Start of a transcript of Cragne Manor An Anchorhead tribute by various authors Release 10 / Serial number 181208 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.33 lib 6/12N) Identification number: //1A586AF4-661C-4879-ADFF-7DDE35836AF1// Interpreter version 1.3.5 / VM 3.1.2 / Library serial number 080126 Standard Rules version 3/120430 by Graham Nelson Cragne Suite version 2 by Ryan Veeder (including Basic Screen Effects and Modified Exit by Emily Short, as well as modifications by Andrew Plotkin of Epistemology and Conversation Framework by Eric Eve) Plus modified versions of: Optimized Epistemology by Andrew Plotkin Conversation Framework by Eric Eve >restpre That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >restore Ok. >*...so I forgot to save before I wrapped up chapter 13 That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* thankfully I didn't lose the transcript, but I'm replaying again so the save matches up You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr) You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east. On the north wall is a round white wall clock. Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it. >e Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Despite all the irregularities of Cragne Manor, the inconsistencies, the unaccountable changes, to say nothing of the disparate and clashing architecture and décor, you have at least attained a certain expectation regarding its hallways: close walls and high ceilings, wreathed in shadow, with the occasional door looming obelisk-like through the gloom. Its architects must have had crooked rulers, as you can never quite make out the end of a hallway until you've nearly reached it--and just such a hallway winds away to the south. In this section of the hall, the eastern wall flares out into a wider space resembling a waiting-room; there's even a little bench against that wall to the south-east. A massive black armoire occupying the wall opposite strikes you as a less deliberate inclusion, if the boards sealing it shut are any indication; perhaps the movers abandoned it here after they couldn't fit it through the archway to the west. Beyond these minimal furnishings, the hall contains only a pair of imposing doors to the east and to the north; a third doorway between them has been closed off with bricks. >* that armoire is just taunting me That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >n "Oh, we're all so happy! And it is just about tea time too! Come right in." Carol turns to face a sock puppet monkey and scolds him, "You just stay in your seat, Young Master Sweetpaws -- mother says we will have manners in this house!" Much bustling ensues: sounds of porcelain being laid, clinking of utensils, and the heavy thunk of a chair being put in place. "Ready! Come in, Naomi", sings Carol as she ushers you inward. Perhaps against your better judgement, you follow her. "Here, let me take that for you," offers Carol as she accepts the teapot and walks to a table at the center of the room. You open the north door. Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) You can see Carol here. [ HINT: you can type "hints" for a hint for this location ] You would have killed to have this charming room when you were yourself five years old: a fluffy pink and white dotted comforter covers a bed overflowing with stuffed animals. Beside it, a play kitchen replete with pots, pans, and a very realistic looking oven. On the far wall, a large bay window trimmed in lacy curtains matching the bedspread. To the left of the window, a small writing desk and tiny lamp, and nearer to the entrance, a an old-fashioned record player rests on wooden stand. Your eye is quickly drawn, however, to one discordant item: a framed black and white photo of a bald man smiles down towards the center of the room. The exquisitely carved heavy gilded frame obviously predates photography by centuries, and you are hard pressed to guess how this odd portrait fits into the decor. In the center of the room, the tea party itself is already underway. Seated on each side of the table in toy chairs are several stuffed animals. Carol stands just opposite you with teapot in hand. >ask carol about mother [ HINT: For short, say "a subject" or "t subject" to ASK/TELL about a subject ] "Her name is Joan, but everyone just says Misses Cragne. I don't see mom hardly at all because she has so many parties to run all the time. I don't understand why so many; some are called luncheons, and people have lunch and talk, and some are called cocktail parties, and I don't see the point of that because there isn't very much to eat and people yell a lot and sometimes a taxi has to come and they need to leave. Mom says all the wives have to have parties, and that is their job, just like the husbands need to go to the office, except for poor families, which don't have jobs or parties." Carol glances around the table at her stuffed animals. "I don't know about any of you, but I sure am getting thirsty. Yes sir, some nice hot tea would really hit the spot, don't you think so, Sweetpaws? You do? Me too. I wish Naomi would say the magic words and let us get going. What's that Mister Snortles? Maybe she forgot what to say? I'm sure she remembers that she is supposed to say 'bottoms-up' so we can start." >* we'll mess around to make sure we can still get the vomit bladder That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >a christabell "She's out by those rocks," says Carol, pointing out the window towards some dark cliffs. "I go out there all the time and we talk and play and do stuff. She taught me to read, you know. Mom and Dad aren't around and the Cragnes don't really care about me (mom once said they only took me for the money, because they're not rich like they used to be), so that's where I go when the weather isn't too bad." "You know, she's not alive, right?" You try to say it gently, but feel the girl needs to know. "Sure, she's a spirit -- don't call her a ghost because she says that not correct. I mean, gee whiz, at this point, I'm one too. It's no big deal." >a mark "I've heard about the 'mark' -- can you tell me what that is?" you ask. "I can show you." Carol pirouettes around and pulls down the shoulder of her dress, revealing a small brown mark between the base of her neck and her left shoulder blade. It looks like a birthmark, except that its edges are indistinct and seem to keep shifting, like a living thing. Carol spins back around and takes a bow. "Did you see it?" "Yes, I think so. But what's it for?" "Christabell gave it to me because she said that there's something she doesn't trust about these Cragnes, so it would protect me. She also said I needed to do be able to do stuff, but I'm not old enough yet for most of the stuff, so I stopped bugging her about it." Carol sighs, "I'm getting bored -- haven't you done enough talking and poking around the room? Let's start the tea party -- you just have to say 'bottoms-up'". "Carol, why are you so obsessed with tea. Are you sure you're not British?" "No, I don't think so." >x mark You can't see any such thing. >a tea "I do just love tea parties!" Carol buzzes. "I invite all my friends, and it's so grown up!" "Why a tea party?" "Because