Let's Play: Inside Woman by Andy Phillips

So I recently started playing a new (to me) IF game, and decided a little way in that it would be great to have someone to discuss the game and my progress with as I go through, and I thought about how much I enjoyed reading some of the Let’s Play threads on this forum, and an idea presented itself …

A somewhat questionable idea, at that, because the game in question is Inside Woman by Andy Phillips, a game which prolific reviewer @mathbrush placed in the category of games which are “so astoundingly long that I don’t think anyone can understand who hasn’t actually finished one.” So how practical an idea this is for my first foray into writing a Let’s Play remains to be seen; I have three kids and a full-time job, so my goal is to try to finish my playthrough before 2165, the year in which Inside Woman is set.

As mentioned, I got a little way into the game (I’m estimating around 20% based on score and geographical progress) before deciding to do this; I’ll be returning to the start for this LP, obviously, but for the first few posts I’ll be writing with some degree of knowledge of what’s coming up. I’ve had to turn to the hints a couple of times already (most of the game seems pretty fair, but a couple of interactions were underclued or guess-the-verby) — but if I run into any more dead ends, I’ll give the forum a shot at suggesting what to try next before getting any more hints.

Next up: let’s start the game!

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Part 1 - Welcome to Utopia

August 24th, 2165.

Utopia Technologies. Industrial giant, economic powerhouse, the world’s greatest scientific superpower, and the organisation most responsible for eroding civil liberties and personal freedoms. They’re an all-powerful capitalist megacorporation that you despise completely and utterly, yet you’re perfectly willing to join their ranks.

The paperwork has been filed, and you’re on the way to the California Archipelago in a transport shuttle. There’s no turning back now. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be a citizen of Utopia, based in the Arcology – that overcrowded, polluting eyesore of gargantuan proportions. You’ll be a mere immigrant worker at the bottom of the corporate ladder, but your stomach still churns at the thought. Your motives for going may be pure, but that doesn’t make it easy.

So this is roughly the extent of the premise that I knew before starting the game: you play a spy infiltrating a giant arcology, and the whole game is set inside it. Everything from here on out is a voyage of discovery!

The journey from China has been uneventful, giving you plenty of time to think of your upcoming mission, and the massive responsibility that’s been placed on your slender shoulders.

Civilian Transport Shuttle
As opposed to say, a military or executive shuttle, which would have seats to make the trip comfortable and an in-flight holomovie to ease the tedium of a three hour flight from Shanghai. Instead, this is the basic civvie model – you’re densely packed in a titanium can with over fifty other Chinese immigrants. The cabin reeks of sweat but there is nowhere to go, and at this altitude, opening the viewing windows would be the queen of bad ideas.

[Instructions available by typing HELP]

Most of the instructions are generic “How to play IF”, so I won’t reproduce them here, apart from the credits:

INSIDE WOMAN: The Empire of Gustav Ernst

Written, designed and programmed by Andy Phillips

Inform 6 programming language, libraries and parser: Graham Nelson

Beta Testers: Sam Kebo Ashwell, Al, Katzy

Omega Testers: Aaron Howell, Tom Robinson, M. Schoenitz

The subtitle “The Empire of Gustav Ernst” doesn’t seem to appear anywhere except in these credits. As I mentioned earlier, I did play a little way into the game before coming back and deciding to start this Let’s Play, so I can confirm that we’ll be hearing more later on about Gustav Ernst. But for now, let’s start with the standard parser fare for getting acquainted with ourselves:

>X ME
Miss Alice Ling. Mid twenties, shoulder length black hair, brown eyes, average height and build – by all appearances, a perfectly ordinary Chinese woman in good health. You’re pretty enough to be disarming when needed, but not overly sexy as to attract unwanted attention. All in all, walking evidence that looks can be deceiving.

>I
You are carrying:
 some tatty work clothes (being worn)
 an entry visa

Control checking in, Alice. Guess I’ll have to call you Alice from now on, eh? Just to let you know we’re picking up your signal bright and clear here in Hong Kong. Yes, ma’am. Your personal advisor is up and running.

You almost jerk with fright, and you probably would if it wasn’t for your extensive training and field experience. None of the other passengers can hear Nanci, of course – his commentary is for your ears only. That’s right: a man called Nanci. Only in China.

>X VISA
Exactly what it says on the plastic card: passage for one person to the Utopia Technologies Arcology. These travel documents are expensive to purchase for the average Chinawoman, so the tech guys at Bai Lihong concocted quite a cover. Having lost your (imaginary) husband in the war, and desperate for credits and a new life, you sold out your (imaginary) only child to an (imaginary) European slave trader – a horror story that’s probably not so imaginary for some of your fellow travellers.

>X IMMIGRANTS
Workers dressed in tattered rags: men, women and children in equal number, all lured by the promise of a better life in the land of the free. The Utopian propoganda machine may be driven by flashy advertisements, billions of credits and heartless lies, but civilians still flock to America by the shuttleload. Yes, these people are a sorry sight for any eyes, sore or not.

Okay, our tracking satellites place you over San Francisco – well, what used to be San Francisco anyway. Funny how people in yesteryear worried about the quaking earth, yet it was the raging waters that did them in. The Great Flood must have been a spectacle to behold, from a safe distance of course. If you want to visit the Golden Gate Bridge today, you need a hazard suit, a minisub, a navigation chart – oh, I almost forgot – a diving permit from Utopia Technologies.

Having a crazy, rambling voice in your head is going to take some getting used to, and Nanci doesn’t have an off switch.

>X CLOTHES
Battered overcoat with stainless steel zipper, ripped trousers and heavy, flat-soled boots. Throw in thermal underwear, and you have the perfect worker’s outfit: low on fashion, high on durability and practicality. There are stains everywhere, remnants of a phony, nonexistent past cleaning the sewers of Shanghai. Well, they do say clothes make a woman.

The shuttle tilts sharply to one side, turning through a quarter circle before continuing straight.

Alright, Miss Ling, given your position and heading, your new home should be visible to the left. Look for a big glass and steel pyramid sticking up through the clouds. You can’t miss it.

>X PYRAMID
You can’t see any such thing.

The Arcology isn’t actually in sight yet, but I’m sure that at least one of the other fifty people in the cabin will be keeping an eye out for it, so for now let’s get on with orienting ourselves in the persona of Alice Ling. This huge overcoat we’re wearing seems a bit suspicious, so let’s look inside and check we’re not actually three kids standing on one another’s shoulders:

>REMOVE COAT
You’d better unfasten your coat zipper first.

>OPEN ZIPPER
You slide down the metal zipper, unfastening the overcoat. Now that it’s open, you see a single pocket on the inside of the jacket.

You feel the shuttle descending – the final approach to the Utopia Technologies Arcology.

>X POCKET
The coat’s inside pocket contains your passport.

Ooh, that sounds like something we might need on the way to start a new life in a new country. Or globe-spanning megacorporation.

>X PASSPORT
False identity papers issued by Bai Lihong Enterprises on behalf of the Chinese Government. It’s the new multinational, single plastic sheet version. Besides a digitised image of your face, DNA and biometric data, holograms provide basic textual information.

Name: Alice Wei Ling
Date of Birth: 16th February 2141
Place of Birth: Shanghai, China.

Some of the passengers are excitedly looking through windows.

Thanks, fellow downtrodden immigrants, I knew we could count on you to let us know when we were getting close!

>LOOK THROUGH WINDOW
You don’t need perfect vision – even if you have it – to spot the Utopia Technologies Arcology. The spire capping the world’s tallest building pierces the clouds, gold-tinted windows reflecting the bright sunlight of a new dawn. Further down, supporting the executive levels both literally and figuritively, is the so-called Black Tower, global headquarters of the Utopian Security Force.

Shielded by opaque glass, a near impenetrable, flickering blue forcefield, and a strictly enforced communications blackout, their activities remain a closely guarded secret from the prying surveillance satellites of other nations. That doesn’t stop the rumour mill working overtime, though. In China, you’ve heard many tales of the secret police troopers and what they do to “unco-operative” citizens. Utopia is anything but, a megastructure home to a million citizens, a prison in all but name.

As a teenager in the late 90s, I first encountered the concept of arcologies as the final stage of civilizational development in SimEarth, where they always looked pretty appealing. But Alice seems to have significantly less positive expectations about this one.

You’re not planning to stick around, though. The other passengers may be immigrating to start a new life, but you’re a woman on a mission. As the shuttle begins its descent through the clouds, you replay the briefing in your head…

Briefing Room
Corporate executives usually have expensive tastes and your boss is no different. His downtown Hong Kong office is a classy mixture of styles, ancient Oriental blended with ultra modern. Since his company owns a majority stake in the Chinese military, it’s no surprise to see terracota soldiers flanking the holographic projector, nor is it a great shocker – excuse the bad pun – that the Tesla cannons are fully charged and crackling with electrical energy.

The extreme security measures in place aren’t enough to convince the General to appear in person. He addresses you from an unknown location on the mainland, conducting all business via a video screen.

An image appears above the projector disc: a spinning globe. Yep, it’s Planet Earth post catastrophe number one thousand. Or something – you lost count years ago.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Global mega-corporations displacing national governments, a boss whose position is somewhat ambiguous between military commander and corporate executive, ongoing environmental collapse: I feel we’re firmly established within a genre here, which is fine - we can refrain from worrying too much about figuring out the backstory and concentrate on being a badass super-spy.

>X ME
This is you before you became Alice Ling: a high ranking footsoldier in the Chinese military. Now capitalism has spread to the People’s Republic, you’re little more than a corporate mercenary.

As you watch, the colours of the spherical map change, highlighting territories around the world. In the last millennium it was governments and alliances. Today the key players are megacorps, and one company in particular occupies a noticeably large percentage of land mass.

“Utopia Technologies,” the General states, continuing his briefing. “The largest empire the world has ever known. Since its inception, Utopia has grown into a global dictatorship with major holdings on all seven continents. They continue to expand across mountains, ice, desert, oceans, even the depths of space. And if they are not stopped, Bai Lihong Enterprises – and with it China, the last free country in existence – will be consumed.”

I’m not going to dig too deep into the socio-political plausibility of the backstory here - there are other people on the forums much better-placed to do that than me, so do chime in in the comments! - but it looks like the story is that due to its communist government, China was the last country to fall before the rising tide of hyper-capitalism? Inside Woman came out in 2009 (Hu Jintao was president of China, the US had just elected Barack Obama, “One Country, Two Systems” was going strong in Hong Kong, the phrase “Belt and Road Initiative” had yet to be uttered) - I was getting to grips with my new career and can’t honestly remember how plausible the future depicted here would have looked at the time …

>X GLOBE
A three dimensional, computer generated image projected above a laserdisc. Hologram generators are commonplace enough, but this military version has a trillion pixels per cubic centimetre and over ten thousand colours. That’s what the guy said at the last tech briefing. Personally, you can’t tell the difference.

“So far we have contained them, but our resources grow increasingly limited. And now my spies in the California Archipelago inform me of a new Utopian project. Scientists the world over, mainly from the fields of cybernetics and nanotechnology, have been… recruited. Kidnapping is perfectly legal, of course. When you own the police, you make the laws. The good news is we know where the researchers have been taken. Utopia did nothing to hide the fact. And why should they? When you consider the bad news…”

The image blurs into a mass of light, then reforms and takes on the shape of a building. Not just any building – even vastly reduced in scale and coloured so brightly, the Utopia Technologies Arcology has lost none of its wonder, nor its power as a symbol of iron fisted tyranny.

(Attempting to examine the image of the Arcology any further just repeats the description of the hologram projector.)

“I see you recognise the building. Enclosed city would be a more accurate description – an entirely self-sufficient colony housing one million people under a single roof. Its forty levels have everything a society needs: accommodation, schools, hospitals, factories. And somewhere in there, the world’s greatest minds work in secret on a project we know nothing about.”

The General pauses for a moment then carries on. Yeah, you get the picture already, and it bleakens by the second.

“Built in the submerged ruins of San Francisco, the Arcology took Utopia two years to design and a further fifteen to complete. One third of the floors are below sealevel, yet the structure has withstood earthquakes, typhoons and ecoterrorist attacks. It’s a human made black hole. Many people go in, but none come out. Even the mysterious Director does not leave his fortress. Immigration is permanent, and I’m asking – no, ordering – you to go in there. To find out what Utopia’s up to and get that information back to us.”

Immigration is permanent? Are we being optimistic in hoping that this just means life is so great there no-one ever wants to leave?

>SAY YES SIR
(to General)
That was a rhetorical question.

“I know this is a lot to demand from a single woman, but you won’t be alone in there. Your talents for resourcefulness and sheer determination are valuable assets, but they will not be enough. So I’m assigning you a partner on this operation, a secret weapon of ours that goes by the name of Nanci.”

A tiny drawer, designed to be blend in perfectly with the wall, slides open underneath the video screen.

I think we know what’s coming here already given the introduction that we had before this flashback, but let’s see …

>X DRAWER
A small drawer, no more than a few centimetres wide. The front side is made of the same material as the wall and designed to be flush when closed – no wonder you didn’t notice it before.

“Well, aren’t you going to give Nanci a taste?”

Seems a little forward when we’ve only just - okay, sorry.

>LOOK IN DRAWER
In the tiny drawer is a red capsule.

Pretty clear what we’re meant to do here. And also, this is a flashback, so it’s not like we can even try to take a different path.

>TAKE CAPSULE
The second you remove the capsule from the drawer, it slides closed.

“Nanci’s so small you can hold her in your hand. The perfect companion.”

>EAT CAPSULE
With a touch of hesitation, you swallow the pill and gulp it down your throat. You feel your skin tingle, and your hands start to shake. You give the General a fierce glance, but all he does is smile. After a moment, everything is normal again.

“Even with Nanci’s help, you’ll need to be extremely careful. Utopia Technologies have practically redefined security over the last decade. You’ll be going in undercover as an immigrant worker by the name of Alice Ling. From this point on, you no longer exist.”

>NOD
That’s not a verb I recognise.

The General is similarly uninterested in any other efforts to acknowledge his orders, but as soon as we try to do anything else:

Testing. One, two, three. You hear me? You can? Great! I can tell from the way you’re looking around. I’m Nanci, by the way. Technically it’s NANCI in upper case, but I prefer the first way.

The voice reminds you of a sixteen year old schoolboy – the playful, geeky kind that thinks he knows everything but doesn’t have a clue. For a moment, you almost thought you saw the General smile while you looked around in vain for a nonexistent male companion, a boy called Nanci.

>NANCI, HELLO
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can’t see whom.

>SAY HELLO
(to General)
You doubt the General would be interested.

NANCI is a miracle of communication technology, but it’s one-way. At least so far, there’s nothing we can do to get any kind of message back to our invisible handler - which of course is perfect for a parser game, where we can have his constant presence without needing to deal with all the things the player might want to say.

“Colonel, meet NANCI, our latest prototype. Nanotech-based Audiovisual Neural Communications Interface. A cluster of tiny machines in your body that enable us to remain in contact twenty four hours a day. Essentially, we see, hear, and to some extent feel, everything you do. More importantly, it’s next gen and completely undetectable even with the latest Utopian equipment. The interface links directly with your brain, so Nanci is inaudible to anyone except you.”

Which means I can call the General a charmless, paranoid freak, and he won’t hear a word.

Since the General refers to Nanci as a communications interface, I’m assuming that the voice we’re hearing belongs to some (human) Chinese intelligence officer in an operations room somewhere who’s taken the name “Nanci” for his own. And who is apparently very confident that no-one else is listening in on his messages, either!

>Z
Time passes.

“I would wish you luck, Colonel, except I don’t believe luck’s a factor. If you’re good, then you’ll succeed in your mission. And if you’re not, there’ll be no discipline on my end. That won’t be necessary, because you’ll never leave the Utopia Arcology alive.”

On that note, the General ceases transmission and abruptly ends the briefing. A sharp bump brings you back to the present. The shuttle has arrived at its destination.

