wait Time passes. >wait Time passes. The gale tears at your blanket. Your hands and feet are becoming numb. The water in the crack is nearly frozen over. >wait Time passes. There is a faint pop from the ice in the crack. Another. >wait Time passes. You look down, just in time to see the lip of the cliff slide away towards the distant snow. Shards of ice follow, a glittering shower from the crack that is now the cliff's new edge. The rumble fades below. >north Ice traces the stones as you descend, then spreads. You stand on a steep angle, digging your feet carefully in the snow, trying not to slip. The crest of this ridge rises to the west; the sun is hidden behind it. To the south, the slope steepens. There's a gleam of metal in the snow -- a twisted bit of rod, pronged; perhaps a key of some sort. >se You slither down the slope, and then set off across the icy plain. The unbounded and bitter ice is broken, to the west; a low cliff rears up all along that curve of the horizon. The sun is hidden behind the stony wall, but soft beams of light seem to radiate from the cliff-edge, across the sky and over your head. Pawprints track through the snow nearby. >sw You trudge through the shadow of the cliff, which gradually looms. The snow ends here; to the west rises a massive, worn wall of stone. It seems to press against you, even without touching, and against the unbounded white world that stretches east. But it does little against the wind. There is a cave in the cliff's face, a dark hole several feet above your head. Rubble is mounded against the cliff, directly below the cave. >enter rubble You scramble up onto the rubble, and stretch... there, a hand on the lip of the cave. Several moments of strenuous exercise, and you are inside. The tunnel is round, as you saw from the outside, and the walls are smooth; a hint of groove curves around them. The passage recedes west, dimly, though you can make out a hint of glow in the distance. A blinding blue and white circle of outer world glares at you from the east. Somehow, the wind is not blowing in, so the air is icily still. >west As you move deeper into the tunnel, you feel the floor rising, very slightly. The tunnel is very straight. You can tell that it's not quite east-west, though; the distant bright spot of outside snow is more east-northeast, and a strange watery glow is visible west-southwest. >west You walk towards the glow. The walls change, abruptly, from smooth carved stone to milky blue ice. The shape of the tunnel is the same, but you are surrounded by translucent ice, here at the end. To the east the passage returns to the dimness of stone. The west wall is an irregular sweep of ice; and it glows, with what must be the setting rays of the sun, somewhere to the west. Ripples of gold light fall through milky blue veils, turning this space into a small still cathedral. Caught within the western ice is a dark, indistinct form. The glow behind it casts a night-black shadow across the tunnel's floor. >remove blanket You unwrap yourself from the blanket. The dim chill pours down your skin. The cold is a vague ache through your blood, and it is hard to move. You hear a distant, muted rush, more with your bones than your ears. >examine shadow The edges of the shadow are indistinct, though still somehow impenetrably dark. >enter it The shadow devouring the milky ice-light around you, then the world, then you -- [Hit any key.] -- Air scalds your face, and then is merely tepid, with a bitter burning scent. The world is still dim, but with a strange glare -- You stand on the east side of a wide circle of grey, glittering sand. The sky is black; but it is not night, for the sun hangs above the western horizon, a strange, fierce white dot that does not dim the stars around it or the moons above. A familiar sky-black shadow lies at your feet, cast in dim sunlight from a waist-high dome which stands at the center of the circle. The sand is surrounded by a fence of sorts -- tall silver bars rise around you, a roofless cage. And beyond that is nothing but endless barren plain. Beyond the bars, something shifts. You spin; a hooded white outline watches you, peering between the silver posts. Or at least it seems to. You can make out no detail of face or feature in that indistinct figure. Nor in the one next to it. You turn again; the circle is surrounded by a crowd of pale shapes. >nw You circle the dome. The white figures seem to become more intent, drawing a little closer to the bars. The west side of the circle is no different. Silver posts march around the perimeter of the sand, beneath the impossible starry, sun-lit night sky. The low dome rises to the east, at the circle's center. A crowd of white shapes moves in slow turmoil beyond the bars. Low tones grate through you, and you look up to see several of the white shapes moving animatedly to the west, beyond the bars. There is something about their motions -- are they gesturing to something behind you? >examine dome The dome is a perfect hemisphere, of some glossy white substance. It dimly reflects the sun and moons, but it has no other detail, or even texture. There is a narrow edge of black shadow along the west arc of the dome. What? Ah -- the moon Amwal, though nearly at zenith, is just low enough yet to cast it. >examine shadow The moon Amwal is high and rising. But it is yet low enough to cast a knife-thin edge of shadow, on the west side of the dome. You notice a current of motion among the white figures as you turn towards the shadow. The chill is fading from your blood. >enter it The white figures are whirling around the circle, echoing with harsh grating tones. You ignore them -- are they -- and set foot to the darkness. The shadow seems far too narrow to enter; but it across the sand, without seeming to change. The silver bars flicker away into the black sky, one by one, and then the stars -- [Hit any key.] -- There is nothing beneath your feet. You flail convulsively for a moment, before you realize that you are not falling. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into two silhouettes walking slowly across a sunny park. Other shapes play some game in the distance, but the pair pay no attention. They stop by a low stone wall. A bird darts down, and lands on it, and eyes them fearlessly. >west Though there is nothing beneath you to move across, you consider motion, and something happens. Nothing changes; but there is a faint resistance, a sense of effort, like a dream of flying into the wind. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into a silhouette standing in a small room -- a kitchen, full of jars and untidy sacks. The figure mixes furiously, tastes from his bowl, shakes a bottle over it, taps again to be sure. Peelings and shells pile up on the counter. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into a dim figure sitting over a desk, pen in hand. It shuffles through one sheaf of papers, then another; it picks up a book that is lying on the floor. A few lines are scratched. The figure jumps up and walks in a tight circle, waving its arms. Then it sits, writes another line or two, and so it continues. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into several figures lying on trim grass, staring up into the sky. The sunlight is somehow dim. One silhouette sits up, and seems to laugh, and points at its own shadow. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the figure in a kitchen. >sw There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the figure hard at work at a desk. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the figures lying under strange sunlight. >sw There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into six silhouettes sitting in a circle, in a plush room. One is reading out loud, from a book. It turns a page and passes the book to its right, and that figure continues the reading. There is a distant air of solemnity, until one reader grimaces, and seems to laugh ruefully. It begins again. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into three figures kneeling on pavement, around an arrangement of cards and small shapes. One silhouette lays down another card and moves an angular shape onto it. The other two sit back, frowning. One gropes for a jar and sips from it. >sw There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into two silhouettes standing in a room; many others sit around them. The two mouths are moving, soundlessly, and you see a stray foot tapping. The audience is relaxed, laughing. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the six figures sitting in a circle, reading. >sw There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the three figures kneeling around their cards. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the two figures performing. >sw There is motion. Nothing changes; but there is a faint acceleration, a sense of ease, like a dream of sinking through still water. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into one silhouette walking slowly in a sunny park. It takes a side path, and then another, seemingly without aim or direction. A dry tree branch tosses idly in one hand; the figure does not speak. >north There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into two silhouettes standing on a dark porch. They are talking, but they are huddled somehow away from each other, and one will not look the other in the eye. A third shape steps out for a moment nearby, and the two freeze, until the third moves away. >west There is motion, and a faint sense of resistance to it. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the two figures performing. >north There is motion; and a sense of resistance which becomes suddenly powerful, seizing your progress. You hang without support, and the depths below swirl with mist. Above you, the sky is flat and grey. Shapes move slowly across it. The shadows above you change. Again you see the lone figure walking in a sunny park. >wait Time passes. The shadows above you change. Again you see the two figures standing stiffly on a dark porch. >wait Time passes. The formless shadows above you resolve for a moment, into a dark figure standing in an empty room. Its lips move, silently: Will you forgive me? >wait Time passes. The shapes in the sky fade. No, they are around you -- a ring of dimness that sweeps in from every direction, shrinking, coalescing before you. The words echo this time: "Will you forgive me?" >examine ring A ring of translucent darkness hangs before you, horizontal, no broader than your circled arms would be. A thousand fragmentary shapes might flicker within the shadowy band; but they are all quite still. >enter it Straining against intangible resistance, you cross the boundary of the ring. It writhes suddenly and collapses inward -- The silence is not broken, but it seems tuned to a higher pitch; echoes of something fade reluctantly from your thoughts. Echoes of... you're not sure. But for a moment, you saw Something swoops past your head. >examine shadow At this distance, it's a mere spot. But it has the same night's-blood darkness which has brought you this strange, far way. Something else catches your eye: there is a shadow upon the mist, far below. >enter it Once again, the thought of motion becomes motion; you slide downward. The glowing sphere follows, circling your head quietly, even as your descent speeds, becomes a plummet.... Mist whips past you; the wind roars; you cannot breathe for it, and then the blackness swallows you, leaving silence and the single light of the orbiting sphere -- [Hit any key.] -- Foul air chokes you. The west side of the circle is no different. Silver posts march around the perimeter of the sand, beneath the impossible starry, sun-lit night sky. The low dome rises to the east, at the circle's center. Something thuds into the sand at your feet. >get sphere Taken. It's surprisingly heavy. >se You circle the dome. You stand on the east side of a wide circle of