we drink tea at it, of course." "No, I mean, why did you decide to have a tea party and not some other sort of party, like the kind with balloons." "I don't have any balloons. Besides, when we were trying to do this, Christabell said that a tea party would help us focus and showed me how, and now when I get tired or start to fade, we have a tea party and that sets everything right again. Plus, I really like tea." "Are you ready to begin?" she asks eagerly. "I'll pour. Since you're the guest, you have to be the one to say 'bottoms-up'." "Yes, Misses Winkelbottom," nods Carol, "I am sure Naomi knows that she just has to say 'bottoms-up' to get the tea party started, but she's playing her own game now I think, and it's not fun!" >x misses You can't see any such thing. >a misses Carol says, "I don't have a good answer for that one." "Uh oh, Naomi," say Carol with what you can tell is feigned concern, "Malice the Clown says he's getting upset that you are holding up the tea party, and he wants to know why you haven't said the magic words 'bottoms-up'. He says he wonders if you really want to spend all of eternity in here, and I told him that no, probably you don't, but he said maybe she does, and I said, well I guess we'll find out, right?" >a party Carol had some odd tastes for a five-year-old and seems hell bent on having a tea party. She reminds you that to start it you have to (for some reason known only to Carol) say, "bottoms-up". "If you are going to be such a stick in the mud, Misses Winkelbottom, will you please help yourself to one of Naomi's trinkets and drop it into the Maw of Unthinkable Nothingness? Maybe that will make her want to play with us and say the magical word 'bottoms-up' so we can all play tea party." The toy lamb comes to suddenly to life, walks stiffly towards you and plucks an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) out the air and tosses it into a whirling vortex of fire and ash that has opened above the tea table. The vortex folds in on itself and disappears the moment the old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) enters it. It all happens so fast that you are left speechless. >bottoms-up Carol smiles and a slimy dark-green sac appears in front of you. "Well, here's your stuff. Fair and square." As the last syllable rolls off your tongue, you sip the dregs of some delicious warm tea from your cup (English Breakfast, some sugar, a bit of milk). Looking around the table, the cups set before the toy creatures drain themselves although the creatures themselves do not budge. At the head of the table, Carol up-ends her cup gracefully and relishes the tea. As she sets her cup down and sighs with pleasure, a curious thing happens: both you and she glow perceptibly, as does the book over on the desk. It happens so briefly, that you almost miss it. "Feel any better?" asks Carol. "Why yes, in fact I do. A brisk cup of tea was just the thing," you agree. "You can do the honors for the second cup! See this is fun!" Carol slides great-uncle's teapot over towards you. >take all slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh: Taken. scrapbook: That's the thing about Rune Books: they like to be where they are and no where else. They are very finicky in that way. old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. >open scrapbook You flip open the scrapbook, with Carol reading along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears and Body Found. >read shark SHARK ATTACK! A team of oceanographers from the Woods Hole Institute of Oceanography in Woods Hole, MA was attacked yesterday by sharks in waters about ten miles southeast of Nantucket Island. Of the four man team, one was killed and one was injured, requiring hospitalization. The team was deploying a string of experimental sonar buoys along an underwater ridgeline. The captain of the expedition, Frampton Mays, was the first to notice a disturbance in the water surrounding the boat and the rubber raft in tow, where two divers were working. "The seas were rolling calmly, but something was moving around us, in circles. Something big. The water humped up around it, but there was no wake." Davis Parks, an electronics engineer from the Sperry Corporation, was with the captain and noticed unusual readings from the devices being put in place, "The first buoy was anchored and we were calibrating it, so I didn't pay much attention at that point. I thought we had a gain problem because the signal returns were just crazy and the doppler? well, nothing can move that fast, I had to assume one of the guys had snapped and that the assembly was spinning." According to coast guard vessels responding to the their distress call, water sprayed up around the raft and then the entire raft disappeared below the foaming surface. Initially, the coast guard reported sighting tentacles reaching out of the water around the raft, but it is now believed that these were the heavy lines that had secured the equipment to the ocean floor recoiling upward with the release of tension. One diver, who was on the raft at the time, was lost: twenty-six-year-old Travis McMaster of New Port, Rhode Island. Dr. McMaster had recently completed graduate studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and was conducting post-doctoral research at Woods Hole. The other diver, David Tillerson, was nearer to the research vessel when the sharks attacked, and was pulled from the water by the two crew. First aid was performed on the coast guard rescue boat; it is reported that he had a number of large, painful welts on his back. The treating physician commented that these welts were "similar in nature to the sort we see from jellyfish, but much, much larger and deeper." >read actress A FLASHBULB EXCLUSIVE! Fashion model and star of the silver screen, Hungarian actress Lili Kovács disappeared this afternoon from a private hospital in North Carolina where she was recovering from recent surgery. As previously reported, she had been flown there three days ago after developing what was thought to be acute appendicitis while filming "Two Shots and A Chaser" in Bermuda. At a cast party Thursday evening, she sudden collapsed, clutching her stomach in pain, and was rushed to a local hospital, where she was given medication and transferred by plane to the U.S. According to guests at the party, the normally svelte starlet appeared to have gained a lot of weight during her week on the vacation island, and some thought that she might have suffered an on set injury because she was walking oddly. The handsome Wallace Travers, who stars opposite Miss Kovács in the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures production, recounted the troubling week that began with the disappearance of the lovely celebrity while they were filming a scene on the beach area behind the posh Venture Casino last Monday. According to Mr. Travers, "She said she was taking a quick dip to cool off, and I thought she would be right back. When we were ready to shoot the next scene, nobody could find her. We checked the trailer, the hotel -- everywhere. Then our sound guy, Mike, says there's something going on in the surf. He had a good view from up on the boom tower, but from the beach