This is your partner speaking. Stop daydreaming, Alice. We’re here. Welcome to the Utopia Technologies Arcology.

Game on!

INSIDE WOMAN
Interactive Corporate Espionage
Copyright (c) 2009, Andy Phillips
Release 5 / Serial number 090628 / Inform v6.30 Library 6/11

Landing Pad
Or pads to be more precise. This is the Arcology’s main air terminal, with parking spaces for transport shuttles, jetcopters and heavily armed fighter craft. Departures and arrivals are monitored from the control tower to the west, and the aircraft hangar bays are to the south. Out here in the open, there is no protection from the elements. This high up, the wind is strong and relentless, an ever-present breeze that carries the tangy stench of salty seawater from the Pacific Ocean many kilometres below.

Black armoured troops of the Utopian Security Force are on patrol, the bulk of them stationed along a laserfence to the east. It’s a gateway to the inside world, a barrier to keep out the immigrants until they’re ready for processing.

With its payload unceremoniously dumped, the shuttle that ferried you here ascends into the clouds, leaving you behind on the landing pad.

Well, there goes your ride. You gotta wonder what happens to all these people Utopia ships in by the flying truckload. Guess we’ll know soon enough.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

So, just to get this straight: the Arcology is a permanent structure with a fixed capacity of a million people, no-one ever leaves, but hundreds of immigrants are flown in every day? This is definitely not a problem and there is definitely no chance of anything bad happening to us.

>X FENCE
The fence runs from north to south, a four metre high web of high intensity beams. Crimson red in colour, the lasers criss-cross so many times the gaps between them are barely wide enough to see through. There’s no way past while the grid is active.

>X TROOPS
The soldiers are well equipped to deal with threats, both natural and those of human origin. Clad from head to toe in black metallic body armour, the troopers carry miniguns and plasma throwers, weapons normally reserved for tanks and APCs. Features hidden behind opaque visored helmets, they are little more than faceless thugs on crowd control duty. Male, female, or robotic – you simply can’t tell.

This is kind of sinister, but I guess even the most liberal cultures aren’t averse to a bit of security around a major transit hub. Let’s see how long we can continue giving Utopia Technologies the benefit of the doubt in the face of their black-armoured stormtroopers and non-existent emigration policies.

You’re ignoring me, aren’t you? Yes you are. You’re probably thinking I’m this good for nothing whizzkid, a handsome voice chirping in with fascinating but one hundred percent useless comments. Wrong! You see, Nanci here is a walking encyclopaedia of information, and anything I don’t know I probably got access to.

So whenever you need the lowdown or just feel like a little company – hint, hint – I’m your man. All you gotta do is focus on something, then quicker than you can stop thinking, I’ll pick up your signal and give you the lowdown, if I got anything interesting to say that is. You don’t believe me, do you? Give it a try then!

Are you even listening to me, Alice? Focus!

I can recognise a diegetic tutorial when I see one!

>FOCUS
(on the USF troopers)
Utopia calls them security, I call them butchers in metal suits. That’s the latest in composite armour, practically indestructible yet fully flexible. Resitant to heat, electricity, acid, you name it. Self contained oxygen supply and computer assisted targeting. Take my advice, Alice. You definitely don’t want to pi–

You and Nanci are interrupted in mid conversation when a black metallic gauntlet grabs your right shoulder in an excrutiatingly tight, vicelike grip. You turn to see two USF troopers standing behind you. Just when you think the game’s up, the laserfence deactivates with a dull low-pitched whine, beams shutting down from left to right. No sooner has that happened than the troops herd you and the rest of the new intake like cattle through the open barrier.

Holding Area
The other side of the laserfence is a waiting zone from which immigrants are plucked one by one from the masses then escorted to a series of registration terminals to the north. As usual, those doing the pushing and shoving are Utopian Security Force personnel; wearing light armour, these guards are less intimidating than their hulking counterparts on the landing pad, but are still armed, dangerous and very much in control.

It’s started to rain, but evidently Utopia has planned for it. The slightly acidic water collects in grated off troughs, a primitive yet effective drainage system.

The laser beams reactivate, almost turning a lagging immigrant to jelly. Fortunately, she makes it through the deathfield just in time.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

This isn’t exactly a red-carpet reception, but there’s not much for it right now other than to allow ourselves to keep being ushered onwards.

>X TERMINALS
You can’t see the registration terminals very well from here.

>X TROUGHS
The troughs are about ten centimetres wide and covered with galvanised iron grates, providing coverage to the whole southern section of the level. It would appear collecting rainwater is more important to Utopia than keeping their new immigrants dry. Things look a little better to north, an area largely under cover of the Arcology’s upper floors – but only slightly.

One of the immigrants passes a cylindrical container to a USF trooper. The tube is small, about the size of your palm, and the handover smooth and well practiced. Most onlookers would notice and suspect nothing, but your senses are above average. Soon afterwards, the immigrant is taken away for processing.

The guard heads in the opposite direction. He – or she – reaches inside their uniform and takes out a remote control unit, which they use to temporarily shut down the laser field. Unnoticed, the small, shiny cylinder falls from their pocket, rolls into a drainage trough, and lands in the water with a plop. Even if you wanted to alert the guard – and why should you? – it’s too late. Whoever it was, they’ve already stepped through the now-active laserfence.

What was that? I’d sure like to know.

Looks like our first opportunity for some shenangians! Hopefully we can get hold of whatever it is without any of these heavily-armed security guards noticing what’s up.

>LOOK IN TROUGH
All you see is running water, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.

>SEARCH TROUGH
All you see is running water, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.

The help menu for the game warns us that it’s sometimes necessary to SEARCH and LOOK UNDER objects as well as EXAMINE them, but this time we need a different mode of interaction:

>PUT HAND IN TROUGH
Your fingers fit through the closed grate, but not very far.

>OPEN GRATE
The grating lifts with a loud creak, exposing the running water below. Fortunately, the USF guards are too busy supervising the other immigrants to notice.

>PUT HAND IN TROUGH
You reach down through the open grating, put your hand in the freezing cold rainwater, and have a good feel around. After a moment or two groping, your numb fingers brush metal. Instictively, you grab the item and bring it to the surface. An inhaler! If you catch a cold as well, you’ll have some medication.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>CLOSE GRATE
You close the grating, softening the metallic clang as much as possible.

“You’re up next, lady. Come with me.”

Not that the brutish, broad shouldered trooper gives you much choice. With those few, less than courteous words, he grabs you firmly by the wrist and leads you to…

Registration
New citizen processing is designed to deal with immigrants en masse: banks of registration terminals outfitted with user friendly interfaces and voice recognition software, all no doubt hooked up to a central server on some distant security level. This is where the dehumanisation really begins, your identity gets stripped away, and you become a number in Utopia’s database. The system seems easy enough to operate – listen, talk and in your case lie. Just don’t get caught, not with USF troopers constantly peering over your shoulder.

Well, it’s a relief to hear that after being menaced by black-armoured butchers with miniguns, herded around the landing area like cattle and almost cut in two by a laser fence, this is where the dehumanisation really begins.

The terminal’s screen is occupied by a 3-D image of a woman’s face: angular edged, polygonal and turquoise blue, most likely a physical interface for an artificial intelligence program.

“Good morning, citizen. Welcome to the Utopia Technologies Arcology. My name is Teresa, and I will be assisting you with the registration process. Please insert your entry visa.”

Here we go. Hope you got your cover story memorised.

>PUT VISA IN TERMINAL
You slide the entry visa into the slot, and Teresa promptly gobbles it up. But not before her face turns bright green for a second. Guess you did something to make her happy.

“Your entry visa has been verified. Please insert your passport.”

You did remember to pack it… right? Better find it soon, or they’ll be serving up toasted Alice in the Utopia canteen.

Fortunately, we already unzipped our coat to check out the inside pocket, so there’s no cause for panic here.

>TAKE PASSPORT
You take the passport from the pocket.

“I am waiting for your response.”

Take a long, good look. This is the last you’ll ever see of it.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>PUT PASSPORT IN SLOT
You slide the passport into the slot, and Teresa sucks it out of sight. Talk about renouncing citizenship.

I’ve never immigrated to a new country, and I guess maybe the process does involve surrendering the passport of your previous nationality, but there’s still something that feels very wrong about just depositing it in a slot.

“Your passport has been verified. Now I must ask security questions to confirm your identity. So that I may accurately interpret your responses and to avoid any misunderstandings, please restrict your answers to the information requested.”

Information requested!? What heap of junk is this? Utopia really knows how to make a glowing first impression. Talk about a welcome? Geez!

“Please state your full name.”

>SAY ALICE LING
(to Teresa)
“Your answer does not match the information on file.”

The woman’s face flashes red for a split second, then turns back to blue.

Looks like you made her angry. Best be careful.

Uh oh. We’d better pay closer attention to detail. Fortunately, the introduction to the game in the help menu and the passport we’ve now parted ways with both mentioned that our full (fake) name is actually Alice Wei Ling.

>SAY ALICE WEI LING
(to Teresa)
As before, Teresa’s face flashes green.

“Please state your city and country of birth, in that order.”

This was mentioned earlier when we reflected on our cover story.

>SAY SHANGHAI CHINA
(to Teresa)
Once again, Teresa’s face flashes green.

“Please state your age.”

Uhh … we probably should know this offhand if we were briefed properly on our legend, right? But we do have the information we need, as long as we remembered to read the passport before consigning it to its ignoble fate. Our date of birth is given as 16th February 2141, and the very first line of the game mentioned that the current date is 24th August 2165. So:

>SAY 24
(to Teresa)
To your relief, Teresa’s face flashes green.

“Please state your previous occupation.”

>SAY SEWER WORKER
(to Teresa)
Once again, Teresa’s face flashes green.

“Please state your marital status.”

>SAY WIDOWED
(to Teresa)
Once again, Teresa’s face flashes green.

“Single” also works.

“Please state your child’s name.”

Sorry, but your baby boy here couldn’t resist adding his personal signature.

So whoever the nameless intelligence officer operating Nanci is, he’s also one of the people responsible for constructing the details of our fake identity?

>SAY NANCI
(to Teresa)
As before, Teresa’s face flashes green.

“The registration process is complete. Please take your personal identification tag, then wait for assistance.”

A piece of clear plastic, looking suspiciously similar to your passport, emerges from the slot and stops halfway.

They do love to recycle. Looks like you just became a Utopia Citizen, and they didn’t even bother with an oath of allegiance. And what’s with all this escorting, waiting and procedure following? You’d think you were a piece of meat on a conveyor belt. Then again, you are being processed.

Is the implication here that our old passport was somehow melted down and recycled as our new Utopia ID in the time it took for us to complete new citizen registration?

>X TAG
Like your old Chinese passport, the Utopia Technologies ID tag is made from clear plastic, rectangular in shape, and stores a digital photograph of yours truly. The biographical information is even briefer this time around, limited to just a name and number.

Alice Wei Ling, Citizen FW-2815

>TAKE TAG
You snatch your ID tag from Teresa’s mouth, but before you can even give it a cursory glance, your “assistant” (read: impatient USF brute) shows up and directs you to an airlock. The door is closed behind you, and you hear the hiss of air repressurising.

5 Likes

(First lesson learned: make sure before posting that I’ve split my updates to be within the 35000-character limit …)

Decontamination Chamber
Not the most exciting of surroundings, to be sure. The room is decidedly plain, a cube measuring ten metres across with featureless, stainless steel walls, floor and ceiling. Facilities are limited to the bare essentials: a disposal chute and a shower platform. There are two airlock tunnels, the southern one you entered through and a second on the opposite side.

Mounted on the east wall is a storage container: a metal walled box with a transparent plastic lid.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>X CONTAINER
In theme with its surroundings, the storage box is a self-contained unit that can be sealed off from the rest of the chamber to keep its contents sterile. There are no buttons, handles or external control mechanism of any kind. You get the impression it only opens once certain cleanliness criteria have been satisfied.

In the storage container is a Utopia Technologies bodysuit.

Ok, well, it seems pretty clear what we’re supposed to do here.

>REMOVE CLOTHES
You strip off, removing everything: coat, trousers, boots, and underclothes. A chill runs down your spine, but whether that’s due to the low temperature in the decontamination chamber or apprehension at being naked you don’t know.

I’m not looking, I promise. But I’d bet my last credit Utopia’s techies installed hidden cameras.

>ENTER SHOWER
You step onto the shower platform but nothing happens. Maybe you should dispose of your disease ridden clothes first.

>I
You are carrying:
 your personal Utopia ID tag
 an antiviral inhaler
 some tatty work clothes

>PUT CLOTHES IN CHUTE
The disposal chute can’t be reached from your present position.

You mean I can’t just wad them up and take a three-pointer from across the room?

>LEAVE SHOWER
You get off the shower platform.

>PUT CLOTHES IN CHUTE
You discard your work clothes down the chute. Gravity and momentum carry the garments down to waste disposal, and they soon disappear from view.

>ENTER SHOWER
You step onto the shower platform. Almost immediately, the compressed airjets shoot water onto your body. You get a through soaking in soapy liquid which well and truly drenches your hair and skin. This is followed by a gassing with antibacteriants. You can hardly breathe during this, let alone the germs. Finally, after the clouds clear, you get a blast of hot air which leaves you feeling dry but incredibly clean.

There. Don’t you feel better now?

You’re about to respond with a sarcastic retort when you hear a whirring noise from the direction of the storage container. Apparently, you’ve satisfied the requirements for opening the box.

>LEAVE SHOWER
You get off the shower platform.

>TAKE SUIT
Taken.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>X IT
A single, one-piece garment designed to cover the human body from tiptoes to neck and leave no part exposed in between. Almost the entire bodysuit is fashioned from a soft but tough, pitch black material. The few exceptions to this rule are a rectangular shaped, plastic indentation on the waistline and a set of circular bands around the ankles, wrists and collar – solid titanium rings studded with clear jewels.

Our benevolent new masters at Utopia have complemented our identity-erasing ID tag with a whole identity-erasing outfit!

>WEAR IT
It takes a minute or two, but you’re able to slip into the Utopian bodysuit. Once you have the outfit on, automatic adjustments take place, black material tightening around your skin until it’s an incredibly close fit. A degree of initial awkwardness quickly gives way to comfort, but just when you’re getting used to your new attire, the metal bands around your ankles, wrists and neck lock in place with a high pitched beep.

Hope those restraints aren’t too tight. You could choke someone to death in that thing.

This surely isn’t foreshadowing, right?

Anyway, that indentation seems like it has a pretty clear purpose:

>PUT TAG IN INDENTATION
The Utopian ID tag fits into the bodysuit’s waist indentation with a satisfying click.

>N
As you come within range of the scanner, beams of light activate and pass over your body. At the end of it all, there is a ping and the airlock door swings inwards. You step into the tunnel beyond, pass through another airlock, and enter the Utopia Arcology proper. After a brief walk down a nondescript corridor, you arrive at the…

Transporter Ring
Creating an efficient, speedy and self-operated shuttle system for a million citizens couldn’t have been an easy task, but trust the geniuses at Utopia to pull it off. The ring in question is a kilometre in diameter, encircling an interlocking, labyrinthine network of spiralling tubes with elevator platforms revolving in a loop pattern. Nobody is kept waiting for long, so the assigned security force is more than adequate. Access tunnels are numbered according to destination level, with the exit on the south side.

In case you get lost – a strong possibility in such a mammoth construction – information points are located every hundred metres.

Freedom at last! Or at least that’s what they want you to think. You’ll need to make contact with our agents inside the Arcology. But, first things first. Better check into the abode Utopia prepared for your arrival. Don’t sweat it. I’m sure your apartment will be nice, warm and cosy.

Ok, so we made it through immigration! Apparently China – or Bai Lihong – already has some agents embedded inside the impenetrable Arcology after all? But I guess those are long-term assets, whereas we’ve been sent in with a specific mission.