grey, glittering sand. The sky is black; but it is not night, for the sun hangs above the western horizon, a strange, fierce white dot that does not dim the stars around it or the moons above. A familiar sky-black shadow lies at your feet, cast in dim sunlight from a waist-high dome which stands at the center of the circle. The sand is surrounded by a fence of sorts -- tall silver bars rise around you, a roofless cage. And beyond that is nothing but endless barren plain. >enter shadow The shadow across the sand; the silver bars flicker away into the black sky, one by one, and then the stars -- [Hit any key.] -- Clean cold air snaps you back to awareness, in the soft and layered glow of the ice. Something in your hand feels less weighty. The shape of the tunnel is the same, but you are surrounded by translucent ice, here at the end. To the east the passage returns to the dimness of stone. The west wall is an irregular sweep of ice; and it glows, with what must be the setting rays of the sun, somewhere to the west. Ripples of gold light fall through milky blue veils, turning this space into a small still cathedral. Caught within the western ice is a dark, indistinct form. The glow behind it casts a night-black shadow across the tunnel's floor. >east You leave, feeling again the faint downward and northward angle of the tunnel. Stone surrounds you again. The tunnel is very straight. You can tell that it's not quite east-west, though; the distant bright spot of outside snow is more east-northeast, and a strange watery glow is visible west-southwest. >east You walk towards the light. The tunnel is round, as you saw from the outside, and the walls are smooth; a hint of groove curves around them. The passage recedes west, dimly, though you can make out a hint of glow in the distance. A blinding blue and white circle of outer world glares at you from the east. Somehow, the wind is not blowing in, so the air is icily still. You are shivering violently. >east You sit on the lip of the tunnel, turn, and carefully lower yourself to the rubble below. A chunk of stone slides, but you manage to wobble your way off with only a slight wrench to your ankle. The snow ends here; to the west rises a massive, worn wall of stone. It seems to press against you, even without touching, and against the unbounded white world that stretches east. But it does little against the wind. There is a cave in the cliff's face, a dark hole several feet above your head. Rubble is mounded against the cliff, directly below the cave. >ne You move out, shivering, into the endless snow. The unbounded and bitter ice is broken, to the west; a low cliff rears up all along that curve of the horizon. The sun is hidden behind the stony wall, but soft beams of light seem to radiate from the cliff-edge, across the sky and over your head. Pawprints track through the snow nearby. The wind shrieks. >east A faint shadow on the ice ahead slowly widens, until you reach the lip of an unfathomable crevasse. The air slices you without remorse. The horizon is an irregular wall of dirty white against blue, and the snow beneath you is marked only by a few pawprints. To the east and southeast, though, the ice falls away into an abrupt, shadowy crevasse. A metal pole sticks out from the snow. Your hands and feet are becoming numb. >north Light gleams on the spire ahead as you push through bitter wind. Blue sky glares above you, to the dead-white horizon, and between them is nothing but wind and the cold. Snow crunches gently beneath your feet. Above your head, a wind-sculpted spire of ice twists fantastically, and its shadow lies as strange and utterly black against the glittering snow. You can make out something dark to the south, a pole or column of some sort. >enter shadow The shadow whirling between you and the glaring white landscape; the bitter cold fades to no feeling at all -- [Hit any key.] -- Air scalds your face, and then is merely tepid; you slowly adjust again to the brisk autumn breeze. The mosaic paving is every shade of scarlet and grey, a shocking contrast to the castle walls, the ivory stone which was all that was visible from the ground beyond the moat. Even the ivy that chokes the walls above and below you does not venture far onto the colored tiles. A small arch would lead east into the castle, were it not entirely filled with vines. To the west, wild ruffling meadows spread under the violet sky; the dome is visible to the southwest, in its magenta stain of lichen. An airy web of pipes and cables arches neatly over the moat, just touching the balcony, casting a pool of shadow across the mosaic tiles. The chill is fading from your blood. >west You step up on the bridge, and pass over the moat. The road curves around the west side of the castle, edging the trench. To the north, it falls into the shade of trees; forest has grown down to the castle's north edge. A smaller road branches off towards a dome that squats to the southwest. An airy web of pipes and cables arches neatly over the moat, touching the balcony. The lever juts from the stonework near its base. >south The road curves east as it circles the castle. The main road ends here, at the edge of a deep dry moat. Or nearly dry; a trickle of dark water crawls past jagged rusty edges of iron, far below. A broad stone arch spans the trench, up to the ivy-choked facade of the castle. A smaller road follows the moat's curve, east and west. >south A dawn-tale, ivory castle stands far to the north, heavily strung with ivy and reddening sunlight. The road runs towards it, and back to the south, over a hill that hides the stone wall. A branch of the road also leads northwest, towards a dome, which seems to float in a magenta lake. A large pile of pipes and cable is sprawled untidily by the road. >south The wall stands, massive and unyielding, to the south. The road issues from its open gate, though, and leaps merrily over a rise to the north, and beyond it. Ivy-wound towers are visible, somewhere at the