everything looked normal. He said some kind of lights were moving around under the water. Some of the locals later told us that's not too unusual, that algae or whatnot have this faint glow at night, but Mike was really upset and said the lights were huge, the size of city busses, really bright, and moving around incredibly fast. Well, Heinrich called it for the evening, and we let Mike go sober up." According to the film's director, Heinrich Habberstamp, Miss Kovács showed up early the next morning for filming as if nothing had happened. Later that day, she admitted to having no recollection of the prior evening. The private hospital refused to comment in the interest of privacy, but one of Lili's visiting relatives gave FLASHBULB the inside scoop: When Lili arrived from the airport, she was burning up with fever and brought immediately to the operating room. As the surgeon made the first cut, the wound tore open of its own accord and a mass of gelatinous balls squirted out. "Maybe ten or fifteen pounds of them, each about the size of an orange. They were pink or red, and some had little cords attached. Nobody knew what they were, but they got as many of them out as they could. They had to leave some of the smaller ones that were more firmly attached. When they tried to cut those out, she started bleeding, so they closed her up." No one knows the whereabouts of the starlet or how she could have gotten out of her bed after such major abdominal surgery. More than a few industry wags have suggested that the whole episode was a publicity stunt to build up anticipation for the film. >read body BODY FOUND Police investigators report the discovery of a headless torso on the western shore of Block Island and are seeking public assistance in determination of the identify of the deceased. The headless, limbless corpse was discovered yesterday afternoon by Christopher Smythe, a local resident, who was checking his lobster pots. "It came up slowly on the winch and when it got to the surface, I knew there was a problem. I got everyone under it, and we swung it onto the deck and weren't sure what to do with it, so we put it on ice and headed back to harbor." The body is described as male, caucasian, and likely forty to fifty years old. The Washington County Medical Examiner, Dr. Lewis Ivar, places the time of death somewhere between two and three days prior to discovery. Dr. Ivar commented, "there were two notable findings: first, a series of discolorations, about four inches in diameter and arranged in a line across the back and wrapping around upward under the axilla; secondly, the presence of a tattoo across the chest. The design of the tattoo is unusual, a skull and below it a phrase in French." The coroner's office is hopeful that the unique tattoo will aid them in identification of the victim. >ask carol about father "His name is Hugo, which is a weird name, but dad says it's not too weird because lots of Cragnes have been named Hugo. He's the kind of engineer that doesn't work on trains. He works really hard all the time and helps build boats to keep America safe. Sometimes he works in an office across the river, that's in New London and sometimes he goes to the dock on our side of the river, where they build the boats. I went there once, but didn't see much because everything is indoors where you can't go except the boat and I didn't see much of the boat because only the top sticks out of the water. That's the part where you go in and out, so it has to stick out." >a america "That where we are, duh. Are you a retard or something?" "That's not a nice thing to say, Carol." "Sooooorry." >a cragnes "This place is full of them. I'm not supposed to wander around the mansion, but whenever I escape from my room and poke around I find new ones -- in the fountain, behind the bookcase, under the floorboards, above the attic -- it's like playing hide and seek." "Which ones in particular?" you ask. "Oh, they're all pretty much the same, so I don't pay attention. The only I really talk to much is grand-uncle." >a grand-uncle "He's really cranky and is always telling me not to touch his stuff and to get off stuff and not too sing too loud." "Yes," you say, trying to reign in the conversation, "but does he have a name?" "I'm sure he does, but I just call him great-uncle. He says that only the Deep Ones should not be named." >a deep ones "I've never seen one, but I guess they are sort of like squid or something, but really huge. I think dad talks to them sometimes." >a ike "I like Ike," says Carol firmly. "You do?" "Sure do. That's what people say, they say, "I like Ike', he's the President. They said it so much that he got elected from being a General, so now he's in charge of everything." "Is that President Eisenhower?" You try to remember what years he was in office. Definitely after Lincoln, probably after World War II, and he's not someone you've ever seen on the news, so let's say Vietnam or before. So that would be what, the fifties? Early sixties? Somewhere in there. "I think so, that sounds right." >x portrait This is clearly a formal portrait of a balding man probably in his sixties. He has an air of authority, but also an avuncular warmth. There is a nameplate at the bottom of the portrait. >x nameplate (the brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)) "Charles Cragne, Owner" A faint smell of mildew emanates from it. >put nameplate in junk pocket (the brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew) in the trash pocket) You unzip the trash pocket, deposit the brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again. >x nameplate "Dwight D. Eisenhower, 34th President of the United States of America." >l Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror that was not there a second ago. A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room. You can see Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here. >a window Carol says, "That's an interesting question." >open window The window has a complicated child-proof safety lock -- on the outside. How very uncharacteristically responsible for the Cragnes. >x lock The large bay window is framed in the same rosewood trim that decorates the rest of this once great mansion. >x record It is a full size record, black vinyl of course, with a cardboard center, labelled "Perry Como Sings Merry Christmas Music". According to the label, it is a 78 rpm album produced by RCA Victor in 1946. >a record Carol says, "Good question." >a player Carol says, "Sorry, I don't know." >x player You can't see any such thing. >x record player A wooden turntable with speakers built into the cabinet rests on a folding wooden table. There is a record on the turntable, but the turntable is off. >turn it on You snatch at it several times, until your brain registers that it is not there. Alarmingly, when your fingers touch the record player they penetrate the surface. You know it is not the case, but visually, it appears that your has been severed neatly at the surface, the fingers lost somewhere in the interior. Reflexively, you whip your hand back. Carol holds her hands to her face and giggles. "Silly Naomi! You should see the look on your face!" "That's not something you can play