Anyway, next time we’ll find out what kind of amenities we can expect to enjoy as a newly-immigrated citizen of Utopia Technologies! (And figure out why we picked up that inhaler …)

7 Likes

Wow, never thought I’d see a Let’s Play of this game! It’s pretty big, although since you just finished Finding Martin recently, I’ll say it’s not quite as big as that.

Andy Phillips is a really interesting author. I think of him as a ‘red meat’ or "James Bond movie’ type writer: lots of Western-perspective male-oriented action stuff with femme fatales. His obsession with beautiful and deadly women can get pretty silly (like the villain in Heroine’s Mantle who attacks with venomous genitalia ). Inside Woman, while it still has some areas that I don’t agree with, is less problematic and is a lot less buggy than the other games. I was really impressed with its overall size and polish. I look forward to reading along with you!

2 Likes

I love Let’s Plays. Keep it up!

2 Likes

I did take note of your review comments on IFDB before starting this as a source of some assurance that I wasn’t going to get halfway through and run into something really objectionable. There’s definitely some “male author” moments—I don’t think I would have written the description of the player character in the same terms, for example—but it’s definitely not the same vibe as Heroine’s Mantle (which I played a bunch of when it first came out; I don’t think I got to the bit you mentioned, but it doesn’t feel out of place alongside what I do remember).

5 Likes

Part 2 - Your new home

So when we left off we had just made our way through new immigrant registration and arrived at …

Transporter Ring
Creating an efficient, speedy and self-operated shuttle system for a million citizens couldn’t have been an easy task, but trust the geniuses at Utopia to pull it off. The ring in question is a kilometre in diameter, encircling an interlocking, labyrinthine network of spiralling tubes with elevator platforms revolving in a loop pattern. Nobody is kept waiting for long, so the assigned security force is more than adequate. Access tunnels are numbered according to destination level, with the exit on the south side.

In case you get lost – a strong possibility in such a mammoth construction – information points are located every hundred metres.

So I think this is how the map is organised - each floor connects to the transporter ring, and from there you can take the elevator to any of the Arcology’s 40 levels (as long as you have the appropriate authorization).

>X ELEVATOR
There must be over twenty access tunnels, with transport tubes linking this level to each of the others in the lower Arcology. The platform boarding gates are all clearly numbered. It’s all downhill from here; you can take a trip to levels 11 through 34.

>X INFORMATION POINT
Directories have been around since high rise structures first sprung up in the twentieth century. This is the Utopian update, no longer static boards but floating, revolving obelisks with listings for levels instead of floors. The principle remains the same though: look up a number and get the lowdown on that level’s facilities, or conversely, search for a place and find out where you need to go. The entry for this level is:

Arcology Level 35 – ADMINISTRATION – New Citizen Registration

We could, if we wanted to, now look up exactly what’s on every floor of the Arcology, but that would be a heck of an information overload and there’s nothing we can actually do with that information right now anyway. Once we reach the point where we have more than one option for where to go next, I’ll give an overview of how the floors are organised, and then we can look at the specifics of each floor as we gain access to them. But right now, we’ve been told to go and find our new digs, so let’s:

>LOOK UP RESIDENTIAL
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 18 – RESIDENTIAL – Standard Apartments
Arcology Level 19 – RESIDENTIAL – Luxury Apartments

Luxury apartments! I like the sound of those. Let’s see if we can get one!

>ENTER TUNNEL 19
As you approach the access tunnel for level 19, a USF guard takes one look at your bodysuit’s jewels then forcibly ejects you from the elevator tube.

“You are not permitted to enter that level.”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, but this also flags up for us that the jewels on our high-tech, individuality-erasing outfit are some sort of status indicators.

>X JEWELS
Titanium rings doubling as restraints. Their outer rims are studded with clear jewels.

>ENTER TUNNEL 18
As you approach the access tunnel for level 18, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

Welcome Station
According to the neon sign at least, and you do agree with the second part. It’s debatable exactly how welcoming this station is, however. A bare, albeit well lit, octagonal north-south corridor does little to make you feel at home; as the sole entrance to the apartment units, this is a claustrophobic chokepoint for the tide of commuting citizens, and the clanging of bodysuit boots on riveted steel is a constant distraction you could do without.

With hundreds of thousands of living spaces on a single level, you’re guaranteed a navigational headache. Fortunately, the Utopia welcome committee have assigned a hovering droid to assist you.

“Gr-- Gree-- Greetings, Cit-- Citizen FW-2815. I am yo-- your guide-- bot. Foll-- Follow me and I wi-- will esc-- esc-- escort you to your ap-- apar-- apartment.”

The guidebot floats off to the south, antigrav engine stuttering almost as badly as its speech chip.

R-- R-- Really fills you with c-- conf-- confidence, eh?

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

A personal robot escort! This sure beats being bullied around by those thugs up on the registration level!

>S
You chase after the guidebot, following its wavering, zigzagging trail through the apartment level. You make so many turns and doublebacks you quickly lose all sense of direction.

Forest Sublevel
This is where the Utopian underclass live, a sprawling urban habitat home to those the corporation consider poor, ordinary or insignificant. There are pretty touches: lovely, machine drawn wall murals depicting forests of trees and shrubbery in full bloom, and the signposting is useful considering streets stretch off in all four major compass directions. But such an enormous space becomes tiny when you have to pack in half a million residents; even with sublevels connected by ladders, space is at a premium.

Your guidebot’s movements become increasingly erratic.

Ok, I take it back; we got a personal robot escort, but it sucks.

“Crit-- critical mal-- malf-- unction. Assist-- assistance requ-- requi–”

It never finishes the sentence. Buzzing and squealing, the droid flies into your arms. Or should that be dies in your arms? The guidebot shuts down completely, leaving you with one useless robot, in excess of five hundred thousand apartment units to navigate, and no idea which of them is yours.

Aren’t Utopia supposed to be the hotshots of science? Suppose only wealthy executives get state of the art equipment. Good luck finding your way out of this rabbit warren. Don’t ask me where to go.

>X DROID
In retrospect, classic science fiction movies of the twentieth century weren’t too far off in their predictions. They too featured hovering droids with minds of their own powered by antigravity drives, not to mention constant monitoring of citizens with surveillance equipment. This guidebot has no less than six glass eyes around its spherical head for that very purpose. On its scalp (if you can call it that) is an access panel.

A man walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FL-2486.

People will pass us by fairly frequently in this area, it turns out, but no-one sticks around long enough for us to ask them for directions, or indeed interact with them in any other way. So if we want to figure out where we’re supposed to go, maybe we need to get this guidebot working again.

Examining the guidebot’s access panel just repeats the description of the guidebot itself again, so:

>OPEN PANEL
The access panel is secured with hexagonal bolts, and you can’t unscrew them by hand.

>I
You are carrying:
 a damaged guidebot
 a Utopia Technologies bodysuit (being worn)
 an antiviral inhaler

Ok, we don’t appear to have anything immediately useful for repairing a malfunctioning droid, but since no-one seems to be paying attention to us right now, maybe it’s a good opportunity to check out what we grabbed on the way in. Remember, we saw a covert handover between one of the new arrivals and a guard, and then we snaffled the inhaler after the guard accidentally dropped it while leaving the scene.

>X INHALER
An aluminium 200ml cylinder, the kind used for storing medical compounds for personal emergency use. According to the logo engraved on the screw-on base, this one is an official Utopia Medical Services brand. Usage is fairly self explanatory; there’s a pressable nozzle on the top.

>PRESS NOZZLE
You press the inhaler’s nozzle, but nothing comes out.

This doesn’t seem super useful. Why did someone go to all the effort of trying to smuggle it into the Arcology?

>OPEN INHALER
You pull on various sections of the inhaler, but it remains sealed.

>UNSCREW INHALER
You give the base of the inhaler a firm twist. It unscrews a little too easily, and you soon see why: the inside of the cylinder is hollow, a hiding place for a shiny black screwdriver.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Aha! But a screwdriver still seems like an oddly mundane bit of contraband; are we missing anything?

>X SCREWDRIVER
This isn’t the chubby handled, heavy duty tool you see maintenance workers lugging around in toolboxes. No, this is more of a tiny, pocket sized utility for casual use. Strange how light dances along its surface even when you hold it perfectly still, as if you were staring into a pool of reflective black liquid.

This doesn’t sound like your everyday, run-of-the-mill screwdriver.

>FOCUS ON SCREWDRIVER
Hold that up again. Let me see it. That’s no ordinary screwdriver, Alice. What you’ve got there is a morphtool – smart metal, a shapeshifter, a half dozen wrenches in one. It’ll automatically adjust to any small-sized bolt or screw you want to undo or tighten. So that’s what the immigrant was smuggling in.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Well, in that case it would be rude not to take advantage of our good fortune in finding it:

>OPEN PANEL WITH TOOL
(first taking the morphtool)
As the morphtool comes into contact with the bolts, the screwdriver head changes shape to a hexagonal shaped wrench then resolidifies. You soon have the guidebot’s access panel open. Besides circuitry and wiring that would take a PhD in electrical engineering to understand, you see a fried component and an octagonal shaped interface port.

A woman exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of her ID tag: Citizen FL-2491.

>X FRIED
A twisted, vaguely round mass of charred metal. What purpose the busted circuit served is anybody’s guess, but it’s definitely seen better days.

>FOCUS ON IT
From its size and shape, it was probably a power cell.

>TAKE IT
You strip away the fried component from the droid’s circuitry. Now to find a replacement.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

Ok, so we’ve figured out what’s wrong with our guidebot, but we’re going to need to find a new power cell to get it working again. While we’ve got it open, what’s this other thing?

>X INTERFACE PORT
A glorified, copper rimmed, octagonal shaped hole about a centimetre wide. Nothing more to say about it.

>PUT TOOL IN PORT
The morphtool changes shape and fits perfectly in the access port, but despite exerting yourself into a sweat, you’re unable to make any adjustment.

Sadly, it looks like the morphtool’s capabilities don’t extend to interfacing with computer systems. Maybe later we’ll get to soup up our guidebot with extra RAM or something.

Ok, it doesn’t look like we have the resources to repair the guidebot right now. Maybe if we hang around a bit, someone in this vast, impersonal surveillance state will notice we never arrived at our new apartment and send help?

>WAIT 10 MINUTES
You have no idea what time it is.

Oh, right, the in-game help mentioned that you can WAIT X MINUTES but also said that this only works once you find a means of telling the time. But nothing’s stopping us from just WAITing ten times in a row …

(I’ll spare you scrolling past a bunch of Zs, but all we see is more random citizens wandering past, like this one:)

A woman walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of her ID tag: Citizen FL-2483.

Ok, well, maybe there’s somewhere we can get help nearby?

>N
Hope you know where you’re going, because I don’t.

A woman exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of her ID tag: Citizen FK-2499.

>N
You stroll along the street, rather aimlessly.

>N
Okay, but you have no idea where you are.

A man walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FH-2496.

Oh, hang on, there’s something going on here, I think …

>X TAG
Like your old Chinese passport, the Utopia Technologies ID tag is made from clear plastic, rectangular in shape, and stores a digital photograph of yours truly. The biographical information is even briefer this time around, limited to just a name and number.

Alice Wei Ling, Citizen FW-2815

Having walked north, we’re now seeing people with IDs earlier in the alphabet, so we head south half a dozen times (cut from the transcript to save on pointless scrolling) and then wait around until someone else passes …

A man exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FR-2496.

So will five more steps bring us to FW?

(We walk south another five steps, which I’ll once again elide for brevity’s sake.)

A man walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FX-2410.

Huh.

>N
Okay, but you have no idea where you are.

>Z
Time passes.

>Z
Time passes.

A man exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FW-2464.

Ok, we accidentally overshot somehow, but now we’ve found somewhere where the people entering their apartments have the same two-letter designation in their IDs as we do. What happens if we go east or west?

>E
You stroll along the street, rather aimlessly.

>E
Hope you know where you’re going, because I don’t.

>E
Okay, but you have no idea where you are.

>Z
Time passes.

A man exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FW-2750.

>Z
Time passes.

A man walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FW-2798.

Ok, the numbers part seems to be going up now. We’re aiming for 2815, remember.

>E
You stroll along the street, rather aimlessly.

>E
Okay, but you have no idea where you are.

>Z
Time passes.

>Z
Time passes.

A woman walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of her ID tag: Citizen FW-2981.

>W
You stroll along the street, rather aimlessly.

>Z
Time passes.

A man exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FW-2890.

We’re clearly somewhere in the right area. What are we supposed to do now?

>LOOK

Forest Sublevel
This is where the Utopian underclass live, a sprawling urban habitat home to those the corporation consider poor, ordinary or insignificant. There are pretty touches: lovely, machine drawn wall murals depicting forests of trees and shrubbery in full bloom, and the signposting is useful considering streets stretch off in all four major compass directions. But such an enormous space becomes tiny when you have to pack in half a million residents; even with sublevels connected by ladders, space is at a premium.

>X LADDERS
That’s not important to your mission.

>U
You ascend the ladder to the next sublevel. The murals on this floor depict sheer faced mountains that stretch into the sky.

The room name in the status bar has also changed to “Mountain Sublevel”. So the first letter of our citizen ID denotes the level, but we already started on the correct one (presumably the guidebot managed that part at least before it went kaput).

Since your citizen ID in Utopia also appears to be your physical address, that doesn’t bode well for any expectation of social mobility, unless they’re in the business of reissuing IDs any time you move to a nicer apartment…

>D
You descend the ladder to the sublevel below. Here, the murals depict forests of trees and shrubbery in full bloom.

Wait, did the room description also mention …

>X SIGNPOSTS
The street crossing is signposted with a holographic pillar: extra large, easy to see, and immune to tarnishing over time. Historical figures seem to be in vogue – apparently, you’re at the intersection of Washington & 28th.

A woman walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of her ID tag: Citizen FW-2855.

>N
After a half minute’s walk, you come to Victoria & 28th.

A man exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FV-2840.

>N
You proceed to the intersection of Ursula & 28th.

A man walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FU-2856.

Ok, we could probably have saved some time if we’d figured that out at the beginning. Who is this street named for? Ursula Von der Leyen?

>S
Following the signs, you make your way to Victoria & 28th.

>S
Following the signs, you make your way to Washington & 28th.

A man exits an apartment and walks out of sight. You catch sight of his ID tag: Citizen FW-2874.

Ok, we’re at the right intersection. Can we just …

>ENTER APARTMENT 2815
That’s bonded titanium! Who do you think you are? Superwoman?

>ENTER DOOR 2815
That’s bonded titanium! Who do you think you are? Superwoman?

A woman walks past and enters an apartment. You catch sight of her ID tag: Citizen FW-2815.

>X DOOR 2815
Utopia might have cut corners on decoration costs but not on security. Each of the apartment entrances is made of thick, bonded titanium with no gaps between the door and frame. The universal locking mechanism is an x-ray handprint scanner, probably programmed to respond only to the unit’s designated occupant.

The doors on this street are numbered 2800 to 2899.

>PUT HAND ON DOOR 2815
You place your hand on the palmprint scanner for unit number 2815, and the door slides open. Beyond the threshold is the tiniest apartment you’ve ever seen in your life.

We made it! Thanks for nothing, useless guidebot!

Standard Apartment FW-2815
Good job you’re not allergic to small rooms. Everything is ludicrously compact, with hemmed in walls, a quarter of the available floorspace taken up by a droid recharge pod, and a ceiling so low you have to continually crouch to avoid banging your head on the light fixture. The air in here is warm and humid; either there’s no ventilation at all or Utopia have invented airducts invisible to the human eye. Thankfully, you can always cool off in the cryobed.

No wardrobe or cabinets, but the apartment does come with a storage drawer.