road's end. >south You duck, quite unnecessarily, as you pass under the massive hanging gate. The wall looms here, streaked gold with sideways sunlight. The finely-etched stone blocks are each wider than you can reach; they file at least forty feet above you. The gate... would be huge anywhere else. It's a square of dark wood half the wall's height, suspended above the road. The road runs from the gate towards the distant forest in the south. The pillar to the east still stands, but the western one tilts wildly over your head. It leans toward its partner as if it had a secret to impart. But bright sky slices thin between the two dark shapes. >south You stroll for a while, back to the ruined chimney. A worn stub of brick juts up here, by the road. It's no more than twice your height; but scattered bricks in the weeds attest to an imposing chimney in time past. Whatever building the chimney served is now just rotted scraps of wood and a few stony ridges, and some mounds off to the west. The road continues towards the wall north, and the distant forest south. >enter shadow The shadow as you set foot to it. The old brick of the chimney looms impossibly above you, blotting out the sun, the sky, the darkness before you, your name -- [Hit any key.] -- Everything drops silently into place again. You are staring at a bale of hay. You are alone to the east of a long wooden platform. This must be the back, for a slat fence runs around this small field, enclosing you, assorted rolls of canvas, and a small mountain of hay bales. A small closed gate breaks the fence to the north. The sun is bright, but the air is mild and fertile-scented. You can see the people on the platform have risen to their feet, waving their sparkling hands madly. >west You pull yourself up the ladder. No heads turn. The platform sweeps gently down to the west, in a series of low, wide, sunny steps. And the steps are filled with people. Quiet people; they sit and gaze intently out to the west. A long oval of earth is spread out below you in that direction. Clearly this is a cyclia of some kind. The platform is mostly fenced, but a broad path leads southwest, and a ladder drops down the east side. All the animals in the arena rise, and parade slowly around. >sw You make your way down the steps. This broad yard is the center of the compound, if the worn and cross-tracked earth is any sign. A road runs east under a brick arch; a path leads northeast to the seating platform; a wide gate stands open in the fence to the north; and unpainted wooden buildings stand west and south. The west building's door is closed, and the south door is open. Two men flank the open gate. The tall one is wearing blue silk and the fat one yellow, in identical styles; but you'd guessed they have some formal function just from the way they stand. People and strange animals begin filing out of the gate. They stream through the yard, into the building to the south. You notice one creature hooting distressedly, balking at the southern doorway. After a moment, its trainer shakes her head and tethers it to a post in the yard. >wait Time passes. The last few animals dart through the northern gate, and are led to the south. The men in blue and yellow nod formally to each other, slide the gate shut, nod again, and vanish still silent through the arch. >wait Time passes. >wait Time passes. People are walking down from the platform, and moving through the arch, and away. >wait Time passes. The yard empties as the last of the crowd leaves to the east. >wait Time passes. The crested animal chews thoughtfully. >wait Time passes. >wait Time passes. >wait Time passes. >wait Time passes. The crested animal noses around the edge of the yard, to the limit of its tether, and crops some grass with its bill. >wait Time passes. Three people in dull clothing enter from the arch. They drag open the northern gate, and disappear through it. The crested animal chews thoughtfully. >north You stand in a long arena of soft, dry earth. The ground is scarred with tracks, both of claws and hooves and booted feet; a musty smell rises around you, but the arena is quiet and still. A railing surrounds you, with a wide gate to the south, which lies open. Three people are working here, sweeping and cleaning the ground, and gathering scraps and trash. They move methodically and don't seem to notice you at all. You notice a length of brighter color, something orange, lying along the edge of the arena. The people here continue sweeping and picking up scraps. >get orange You pick it up, and try to shake it out. It's a crumpled length of heavy leather, at least six feet long, and oddly shaped. The three people reach the north end of the arena, and begin making their way back, sweeping industriously. >south You silently slip through the gate. This broad yard is the center of the compound, if the worn and cross-tracked earth is any sign. A road runs east under a brick arch; a path leads northeast to the seating platform; a wide gate stands open in the fence to the north; and unpainted wooden buildings stand west and south. The west building's door is closed, and the south door is open. An odd creature with a bony crest stands at one edge of the yard. A tether is looped around its neck and tied to a post near the west building. Three people in nondescript clothing come through the gate, pulling it shut behind them. They walk away to the east without a word or glance. >cut tether with knife A few moments of determined sawing, and the tether dangles free. >south The building is dim and slightly damp, lit only by narrow windows and the open door to the north. Another, smaller door stands closed in the south wall. This room is divided by several low partitions; the sections are open to each other, and floored with soft earth. A pair of large, evil-looking creatures are tethered to one side. They sport astonishingly long tails, and an astonishing assortment of claws. The claws of one are stained green, matching the dyed