with," instructs Carol. "Not worth the trouble." You can play with my scrapbook, though. I made that real enough because I like to show it off. >a scrapbook "I think everyone should have their own scrapbook," Carol replies. "Don't you?" Carol leaves through it. "How do you choose what to paste into it?" you ask. "I don't know. Just things. News from here and there. Interesting stuff." Carol stretches and adds with a yawn, "I've just started the scrapbook, so there isn't much in it yet." >g "Carol, is it me, or are there more articles pasted into the scrapbook than earlier?"Carol sounds out each title and looks back at you with a shrug. "Looks the same to me." >l Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror. A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room. You can see Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here. >x desk A child-size replica colonial roll-top desk with several drawers. The top portion of the desk is open and the writing surface folded down. A spiral-bound book lies on it next to a small lamp with a yellow shade. >x lamp (the waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)) A small flashlight, with a rubber ring where it screws together to keep the water out-though some oily substance coats the inside. Inside the flashlight is a clump of glowing vegetation. >x small lamp I only understood you as far as wanting to examine the small light bulb. >put lamp in junk pocket (the waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew) in the trash pocket) You unzip the trash pocket, deposit the waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again. >x lamp An ordinary desk lamp stands upright on the desktop, its power cord wrapping around the back of the desk. It provides an unusually soft, pleasant yellow light. >turn it off Your hand goes right through it. >take lamp It is as insubstantial as everything else in the room; luckily, there are no grues in this corner of Cragne Mansion. >take flashlight You can't see any such thing. >open junk pocket You open the trash pocket, revealing a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew), a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew), an ornate metallic box (smelling faintly of mildew), a black box (smelling faintly of mildew), a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew), a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew), an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew), a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew), a suitcase (smelling faintly of mildew) and a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew). >take flashlight Taken. >close junk pocket You close the trash pocket. >l Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror. A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room. You can see Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here. >x kitchen The play kitchen is all one piece and attached to a plywood backboard. The centerpiece is a metal stove with four pretend gas burners above an oven door. Some pots and pans poke out of the cabinets above the stove. To one side of the stove is a full size ice box, and an apron hangs on a hook to the other side of the stove. >x stove The play kitchen is all one piece and attached to a plywood backboard. The centerpiece is a metal stove with four pretend gas burners above an oven door. Some pots and pans poke out of the cabinets above the stove. To one side of the stove is a full size ice box, and an apron hangs on a hook to the other side of the stove. >open it Your hand goes right through it. >x pans Sauce pans of different sizes, a large frying pan and, perhaps not too surprising this close to Maine, a toy lobster steamer. >x apron A red and white checkered apron just Carol's size. >x lobster Sauce pans of different sizes, a large frying pan and, perhaps not too surprising this close to Maine, a toy lobster steamer. >* aw That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x oven The play kitchen is all one piece and attached to a plywood backboard. The centerpiece is a metal stove with four pretend gas burners above an oven door. Some pots and pans poke out of the cabinets above the stove. To one side of the stove is a full size ice box, and an apron hangs on a hook to the other side of the stove. >x ice box The play kitchen is all one piece and attached to a plywood backboard. The centerpiece is a metal stove with four pretend gas burners above an oven door. Some pots and pans poke out of the cabinets above the stove. To one side of the stove is a full size ice box, and an apron hangs on a hook to the other side of the stove. >x backboard You can't see any such thing. >x hook (the apron) A red and white checkered apron just Carol's size. >l Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror. A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room. You can see Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here. >x window The large bay window is framed in the same rosewood trim that decorates the rest of this once great mansion. > a new london "It is sort of a city, but not a big one. Dad's office is there, and it's pretty close to our house in Stonington." >a boats "Dad says that he does the math that helps the other men build the boats and he helps them go really far and stay underwater for a long, long time. He is making a new one right now that doesn't even need gas. Dad says that math is really important because if they make mistakes, the boats can sink. Sometimes the boats sink, but not because of mistakes, and dad says that is the Deep Ones taking their due, and there isn't much you can do about that, so he just tried to get the math right." >a stonington "That's where mom and dad live. It's in Connecticut. They live there because it is near where Dad's job." >a job In talking about the submarines that her father helps design, Carol also, alarmingly, frequently mentions the Deep Ones. >a christabell "So," you inquire, "it sounds like we have a mutual friend -- Christabell. How did you meet her?" "Oh, Christabell? We met a long time ago -- maybe when I was four? And I was playing out in the woods, sharpening sticks or something, and I found a great big pile of railroad tracks. Right out there," she points out the window towards a range of dark cliffs. "Yes, I've been there." "You have? Most people can't see her, you know. They don't have the sight, but I do because of my mom. Christabell's and my mom are cousins or something, so I got the sight. Anyhow, Christabell's great. She taught me a lot of stuff." "Like what?" "Like reading and how to skin rabbits, but she also taught me special stuff that I had to have the mark for, like the tea party. She wants to teach me more stuff like that, but says I can concentrate enough, but I can too." >a mark Carol says that Christabell put her magical mark on her so that she could cast magical spells. >a mom Carol's mom sounds like a stereotypical 1950's housewife. >a christabell It sounds like Christabell has played a role in mentoring and looking after young Carol. >a me "Not everybody can see me, so I like you, because you can see me." >a carol "About me?" the girl grins and folds her hands, "I am five years old and I can tie