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

Ok, let’s take a look at the mod cons of life in Utopia:

>X RECHARGE POD
A concave disc a good half metre in diameter, supported on a pedestal. Too bad its only function is powering up fully working droids; you could use a welding torch or drill, but Utopia probably doesn’t trust its lower class citizens with such equipment.

There is nothing on the recharge pod.

>PUT GUIDEBOT ON POD
You place the guidebot on the recharge pod, hoping it will suddenly spring into life, lose its speech impediment, and assist you in completing your mission. No such luck – it just lies there, unmoving.

>X LIGHT FIXTURE
The lampshade makes an already low ceiling even lower, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a few citizens accidentally bumped their heads after a long night cooling off in their cryobed. The fitting itself is nothing special; controlled by a simple on/off switch and a series of horizontal aluminium rings one below the other, topped off with a commonplace, hundred watt, screw-in lightbulb tube.

The light fixture is currently switched on.

>X CRYOBED
The brainchild of a cryogenics professor in Greater Bavaria, this sleeping chamber could be described as a freezer coffin elevated on six legs. Loved by imsomniacs and hated by carpenters, they have made traditional beds all but extinct in modern society. Once the occupant is safely tucked inside the shell, they are submerged in liquid nitrogen and placed in suspensed animation, not to be revived until a wakeup time set by the user (currently 07:30).

The cryobed is empty.

I suspect we might find ourselves in need of a way to pass large chunks of time at some point, although freezing ourselves in liquid nitrogen feels a little extreme. But since we’re a parser game protagonist, we should also:

>LOOK UNDER BED
Amidst a mass of pipes and valves you spot a conspicuously large red button.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

>X RED BUTTON
Big, red, and has the words “EMERGENCY STOP” written underneath. Can’t be any clearer than that.

I can, of course, not resist:

>PRESS RED BUTTON
You give the red button a good thump. Feel better now? It didn’t do anything, in case you were wondering.

>OPEN DRAWER
You open the storage drawer, revealing a new citizen’s guidebook, a hi-tech digital wristwatch and a cashcard.

Oh boy, more cool stuff thanks to our generous new corporate masters. Let’s check it out!

>TAKE GUIDEBOOK
Taken.

>READ IT
You flick through the guide. The vast majority of the content is tedious, self-indulgent garbage but there are four sections that warrant additional reading: Economy, Ranks, Shifts and Smuggling.

>READ ECONOMY
ECONOMY

The official currency of the Arcology is the Utopian credit. Each citizen is assigned a cashcard for their own personal use which displays their current balance. To combat fraud, replacement cards will NOT be issued under any circumstances.

So if you lose your card, you’re just unable to buy anything ever again? Utopia is meant to be this hypercapitalist mega-corporation, so I would have thought they would want people to keep participating in the economy, but I guess the message here is that the Arcology is also an authoritarian hellhole where disenfranchising dozens of innocent citizens who happened to lose their cashcards is better than risking one instance of fraud.

(Although this does seem like a good way to ensure that a bunch of people end up forced to resort to a life of crime for lack of any alternative.)

>READ RANKS
RANKS

All citizens in the Utopia Arcology are required to wear the official corporate bodysuit at all times. To identify individuals of importance, suit jewels are colour coded according to a citizen’s rank. In order of stature from lowest to highest, ranks are as follows:

Clear - Immigrant (Apartment and registration levels only)
White - Inductee (Residential and free market levels)
Green - Citizen Class 3 (Education levels)
Brown - Citizen Class 2 (Recreation levels)
Purple - Citizen Class 1 (All non-secure levels)

NOTE: Citizens require work permits to access industrial levels (except for the free market on level 13)

WARNING: Falsifying ranks is STRICTLY prohibited and offenders will face severe penalties.

Ok, so the clear jewels on our bodysuit signify that we’re restricted to this level at the moment (and the registration level, which is where we arrived, but there’s nothing more for us up there now). We’re going to have to do something about that if we want to get anywhere with the mission.

>READ SHIFTS
SHIFTS

To ensure maximum efficiency, all Arcology facilities operate twenty four hours a day. Standard working shift patterns are:

MORNING (0600-1200)
AFTERNOON (1200-1800)
EVENING (1800-0000)
NIGHT (0000-0600)

>READ SMUGGLING
SMUGGLING

Here at Utopia, we are strong believers in self-sufficiency. Utopia products are manufactured for Utopia citizens. Any attempts to bring or arrange for contraband to be shipped in from the outside world will be punished. Furthermore, USF personnel stationed at the transporter ring will carry out spot searches to prevent unauthorised transport of prohibited items. Minimum sentence for smuggling is sixth months detention. The following items are illegal and citizens carrying them will be arrested on sight:

Weapons of any description
Cybernetic access jacks (cyberjacks)
Tools (except for maintenance staff)

Ok, we’d better not get caught trying to carry our shiny new morphtool through the transporter ring, then. And that prohibition on cyberjacks sounds like something that’s also likely to be relevant (we already know there’s an access port inside our guidebot, for one thing).

>TAKE WATCH
Taken.

>X IT
A brass banded wristwatch designed and manufactured by the Utopia Technologies subsidiary corporation TimeKeeper. This model’s from the century old Xeron range, featuring the trademark triangular face, military time readout accurate to the pecosecond, and an integrated photosensitive light that switches itself on whenever you’re left in the dark. The watch display is blank. No hours, no seconds, no nothing.

>WEAR IT
You slip the hi-tech watch onto your wrist and tighten the band. Suddenly, without any warning, the face flashes into life and displays the current time. It’s ten o’clock in the morning, or 10:00 in military time format.

[Your score has just gone up by one point.]

It appears that however many turns you spend faffing around before finding the watch, the first time you put it on, it’s always 10:00. From now on, we get the current time of day in the status line, and we get the ability to wait for up to 30 minutes with a single command.

>TAKE CASHCARD
Taken.

>X IT
Utopia’s economy has become so dominant most of the world’s nations have now adopted the credit as their official currency. No coins or paper money are in circulation; everything these days is done electronically. All transactions are handled through cashcards, with costs deducted and rewards applied instantly. A digital counter lets you know exactly how close you are to the poverty line.

Your account balance is 10 credits.

Ok, so this is our new apartment and everything we need to be a productive citizen of Utopia. Except … shouldn’t an apartment have some sort of … hygiene facilities?

I have a sudden sinking suspicion:

>X SUIT
A single, one-piece garment designed to cover the human body from tiptoes to neck and leave no part exposed in between. Almost the entire bodysuit is fashioned from a soft but tough, pitch black material. The few exceptions to this rule are a rectangular shaped, plastic indentation on the waistline (containing your Utopia ID tag) and a set of circular bands around the ankles, wrists and collar – solid titanium rings studded with clear jewels.

>FOCUS ON SUIT
That’s flexiweave, the new environmentally friendly material. It recycles all body waste – sweat, urine and the rest – and expels the recycled products as gases directly into the atmosphere. Man, imagine all the money Utopia saved on lavatories. And don’t worry about smelling, either. The suit cleans itself too. I gotta get myself one of those.

Ok, so those bands that sealed themselves around our wrists and ankles mean that the suit is never coming off? I know Nanci says it’s self-cleaning, but … eww.

I guess this is a value proposition for Utopia technologies; they pay the cost of issuing every new arrival with one of these suits, but they save by not having to install or maintain bathroom or shower facilities anywhere in the Arcology?

Now I’ve remembered that we should be asking Nanci about stuff:

>FOCUS ON CRYOBED
Cryobeds? A sneaky, underhanded way of increasing life expectancy. The retirement age has gone up twenty years since these came into play. Coincidence? Me thinks not.

Damn those evil mega-corporations, sneakily going around increasing everyone’s life expectancy! Although I’m curious as to how this works: it seems like time spent in a cryobed doesn’t count as time in which your body is aging (hence the increased life expectancy) but still has the restorative properties of regular sleep (otherwise everyone in Utopia would presumably be suffering from chronic sleep deprivation, since they apparently don’t spend any time in a regular bed).

>FOCUS ON WRISTWATCH
Ah… the TimeKeeper range. A hundred years ago, when these babies first came out, there was a glitch that made the watch display the current year instead of the time. Can you imagine? How useless is that?

This sounds like a sly reference to something, but I’m drawing a blank. Anyone know? (Either that, or it’s some kind of hint for a puzzle we’ve not uncovered yet.)

>FOCUS ON CASHCARD
No response. You suspect Nanci has nothing to say about the cashcard.

>FOCUS ON GUIDEBOT
Up for a bit of DIY?

Nanci seems to be hinting here about what we’re meant to do next. We can leave the apartment and go back to the transporter ring, but we don’t have permission to visit any levels apart from our current one. Per the guidebook, we’d need to upgrade to at least Inductee status before we can go anywhere else, but we have no idea how to do that. Presumably, the guidebot is supposed give us some sort of instructions, but since its power cell is fried, we’re going to have to fix it before we can make any other progress.

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Identity theft??

I’m assuming by “military time format” they just mean 24-hour time instead of 12-hour, but calling 10:00 “military” time got a laugh out of me.

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Ha, I didn’t notice that! I assume it’s just an oversight; if it’s meant to be foreshadowing an upcoming twist, it was too subtle for me.

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Part 3 - Robot repair

When we left off, we were trying to fix our broken guidebot in the hope that it might be able to show us how to upgrade from Immigrant to Inductee status.

>X RECHARGE POD
A concave disc a good half metre in diameter, supported on a pedestal. Too bad its only function is powering up fully working droids; you could use a welding torch or drill, but Utopia probably doesn’t trust its lower class citizens with such equipment.

On the recharge pod is a damaged guidebot.

Let’s see if Nanci has any hints:

>FOCUS ON IT
It recharges droids. What do you think it does?

>LOOK UNDER IT
You find nothing of interest.

>OPEN IT
There’s nothing on the pod or pedestal to open.

Ok, no obvious way to interact with the recharge pod. What else have we not examined yet in the apartment?

>X FIXTURE
The lampshade makes an already low ceiling even lower, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a few citizens accidentally bumped their heads after a long night cooling off in their cryobed. The fitting itself is nothing special; controlled by a simple on/off switch and a series of horizontal aluminium rings one below the other, topped off with a commonplace, hundred watt, screw-in lightbulb tube.

The light fixture is currently switched on.

Of course, the first thing we do when we find a switch is try flipping it:

>SWITCH OFF LIGHT
You flick the switch into the off position.

Your wristwatch display glows blue, a colour that casts the room in a whole different light – ocean, azure and cyan amongst others. Still, you shouldn’t complain; it’s ample enough illumination to see what you’re doing.

>X RINGS
(the light fixture)
The lampshade makes an already low ceiling even lower, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a few citizens accidentally bumped their heads after a long night cooling off in their cryobed. The fitting itself is nothing special; controlled by a simple on/off switch and a series of horizontal aluminium rings one below the other, topped off with a commonplace, hundred watt, screw-in lightbulb tube.

The light fixture is currently switched off.

That’s the same description we got before, but let’s see if we can take out the tube and have a look inside.

>REMOVE TUBE
(first taking the lightbulb tube)
You twist the bulb, and after some initial resistance from it and additional pressure from you, it turns freely. Two full revolutions later, you have the tube in your hand.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>X IT
Now it’s not glowing so brightly, you can do a better analysis. Nothing too fancy to report – it’s a cylindrical glass tube a quarter of a metre long. The lightbulb contains a universal power cell: a standard, high yield battery used in many modern appliances.

Ok, this was actually more helpful than anticipated. I was assuming that the tube was just a bulb and the fixture contained an external power source of some kind that we might be able to tap into, but in fact the lightbulb tube itself is battery-powered? We can surely live with a gloomy apartment which is lit only by the eerie glow of our new wristwatch if it means getting hold of a new battery for the guidebot.

>OPEN IT
The glass is factory sealed.

>BREAK IT
The glass is hardened, and you can’t break it – at least, not in its present state.

>FOCUS ON IT
A tough nut to crack. Try taking it outside its usual environment and see how it copes with extreme, rapidly changing conditions.

The apartment area had ladders between the sublevels, so perhaps we can drop it from a height?

>N
You exit the apartment and make your way back towards the transporter ring.

Welcome Station
According to the neon sign at least, and you do agree with the second part. It’s debatable exactly how welcoming this station is, however. A bare, albeit well lit, octagonal north-south corridor does little to make you feel at home; as the sole entrance to the apartment units, this is a claustrophobic chokepoint for the tide of commuting citizens, and the clanging of bodysuit boots on riveted steel is a constant distraction you could do without.

No longer required as a light source, your wristwatch display fades until only the time remains.

… or not. Now we’ve found out way to our apartment, the game abstracts away the journey to and from the transporter ring for us—which is convenient, but means we won’t be revisiting the rest of the apartment complex.

>S
Now you’ve been there and back again, negotiating the maze of residential streets is much easier. After ten minutes or so, you arrive at your apartment.

Darkness
It is pitch dark, and you can’t see a thing.

Your wristwatch display glows blue, a colour that casts the room in a whole different light – ocean, azure and cyan amongst others. Still, you shouldn’t complain; it’s ample enough illumination to see what you’re doing.

Standard Apartment FW-2815
Good job you’re not allergic to small rooms. Everything is ludicrously compact, with hemmed in walls, a quarter of the available floorspace taken up by a droid recharge pod, and a ceiling so low you have to continually crouch to avoid banging your head on the light fixture. The air in here is warm and humid; either there’s no ventilation at all or Utopia have invented airducts invisible to the human eye. Thankfully, you can always cool off in the cryobed.

In these cramped conditions, the open storage drawer could be considered a hazard.

On the recharge pod is a damaged guidebot.

Nanci’s hint referred to “extreme, rapidly changing conditions”, so maybe we’re supposed to freeze it instead?

>X CRYOBED
The brainchild of a cryogenics professor in Greater Bavaria, this sleeping chamber could be described as a freezer coffin elevated on six legs. Loved by imsomniacs and hated by carpenters, they have made traditional beds all but extinct in modern society. Once the occupant is safely tucked inside the shell, they are submerged in liquid nitrogen and placed in suspensed animation, not to be revived until a wakeup time set by the user (currently 07:30).

The cryobed is empty.

>OPEN BED
That’s not something you can open.

>PUT BULB IN BED
You put the lightbulb tube into the cryobed.

>TURN ON BED
The bed’s power controls are automated.

Thanks to our new wristwatch, the status line is currently telling us that it’s 10:45.

>SET BED TO 10:50
You set the cryobed’s wakeup time to 10:50. As soon as you’re done, an internal alarm begins to beep, the tones becoming increasingly frequent.

>Z
Time passes.

The cryobed slides closed. There is the sound of rushing liquid from within, then silence.

>WAIT 3 MINUTES
Time passes.

An alarm beeps. A few seconds later, the cryobed slides open.

>X BULB
Now it’s not glowing so brightly, you can do a better analysis. Nothing too fancy to report – it’s a cylindrical glass tube a quarter of a metre long. The lightbulb contains a universal power cell: a standard, high yield battery used in many modern appliances.

No visible change so far …

>TAKE IT
You’re carrying too many things already.

A wild inventory limit appears!

>I
You are carrying:
a cashcard
a hi-tech digital wristwatch (providing light and being worn)
a new citizen’s guidebook
a fried component
a shiny black morphtool
a Utopia Technologies bodysuit (being worn)
a fake antiviral inhaler (which is open but empty)

The fried component sounds like the least useful of the things we’re currently carrying.

>DROP COMPONENT
Dropped.

>TAKE BULB
Taken.

>BREAK IT
The glass is hardened, and you can’t break it – at least, not in its present state.

Maybe we’re meant to get in the bed with it and break it as soon as we wake up?

>SET BED TO 11:00
You set the cryobed’s wakeup time to 11:00. As soon as you’re done, an internal alarm begins to beep, the tones becoming increasingly frequent.

>GET IN BED
You climb into the cryobed and lie flat on your back.

