Start of a transcript of JIGSAW An Interactive History Copyright (c) 1995 by Graham Nelson Release 3 / Serial number 951129 / Inform v1600 Library 6/1 Standard interpreter 1.1 Interpreter 1 Version C / Library serial number 951024 >n Avenue Kleber This is one of the avenues meeting at the Arc de Triomphe, and at this time of night carriages still hurtle down the cobbles, their sprung wheels sparking off the stone, horses steaming in the warm air. A slightly damp "Le Figaro" lies in the gutter, occasionally puffed up by wind. >get figaro Taken. >n Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A carriage swings into view, and you just glimpse a dark lady within, talking to someone who looks suspiciously familiar - Black? - before it pulls through to the southeast. >se Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. An ageing aristocrat, with rouged cheeks, hurries by on some disreputable business to the west. >w Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A little band of girls in Breton jerseys skips by, playing some complicated game and chattering about Racine, before chasing each other away southeast. >se Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A carriage swings into view, and you just glimpse a dark lady within, talking to someone who looks suspiciously familiar - Black? - before it pulls through to the northwest. >nw Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A carriage swings into view, and you just glimpse a dark lady within, talking to someone who looks suspiciously familiar - Black? - before it pulls through to the northeast. >ne Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A carriage swings into view, and you just glimpse a dark lady within, talking to someone who looks suspiciously familiar - Black? - before it pulls through to the southeast. >se Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A green flask of absinthe sits abandoned on a doorstep. >get absinthe (putting the first aid box into the canvas rucksack to make room) Taken. >s Avenue Kleber This is one of the avenues meeting at the Arc de Triomphe, and at this time of night carriages still hurtle down the cobbles, their sprung wheels sparking off the stone, horses steaming in the warm air. >s Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. Inexplicably, your attention is drawn to the closed door of number 44. >s The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. A small coin lies among the fallen blossom. >drink absinthe You sway dizzily under the impact. No wonder it's banned these days. As you blink open your eyes, you're startled to find yourself... Hallucinating A hazy, purple vision of a fashionable soiree, where ladies sweep by in jewelled dresses and gentlemen stand puffing cigars, their top hats resting by their feet. A few musicians are ploughing through Debussy's string quartet, and the walls contain sculpture and impressionist paintings, so it must be very avant-garde. Black is also here, wearing that mocking smile, standing elegantly by the side of the Louis XIV dance floor. >x musicians You can't see any such thing. >x walls You can't see any such thing. >x paintings You can't see any such thing. >x ladies You can't see any such thing. >dance with black You sway woozily around the dance floor, only just able to stand and held up mainly by Black. Although it's obvious to you how your brilliant conversation sparkles, somehow you suspect that Black doesn't see it that way. One particularly thorough lurch later, the purple haze returns... Avenue Kleber This is one of the avenues meeting at the Arc de Triomphe, and at this time of night carriages still hurtle down the cobbles, their sprung wheels sparking off the stone, horses steaming in the warm air. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >s Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. Inexplicably, your attention is drawn to the closed door of number 44. >s The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. A small coin lies among the fallen blossom. >get coin You stoop down for the coin, still swaying unevenly on your feet after the absinthe, then collapse forward all over the pavement. At least you manage to salvage the coin if not your dignity. >w Maison du The In other words, a rather dark and gloomy tea-shop beside the river, to which none of the lustre of Paris has attached. The river bank runs east. A tall grandfather clock stands immobile behind the counter. In one corner is a bowl of jasmine tea nobody seems to have noticed. >x clock (the grandfather clock) It seems to have stopped. >e The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. >n Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. Inexplicably, your attention is drawn to the closed door of number 44. >open 44 You can't see any such thing. >open door You open the street door. >e 44, Rue Hamelin A dark, high-ceilinged entrance foyer, adding to the seedy atmosphere of gloom. A broad staircase is barred by locked doors, but there is a metal cage-lift shaft. On one side is a glass window to the concierge's office, which is dark and silent. A door to the west leads out to the street. The cage lift stands open at this floor. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >give coin to boy The lift boy takes the coin with a sly grin and steps into the lift. You feel so overcome with lachrymose gratitude that you give him a hug - no doubt absinthe makes the heart grow fonder. Fortunately he is too professional to take any notice. >get in lift You get into the cage lift. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. First Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Second Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Third Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Fourth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Fifth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting except that the door in the east wall is ajar. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Sixth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Seventh Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Top Floor Landing (in the cage lift) This landing has rich yellow-red carpets. You can see a centre piece here. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >get centre Taken. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >boy, down The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully descends a floor. Seventh Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, down The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully descends a floor. Sixth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, down The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully descends a floor. Fifth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting except that the door in the east wall is ajar. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >out You get out of the cage lift. Fifth Floor Landing A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting except that the door in the east wall is ajar. The cage lift stands open at this floor. >e Fifth Floor Flat A claustrophobic apartment, almost bare of furniture, but piled with heaps of paper, typescripts, manuscripts, cuttings from newspapers, scribbled notes and old coffee bowls. There is a brass fur-topped bed beside a bamboo table, and a single electric ring surrounded by milk-stains. The windows are jammed shut and the air is almost fetid. A party invitation is propped up beside the electric ring. A grey square tea tray is perched on the coffee table, amongst the debris. A stale madeleine completes the shambles. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >get all madeleine cake: (putting the second note from Black into the canvas rucksack to make room) Taken. tea tray: (putting the Kaldecki detector into the canvas rucksack to make room) As you pull at it, manuscripts riffle through the air, floating side to side: corrections and extensions have been glued onto proofs, handwritten notes abound, and the text of what is to become the most influential novel of the twentieth century is all over the place, curled into "paperoles", falling around the furniture, coming to rest. Interestingly, the tea tray turns out to have been an edge jigsaw piece. Oh, and by the way, the windows burst open, so that before you managed to shut them again a crucial passage escaped into the night air. handwritten invitation card: Taken. >get piece (the edge piece) (putting the scribbled-on towel into the canvas rucksack to make room) Taken. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >w Fifth Floor Landing A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting except that the door in the east wall is ajar. The cage lift stands open at this floor. >in You get into the cage lift. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, down The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully descends to the foyer. 44, Rue Hamelin (in the cage lift) A dark, high-ceilinged entrance foyer, adding to the seedy atmosphere of gloom. A broad staircase is barred by locked doors, but there is a metal cage-lift shaft. On one side is a glass window to the concierge's office, which is dark and silent. A door to the west leads out to the street. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >out You get out of the cage lift. 44, Rue Hamelin A dark, high-ceilinged entrance foyer, adding to the seedy atmosphere of gloom. A broad staircase is barred by locked doors, but there is a metal cage-lift shaft. On one side is a glass window to the concierge's office, which is dark and silent. A door to the west leads out to the street. The cage lift stands open at this floor. >w Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. The door of number 44 stands ajar. >s The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. >save Ok. >set clock to 1 You shorten the time left on the clock. >z Time passes. Suddenly you are wrenched out into the time vortex once more, and find yourself back... Disc Room This is a tiny tetrahedral annexe of a room, whose only clear feature is a broad black disc embedded in the floor. >nw Inside the Monument A sloping crevice of metal, sunken into the ground some way to make a larger-than-expected room. Short flights of steps lead up to west and southeast. The air is cool and moist. At the centre is a heavy old table whose top is a beautiful mahogany jigsaw-board, with room for sixteen pieces arranged in a square. There are six played pieces. You shake your head, confused, and recite to yourself some of the great poetry of Tom Clancy and Marilyn Monroe. You have the sinking feeling that something is badly wrong here (it's just like a scene from one of Ronald Reagan's gothic horror novels) but never mind, time to go out and toast the millennium with an absinthe and tonic. *** You have wrecked the course of history *** In that game you scored 34 out of a possible 100, in 439 turns, giving you the rank of Piecefinder. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, give the FULL score for that game or QUIT? > restore Ok. >w Maison du The In other words, a rather dark and gloomy tea-shop beside the river, to which none of the lustre of Paris has attached. The river bank runs east. A tall grandfather clock stands immobile behind the counter. One of M. Proust's paperoles has somehow got curled up around the pendulum of the grandfather clock. In one corner is a bowl of jasmine tea nobody seems to have noticed. >x paperole It abounds with secondary clauses, circular sentences, aesthetic asides and references to Time. This is the culminating passage of a million and a quarter words: of deep significance. It'd be a shame to lose it. >get paperole The staff will not allow you to meddle with the clock. >drink tea You sip a little from the tea, but it is both harsh and weak. >eat madeleine You nibble at a corner of the madeleine, but it is both stale and dry. >dip madeleine in tea You dip the madeleine into the tea, in good French fashion. >eat madeleine The first taste of the madeleine dipped in tea instantly transports you back, in a flood of involuntary memory, to... Your First School You are seven or eight years old, and you have squirreled yourself away to a secret corridor behind the hall to see the Clock. The ceiling is far above, the windows are too high for you, the aroma of school dinners drifts in from the kitchens. The Clock stands before you, huge and lustrous. The pendulum is still: surrounding it, lead counter-weights hang like fir-cones. It is as if the school day will never end, and no bell will sound. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >x windows That's not something you need to refer to in the course of this game. >x ceiling You see nothing special about the ceiling. >smell Ah! Jam sponge pudding baked in steel tins. >x pendulum You are always fascinated by the Clock, which works the school bell: the cogs, the so-slow mechanism, the pendulum. >x weights You are always fascinated by the Clock, which works the school bell: the cogs, the so-slow mechanism, the pendulum. >breathe That's not a verb I recognise. >listen You hear nothing unexpected. >x me As good-looking as ever. >verbs That's not a verb I recognise. >blow What do you want to blow? >blow clock (first taking the school clock) You can't prise loose the weights. >take clock You can't prise loose the weights. >climb clock I don't think much is to be achieved by that. >cut clock Cutting that up would achieve little. >enter clock That's not something you can enter. >jump You jump on the spot, fruitlessly. >listen to clock You hear nothing unexpected. >push clock You reach up, doubtfully, afraid to touch, but that doesn't quite seem right, and the Clock stares impassively down at you. >pull clock You reach up, doubtfully, afraid to touch, but that doesn't quite seem right, and the Clock stares impassively down at you. >turn clock You reach up, doubtfully, afraid to touch, but that doesn't quite seem right, and the Clock stares impassively down at you. >set clock No, you can't set that. >sing Your singing is abominable. >turn on clock That's not something you can switch. >unlock clock What do you want to unlock the school clock with? >me (first taking yourself) You are always self-possessed. >hit clock Violence isn't the answer to this one. >move clock You reach up, doubtfully, afraid to touch, but that doesn't quite seem right, and the Clock stares impassively down at you. >swing on weights Reaching up with a chubby hand, you swing the pendulum back... and the Clock starts: the cogs turn, the bell begins to sound, the weights gradually pull up and down. Time has begun for you, and you know now that it will some day end... but not for many days yet. Maison du The In other words, an elegant and zestful tea-shop beside the river, romantic in the moonlight. The river bank invites you to stroll back east. Behind the counter, a tall grandfather clock smoothly keeps time. The paperole has fluttered to the floor, dislodged by the pendulum of the clock. In one corner is a bowl of jasmine tea nobody seems to have noticed. >drink tea You sip a little from the tea, but it is both harsh and weak. >buy tea Nothing is on sale. >i You are carrying: an edge piece a handwritten invitation card a madeleine cake a centre piece Le Figaro a Sixth Officer's jacket (being worn) a canvas rucksack (which is open) Black's Kaldecki detector a second note from Black a first aid box (which is closed) the 1911 Boy's Book of the Sea a curious device the Victorian ormolu clock Emily's sketch book a charcoal pencil a White Star Line scribbled-on towel a folded note a white party ticket two keys: a elegant key a tagged key a sparkler (providing light) >eat madeleine Delicious! >undo Maison du The [Previous turn undone.] >save Ok. >eat madeleine Delicious! >i You are