my own shoes, except that these ones don't have laces, and I can read some books, even if they don't have pictures, although I prefer the ones with pictures." She looks around the room. Gesturing to the animals seated at the table and perched on the bed, she continues, "I have a lot of friends to keep me company when I'm here, which is all the time now, since my father says that it is better for me to be raised by the Cragnes on account of he is so busy at work and mother has so many guests to entertain. Which is fine. I'm used to it because I have been here since I was a baby except sometimes when I visit Stonington." >x tea It looks like there are about two more rounds of tea in the fine china pot. >bottoms-up Again, the sweet taste of tea, this time with a dash of oil of bergamot and just a touch of sugar. Odd you think, same teapot, but a different taste. But then you reason that is not any harder to accept than tea distributing itself magically around a table you are sharing with four stuffed animals and a ghost of some sort. Some things are just harder to accept than others. As you set your cup back down on the table, you observe Carol sneaking a glance at her scrapbook. In that brief instant, both Carol and the book glow slightly, somewhat brighter than they did before. Your own skin pulses briefly with the same glow and you think that afterwards it maintains something of a numinous shine. This is really good tea. You feel great, and the worries of the day are fast disappearing. "I really liked that one!" pipes Carol. "We aim to please," you say, prompting her giggles. >open scrapbook Carol reads along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears, Body Found and Watery Fate for Convict. >x me This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing. >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >x me This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing. >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >x me This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing. >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman) [Previous turn undone.] >x me This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing. >bottons-up That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >bottoms-up Again, the sweet taste of tea, this time with a dash of oil of bergamot and just a touch of sugar. Odd you think, same teapot, but a different taste. But then you reason that is not any harder to accept than tea distributing itself magically around a table you are sharing with four stuffed animals and a ghost of some sort. Some things are just harder to accept than others. As you set your cup back down on the table, you observe Carol sneaking a glance at her scrapbook. In that brief instant, both Carol and the book glow slightly, somewhat brighter than they did before. Your own skin pulses briefly with the same glow and you think that afterwards it maintains something of a numinous shine. This is really good tea. You feel great, and the worries of the day are fast disappearing. "I really liked that one!" pipes Carol. "We aim to please," you say, prompting her giggles. >open scrapbook Carol reads along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears, Body Found and Watery Fate for Convict. >read convict It looks like the icy hand of justice caught up to escaped murderer Gustave Dellorto earlier today, when his body was recovered at low tide from the Execution Rocks Lighthouse in the Long Island Sound. Leslie Stovebow, the lighthouse keeper who resides in a small residence at the base of the tower, discovered the body this morning as the tide went out. The body was still clad in the striped uniform of the Sing Sing Prison from which he escaped last night. Mamaroneck, NY police raced against time to remove the body from where it had become lodged in the boulders before the time came back in, submerging the rocks. They successfully identified the body by confirming the number on the uniform matched that of the escaped killer. It is not clear why Dellorto chose to flee to the island, but police suspect he was hoping to murder the lighthouse keeper and go to ground there until his trail grew cold. Dellorto was convicted of three cases of first degree murder in the winter of 1951, including one G-man, and was suspected of homicide in seven additional cases. It is believed that his crimes were connected to organized crime. He was sentenced to capital punishment, but pardoned after appeal two years ago by Governor Dewey. Execution Rocks inherits its name from the colonial period, where legend goes that disobedient slaves were shackled at low tide, and served as examples for others, being left there to slowly drown in the pounding waves. This story is considered apocryphal by most, but today, the lighthouse earned its name. There's another bit pasted a bit lower on the page. CORRIGENDUM Gustave Dellorto, who escaped from Sing Sing prison earlier this month, was arrested in Detroit, Michigan, yesterday leaving in his wake a fresh series of murders committed during a two-week spree across several states. It was previously reported in error that he had died by drowning in the Long Island Sound, but the body recovered in that incident is now known to be that of Francis Dapper, age 19 of Larchmont, New York, who had been working at the Purdue Island Yacht Club the evening that Gustave escaped. One of the club launches, which had been brought ashore for the winter, was discovered missing later that week. Police believe that it was probably used by Dellorto to reach the Execution Rocks lighthouse, where he abandoned his victim's body, after swapping clothes to fake his own death in an attempt to evade capture. >a convict Carol says, "I wish I knew." >a scrapbook "Carol, is it me, or are there more articles pasted into the scrapbook than earlier?"Carol sounds out each title and looks back at you with a shrug. "Looks the same to me." >bottoms-up That was unexpected. Flowery. Bit of an aftertaste. "Is this Jasmine?" "It's Crisp Hand Sew Mom." Carol struggles with the pronunciation. "Chrysanthemum?" You offer. "Yes, that. Grand-uncle's teapot knows all my favorites." Not only are the two of you now glowing enough to cast shadows around the room, but you notice that little sparks of static electricity scintillating at your fingertips. You hold them up, "Carol, is this normal?" "Oh yes, it's wonderful, isn't it?" You do feel wonderful. The scrapbook pulses with energy. >open scrapbook Carol reads along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears, Body Found, Watery Fate for Convict and Boat Wreck On Sable Island. Carol slurps her remaining tea ceremoniously. >read boat A 12-man fishing boat, the Miss Step, out of Halifax, was found wrecked yesterday with loss of all hands on Sable Island, a small, isolated island in the Atlantic Ocean, 190 miles southeast of Halifax. The vessel grounded on an sandy bar near the eastern end of the island and by report was discovered yesterday morning by Ronald Lefevre, sub-intendent of the Sable Island Rescue Station. Subsequently, both Mr. Lefevre and Scott McCallister, who was in charge of the two-man Rescue Station, were also lost. The only other inhabitant of the