The cryobed slides closed, leaving you in darkness. You feel freezing cold liquid pour through your legs and brush over your face. The drop in body temperature is followed by paralysing, ice cold numbness in your limbs, then unconsciousness. The next things you’re aware of are a beeping alarm, a blast of warm air and the ability to move again. According to your watch, the time is now 11:00.

>BREAK TUBE
The glass is hardened, and you can’t break it – at least, not in its present state.

Nope.

>OUT
You get out of the cryobed.

(As per standard Inform 6 behaviour, the game reprints the room description every time we leave a container, but I’m editing most of those out to minimise transcript clutter.)

Ok, so we didn’t get a chance to do anything with the tube while we were frozen in the cryobed, but maybe that gentle waft of warm air is a hint that we need to do something a bit more extreme? Let’s try the “emergency stop” button that we found under the bed.

>PUT TUBE IN BED
You put the lightbulb tube into the cryobed.

>SET BED TO 11:10
You set the cryobed’s wakeup time to 11:10. As soon as you’re done, an internal alarm begins to beep, the tones becoming increasingly frequent.

>Z
Time passes.

The cryobed slides closed. There is the sound of rushing liquid from within, then silence.

>PRESS RED BUTTON
You give the red button a good thump. Interrupted mid deep freeze, the cryobed lid slides open. The liquid nitrogen inside vapourises to gas in a split second, cooling the surrounding air by enough degrees to make your breath visible. Your respite from the heat doesn’t last long; the humidity soon returns.

>TAKE TUBE
Taken.

>BREAK IT
The lightbulb shatters into a million pieces! Or maybe a thousand. For your destructiveness, you’re rewarded with a useless pile of glass shards and a hopefully useful power cell.

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

Kaboom!

>PUT POWER CELL IN GUIDEBOT
You insert the powercell into the droid’s circuit panel, replacing the damaged component you removed earlier. Being universal, the battery is a perfect fit. Sparks fly as the juice begins to flow again. The guidebot’s antigravity drive kicks in and it flies up into the air. Its first action is to close the access panel and secure the bolts back in place; the second is to deliver a message, this time without the stuttering.

“Systems restored to full power. I am ready to assist you. Now that you have visited your apartment, you have reached Inductee status. I am obligated to inform you that until the induction period is complete, you are restricted to the residential and free market levels of the Arcology.”

Your bodysuit’s jewels glow, changing colour from clear to white.

Happily, this is precisely what we hoped to accomplish by reactivating the guidebot.

Inductee? Getting in Utopia’s good books aren’t we? Options are limited with Big Brother around. You’ll need to find a way to get rid of our friend. The free market sounds interesting. Perhaps you should check it out.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

Oh, great, Nanci, we’ve had the guidebot back up and running for like one whole minute and you’re already telling us to find a way to ditch it again?!

But our Inductee status lets us make a start on exploring some further areas of the Arcology, so let’s head back to:

Transporter Ring
Creating an efficient, speedy and self-operated shuttle system for a million citizens couldn’t have been an easy task, but trust the geniuses at Utopia to pull it off. The ring in question is a kilometre in diameter, encircling an interlocking, labyrinthine network of spiralling tubes with elevator platforms revolving in a loop pattern. Nobody is kept waiting for long, so the assigned security force is more than adequate. Access tunnels are numbered according to destination level, with the exit on the south side.

In case you get lost – a strong possibility in such a mammoth construction – information points are located every hundred metres.

The guidebot follows you, hovering a couple of metres away.

I mentioned earlier that the information points in the transporter ring now allow us to look up the whole floor-by-floor layout of the Arcology. They’re mostly organised in groups of 5:

  • Floors 1-5: Foundations
  • Floors 6-10: Maintenance
  • Floors 11-15: Industrial
  • Floors 16-20: Residential
  • Floors 21-25: Education
  • Floors 26-30: Recreation
  • Floors 31-35: Administration
  • Floors 36-38: Security Tower
  • Floors 39-40: Executive Area

You can also look up floors 41-50 in the directory, but the entry is blank. I don’t know if this is foreshadowing something, or just an implementation wrinkle. Anyway, here are the floors we currently have access to:

>LOOK UP 13
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 13 – INDUSTRIAL – Free Market

>LOOK UP 16
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 16 – RESIDENTIAL – The Waterline Club

>LOOK UP 17
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 17 – RESIDENTIAL – Mess Hall, Food Outlets

Floor 18, of course, is where we are right now.

>LOOK UP 19
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 19 – RESIDENTIAL – Luxury Apartments

>LOOK UP 20
(in the level directory)
Arcology Level 20 – RESIDENTIAL – Spring Gardens Retirement Home

So we have a choice to make! As I mentioned in the intro, I’ve played a little way beyond this point already before coming back to start this LP, so I can confirm that there is exploring to be done and progress to be made on several of the available floors. A couple of them are effectively cordoned off for now, though, so I’m going to post this as a poll with multiple votes allowed and I’ll work down the options in order of popularity.

Where should we check out first?

  • Level 13 (Free Market)
  • Level 16 (The Waterline Club)
  • Level 17 (Mess Hall, Food Outlets)
  • Level 19 (Luxury Apartments)
  • Level 20 (Spring Gardens Retirement Home)
0 voters
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Andy Phillips’s first game, Time: All Things Comes to an End, is a time travel game and includes a watch that tells you the year! It also mentions Gustav Ernst as an expert on time.

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Part 4 - The hand of the market

Ok, so at least for now, the poll is clearly in favour of us following Nanci’s advice and heading to the Free Market first. We’re already at the transporter ring, so let’s …

>ENTER GATE 13
As you approach the access tunnel for level 13, a USF guard sees the morphtool.

“What have you got there? Arrest this woman immediately! Take her to holding.”

The guard and her fellow squaddies close in. You attempt to fight them off, but there are too many. One can only endure so much pain, and you inevitably succumb to their repeated blows. When you awake, you find yourself in a containment field with no hope of completing your mission.

*** You gave yourself away ***

In that game you scored 44 out of a possible 400, in 238 turns, and attained the rank of researcher.

Oops. That was a completely unforced error, of course, because the guidebook told us very clearly that this is what would happen if we tried to carry a prohibited item such as the morphtool through the transporter ring, but I forgot that we were carrying it openly this time. Fortunately, we already know that the guards won’t notice it if we keep it disguised:

Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, UNDO your last move, give the FULL score for that game or QUIT?
> UNDO
Transporter Ring
[Previous turn undone.]

>PUT TOOL IN INHALER
You put the morphtool into the fake antiviral inhaler.

>CLOSE INHALER
You close the fake antiviral inhaler.

>ENTER GATE 13
As you approach the access tunnel for level 13, a USF guard points at the new citizen’s guidebook.

“You’re not permitted to enter the elevator tubes with that, citizen.”

Oh, thanks a bunch, Utopia. You issue us with a guidebook with all of the important information we need to know to get by, but then won’t let us carry it around with us? Really setting us up for success, here.

(There’s also a very smart design decision here, of course. Since most objects can’t be carried between levels, the number of possible interactions is kept limited, which prevents both the player and the designer from being overwhelmed with possibilities.)

We head back to our apartment, which is even less welcoming given that we’ve now smashed the lightbulb tube:

Darkness
It is pitch dark, and you can’t see a thing.

Your wristwatch display glows blue, a colour that casts the room in a whole different light – ocean, azure and cyan amongst others. Still, you shouldn’t complain; it’s ample enough illumination to see what you’re doing.

Standard Apartment FW-2815
Good job you’re not allergic to small rooms. Everything is ludicrously compact, with hemmed in walls, a quarter of the available floorspace taken up by a droid recharge pod, and a ceiling so low you have to continually crouch to avoid banging your head on the light fixture. The air in here is warm and humid; either there’s no ventilation at all or Utopia have invented airducts invisible to the human eye. Thankfully, you can always cool off in the cryobed.

In these cramped conditions, the open storage drawer could be considered a hazard.

On the recharge pod is a guidebot in standby mode.

You can also see some useless pieces of broken glass and a fried component here.

>DROP GUIDEBOOK
Dropped.

Hey, wait a moment. Our current objective, per Nanci, is to try to get rid of the guidebot. If it goes back into standby mode when we enter our apartment, can we just yank the power cell back out again?

>FOCUS GUIDEBOT
That’s right… we’re watching you.

>OPEN PANEL
The access panel is secured with hexagonal bolts, and you can’t unscrew them by hand.

>OPEN INHALER
You open the fake antiviral inhaler, revealing a shiny black morphtool.

>OPEN PANEL WITH TOOL
(first taking the morphtool)
As the morphtool comes into contact with the bolts, the screwdriver head changes shape to a hexagonal shaped wrench then resolidifies. You soon have the guidebot’s access panel open. Besides circuitry and wiring that would take a PhD in electrical engineering to understand, you see a power cell and an octagonal shaped interface port.

>TAKE POWER CELL
You reach for the power cell, but the guidebot withdraws it at speed into a secure, protected niche, only relinquishing it once you withdraw your hand. Seems the guidebot doesn’t want to be deactivated.

Drat. I guess standby mode doesn’t mean that the bot is completely inert. Back to our original plan of exploring the Free Market.

>PUT TOOL IN INHALER
You put the morphtool into the fake antiviral inhaler.

>CLOSE INHALER
You close the fake antiviral inhaler.

>I
You are carrying:
 a cashcard
 a hi-tech digital wristwatch (providing light and being worn)
 a Utopia Technologies bodysuit (being worn)
 a fake antiviral inhaler (which is closed)

Having ditched the guidebook, the rest of this stuff really seems like we’d need to be able to carry it around with us for it to make any sense at all, so hopefully we won’t get stopped again.

And indeed, back at the transporter ring:

>ENTER GATE 13
As you approach the access tunnel for level 13, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

Free Market
Whether it be a play on the word “flea” or Utopia’s idea of a bad joke is beside the point. The dirty, narrow, trash filled streets, portable lights and market stalls are reminiscent of third world dwellings. This is a forgotten shanty town where outcast citizens dress their bodysuits in rags to keep warm. Defiant inhabitants have set up stores to the northwest and east, while the main market throughfare runs from north to south.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

Oh, so this is what Utopia mean by a free market: let all of the lower-ranked citizens loose in an unused level of the Arcology with no infrastructure, maintenance or public services and trust that market forces will push someone to step up and meet the needs in exchange for suitable recompense. And apparently it’s worked just about as well as it did in Grafton, New Hampshire. Hopefully there are no bears here, at least.

>NW

Pete’s Swapshop
The shopkeeper doesn’t need to inform you he despises Utopian credits. Retro signs do the job for him, NO CASHCARDS ACCEPTED and TRADE ONLY - NO CREDS being the two most common (and as it so happens, repeatable) phrases spelled out in flashing neon. Pete, if that’s the owner’s real name, is far too trusting. There are no burglar alarms or bars on the windows, and the display counter doesn’t even had a lid.

Having said that, most of Pete’s stuff isn’t worth stealing. The few items of interest are a camera pen, an octagonal headed cyberjack and a Natalia subbuteo piece.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

So, let’s see. We’ve got our fancy new cashcard but the first store we walk into won’t accept it. It looks like we have to offer something in trade—how exactly that works in terms of valuing what we’re offering and what we’re trading it for while allowing Pete to make a profit will hopefully become clear. Let’s check out what’s on offer:

>X CAMERA PEN
While not as useful as it sounds – there is no pen, or anything to write with at all – this nifty device can still take high detail digital photographs and store images to a datastick (which, incidentally, isn’t currently installed) for viewing or use at a later time. Whatever its drawbacks, every good spy needs a camera, and with its officially endorsed, restriction free status in the Utopia Arcology, this model will do nicely.

This sounds like it’s probably going to be useful for something, but the description implies that it won’t do anything until we can also get hold of a datastick.

>FOCUS IT
Whoa! A camera spy gadget thingy, and it’s not even illegal.

>X CYBERJACK
You’re no cyberfreak but you still recognise this little contraption. It’s what nerds, hackers and C-space surfers call a cyberjack. Worn on the finger like an artificial nail, it plugs directly into an access port and hooks up the user’s brain in neural time – provided they’ve been pre-prepped for cyberspace. Jacks come in the same size and varying shapes; this one has an octagonal head.

>FOCUS IT
A.K.A. Virtual Assassin, a 1990s B-movie classic.

We already know that there’s an octagonal cyberjack port inside our guidebot, which makes this cyberjack extremely relevant to our interests. The description implies that we’ll have to find someone to pre-prep us for cyberspace, though, whatever that entails—I suppose it’s too much to hope that that was part of our preparation for the mission?

>X NATALIA
It’s a subbuteo piece, part of a set from a table soccer game. The five centimetre tall player is a very lifelike woman wearing a royal blue swimsuit. She’s Natalia from the Utopia Freedom according to the text inscribed on the base.

>FOCUS IT
Who in their right mind would collect women in swimsuits?

Andy Phillips is British, as am I, and a quick bit of internet research leaves me not entirely clear how well-known Subbuteo is in the rest of the world. In brief, it’s a children’s football game played by flicking little plastic figures around the pitch; it was all the rage when I was a kid in the early 90s, but it looks like it’s gone into significant decline since then. I can’t help but be tickled by the idea that, of all things, this is the one recognisable bit of British culture that’s survived into the 22nd century.

>X PETE
The store owner is a middle aged, thin, wiry man with grey-black hair. He’s wearing a Utopian bodysuit (surprise, surprise), a brown flat cap and a leather overcoat – a street market trader so stereotypical you wonder if he’s a Utopian agent spying on the “free” market citizens. His item for item policy does make no sense, come to think of it.

>FOCUS HIM
Makes you wonder where the real Utopian spies are. This guy’s gotta be a diversion.

Ok, so we just give an item and get one in return? That’s nice and easy from a gameplay point of view, although the idea that Pete is a Utopian spy and will know that we’re walking around with whatever contraband we’ve traded for doesn’t fill me with confidence. Of course, we already have the guidebot watching us, so maybe this isn’t any worse.

>ASK PETE ABOUT CAMERA
The trader responds with a wry smile. Not one for idle conversation.

>ASK PETE ABOUT HIMSELF
The trader responds with a wry smile. Not one for idle conversation.

Ok, well, let’s see if we can figure out how trading with Pete works.

>GIVE WRISTWATCH TO PETE
You’d better take off the wristwatch first.

>REMOVE WATCH
You can’t seem to get the watch off. Perhaps this is Utopia’s way of ensuring its citizens always know the time.

>GIVE INHALER TO PETE
“That’s worthless for trading! I don’t want that.”

>OPEN INHALER
You open the fake antiviral inhaler, revealing a shiny black morphtool.

>GIVE TOOL TO PETE
(first taking the morphtool)
You place the morphtool in the display counter.

“Good,” says the trader. “Now what would you like?”

>TAKE CAMERA
“An excellent choice.”

Ok, looks like we just give him something that he deems “valuable”, and then he’ll let us take something else?

>PHOTOGRAPH PETE
The camera pen won’t do anything without a datastick installed.

As I suspected, looks like we’ll need to come back for this once we’ve got hold of a datastick and found something we want to photograph. In the meantime, let’s check whether we can swap back:

>GIVE CAMERA TO PETE
You place the camera pen in the display counter.

“Good,” says the trader. “Now what would you like?”

>TAKE TOOL
“An excellent choice.”

Ok, so it looks like we can freely swap items around when we need them and then get our bartered item back afterwards, which makes life easy. At the moment, we have no datastick, so we can’t use the camera, and we have no obvious use for a Subbuteo piece. The cyberjack does sound useful, but we need to be prepped for cyberspace first, and we’d need something else to offer in trade in any case: if we give Pete the morphtool, we won’t be able to open the guidebot in order to use the cyberjack.

For now, we head back into the Free Market and go east instead:

>E

Cards Galore
They’re all over the place, for sure. Revolving racks filled with greeting cards for every conceivable occasion lie toppled, their former contents scattered across the floorboards. The counter’s windows are smashed, miscellaneous pieces of paper are strewn everywhere from the door to the back corner, and it was no accident. Utopia’s Security Force have given the shop a good ransacking.