leather of its harness; the other's claws and tack are violet. The violet clawed creature digs idly at a post with one claw, raising splinters. >put orange on violet (the violet clawed creature) You fit the leather over the animal's back. The ends hang neatly in front of its legs. >enter violet (the violet clawed creature) You clamber up the violet clawed creature's back. It hisses and rears -- not angrily, just stretching -- and you grab for support, trying not to slide down the nearly vertical spine. The orange leather gives your legs purchase, though, and you steady yourself with some convenient straps. The violet clawed creature arches its back under you. >untie it The moment the harness is unhooked, the violet clawed creature emits a piercing shriek. There is a white glint in its eye which must have been there all along... and then the long legs bunch. There is a tremendous You find yourself lying flat on the creature's neck, your feet caught in some orange straps -- no, maybe they're supposed to be there, at least you're not falling off -- and the creature is into another tremendous flat leap, the door lintel nearly shears your head off, and You cling to straps as the ground blurs. (on the violet clawed creature) This broad yard is the center of the compound, if the worn and cross-tracked earth is any sign. A road runs east under a brick arch; a path leads northeast to the seating platform; a wide gate stands closed in the fence to the north; and unpainted wooden buildings stand west and south. The west building's door is closed, and the south door is open. An odd creature with a bony crest stands at one edge of the yard. A tether is looped around its neck and hangs loosely to the ground. The crested creature shrieks as you come into view. It leaps for the arch, eyes darting back at your mount. >wait Time passes. You cling to straps as the ground blurs. (on the violet clawed creature) A busy crowd surrounds you, here in the sun. Spacious brick buildings line the square; a road runs east, a path leads west under a wide arch; and to the south the plaza continues, a stream of cobblestone, trees, grass-cuts, and lively people. Lively, but... quiet. Feet moving, smiles, waving hands, but not one voice. It feels too normal to feel odd. In the center of the cobble circle that forms this end of the mall, a statue rises from sprawled shrubbery. A tall, muscular man in blue silk stands here. The crested creature swerves south, dashing down the mall. >wait Time passes. You cling to straps as the ground blurs. A couple walking hand-in-hand are knocked aside as your mount darts between them. (on the violet clawed creature) The crowded mall stretches north and south, a cheerful bustle of people, trees, benches, and grass. The hush of the crowd is merely restful. Ornamental building facades stand along the sides of the plaza, although a dark and narrow alley slips between brick walls to the east. A stumpy old woman wearing blue silk stands here. The crested creature is just a few yards ahead of you. >wait Time passes. You cling to straps as the ground blurs. (on the violet clawed creature) The cobble way from the north ends here, at a broad tree-lined square which runs down to a gentle river. Smaller roads runs east and west, along the water's edge. In the center of the square is a marble pedestal. Silent people stand and flow around the mall, animated or relaxed. A tall, muscular man in blue silk stands here. There is a wiry woman here, in yellow silk. The crested creature is heading straight at the river! >wait Time passes. With the power of desperation, the crested creature launches itself over the water. It hangs for a moment in the light -- and then your own mount gathers itself, and the world is momentarily as distant as the sky -- Clawed feet into dry earth, and your abused fingers finally slip. The ground smacks you hard. By the time you pull yourself to your feet, both animals are gone. The space is cool and half-shaded by frequent trees. Shaggy bushes, untrimmed, surround the park, casting the aura of unspoiled wilderness. A river peeps through shyly to the north, and a wider gap in the irregular rhythm of hedges leads your eye west. In the center of the space rises a bare flagpole. A few people stroll here, chatting quietly or simply walking. >examine flagpole Perhaps it's silly to assume it's a flagpole, given the absence of flag at the top. It's just a pole; a single bole of polished blonde wood, narrow enough to encircle with your two hands. The unadorned top rises higher than the trees, and it casts a line of inky shadow across the grass and the more mundane shadows of the trees. Something rushes through the hedges, just beyond sight -- no, two things, one on the other's heels. >examine shadow The shadow is a narrow and eye-aching dark. >enter shadow The shadow seems too narrow to cover you, but you pass towards it, and through it, and the darkness does not end, everything beyond is beyond reach and miles away and dark -- [Hit any key.] -- And the darkness remains. You jerk around wildly, panicked -- lost in shadow? No; you are real again, at least, and there's solid ground underfoot. It is too dark to see. A sharp, irregular rapping comes from somewhere nearby. Farther away, to the west, is a jangle of bells; and a thin wailing drifts from the south. It sounds like something is bubbling merrily on the ground nearby. >south You advance through the blind dark. It is too dark to see. You are surrounded by a thin, high wailing sound; it wavers up and down, setting your ears on edge. A rattling hiss is audible to the southeast, a much deeper rumble to the southwest, and there is an occasional echoing rap from the north. >sw You advance through the blind dark. It is too dark to see. A steady, deep, and powerful rumble burns just below the surface of this spot. You feel it more than hear it -- a colorless vibration behind your ears and in your bones. A much higher, keening wail is audible far to the