island, Dr. Martha Klein, reported yesterday's events to the Canadian Coast Guard cutter Hermes by shortwave radio at 10:20 a.m. yesterday morning before herself going missing. The Hermes reached the island within the next two hours, but was unable to launch small landing craft because of gale force squalls. When they did make landfall late that afternoon, there was no evidence of the wreck. The search the island's three inhabitants was aborted this morning due to further foul weather; additional Coast Guard vessels are en route as we go to press. The Coast Guard has refused to comment on the matter, but a ham radio operator, Edmund Finister, from Prince Edward Island, gave the following account to the press: "I sometimes listen to the reports going back and forth between Dr. Klein at the Meteorological Station and the mainland, and I wasn't expecting anything at that time of day, but I just happened to have the radio on, more or less to keep the shack warm. Then, out of the blue, I hear Dr. Klein, and she normally has kind of a lilting, friendly voice, but I could hear that she was shaken up. I was in the other room, so I only caught the last part of it, but she was speaking almost too calmly, trying to give all the details, but I could tell she was a hair's breadth from having a breakdown." "She's talking to the sparky on the cutter, and saying that first the one guy, Lefevre came speeding back along the beach in his jeep to get McCallister, because he had discovered the fishing boat on its side up on the sand. They asked Dr. Klein to call it in and they both took off again, even though Lefevre had said that when he had seen it the first time, he had a good look around and there were no survivors." "Now, what's weird is what Lefevre told Klein -- while there were no bodies aboard, there were these? things. I only know what she said on the air, that Lefevre had said that there were these fleshy things all over the ship, in different parts of it, down below, up on the deck. They were whitish or translucent, sort of long tubes of the stuff. Heavy, deadweight if you tried to move them. Some were wrapped up in foul weather jackets, and one that Lefevre poked had some coins embedded in it, about halfway up, he said, just a couple inches deep. His best guess was that they were whale fat since they were so oily, but he was just guessing. Also, he said they had kind of a musky smell." "Whatever they were, they're gone now. All of them." Carol drains the last few drops from her cup. >x me This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing. Carol stands up and stretches, lightning arcing from tiny fist to tiny fist about her head. "Thanks for playing tea party, Aunt Naomi. You played it just the way Christabell taught me. She'd be very proud." Before you can react, she waves at you, "I've got some things to do now. See you in a bit!" Suddenly, you find yourself in the hallway. Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south. A massive black armoire stands incongruously against the north-west wall, slightly at an angle. The boards sealing the armoire doors closed suggest that this particular object of furniture should have been removed prior to your arrival, but it's far too large to fit through the arch to the west. >x me You seem no worse for wear, despite everything. >s Hallway South (Matt Schneider) The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hallway feels narrow?no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east. Partway down the hall, a black pen floats a couple feet off the ground, as if resting on a table or desk. It does not, however, appear to be sitting on anything. The manor may have its voices: its creaking and squeaking floorboards, its groaning doors; but you have grown accustomed to the quiet ways it protests your presence. This relative silence is now shattered by the unmistakable sound of a clenched fist pounding at the front door downstairs. >open hole (the hole) The paper tears away in thin strips, opening up into a gently glowing, three-foot-wide void that stretches nearly from the floor to the ceiling. You think you can see words in there, but you can't quite read them from out here. White light flickers from somewhere inside the hole in the wallpaper. The pounding at the front door continues, louder now. Was the front door even closed when last you saw it? >take pen Taken. Lightning in the distance causes the shadows to dance for a moment. --and just as abruptly as it began, the knocking stops. Silence descends on Cragne Manor once more. >in A Liminal Space Printed name of M2F7 is "Hallway South (Matt Schneider)". Description of M2F7 is "The threadbare carpet holds only the vagues hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-torn] The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light.[end if][If unvisited][paragraph break]The hallway feels narrow[unicode 8212]no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin.[end if] The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.". The schneider-wallpaper is scenery in M2F7. Understand "wallpaper", "cracks", "web", and "paper" as schneider-wallpaper. Schneider-wallpaper can be schneider-torn or schneider-untorn. schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn. The description of schneider-wallpaper is "[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn]The surface of the wallpaper is covered with small cracks that criss-cross it in a spiderweb-like fashion. They converge halfway down the hall in a small hole, through which you can see a faint, flickering light. The edges of the hole curl back and look like they could be torn further.[else]The wallpaper hangs limply open where you tore it. A soft light pulsates in the void behind the wall.[end if]". The printed name of schneider-wallpaper is "wallpaper". The schneider-desk is a supporter in M2F7. Schneider-desk is scenery. The printed name of schneider-desk is "desk". Understand "desk" as schneider-desk. The schneider-drawer is a closed, openable, opaque container that is part of schneider-desk. The printed name of schneider-drawer is "drawer". Understand "drawer" as schneider-drawer. The schneider-pen is a thing in M2F7. The description of schneider-pen is "A black fountain pen. It looks like the ink is long dried up." The printed name of schneider-pen is "black fountain pen". Understand "pen" and "fountain pen" as schneider-pen. The schneider-typescript is a library-book inside schneider-drawer. Understand "typescript" as schneider-typescript. The printed name of schneider-typescript is "bound typescript". >out Hallway South (Matt Schneider) The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east. >x desk You feel your way down the hall slowly until your hand comes to rest on something. You can't see the desk, but as you run your hands across it, it appears to be waist-height, wooden, and has a drawer of some kind on the front. >open drawer You open the drawer, revealing a bound typescript. >take bound Taken. The light in the void swells, casting strange shadows in the hallway. >x it The book is bound in a cheap, rough, green cloth, with the title 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids and the name Aster Cragne embossed