The owner’s printing machine remains intact, however.

This year’s calendar hangs on a rusty nail, also apparently untouched by the USF.

The guidebot follows you, hovering a couple of metres away.

The shop’s proprietor is pinned to the wall by a statuesque, muscle bound blonde. A trooper accompanies her, but she’s quite capable of handling the man alone. The woman is dressed differently from other citizens; instead of the standard black attire, her bodysuit is gleaming, polished silver.

“What’s this?” she grunts, pulling a pass from the man’s pocket and throwing it over her shoulder. “Forgery. That costs us credits. We don’t like that. Trials waste credits and time. We don’t like those either.”

The man gurgles, words choking as the woman closes her fingers around his throat. In a show of brute force, she lifts him off the floor one-handed. She watches him struggle for a few seconds, then snaps his neck with a single flick of her wrist. The executioner turns, noticing you for the first time. As if you don’t exist, she walks straight past you, carrying the man’s broken body in her powerful arms. You catch sight of something around the woman’s neck: a choker adorned with an amber bear figurine.

The USF guard follows her, pausing only to issue a thinly veiled warning. “You saw nothing, citizen. Understand?”

I knew Utopia was sick, but murdering people for skirting the system? And who are we supposed to report the murder to? The police? That crazy witch was the police.

Ok, so just in case anyone wasn’t yet convinced by the armed guards, the authoritarian restrictions on possessions and travel, the surveillance robots and the trash-strewn shanty town, we’ve now witnessed a summary execution without trial: I think we can file the Arcology under “dystopian nightmare”.

I can’t quite picture how you snap someone’s neck with a flick of the wrist while holding them one-handed by the throat, but the overarching message that the woman in silver is not to be trifled with is received loud and clear, and I strongly suspect this isn’t the last we will see of her. I assume we’ll also discover the significance of her amber bear choker later on. In the meantime, let’s see what’s been left behind following the raid on the shop.

>X CARDS
That’s not important to your mission.

>X RACKS
That’s not important to your mission.

>X CALENDAR
A calendar for the year 2165 AD. This is the strictly no frills, one numbered box per day of the month variety without pictures.

The month of August has no marked entries.

>TURN PAGE
You turn the calendar page. The month of September has no marked entries.

>G
You turn the calendar page. The month of October has no marked entries.

>G
You turn the calendar page. The month of November has a hand scribbled entry in 17 that reads BIRTHDAY.

To save you having to scroll through all twelve pages, the other entries in the calendar are CHRISTMAS on December 25, ANNIVERSARY on February 4 and FOOL’S DAY on April 1.

>TAKE CALENDAR
Taken.

>X PRINTING MACHINE
Amber Bear probably wanted to wreck it, but even a woman of her superhuman strength can’t break solidified ceramite. With the inner workings sealed in an unbreakable plastic shell, you’re limited to operating what’s on the outside. In truth, you’re only making the assumption this is a printer. You see nothing on the cuboid case other than two openings; the first is wide and thin, the second small and circular.

Both the openings are empty.

If the owner was forging passes, presumably this printer might have been something to do with it, which means maybe it’s useful to us?

A look around the room reveals two things which weren’t mentioned when we walked in:

A rusty iron nail sticks out of the wall, positioned at eye-level.

You can also see a Waterline Club member’s pass here.

The nail is what the calendar was hanging on, but I don’t know if the fact that it’s highlighted in the room description might mean that there’s something else we have to do with it?

>TAKE PASS
Taken.

>X IT
It’s a membership pass for the Waterline Club on level 16. You know this because the club’s name and address are written on the top. Laminated in clear plastic, it features a digital image of the card shop owner’s face. Printed to the right of that is “Sebastian Rickard” and a citizen ID number. He won’t be needing that anymore, poor man.

>FOCUS IT
The pass seems authentic, for what good it’ll do you.

We know it’s not authentic, or at least Amber Bear didn’t think it was, so I guess what Nanci means here is that it’s a convincing fake?

>FOCUS PRINTER
Send me a postcard.

>PUT PASS IN PRINTER
You slide the member’s pass into the thin slot. It fits perfectly, like it belongs there.

Is that because it came out of there, or could we put it back in and print something else onto it? What about the small hole?

>PUT MORPHTOOL IN PRINTER
The morphtool fits, as you’d expect, but it does no good.

Although I’d made some progress in other areas before going back to start this LP, I genuinely haven’t figure out what to do with the printer yet, so do let me know if there’s anything that you think I should try. My best guess is that once we’ve found a datastick for the camera, maybe that’s what plugs into the small hole, and maybe we can take a photo of our own face and print it onto the pass over the one that’s already there, or something?

We haven’t been south from the starting area of the Free Market yet, but I’m going to save that for next time, and then we’ll head down to the Waterline Club and see if we can find anything useful to do with the late Mr Rickard’s pass.

2 Likes

Part 5 - The bum and the bouncer

When we left off, we’d started exploring the Free Market and discovered that it’s actually just a filthy, unmaintained slum. From the starting area, we’ve yet to explore what lies to the south:

>S

Trash City
You’re now moving into darker territory. This is the realm of shadows and nocturnal creatures, animals and humans alike. The whole area is one massive, stinking, vermin infested junkpile; what the denizens can’t scavenge from the waste they leave to rot. Steel pillars rise from the garbage heaps, supporting the level above. That’s the extent of Utopia’s involvement in this sector. Heat, light, food – the very basics of survival are left to the citizens.

Rubbish has been cleared from an area ten metres square. A barrel of trash burns in the centre, watched over by a homeless man.

The guidebot follows you, hovering a couple of metres away.

“Welcome to the free market,” says the man, grinning through yellow teeth. “Ha! That’s a joke. After all, who in the Arcology is free? Utopia, in their infinite generosity, gave us a place to set up shop. But do they give us nice shiny offices? Startup capital? Advice? No! All we get is level thirteen, an empty metal shell the corporation doesn’t want. Most companies don’t have a thirteenth floor for superstitious reasons, but Utopia had to get all sentimental and give us the illusion of a free society.”

>X MAN
You refer to the man as homeless because you’ve seen his type in the slums of Shanghai: raggy, filthy, downbeat and penniless. His age is indiscernible, facial features smeared in oil and mud. Like all Utopia citizens, he wears an irremovable bodysuit, but that hasn’t stopped him covering it up with scrap metal and modified junk.

“Don’t believe me?” asks the homeless man. “Why do you think they assign those spybots? Sure, their official titles are guidebots, but everyone knows what they’re for. I even gotta sound crazy and paranoid when I talk, in case the men in black are listening. So how close are you to green status? Met your quotas yet?”

The homeless man lowers his voice to a whisper.

“They don’t tell you this, but your metal chum over there is keeping track of how many paid hours you work and how many credits you make. Reach the magic number and your induction’s over. No more droid tailing you. Doesn’t mean Utopia’s not watching. They always watch. Anyway, you need to work at least eight fully paid hours and make at least five hundred credits. Then you can begin your formal education.”

Ok, well, despite the unlikely source of the information, this sounds like it might be a goal: eight hours worked and five hundred credits earned and we upgrade to green, which according to the guidebook was Level 3 citizen status.

>FOCUS MAN
Take care. This one looks shifty.

“But that could take a while. If you’re impatient or lazy, or both, I know a guy called Jack who could help you cut a few corners. You get my drift? Course, Jack’s hard to get hold of. And you need to speak his language. If you’re not able to, he’ll be no help at all. I can help you with that. But why should I? You look all sexy and beautiful, like you got money to burn.”

I think Edward Nygma just made you an offer. He’s probably only being so cryptic because Utopia’s watching. Or maybe he’s just a nutcase who likes to talk in riddles.

“Then again, with your friend keeping an eye on you and giving handouts to scavengers being a corporate offence, you might want to hold on to what you got. Photos of money changing hands is hard evidence to refute in a sentencing chamber.”

I wonder if Jack’s full name might be … cyberjack by any chance? The idea that “Jack” might help us to cut some corners with our probationary period makes sense in that context, and the warning that we need to “speak Jack’s language” might be referring to the need for cyberspace prep that was mentioned to us earlier. Is that what this extremely trustworthy man is offering to help us with?

The warning about avoiding photos of money changing hands is also something we’ll need to bear in mind.

>ASK MAN ABOUT JACK
“I told you. Find Jack if you want to cut corners.”

>ASK MAN ABOUT GUIDEBOT
“I told you. Find Jack if you want to cut corners.”

>ASK MAN ABOUT MONEY
“I already said. You need eight credited work hours and five hundred on your card.”

>ASK MAN ABOUT WORK
“I may have been here a while but I don’t know everything.”

Ok, as far as finding somewhere to earn some money goes, it doesn’t look like he has any pointers for us. I can’t find any other conversation topics for which the man gives a non-default response.

The homeless man warms his hands over the burning trash.

>X TRASH
An old, rusty oil barrel converted to a portable heater. The flames are fuelled by unwanted books, rags and alcohol.

>FOCUS IT
Finally. Somebody found a use for Utopia’s propaganda.

The homeless man warms his hands over the burning trash.

For completeness, we’ll check a couple of other nouns from the room description:

>X PILLARS
That’s not important to your mission.

>X JUNKPILE
That’s not important to your mission.

No further exits are mentioned in the room description either, but if we try to move on:

>W
Exploring the free market further would be an unnecessary risk to take.

>S
Exploring the free market further would be an unnecessary risk to take.

“I thought you Chinese were rich. What happened? Did your income go up in flames?”

>E
Exploring the free market further would be an unnecessary risk to take.

Given that we’re already on an undercover mission in an authoritarian dystopia where we would almost certainly be executed if the security forces got wind of our true objective, I’m not totally sure how exploring more of the free market makes our position any more risky, but I’m going to go with just being grateful to the author for making it pretty clear that there’s nowhere further to go from here.

Instead, we head back to the transporter ring and then up to the Waterline Club.

>ENTER GATE 16
As you approach the access tunnel for level 16, a USF guard sees the morphtool.

“What have you got there? Arrest this woman immediately! Take her to holding.”

Oops. I’m not sure I’m cut out for a life of espionage.

> UNDO
Transporter Ring
[Previous turn undone.]

>PUT TOOL IN INHALER
You put the morphtool into the fake antiviral inhaler.

>CLOSE INHALER
You close the fake antiviral inhaler.

>ENTER GATE 16
As you approach the access tunnel for level 16, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

Orange Light District
Utopia has to be unique, hence the variation from the more usual red. The streets are lit by sodium lamps that, when combined with the projected cityscape backdrop, create the illusion of sunset – the time when day ends and night begins. Mercifully, there are no strip joints, adult holovideo stores, purple clad pimps, or prostitutes combing sidewalks. Posters plastered on the walls advertise events in the district’s only establishment: the Waterline Club.

A closed security barrier bars passage south.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

I guess the Waterline Club must be a pretty sizeable establishment, if it takes up an entire level of the Arcology. I have to confess at this point that it took me rather too long to connect the mention earlier of the Arcology being partially submerged with the name “Waterline Club”— presumably, the club is on the actual waterline (and so levels 1-15 of the Arcology are underwater).

>X LAMPS
That’s not important to your mission.

>X POSTERS
The musical performances put on at the Waterline Club are advertised with cheap posters: Classical Hour (22:00), Rap Hour (23:00), Country and Western Hour (00:00), Blues Hour (01:00), Soul Hour (02:00) and Punk Rock Hour (03:00).

>FOCUS POSTERS
No response. You suspect Nanci has nothing to say about the posters.

>X BARRIER
A centimetre thick, reinforced steel barricade, resembling a blast door in a missile silo. Appropriate, since it would take a nuclear warhead to breach it. No guards are posted, and from what you can tell, the gate operates on a daily timed loop. There’s a sign on the adjacent wall that reads:

THE WATERLINE CLUB

The Arcology’s favourite and only nightspot

I think that’s what we call “damning with faint praise.”

OPENING HOURS 22:00 to 04:00 – ADULTS ONLY

>FOCUS BARRIER
Utopia and tight security? Who’d have thought it?

>S
You can’t, since the security barrier is in the way.

It’s currently early afternoon. The game seems to intend for us to go back to the apartment and enjoy a few hours of cryogenic suspension if we want to come back when the club is open, but Alice Ling is a woman of limitless patience:

>WAIT 30 MINUTES
Time passes.

>G
Time passes.

I will spare you scrolling past the rest, but finally, it’s 21:59 …

>Z
Time passes.

With a loud creak, the security barrier raises into its open position.

The second the Waterline Club opens for business, a bouncer arrives on the scene to begin her nightly watch.

>X BOUNCER
At one metre sixty, she’s more diminutive than most bouncers you’ve met, but the Asian girl on door duty at the Waterline Club isn’t someone you’d argue with lightly. Eyes unblinking, she stands alert and attentive. There isn’t a single scar on the woman’s body; either she’s never got in a fight (unlikely) or she’s trained in unarmed combat.

>ASK BOUNCER ABOUT CLUB
“I’m here to do a job, not talk to you.”

A solitary female citizen passes through the open barrier.

>S
The bouncer raises her leg high, booted foot stopping mere millimetres from your neck. Only when you back away does she resume her stance.

“Your pass or you don’t pass. Got it?”

Hoping to get through just by waving Sebastian Rickard’s pass feels like a long shot, but let’s at least see what happens when we try:

>SHOW PASS TO BOUNCER
You can’t see any such thing.

>I
You are carrying:
 this year’s calendar
 a cashcard
 a hi-tech digital wristwatch (being worn)
 a Utopia Technologies bodysuit (being worn)
 a fake antiviral inhaler (which is closed)

A solitary male citizen passes through the open barrier.

What happens, it turns out, is that we realise that we left the late Sebastian Rickard’s pass hanging out of the slot in his printer.

A brief diversion back down to level 13 (miraculously avoiding being arrested en route for once), and we return to try again:

>SHOW PASS TO BOUNCER
“You must think I’m real stupid. That or you’re none too bright yourself. With the bounty Utopia’s got on forgers, this has to be my lucky day.”

The bouncer cries USF, and troops come running from the transporter ring. The soldiers promptly place you under arrest for falsifying documents. And as you’re only too aware, Utopia is lethally brutal when dealing with criminals.

*** You gave yourself away ***

In that game you scored 44 out of a possible 400, in 369 turns, and attained the rank of researcher.

Well, we didn’t expect that to work, and indeed it didn’t, but I’m still not completely clear what the problem with the pass is. I was expecting the bouncer to point out that the pass bears the name and photo of someone who is clearly not Alice Ling, but instead she zeroed in immediately on the fact that it’s a forgery. Amber Bear was also apparently able to identify it as forged by sight, but Nanci told us that it appeared authentic. So if we want to get into the club (which we have little reason to do at present, but I have the feeling it’ll be needed at some point), do we need to concentrate on altering the details on the pass, making the forgery more convincing, or both?

Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, UNDO your last move, give the FULL score for that game or QUIT?

This reminds me that I haven’t included a score update in any of the posts so far, so let’s take a look now:

> FULL

In that game you scored 44 out of a possible 400, in 369 turns, and attained the rank of researcher.

The score was made up as follows:

 2 arriving at the Arcology
 2 learning to focus
 3 passing Utopia’s security check
 2 opening the smuggler’s inhaler
 4 finding your apartment unit
 2 learning about the morphtool
 1 keeping track of time
 2 finding the red button
 4 acquiring a power cell
 3 attaining inductee status
 15 acquiring various items
 4 visiting various places

 44 total (out of 400)

So as a very approximate figure, we’re probably around a tenth of the way through the game.

Our current medium-term goal is to get rid of the guidebot. Options for doing this seem to include finding something valuable (other than the morphtool) which we can trade to Pete for the cyberjack, or finding someone who can offer us at least five hundred credits in exchange for at least eight hours of honest employment. Once we have some money, we may also be able to pay the homeless man in the Free Market to get us prepped to access cyberspace.