carrying: an edge piece a handwritten invitation card a centre piece Le Figaro a Sixth Officer's jacket (being worn) a canvas rucksack (which is open) Black's Kaldecki detector a second note from Black a first aid box (which is closed) the 1911 Boy's Book of the Sea a curious device the Victorian ormolu clock Emily's sketch book a charcoal pencil a White Star Line scribbled-on towel a folded note a white party ticket two keys: a elegant key a tagged key a sparkler (providing light) >undo Maison du The [Previous turn undone.] >restore Ok. >i You are carrying: an edge piece a handwritten invitation card a madeleine cake a centre piece Le Figaro a Sixth Officer's jacket (being worn) a canvas rucksack (which is open) Black's Kaldecki detector a second note from Black a first aid box (which is closed) the 1911 Boy's Book of the Sea a curious device the Victorian ormolu clock Emily's sketch book a charcoal pencil a White Star Line scribbled-on towel a folded note a white party ticket two keys: a elegant key a tagged key a sparkler (providing light) >dip madeleine in tea You dip the madeleine into the tea, in good French fashion. >e The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. >read paperole You can't see any such thing. >w Maison du The In other words, an elegant and zestful tea-shop beside the river, romantic in the moonlight. The river bank invites you to stroll back east. Behind the counter, a tall grandfather clock smoothly keeps time. The paperole has fluttered to the floor, dislodged by the pendulum of the clock. In one corner is a bowl of jasmine tea nobody seems to have noticed. >get paperole (putting Le Figaro into the canvas rucksack to make room) Taken. >read it It abounds with secondary clauses, circular sentences, aesthetic asides and references to Time. This is the culminating passage of a million and a quarter words: of deep significance. It'd be a shame to lose it. >e The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. >n Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. The door of number 44 stands ajar. >e 44, Rue Hamelin A dark, high-ceilinged entrance foyer, adding to the seedy atmosphere of gloom. A broad staircase is barred by locked doors, but there is a metal cage-lift shaft. On one side is a glass window to the concierge's office, which is dark and silent. A door to the west leads out to the street. The cage lift stands open at this floor. >enter cage You get into the cage lift. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends to the fifth floor again. Fifth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting except that the door in the east wall is ajar. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, up The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully ascends a floor. Sixth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >boy, down The boy whistles the Marseillaise cheerfully as the lift gracefully descends a floor. Fifth Floor Landing (in the cage lift) A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting except that the door in the east wall is ajar. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >out You get out of the cage lift. Fifth Floor Landing A carpeted landing, bare and uninteresting except that the door in the east wall is ajar. The cage lift stands open at this floor. >e Fifth Floor Flat A claustrophobic apartment, almost bare of furniture, but piled with heaps of paper, typescripts, manuscripts, cuttings from newspapers, scribbled notes and old coffee bowls. There is a brass fur-topped bed beside a bamboo table, and a single electric ring surrounded by milk-stains. The windows are jammed shut and the air is almost fetid. >drop paperole You restore the crucial closing passage of M. Proust's novel to the heap of manuscript, feeling greatly relieved. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >[ ...it seemed to me that quite soon now I might be too weak to maintain my hold upon a past which already went down so far... -- Marcel Proust, "Le Temps Retrouve" (1927)] x figaro "Le Figaro" for May 18th, 1922. In the studied, literary style of French newspapers, it carries critiques of Poincare's hard-line policy on German reparations, and there is a frisson of excitement over the serialisation of the latest volume of "A La Recherche du Temps Perdu". The air here suddenly seems disturbed, and a kind of cloud gathers from light winds and currents. From inside the rucksack, you hear a bell ring. >press button The cloud of disturbed air condenses into a kind of spherical ink-black ball, large enough to swallow you up whole. >enter ball You climb into blackness, which draws you... Inside the Black Ball You stand in absolute blackness, as if in space, but a space without stars. You can imagine the six spatial directions, but although there seems to be light and you can see your arms and possessions, there is nothing else. All you can hear is your own breathing. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. As suddenly as it enveloped you, the blackness begins to thaw and melt, like snow into an ash-grey slush which drifts and piles into landscape. You have returned to the Land. Grim, monochrome steppes, wide and exposed beneath a brooding sky, the colour of boiled bruised potatoes. Bleak mountain crags surround a huge plain. The pyramid gleams gold like a beacon, like lamplight in the window of a farmhouse at night. Glacier Milk A violently rapid glacier-milk river plunges down the western rock face into a canal just to the south, which flows away east. >n Cube The sharp mountain walls to west and north meet here at a basalt pinnacle, on which a perfectly-cut cube two yards across is balanced. >e Thick Mist Thick, cloudy mist covers the Land here, suspended in the air like milk in water. >w You stumble along, descending a little out of the mist. Cube The sharp mountain walls to west and north meet here at a basalt pinnacle, on which a perfectly-cut cube two yards across is balanced. >s Glacier Milk A violently rapid glacier-milk river plunges down the western rock face into a canal just to the south, which flows away east. >s At the Pagoda The western rock face meets the glacier-milk canal just to the north. A Chinese Pagoda, or pavilion, is placed serenely on this bank, its doorway open. >list You may only do so near the jigsaw board. >save Ok. >e Southwest of Pyramid Open field south of the canal, which opens out here to a steel-grey river and then flows under the western corner of the golden Pyramid. In the centre of the southwest face is a gleaming doorway. >ne Disc Room This is a tiny tetrahedral annexe of a room, whose only clear feature is a broad black disc embedded in the floor. >nw Inside the Monument A sloping crevice of metal, sunken into the ground some way to make a larger-than-expected room. Short flights of steps lead up to west and southeast. The air is cool and moist. At the centre is a heavy old table whose top is a beautiful mahogany jigsaw-board, with room for sixteen pieces arranged in a square. There are six played pieces. >x grid "Nec deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus inciderit" 1 2 3 4 +----------------------------------------------------+ |............. ooooooooooooo| a |. Mould Park o| |......o...... oooooo oooooo| |ooooooooooooo | b |o Invalid | |oooooo.oooooo . | |.............oooooo oooooo............. | c |. Glass .. Carriage oo Train .. | |.............ooooooooooooo............. | | . o . | d | | | | +----------------------------------------------------+ >x piece Which do you mean, the edge piece or the centre piece? >x edge A large jigsaw piece, six inches on a side and square. It's a dull grey-white, perhaps depicting the side of a tank. It is currently this way up: O OOOOOOO OOOOOOO OOOOOO OOOOOOO OOO OOO >put edge at b4 It fits at b4, and suddenly lights up with a picture: white folds of snow. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >x centre A large jigsaw piece, six inches on a side and square. It's a dull grey-white, perhaps depicting the middle of a prison van. It is currently this way up: OOO OOO OOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO OOOOOOO O >x grid "Nec deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus inciderit" 1 2 3 4 +----------------------------------------------------+ |............. ooooooooooooo| a |. Mould Park o| |......o...... oooooo.oooooo| |ooooooooooooo .............| b |o Invalid Snow .| |oooooo.oooooo . ...... ......| |.............oooooo oooooo............. | c |. Glass .. Carriage oo Train .. | |.............ooooooooooooo............. | | . o . | d | | | | +----------------------------------------------------+ >put centre at b2 It fits at b2, and suddenly lights up with a picture: rolling, low sand dunes. [Your score has just gone up by one point.] >x grid "Nec deus intersit nisi dignus vindice nodus inciderit" 1 2 3 4 +----------------------------------------------------+ |............. ooooooooooooo| a |. Mould Park o| |......o...... oooooo.oooooo| |ooooooooooooo...... ...... .............| b |o Invalid .. Dunes .. Snow .| |oooooo.oooooo............. . ...... ......| |.............oooooo.oooooo............. | c |. Glass .. Carriage oo Train .. | |.............ooooooooooooo............. | | . o . | d | | | | +----------------------------------------------------+ >list a1 a growth of mould in a Petri dish (solved) a4 parklands strobed by laser light (solved) b1 a moustachioed invalid in bed (solved) b2 rolling, low sand dunes b4 white folds of snow c1 a cocktail in a glass, with tonic and ice (solved) c2 a horse-drawn state carriage (solved) c3 a racing steam train >footnote b1 [ Footnote b1: ] The geography and decor of Proust's flat is taken from George Painter's biography. (Having passed through by chance in 1993, the author can testify that the Rue Hamelin is now somewhat smarter than it was in the 1920s.) The dinner party alluded to in the invitation took place on 18th May 1922, though it was something of a farce as Stravinsky refused to believe that Proust had any serious interest in music, and because Joyce and Proust were both drunk and had not read each other's books. (Though Joyce did later read A La Recherche... and scattered his own work with allusions to it.) By this time Proust was acknowledged as a genius by people other than himself, and his huge novel approached conclusion - but so did his illness. The final volume was just about done (though left in a chaotic mess) before he died, in November, propped up in his childhood bed, drinking iced beer sent up from the Ritz. >save Ok. >