in gold leaf. The pages appear to have been printed on continuous paper, then separated and gathered together?a dissertation, perhaps? There's a sticker with a Dewey number stuck to the spine, and on the title page you see the stamp of the insignia of the Backwater Public Library. >read it The book appears to be a scholarly monograph or a dissertation. You try to make sense of it, but the contents are incomprehensible: you struggle with sentences that declare matter-of-factly "the behaviour of cubits in a hasturian environment is well-known, although not often remarked upon", or propose that "we must now consider the implications of quantum entanglement in non-euclidian dimensions in light of recent discoveries regarding spacetime foam." The chapter entitled "The Vaadignephod Paradox" takes up at least seventy pages, and could well be, from all the subclauses and parenthetical diversions, a single, unbroken sentence. The chapter appears to describe the creation of a new element that, according to the typescript, "exhibits remarkable sub-quantum effects when exposed to nanomolecular compounds" but you can't determine whether this is a theoretical proposal or the records of an experiment that has already been conducted. There are notes written in the margins throughout the book both in pencil and in a blue-black ink that's left acidic yellow burns on the facing pages. The book concludes with the statement "And so I can only conclude that the holographic paradigm is presently the most compelling explanation for the heretofore discussed processes, effects, and phenomena." Written in pencil beneath this is the question "Cad faoi an leabhar na rí bhuí?". The well-dressed man's outline coalesces into form like ice spreading across a pond. Pleased, he watches his hands move, and brushes a bit of frost off of a shoulder. Then he starts and looks away, as if remembering something. His features darken and the air goes cold as he frowns. With a scowl and a sense of purpose, the well-dressed man fades away. You think you caught a glimpse of brick and ivy, and heard the sound of running water as he disappeared. >i You are carrying: a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids a black fountain pen a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew) a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew) an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew) the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew) the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew) a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew) an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew) a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew) a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew) a pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew) a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew) a pinch of pepper a total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew) a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew) a pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew) a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew) a pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew) a pinch of garlic a pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew) an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew) De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew) a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew) a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew) a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew) a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) a Carfax gig poster a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken silver amulet Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew) A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew) Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew) a white key The Lives of the Roman Emperors a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew) a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew) some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew) a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a key from an urn some mildewed leather gloves a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew) a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew) a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew) a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a black business card an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew) loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew) a clipboard some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew) an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew) a book list (smelling faintly of mildew) a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew) a long hooked pole a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew) a library card (smelling faintly of mildew) Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew) a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew) a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew) a Jansport backpack (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) a hidden pocket (open but empty) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open but empty) a side pocket (open but empty) a trash pocket (closed) a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew) a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew) an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed) a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew) a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew) a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew) a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew) a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew) Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew) the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew) a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew) a label (smelling faintly of mildew) a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew) a half-full styrofoam coffee cup a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew) a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew) a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew) a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew) a calfskin coat (being worn) a trolley pass (being worn) a gold jacket (being worn) Ed's coveralls (being worn) a pair of leather boots Lightning in the distance causes the shadows to dance for a moment. >x bound The book is bound in a cheap, rough, green cloth, with the title 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids and the name Aster Cragne embossed in gold leaf. The pages appear to have been printed on continuous paper, then separated and gathered together?a dissertation, perhaps? There's a sticker with a Dewey number stuck to the spine, and on the title page you see the stamp of the insignia of the Backwater Public Library. Frost lines the edges of the library insignia. Thunder rumbles in the distance. >s (first opening the wooden door) It seems to be locked. >w Study (Ian Holmes) "Kind people call them sunbeams," your mother told you, as a child, when you asked about the dust particles catching the light in your living room. Later, you read that much of it was arthropod waste: shredded cobwebs, insect corpses, mites fed on human skin. Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. Even now, being in a study makes you feel vaguely guilty. Like an impostor. >x me As good-looking as ever. You do notice a key on the bookshelf. It is probably significant. No, let me rephrase that; it is the ONLY reason a plebeian like you would stray into this temple of learning. So pick it up and get out of here. A Rusty Iron Key. >take rusty (the small rusty iron key) Taken. Now get out of here! >x it A small, rusty iron key. There doesn't seem to be much point to inspecting anything else, given that you found the key. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. You definitely feel guilty. As if the headmaster is coming. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. You definitely feel guilty. As if... >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. Once, in the Headmaster's Study... no. Don't go there. >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. You definitely feel guilty. >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. You definitely feel guilty. As if the headmaster is coming. >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. Once, in the Headmaster's Study... no. Don't go there. >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. You definitely feel guilty. As if the headmaster is coming. >l Study (Ian Holmes) Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east. You definitely feel guilty. As if... >x coffee The swirls in your cup form horizontal bands. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person. What, you think finding the key makes you clever? You were obviously meant to find it. >e Hallway South (Matt Schneider) The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east. >unlock door with rusty Which do you mean, the small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)? >key That doesn't seem to fit the lock. A sudden sparking noise echoes inside the hole. >n Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south. A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall. >unlock door with rusty Which do you mean, the east door, the nursery door or the bricked-up door? >east Which do you mean, the small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)? >key That doesn't seem to fit the lock. >s Hallway South (Matt Schneider) The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east. >save Ok. >* I think that's everything important That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* maybe spend some time bashing at the armoire That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >n Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south. A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall. >x armoire The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places. >g The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places. >x boards The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places. >pull boards It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >kick it That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x me You seem no worse for wear, despite everything. >me That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >cry That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >shout (hello to the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)) The piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) does not respond. >say open sesame (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >push armoire south It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >* agh, that right now! You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >zz That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >z Time passes. >w Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr) You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love). On the north wall is a round white wall clock. Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it. >e Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south. A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall. >w Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr) You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love). On the north wall is a round white wall clock. Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it. A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock and squawks, "The time is now seven o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air. >e Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south. A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall. >w Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr) You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love). On the north wall is a round white wall clock. Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it. >e Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south. A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall. >w Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr) You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love). On the north wall is a round white wall clock. Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it. >take clock Taken. >* can't forget that! That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >save Ok. >e Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south. A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall. >set clock to 12 You set the round white wall clock to 12:00. >x armoire The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places. >open it It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 1 You set the round white wall clock to 1:00. >open it It isn't something you can open. >x armoire The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 2 You set the round white wall clock to 2:00. >set clock to 2 You set the round white wall clock to 2:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 3 You set the round white wall clock to 3:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 4 You set the round white wall clock to 4:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 5 You set the round white wall clock to 5:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 6 You set the round white wall clock to 6:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 77 No, you can't set that to anything. >set clock to 7 You set the round white wall clock to 7:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 8 You set the round white wall clock to 8:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 9 You set the round white wall clock to 9:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 10 You set the round white wall clock to 10:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 11 You set the round white wall clock to 11:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 11 You set the round white wall clock to 11:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 12 You set the round white wall clock to 12:00. >open armoire It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now. >set clock to 13 No, you can't set that to anything. >* worth a shot That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >save Ok. >