So, where to explore next?

  • Level 17 (Mess Hall, Food Outlets)
  • Level 19 (Luxury Apartments)
  • Level 20 (Spring Gardens Retirement Home)
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Part 6 - The happy ever after

At least when I started this, the poll was narrowly in favour of checking out Spring Gardens Retirement Home next, so off we go:

>ENTER GATE 20
As you approach the access tunnel for level 20, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

>S

Passage to the Afterlife
Although you’re just visiting, that’s how this place feels. It’s an artist’s take on heaven, with exquisite, white stone arches and angelic music playing in the background. For those committed here, this is the beginning of the end. Retiring to a foreign country (or even another city in Utopia territory) is not an option for Arcology citizens. Those too old or senile to work live out their remaining days on this level, segregrated from the rest of society.

A closed security barrier bars passage south.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

At least it’s implied that some people live to reach retirement age in Utopia.

>X BARRIER
A centimetre thick, reinforced steel barricade, resembling a blast door in a missile silo. Appropriate, since it would take a nuclear warhead to breach it. No guards are posted, and from what you can tell, the gate operates on a daily timed loop. There’s a sign on the adjacent wall that reads:

SPRING GARDENS RETIREMENT HOME

Reside in Utopia, Achieve in Utopia, Play in Utopia, Die in Utopia

VISITING HOURS: 09:00 to 17:00

Well, we’ve come here directly from trying to get into the Waterline Club, which means it’s currently the late evening. However, no timed security barrier is a match for the limitless patience of Alice Ling!

>WAIT 30 MINUTES
Time passes.

>G
Time passes.

… et cetera, et cetera. (I should add that the in-game help mentions there’s no overall time limit for completing the mission, so hopefully we shouldn’t need to go back and optimize by coming here earlier, rather than wasting half of yesterday waiting around for the Waterline Club to open.)

Time passes.

With a loud creak, the security barrier raises into its open position.

>S

Retirement Home
You feel as if you’ve travelled back in time to the nineteenth century. Perhaps the older generation prefer living amongst antiques, and the pre-industrial Victorian decor does have a certain eye-pleasing charm. No metal walls here, and the only item remotely technical on display is a mahogany framed grandfather clock. The upstairs rooms are for residents only, but visitors are free to explore the grounds to the north, southeast and southwest.

That’s something you don’t see much today: a brass prongkey, hung on an equally old fashioned wallhook behind the front desk.

According to the nametag on her uniform, the receptionist on duty is named Karyn.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

>X CLOCK
More yester-century than yesteryear, this is an old school timepiece restored to perfection. Hand crafted from dark brown mahogany, the clock’s frame houses a face painted with roman numerals, matching hour and minute hands, and a swinging, iron bobbed pendulum. Despite its age, the clock keeps perfect time.

Examining the pendulum or face of the grandfather clock just repeats the description of the clock itself.

>X KARYN
The morning shift receptionist is a young woman by the name of Karyn. Her nametag doesn’t tell you anything else about her, but she fits the assistant stereotype to a tee: attractive, warm smile, looks good in Utopian uniform. As the first point of contact, she’s the lady to ask if you have any questions about the retirement home or its residents. Heck, the girl probably has stock answers memorised and ready.

Ok, well, we don’t really have any reason that we know of to be here, yet, except that we’re trying to find employment so that we can be grated citizen status. So:

>ASK KARYN ABOUT WORK
“This home will fulfill all your retirement needs.”

>ASK KARYN ABOUT EMPLOYMENT
“Sorry. I can’t help you with that.”

>ASK KARYN ABOUT MONEY
“Sorry. I can’t help you with that.”

>ASK KARYN ABOUT CLOCK
“Always show respect for your elders.”

Doesn’t seem like she’s going to help us much unless there’s something specific we need to know more about.

>X KEY
Known simply as “keys” in the olden days before mechanical locks became obselete, these wieldy, triple Ms (multipronged metallic monstrosities) are refreshingly security-lite.

I assume we won’t get away with this, but we wouldn’t be the protagonist in a parser puzzle game if we didn’t try to grab everything not nailed down:

>TAKE IT
The receptionist glares at you, a silent warning to keep your hands to yourself.

>ASK KARYN ABOUT KEY
“It’s for the gate. We had to close it due to a burst water main.”

Both the key and the clock are clearly relevant for something, but so far we can’t tell what, so let’s explore a bit further first.

>SW

Arboretum
The true Spring Gardens start here in an insulated, domed greenhouse lit and heated by four artificial suns: huge, glowing white plasma balls suspended from the glass ceiling. With such high energy input, it’s no wonder the shrubbery in full bloom. Exotic trees, plants, and flowers from all over the world have been transplanted here for scientific study.

The path continues southwest. Or it would do, except there’s a closed, wrought iron gate in the way.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

>X SUNS
That’s not important to your mission.

>X SHRUBBERY
You can’t see any such thing.

>X PLANTS
What species are in the garden? A better question might be: which ones aren’t? There’s the commoners (roses, tulips, daffodils), the luxuries (sugar canes, cocoa), and the killers (venus flytraps, deadly nightshade). Add the thousands you don’t recognise, and this is one botanical collection.

>SEARCH PLANTS
One of the roses reflects the artificial sunlight. Curious, you take a closer look. Hey! That’s painted steel!

Why is there a steel rose hidden in the garden? No idea. What is it good for? No idea. Are we pocketing it anyway? Heck yes.

>TAKE STEEL ROSE
Taken.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>X IT
A work of art so brilliant even the keen eyed would be fooled into thinking it was real. The shaping of the red petals is perfect, the leaves angled just right. And it feels soft, as a flower should. If it wasn’t for a tiny patch on the lower stem, where steel shines through eroded paint, you’d never know the rose was metal underneath.

>FOCUS IT
You’re okay if you ever want to propose to Superman.

Now to see if we can get any further into the gardens:

>X GATE
And so the timewarp continues. The two metre tall gate and neighbouring fence are galvanised to protect against rust, but apart from that the technology is strictly ancient, right down to the mechanical lock and keyhole. It’s not a new construction; thick, ivy creepers have wound their vines around the iron bars and established a foothold.

An affixed sign reads: SPRING GARDENS CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. NO ADMITTANCE.

>OPEN IT
It seems to be locked.

Examining the creepers or the fence repeats the same description as the gate. Anyway, we’ve seen the key for the gate back in the reception area, but this is only a fence after all, so perhaps we can just …

>CLIMB GATE
With the assistance of the ivy creepers, you pull yourself over the wrought iron gate, drop down on the other side, then continue along the path. After fifty metres, it curves to the west.

Flooded Garden
Now you know why they call them Spring Gardens. One of the pumping pipes that feed the fountains has burst, and you’re up to your knees in swirling, muddy water. Your problems get even deeper to the west where a treacherous, fast flowing river separates you from a grassy island. Not a catastrophe on the scale of the Great Flood which sunk San Francisco a hundred years back, but you’ve got problems all the same.

The raging waters have really done a number on the western walkway; many of the support cables have come loose, and the wooden slats are at an angle.

The guidebot floats after you, never far behind.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Trying to examine the burst pipe or the fountains just gets a dismissive “that’s not important to your mission”. The water, on the other hand:

>X WATER
The water flooding the garden is brown and murky, obscuring the bottom from view.

>FOCUS WATER
Afraid of getting your hands dirty?

This feels like we’re being given a hint …

>SEARCH WATER
You reach underwater, dredging your fingers through the mud for anything that might be of use. Your efforts pay off. Buried in the wet soil, you find a magnetic gun.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

Why is this here? Who knows? Perhaps some worn-down USF veteran, free at last to retire after a decades-long career of grinding innocent citizens under their boot-heel, cast it away here as a final act of self-liberation. Whatever the reason, we’re clearly taking it with us (although just as clearly, there’s no way we’re getting it off this level past the guards at the transporter ring).

>X GUN
You’ve seen these weapons before on the UTN cop show “Level 33”. Magnetic guns, or maguns for short, are (supposedly) non-lethal sidearms capable of repelling metal objects up to a distance of twenty metres away: armoured troops, knives, even bullets to some degree. It goes without saying that said weapon is useless against anything non-magnetic, and decreases in effectiveness with the size of the target.

>FOCUS GUN
Girls with guns – an unbeatable combination. You chose the wrong career. Should have been a Hong Kong action star.

Ok, having found the gun, can we get any further into the gardens?

>X WALKWAY
The architects never intended the walkway to be a bridge, and it shows. The right hand guiderail has snapped under pressure. Without its support, the lower planks have tilted down into the river. Water splashes continually over the slanted wood; an agile woman like yourself should make it across, but you’ll need to take care.

Examining the guiderail or the planks gives the same text as examining the walkway.

>FOCUS WALKWAY
That’s a real slippery customer. Don’t get cold feet now.

So can we cross safely or not?

>W
Holding onto the surviving guiderail, you cross the slippery planks to the other side.

Grassy Island
Before the disaster with the pump, this was the highest point on a grass plain. Now the water level has risen two metres, it’s little more than an oversized stepping stone, and the moat surrounding the island would be impassable if it weren’t for the walkway on the east side.

Located offshore, but well within reach, is a marble plinth.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

>X PLINTH
A black, marble platform supported on a cuboid base. The bottom is half submerged in water, but the plinth seems to be holding its own pretty well. There’s an inscription which reads “For those who survived the Great Flood of 2065.” Rather ironic, under the circumstances.

>FOCUS IT
No response. You suspect Nanci has nothing to say about the marble plinth.

The plinth is clearly part of a puzzle to come, but there doesn’t seem to be any indication of what we’re meant to do with it right now, so let’s head back. We return to the reception area of the retirement home, and head southeast instead:

>SE

Activity Area
By activities you mean painting, writing, holoboard games, or whatever else the prisoners (sorry, residents) do to fill up their spare time. The old citizens look tired, deflated and resigned to their fate; with nowhere else to go and few visitors, life for these people is dull, repetetive and devoid of excitement. When you’re done feeling sorry for them, the retirement home reception is back to the northwest.

One of residents wheels himself across-- that’s right, wheels. The poor man is confined to a chair.

(I’m not intending to throw any shade on Andy Phillips by saying this, since awareness of the harm done by ableist language has come on a lot since 2009, but I should mention that “the poor man is confined to a chair” is not an acceptable way to describe a wheelchair user nowadays.)

“What’s the matter stranger? Lost? Nobody comes to listen to Old Bruce anymore. This is a place for the old and wise. You’re certainly not the former, unless you can afford laser surgery and I doubt you can. The latter… hmmm… we’ll have to see about that.”

Phew. Thought for a moment there he was going to give you a quest. Like they do in role playing games. You are in a retirement home when an old man comes up to you…

Spoiler: he is absolutely about to give us a quest.

Some of the artwork is impressive, none more so than a steel sculpture of the old TransAmerica Building.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

>X SCULPTURE
“Leave that alone,” says Old Bruce. “Do I go touching your things for no reason?”

>X BRUCE
The white haired, bony, legless man and his wheelchair have both seen better days. At an estimate, the old timer must be at least a hundred and twenty. His forehead is lined with wrinkles and grey eyes bulge from their sockets. His transport fares marginally better – the chair is intact, its wheel creaky but free of grime. For a man used to being pushed around, Bruce has a few years fight left in him yet.

If he’s a hundred and twenty, I guess this means his physical age is what we’d recognise as somewhere between eighty and ninety, if we’re correctly interpreting Nanci’s earlier comment about cryosleep and life expectancy?

>FOCUS HIM
He’s not in our files. Safe to assume he’s eccentric, but harmless.

>ASK BRUCE ABOUT SCULPTURE
“Questions? Questions is all you young people have. Don’t be so impatient.”

“Still here? You young people have no time for us.”

I’m sure we can find it in ourselves to make a few minutes for him, given that we just stood outside the entrance to the retirement home for ten hours waiting for it to open. But just waiting to see what he has to say doesn’t seem to be the answer:

>Z
Time passes.

>Z
Time passes.

Well, if Bruce wants to talk to us, maybe we just need to prompt him to show that we’re willing to listen?

>ASK BRUCE ABOUT HIMSELF
“Questions? Questions is all you young people have. Don’t be so impatient.”

>ASK BRUCE ABOUT QUEST
“Questions? Questions is all you young people have. Don’t be so impatient.”

“Still here? You young people have no time for us.”

I will confess that at this point I had to look to the hints to find the correct command for letting Bruce share what he clearly wants to say.

>LISTEN TO BRUCE
“So one of the younger generation wishes to hear what I have to say. That is a surprise in itself, even for someone like me. Someone who remembers the majesty of San Francisco before the ocean swallowed the city whole. The cable cars, Fisherman’s Wharf, the TransAmerica Pyramid. Yes, that’s my work you see over there.”

Old Bruce pauses for breath then continues.

“We’d felt the earth shudder before, tremors that laid ruin, and still we kept on building and rebuilding. Building towers ever taller. What for? To show off? To satisfy our egos? Our ancestors learned nothing, just as we learned nothing. Look around you? What have we learned?”

[Your score has just gone up by one point.]

>G
You’re already listening.

“You might think me hypocritical. After all, I am here like you, in the Arcology. But I have my reasons, as do you. I can tell there’s something different about you. Your eyes betray a hatred for Utopia, but you’re still an Inductee. You did not come here in awe, to marvel at the achievements of the corporation. I will say no more. After all, we are not alone. Nobody is ever alone within these walls.”

>G
You’re already listening.

“No. I’m afraid all I have is memories. I remember how we ignored warnings for decades, governments promising to protect the environment. Empty promises from empty people. And because of our neglect, the polar ices thawed. Because of our neglect, land was taken away, reclaimed by the sea. Where there was once a wealthy state, today there are only deserted islands.”

If Bruce is a hundred and twenty years old, his earliest memories are presumably from somewhere around 2050. If we’re still getting empty promises instead of concrete action by that point, humanity is definitively screwed.

>G
You’re already listening.

“For all their faults, however, you have to admire Utopia’s ingenuity, constructing this Arcology against such overwhelming odds. Through working together, they achieved the impossible. How the Director must despise the citizens in here. They are like drones. They wander from place to place, simply doing what they’re told. They cannot think for themselves. Whenever they have a problem, they send for maintenance.”

Old Bruce glances at his sculpture, then back at you.

“I wonder. Are you truly different from the others? I built that sculpture to remember what was lost, to sit on a plinth in Spring Gardens. But with the gardens closed off and flooded, I could not finish what I started. But perhaps we can finish it together, and you can show me that not everything was lost in the flood.”

Ha! I knew it. I just knew it! A quest.

Deliver this sculpture to the gardens? No problem, right?

>TAKE SCULPTURE
You’re carrying too many things already.

>I
You are carrying:
a magnetic gun
a painted steel rose
a Waterline Club member’s pass
this year’s calendar
a cashcard
a hi-tech digital wristwatch (being worn)
a Utopia Technologies bodysuit (being worn)
a fake antiviral inhaler (which is closed)

Hopefully none of the other retirees are too acquisitive, and we can come back for our stuff later.

>DROP ROSE
Dropped.

>DROP PASS
Dropped.

>DROP CALENDAR
Dropped.

“You’re not like other young people. Did I tell you that?”

>TAKE SCULPTURE
Taken.

Bruce said he wanted to “finish it together”, so I guess he wants to come along with us.

>BRUCE, NW
“You expect an old man to do all the work? Hmph!”

We didn’t want to cause offence by assuming that you can’t get around by yourself, but if you insist …

>PUSH BRUCE NW
You push Old Bruce’s wheelchair in front of you.

Retirement Home
You feel as if you’ve travelled back in time to the nineteenth century. Perhaps the older generation prefer living amongst antiques, and the pre-industrial Victorian decor does have a certain eye-pleasing charm. No metal walls here, and the only item remotely technical on display is a mahogany framed grandfather clock. The upstairs rooms are for residents only, but visitors are free to explore the grounds to the north, southeast and southwest.