northeast, and from the east comes a rushing hiss. A gentle, irregular thudding sound comes from the dark air. You can hear something moving overhead, slowly, with a sound of heavy beating wings. >get thudding You turn your head slowly, concentrating on the gentle thudding. There. A step... the sound surrounds you, seemingly everywhere. You've got it, or it's got you, or something. A thing flaps slowly away into the silent dark. >ne You advance through the blind dark. The gentle thudding seems to keep pace about you. It is too dark to see. You are surrounded by a thin, high wailing sound; it wavers up and down, setting your ears on edge. A rattling hiss is audible to the southeast, a much deeper rumble to the southwest, and there is an occasional echoing rap from the north. A gentle, irregular thudding sound envelops you. You become aware of something thrumming; a bare high tone that thrusts delicately behind your eyes. You shake your head, but it strengthens, becoming a vibrating chord somewhere overhead. >sing to box You essay a few notes, holding the box close to your mouth. The sound is immense: a resonant thrum, echoing you in harmonics that shift subtly with your voice. Above you, the chord in harmony with your note. A white pain flashes across your eyes, and then the chord is gone. >north You advance through the blind dark. The gentle thudding seems to keep pace about you. It is too dark to see. A sharp, irregular rapping comes from somewhere nearby. Farther away, to the west, is a jangle of bells; and a thin wailing drifts from the south. It sounds like something is bubbling merrily on the ground nearby. A gentle, irregular thudding sound envelops you. >west You advance through the blind dark. The gentle thudding seems to keep pace about you. It is too dark to see. You are nearly deafened by unseen clangor. A thousand bells might be roiling a foot above your head. The noise is dampened to the east, where you can hear an occasional sharp rap, and to the north, where a echoing plipping noise gives the impression of dripping water. You can hear something moving overhead, slowly, with a sound of heavy beating wings. A gentle, irregular thudding sound envelops you. A thing flaps slowly away into the silent dark. >north You advance through the blind dark. The gentle thudding seems to keep pace about you. It is too dark to see. A metallic plopping sound resonates here, over and over again, in several pitches and at several rates. You could easily believe that you were surrounded by dripping fountains, although the ground underfoot seems to be no damper than usual for this place. Bells jangle somewhere to the south, and the plipping grows more intense to the northeast. A gentle, irregular thudding sound envelops you. >drop thudding You step quickly to one side, leaving the gentle thudding behind. >get low plooping You turn your head slowly, concentrating on the low plooping. There. A step... the sound surrounds you, seemingly everywhere. You've got it, or it's got you, or something. >south You begin to move through the blind dark, towards the bells. The low plooping sound keeps pace with you... and as you move, something behind you. You whirl, as a cascade of dripping sounds rolls over you from the northeast. For a moment you're nearly certain of drowning... but nothing touches you; and then much of the plipping is gone, including your lowest note. A murmur of human voices now drifts from the northeast. >get thudding You turn your head slowly, concentrating on the gentle thudding. There. A step... the sound surrounds you, seemingly everywhere. You've got it, or it's got you, or something. >ne You advance through the blind dark. The gentle thudding seems to keep pace about you. It is too dark to see. Voices seem to surround you, but you cannot make out the words, or even determine whether the language is one you understand. A rapid sound of dripping water comes from the southwest, and there are constant violent crashes to the east. A gentle, irregular thudding sound envelops you. >east You advance through the blind dark. The gentle thudding seems to keep pace about you. It is too dark to see. The crash of shattering glass jars you, over and over, from somewhere near here. Farther to the west you hear voices, apparently unconcerned; to the south pulses an irregular thudding. A gentle, irregular thudding sound envelops you. >south You move towards the distant thudding sound. The gentle thudding around you keeps pace, and the two rhythms blend imperceptibly. It is too dark to see. The thudding that envelops you is quiet and very, very regular. Beyond the pulse, dimly, you can make out smashing glass somewhere to the north. To the southeast is a more immediate cacophony of squeals and blares. >se You advance through the blind dark. It is too dark to see. You are surrounded by the shrieks of the damned. Or something worse; who knows what might lurk in this chain of worlds? Blares, squeals, and soft snarling calls: all tear at your ears without respite. Infinitely more gentle is the thudding sound far to the northwest, and a rattling, blowing hiss comes from the southwest. And in the center of the noise, beside you, is a small area of utter silence. >examine silence It's exactly that -- a spot from which no sound comes, whatsoever. As you move your head, the silence seems to press at you, unnervingly, and then contract again. >enter it The silence as you move into it. Now all sound is gone from the world, the black world, and the ground is gone, and your voice and your breath and you -- [Hit any key.] -- Out of nothing, you are struck, hard, in the back and neck and knees. There is no down, but a moment of dizzying instability rushes past you. Then you are struck again, by a metal floor which jars your forearms painfully; you flung up your hands just in time. You lie there for a moment, then push yourself up -- and crack your head on the ceiling. Ohh. You curl around more carefully. You sit hunched between parallel metal planes. Your chin is tucked down and your head still pressed uncomfortably against the ceiling. Dim-glowing traces on the floor stretch into the distance, however; low as it is, this space seems vastly wide. Two objects are resting on the ground here: two short lengths of silver pipe, it seems, one wider than the other. Each has a bone handle protruding from its side, near one end. >get all length of thin pipe: Taken. length of thick pipe: Taken. >hit thick The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal ceiling recedes into the distance... The space between these plates is, if anything, fractionally lower than the first one you fell into. A dim phosphorescent grid is traced out across the ceiling, marking silent distance in all directions. There are three more lengths of silver pipe here, just like the ones you found earlier. Two are narrow; one is wide. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. >get all length of thin pipe: Taken. length of thick pipe: Taken. length of thin pipe: Taken. >hit thin The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal floor recedes into the distance... You sit hunched between parallel metal planes. Your chin is tucked down and your head still pressed uncomfortably against the ceiling. Dim-glowing traces on the floor stretch into the distance, however; low as it is, this space seems vastly wide. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. >hit thin The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal floor recedes into the distance... It is too dark to see. The ceiling is still there, low and massively solid, nonetheless. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. >hit thin The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal floor recedes into the distance... The metal floor and ceiling seem a bit farther apart here -- at least, you can nearly straighten your neck, from where you sit. The floor is scarred by thin parallel grooves. Two spots of light shine palely on the ceiling. Three of the familiar wide lengths of pipe lie nearby. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. The stillness of this place is getting to you. You feel... stretched. >get all pair of bright spots: That appears to be part of the ceiling. length of thick pipe: Taken. length of thick pipe: Taken. length of thick pipe: Taken. >squeeze pod in jar The pod ruptures easily, and an acrid oil splashes into the jar. >wait Time passes. >wait Time passes. A drop of oil falls on your leg. >wait Time passes. >break square The corner breaks off easily along the groove. The snap is followed by a faint hiss; and then you jerk your fingers quickly away, for a tiny, blue-hot jet of flame has begun to shoot from the broken edge. Oil is trickling across your fingers. You glance down. The jar isn't tilted, or cracked; the trickle seems to be oozing straight from the clay, just above the smudge. >light trickle (with the blue flame) The trickle of oil flares, then settles to a tiny flame dancing just below the jar's lip. There is just enough oil flowing to burn, it seems, for nothing drips farther down the side. The blue flame is weakening. >hit thick The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal ceiling recedes into the distance... You are still kneeling between unyielding surfaces, much too close above and below. Long parallel ridges cross the ceiling, perhaps an arm's-length apart, and disappear into the darkness around you. Another piece of pipe, a wide one, rests on the floor. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. The blue flame is flickering badly. >get all length of thick pipe: Taken. The blue flame sputters out. >hit thick The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal ceiling recedes into the distance... You sit hunched between parallel metal planes. Your chin is tucked down and your head still pressed uncomfortably against the ceiling. Dim-glowing traces on the floor stretch into the distance, however; low as it is, this space seems vastly wide. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. >hit thick The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal ceiling recedes into the distance... The space between these plates is, if anything, fractionally lower than the first one you fell into. A dim phosphorescent grid is traced out across the ceiling, marking silent distance in all directions. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. >hit thick The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal ceiling recedes into the distance... The metal overhead bends you nearly double, even sitting, as you are. Both floor and ceiling seem more heavily rusted here; small clumps of phosphorescent moss cling here and there. A figure sprawls indifferently on its back a few feet away. His back; it's a boy, raggedly dressed; young, you think, although it's oddly uncertain a guess. He breathes steadily in sleep. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. Your knee slips abruptly on moss; you jerk a hand out to catch yourself. The length of thick pipe flies from you and hits the ground with a muffled clank. The boy slips a syllable of protest, turns on his side, and huddles, still asleep. >get thick You extend a hand towards the length of thick pipe and freeze. Perhaps it was only the stirring of the air; the child is awake. A thin hand darts out and snatches the length of thick pipe. The boy clutches the metal to his chest, staring at you wildly. >wait Time passes. The boy shakes himself out of immobility, and darts a glance down at the length of thick pipe he holds. He stares for a moment; his eyes are wondering. >ask boy for pipe He twitches violently. Wrapping his hands around the pipe, the boy turns away, shaking, hiding the silver metal with his body. Then he straightens, slowly. His eyes search yours, pressing at the wall of understanding between you; they drop to the length of pipe, and rise again. Moss-light shivers on the polished surface. And -- very softly -- he lays the pipe down before you. >get thick The boy's hand clenches as you pick up the length of pipe. But his face does not change. >hit it The pipe blurs, and for a moment it seems to extend, vertically, forever. You cannot breathe for the sound. The bounded world blurs vertically as well, and the metal ceiling recedes into the distance... The boy's eyes seem to fade last of all. They watch you, full of something you may never see again. You are lying full length on scarred, rusted metal. Your raised head brushes the ceiling. Is it harder to breathe here? Don't think about it. A black outline stretches across the metal -- a shadow, cast by the light of your flickering flame, from... nothing that you can see. The sound, and the pipe you struck, are gone. >examine shadow The abyss-dark shadow does not reveal a form. It reaches far ahead of you, shifting as the oil flame moves, but the spot it reaches from is empty. >drop jar Dropped. >enter shadow The shadow remains steady as you move towards it, the light at your back. The dark things begin to drop away. The confining metal planes recede, and you expand in vast relief, and expand and dissipate and fade -- [Hit any key.] -- You are aware of a hard grey surface beneath your feet. You stand on a hard grey plane; it stretches without variation around you. The sky above swirls with distant mist. You can see a red pyramid and a yellow cube here. >move brown cube Something seems subtly different about the cube, as it moves. >move it You turn the cube slowly back and forth; and, yes, it changes very slightly as it moves. Its ridges become more regular as you move it towards the northwest and more irregular towards the southeast. >nw You walk for a while. The ridges on the cube slowly shift, becoming more regular. You stand on a hard grey plane; it stretches without variation around you. The sky above swirls with distant mist. You can see a blue sphere here. >move brown cube You turn the cube slowly back and forth. Its ridges become more irregular as you move it towards the east and shallower towards the west. >west You walk for a while. The ridges on the cube slowly flatten away, leaving smooth shaded stripes. You stand on a hard grey plane; it stretches without variation around you. The sky above swirls with distant mist. You can see a blue cube and a yellow cone here. >move brown cube You turn the cube slowly back and forth. Its stripes become fainter as you move it towards the southeast and slightly bumpy towards the northwest. >se You walk for a while. The stripes on the cube slowly fade to a uniform brown. You stand on a hard grey plane; it stretches without variation around you. The sky above swirls with distant mist. You can see two green pyramids here. >move brown cube You turn the cube slowly back and forth. Its coloring becomes somewhat banded as you move it towards the northeast and paler towards the southwest. >sw You walk for a while. The cube's brown color slowly pales to tan. You stand on a hard grey plane; it stretches without variation around you. The sky above swirls with distant mist. You can see a red pyramid and a yellow cube here. >move brown cube You can't see any such thing. >move tan cube You turn the cube slowly back and forth. Its coloring becomes more intense as you move it towards the southwest and paler towards the northeast. >ne You walk for a while. The last trace of color fades from the cube; and you notice, a moment later, that no new objects are breaking the grey monotony. You stand on a hard grey plane; it stretches without variation around you. The sky above swirls with distant mist. Light sweeps in from all around, condensing, brightening into a ring which hovers before you. >examine ring A ring of translucent brightness hangs before you, horizontal, twin to the dark ring you saw elsewhere. Edges seem to glitter within it in crystalline array; you can make no sense of them. >enter it You step forward, against some invisible resistance. But the white cube in your hands is pulled forward, instead; it jerks from your grasp. The white cube swings into a slow midair oscillation before the ring. Strange, distorted sounds echo from the cube as it moves. >enter it Bracing against a sudden invisible attraction, you cross the boundary of the ring. It writhes suddenly and collapses inward -- Moments later, you are pulling yourself to your feet; pulling together shreds of your thoughts; grasping frantically for speech and language, for the distorted words of the white cube have come into focus at last... The words are what they have been from the beginning (and you feel every shape in the world shift in its balance): >no (to the white cube) Your simple refusal is overborne by a voice that echoes from you like weary stone: The cube shivers to silent dust. The band of light spreads out, away from you, fading back into the eternal grey. And a distant darkness recedes into the swirling mists. You gaze up into those mists -- every breath is an ache in your chest -- and wait for a glimpse of the distant, simple lights of home -- [Hit any key.] The sun's glow has faded in the west of the sky. The crowd outside the theater shifts, murmuring; you push a little forward, out from under the theater portico. A hot, crowded evening to a hotter, crowded day. But is that the start of a breeze? You fan yourself hopefully with the paper in your hand -- a playbill for that you must have latched onto in the dark. Never mind. It's the moment of the almost-conjunction. People gasp, or sigh. The two moons are swinging past each other, seeming to glow in each other's light; closer, closer, not quite touching... and away again. So near, yet -- Someone is standing there, a few paces ahead, rapt in the sky. Curve of chin. Long hair, black in the moonslight. To hell with the theater. Dawn is distant yet, so you move nearer to her, into the first cool smoky breeze of autumn. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, see the AFTERWORD, or QUIT?