That’s something you don’t see much today: a brass prongkey, hung on an equally old fashioned wallhook behind the front desk.

According to the nametag on her uniform, the receptionist on duty is named Karyn.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

“You’re not like other young people. Did I tell you that?”

>PUSH BRUCE SW
You push Old Bruce’s wheelchair in front of you.

Arboretum
The true Spring Gardens start here in an insulated, domed greenhouse lit and heated by four artificial suns: huge, glowing white plasma balls suspended from the glass ceiling. With such high energy input, it’s no wonder the shrubbery in full bloom. Exotic trees, plants, and flowers from all over the world have been transplanted here for scientific study.

The path continues southwest. Or it would do, except there’s a closed, wrought iron gate in the way.

The guidebot floats after you, never far behind.

>CLIMB GATE
The steel sculpture is too bulky to climb with.

Oh, right. That’s why we care about getting the gate unlocked.

>ASK BRUCE ABOUT KEY
“And what would an old man like me know about that?”

Old Bruce whistles a tune.

>ASK BRUCE ABOUT GATE
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, stranger.”

>ASK BRUCE ABOUT RECEPTIONIST
“A nice enough girl. She does a good job, believe you me.”

So here’s the next puzzle to solve: we have to get the steel sculpture (and possibly Bruce) through the gate, for which we need the key. In the next update, we’ll deploy our super spy skills to foil the receptionist!

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I wonder what the guidebot thinks of us climbing fences and carrying magnetic guns?

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I have to imagine the guidebots aren’t actually about detecting crimes, but about proving them, once a human notes a reason to be suspicious of someone. They don’t seem to be especially powerful, and we’ve done plenty of illegal things in front of this one without a reprimand.

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Initially I thought we were perhaps meant to assume we’re using a little sleight-of-hand to keep our most dubious activities out of sight of the guidebot - the gun is the most damning, and you could imagine Alice palming it as she scoops it out of the mud to avoid giving the bot a clear picture. Trying to show the gun or the morphtool to the guidebot gives this message:

Revealing your secrets to the droid isn’t advisable.

However, that’s the same message as you get when you show anything else to the guidebot, and more importantly, there don’t seem to be any consequences for doing this:

>SHOOT GUIDEBOT
(with the magnetic gun)
You force the guidebot back a few metres, but its antigrav engine kicks in and it quickly recovers. No damage done.

So either the guidebot is genuinely here just to help us out and keep track of our economic activity (we only have the word of the paranoid guy in the Free Market that it’s being used for surveillance, although it doesn’t exactly seem out of character for what we know of Utopia so far), or we’re going to get an unwelcome surprise later on when someone gets around to checking out its camera footage…

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I’m enjoying your “Let’s Play” which inspired me to get back to this game (previously, I think I only made it as far as the opening sequence). I did the Mess Hall sequence prior to the Retirement Home sequence, so I had avoided reading your latest notes for any spoilers, but I have just caught up with the retirement home scene as well.

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I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying it and I really appreciate you posting to let me know as much! I decided that I’d leave it up to the poll which order we explored the residential floors, but doing the Mess Hall first does have the definite advantage that (very minor spoiler) you get the bag earlier so you can stop worrying about inventory limits.

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Part 7 - A stitch in time

I figured out the solution to this next part during my first playthrough (mostly, with a little help from the hints) but the key insight into how to open the gate in the Arboretum is something you’ll most likely stumble across by doing lots of wandering around exploring different areas of the Arcology at different times of the day. We’ve managed to avoid excessive aimless wandering so far, so, rather than try to concoct an excuse to go do something else for a few hours and then come back, I’ll just show you what we see if we visit the retirement home in the afternoon instead of the morning:

Retirement Home
You feel as if you’ve travelled back in time to the nineteenth century. Perhaps the older generation prefer living amongst antiques, and the pre-industrial Victorian decor does have a certain eye-pleasing charm. No metal walls here, and the only item remotely technical on display is a mahogany framed grandfather clock. The upstairs rooms are for residents only, but visitors are free to explore the grounds to the north, southeast and southwest.

That’s something you don’t see much today: a brass prongkey, hung on an equally old fashioned wallhook behind the front desk.

According to the nametag on her uniform, the receptionist on duty is named Amanda.

If you didn’t catch it, there’s a different receptionist here now—the one in the morning was called Karyn. Interacting with Amanda reveals her to be a clone of Karyn in all respects (maybe literally? Is that a thing that Utopia do?).

But there must be a point when the two change over, and we already know that Alice was selected for this mission because of her super waiting skills, so let’s see what happens here over the course of the morning:

The grandfather clock signals the hour mark by chiming ten times.

The grandfather clock signals the hour mark by chiming eleven times.

The grandfather clock signals the hour mark by chiming twelve times.

At the strike of midday Karyn heads upstairs, her work done for the day. The afternoon receptionist comes downstairs and assumes her position behind the desk.

This is apparently a pretty polished changeover, and doesn’t leave a moment in which the key is left unattended. But the game is going out of its way to draw our attention to the chiming of the clock, so let’s see if we can cause some mischief. Restoring to earlier the same morning:

>SHOOT CLOCK WITH MAGNETIC GUN
Discreetly, you position yourself between the grandfather clock and the receptionist. Using your body to conceal your actions, you aim the magnetic gun at the swinging pendulum and pull the trigger. By applying extra force whenever the iron bob enters its upswing, you accelerate the motion. With its timing mechanism screwed up, the clock is now running approximately two minutes fast.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

This seems like it might be just what we need in terms of buying ourselves an unsupervised moment, and indeed, at 11:58:

The grandfather clock signals the hour mark by chiming twelve times.

At the strike of midday Karyn heads upstairs, her work done for the day.

Two minutes is precisely enough for us to do this:

>TAKE KEY
Taken.

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

>SW

Arboretum
The true Spring Gardens start here in an insulated, domed greenhouse lit and heated by four artificial suns: huge, glowing white plasma balls suspended from the glass ceiling. With such high energy input, it’s no wonder the shrubbery in full bloom. Exotic trees, plants, and flowers from all over the world have been transplanted here for scientific study.

The path continues southwest. Or it would do, except there’s a closed, wrought iron gate in the way.

Old Bruce watches you from his wheelchair.

The guidebot floats after you, never far behind.

Old Bruce whistles a tune.

>UNLOCK GATE WITH KEY
You unlock the wrought iron gate.

>OPEN GATE
You open the wrought iron gate.

>PUSH BRUCE SW
You pass through the open gate. After fifty metres or so, the path bends to the west, leading to a…

Flooded Garden
Now you know why they call them Spring Gardens. One of the pumping pipes that feed the fountains has burst, and you’re up to your knees in swirling, muddy water. Your problems get even deeper to the west where a treacherous, fast flowing river separates you from a grassy island. Not a catastrophe on the scale of the Great Flood which sunk San Francisco a hundred years back, but you’ve got problems all the same.

The raging waters have really done a number on the western walkway; many of the support cables have come loose, and the wooden slats are at an angle.

The guidebot follows you, hovering a couple of metres away.

“You want to be careful, stranger. If the USF troops catch me in here after visiting hours, they’ll take pity on an old man. But you-- you’re a different story, and it won’t have a happy ending.”

So that’s it, right? Quest over?

>W
The walkway is too dangerous to cross while holding the steel sculpture.

Oh, it’s never easy, is it?

>PUT SCULPTURE ON WALKWAY
It would just slide off into the water.

>X WALKWAY
The architects never intended the walkway to be a bridge, and it shows. The right hand guiderail has snapped under pressure. Without its support, the lower planks have tilted down into the river. Water splashes continually over the slanted wood; an agile woman like yourself should make it across, but you’ll need to take care.

We’ve already seen this description, and we get the same text if we examine the planks or guiderail. The implication is that the walkway has partially collapsed into the water, so:

>PULL WALKWAY
The walkway is too heavy to shift.

>X WATER
The water flooding the garden is brown and murky, obscuring the bottom from view.

Last time we looked in the water, we were distracted by finding a gun in there. But the game didn’t strictly tell us that that was the only thing to be found …

>SEARCH WATER
You reach underwater, dredging your fingers through the mud for anything that might be of use. Your efforts pay off. Buried in the wet soil, you find a support cable.

As you pull the cable out of the water, the walkway’s planks swing upwards. They don’t level out completely, but they do look much safer to cross than before.

[Your score has just gone up by two points.]

Ok, now can we cross?

>W
You’re not going anywhere whilst holding the support cable.

“You’re not like other young people. Did I tell you that?”

>DROP CABLE
The swirling currents suck the support cable underwater.

The walkway’s planks sink back into the river.

>W
The walkway is too dangerous to cross while holding the steel sculpture.

Ok, we can’t actually fix the walkway; it looks like holding the cable only renders it temporarily passable.

>TAKE CABLE
You can’t see any such thing.

>SEARCH WATER
You reach underwater, dredging your fingers through the mud for anything that might be of use. Your efforts pay off. Buried in the wet soil, you find a support cable.

As you pull the cable out of the water, the walkway’s planks swing upwards. They don’t level out completely, but they do look much safer to cross than before.

>GIVE CABLE TO BRUCE
Old Bruce takes the support cable from you.

“All right. I’ll hold onto it if it’s too heavy for you.”

Bruce’s description says he “has a few years fight left in him yet”, so it’s probably no big deal to trust him with our life while we carry this heavy sculpture across the walkway.

>W
Holding onto the surviving guiderail, you cross the slippery planks to the other side.

Grassy Island
Before the disaster with the pump, this was the highest point on a grass plain. Now the water level has risen two metres, it’s little more than an oversized stepping stone, and the moat surrounding the island would be impassable if it weren’t for the walkway on the east side.

Located offshore, but well within reach, is a marble plinth.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

And finally, nothing stands between us and the object of our quest:

>PUT SCULPTURE ON PLINTH
You put the steel sculpture on the marble plinth.

We cross back over the walkway to receive Old Bruce’s thanks:

“Thank you, stranger. You’ve restored my faith in the world. Perhaps humanity is not so lost after all. I feel my time approaching, but at least now some of my memories will live on. Here, take this. In honour of the Ancient Egyptians. They too achieved miracles, wonders that still stand today as a reminder that technology is only a tool, and never a replacement for ingenuity and resourcefulness. Don’t worry about getting it through the transport tubes. As far as the Security Force are concerned, it’s a harmless trinket.”

Old Bruce drops the support cable and hands you a silver pyramid on a chain, no doubt another of his fine sculptures. He smiles, then with his strength renewed by hope, he steers his wheelchair away to the east.

[Your score has just gone up by four points.]

>X PYRAMID
A square based pyramid sculpted from pure silver, six centimetres wide with a chain inserted through a hole near the top. Should you not wish to carry the burden, it’d make an attractive (and expensive) necklace.

>FOCUS IT
Most guys who fancy a woman buy her wine, chocolates or flowers. Old Bruce must really like you.

It’s really touching that Old Bruce appreciated our help enough to part with this unique and clearly very special trinket, and because it looks valuable we’re going to immediately hock it at Pete’s swap shop.

>E
You follow the path as it bends northeast.

Arboretum
The true Spring Gardens start here in an insulated, domed greenhouse lit and heated by four artificial suns: huge, glowing white plasma balls suspended from the glass ceiling. With such high energy input, it’s no wonder the shrubbery in full bloom. Exotic trees, plants, and flowers from all over the world have been transplanted here for scientific study.

A wrought iron gate lies open to the southwest.

Your friendly guidebot keeps up the pace.

We’re carrying a couple of things that we can’t take with us, so we’ll leave them out here in case it turns out we need them for anything else later (if we take the key back into the reception area with us, the receptionist confiscates it).

>DROP GUN AND KEY
magnetic gun: Dropped.
brass prongkey: Dropped.

We then pop back over to the activity area to retrieve the pass, calendar and rose, and since Bruce is still there, we check if there’s anything we ought to know about what he’s given us:

>ASK BRUCE ABOUT PYRAMID
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, stranger.”

There doesn’t seem to be anything remarkable about the pyramid, so we’ll go ahead with using it to trade for the cyberjack, bearing in mind that we can always trade back later if it turns out we do need it.

Down on level 13:

Pete’s Swapshop
The shopkeeper doesn’t need to inform you he despises Utopian credits. Retro signs do the job for him, NO CASHCARDS ACCEPTED and TRADE ONLY - NO CREDS being the two most common (and as it so happens, repeatable) phrases spelled out in flashing neon. Pete, if that’s the owner’s real name, is far too trusting. There are no burglar alarms or bars on the windows, and the display counter doesn’t even had a lid.

Having said that, most of Pete’s stuff isn’t worth stealing. The few items of interest are a camera pen, an octagonal headed cyberjack and a Natalia subbuteo piece.

The guidebot follows you, hovering a couple of metres away.

>GIVE PYRAMID TO PETE
You place the silver pyramid on a chain in the display counter.

“Good,” says the trader. “Now what would you like?”

>TAKE CYBERJACK
“An excellent choice.”

[Your score has just gone up by three points.]

We’ve now managed to get hold of the cyberjack without parting with the morphtool, so we head back to our apartment to open up the guidebot and see if we can accomplish anything.

As you approach the access tunnel for level 18, a USF guard sees the octagonal headed cyberjack.

“What have you got there? Arrest this woman immediately! Take her to holding.”

The guard and her fellow squaddies close in. You attempt to fight them off, but there are too many. One can only endure so much pain, and you inevitably succumb to their repeated blows. When you awake, you find yourself in a containment field with no hope of completing your mission.

*** You gave yourself away ***

Oops. I’m not going to shame myself by keeping count of how many times I get us arrested by forgetting to hide my contraband before using the elevators. I already also got caught carrying the magnetic gun while trying to set up to capture the shift-change messages at the retirement home.

> UNDO
Transporter Ring
[Previous turn undone.]

The description of the cyberjack implies that it’s pretty small, and the morphtool is mentioned as rattling around inside the inhaler, so maybe there’s room for both?

>OPEN INHALER
You open the fake antiviral inhaler, revealing a shiny black morphtool.

>PUT CYBERJACK IN IT
You put the octagonal headed cyberjack into the fake antiviral inhaler.

>CLOSE INHALER
You close the fake antiviral inhaler.

>ENTER GATE 18
As you approach the access tunnel for level 18, a USF guard scans you with an electronic handheld device. After a series of beeps, an LED on the scanner turns green, and the trooper waves you through into the elevator tube. A short and exhilerating ride later, you arrive at your destination.

Back to our cramped, unlit apartment and the guidebot obligingly puts itself back into standby mode, so we:

>OPEN INHALER
You open the fake antiviral inhaler, revealing an octagonal headed cyberjack and a shiny black morphtool.

>OPEN PANEL WITH TOOL
(first taking the morphtool)
As the morphtool comes into contact with the bolts, the screwdriver head changes shape to a hexagonal shaped wrench then resolidifies. You soon have the guidebot’s access panel open. Besides circuitry and wiring that would take a PhD in electrical engineering to understand, you see a power cell and an octagonal shaped interface port.

>WEAR CYBERJACK
(first taking the octagonal headed cyberjack)
You slide the octagonal headed cyberjack onto one of your fingers.

>PUT CYBERJACK IN PORT
You insert the octagonal headed cyberjack into the access port. Nothing happens – maybe you need to do something else first.

And no dice. As we anticipated, we need some sort of preparation to enable us to access cyberspace (whatever form that’s going to take in this game). So upgrading to Citizen status is either going to involve doing it the honest way, by making a meaningful contribution to Utopia’s economy, or paying the paranoid bum in the Free Market for whatever help it is that he’s offering us. Either way, we need some money, so next time we’ll check out the mess hall and food outlet level and see if we can get an entry-level job flipping burgers!

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