Start of a transcript of Counterfeit Monkey A Removal by Emily Short Release 11 / Serial number 230220 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.41 lib 6/12N) Identification number: //7B5A779B-4653-43DB-A516-F475DDC12987// Interpreter version 1.3.6 / VM 3.1.2 / Library serial number 080126 Standard Rules version 3/120430 by Graham Nelson Ultra Undo version 1/160622 by Dannii Willis Subcommands by Daniel Stelzer Startup Precomputation version 1/160718 by Dannii Willis Graphic Links version 3/161003 by Jeff Sheets Facial Expressions by Emily Short Threaded Conversation version 2/160606 by Emily Short Threaded Actions by Emily Short Mood Variations version 3 by Emily Short Tailored Room Description version 13/160717 by Emily Short Smarter Parser version 6 by Aaron Reed Numbered Disambiguation Choices version 10/190320 by Aaron Reed Exit Lister version 3 by Gavin Lambert Approaches version 7 by Emily Short Far away version 5/160517 by Jon Ingold Facing version 11/160611 by Emily Short Rideable Vehicles version 3 by Graham Nelson Automated Drawers version 6 by Emily Short Modern Conveniences version 5 by Emily Short Postures version 2/180527 by Emily Short Computers version 7 by Emily Short Notepad version 4/160517 by Jim Aikin Tutorial Mode version 5 by Emily Short Room Description Control version 13/160517 by Emily Short Assorted Text Generation version 5 by Emily Short >* OK, past the bureau to the bus station * OK, past the bureau to the bus station You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >i i We are equipped with the following essentials: a backpack, a flash drive, a monocle, some Origin Paste, some plans, a roll, your S-remover, and a tub of restoration gel. We are also carrying some ale, an arm, some asparagus, a band, a clock, a funnel, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, a heel, a jotter, a leaflet, a letter, a lime, a May, some members, a mug, some oil, a pastis, a pea, a sill, some toes, and a watch. Everything we carry is in the backpack except the ale, the arm, the band, the monocle, the oil, the Origin Paste, the pastis, the pea, the plans, the S-remover, the sill, and the watch. The backpack is gaping wide open so everyone can see what's inside. We are wearing the monocle and the backpack. >put monocle in backpack put monocle in backpack We gently remove the monocle. We put the monocle into the backpack. >put remover in backpack put remover in backpack We put the S-remover into the backpack. >close backpack close backpack We close the backpack. >i i We are equipped with the following essentials: a backpack, a flash drive, a monocle, some Origin Paste, some plans, a roll, your S-remover, and a tub of restoration gel. We are also carrying some ale, an arm, some asparagus, a band, a clock, a funnel, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, a heel, a jotter, a leaflet, a letter, a lime, a May, some members, a mug, some oil, a pastis, a pea, a sill, some toes, and a watch. Everything we carry is in the backpack except the ale, the arm, the band, the oil, the Origin Paste, the pastis, the pea, the plans, the sill, and the watch. The backpack is closed for greater concealment. We are wearing the backpack. >put paste in backpack put paste in backpack We open the backpack. We put the Origin Paste into the backpack. >remove l from plans remove l from plans We reset the device to l. The plans give way to the now-familiar pans. We can't reasonably carry the whole stack of pans, so they fall to the floor with a dramatic crash. >remove s from pans remove s from pans We reset the device to s. The pans give way to the now-familiar pan. >put pan in backpack put pan in backpack (first taking the pan) We put the pan into the backpack. >put remover in backpack put remover in backpack We put the S-remover into the backpack. >close backpack close backpack We close the backpack. >i i We are equipped with the following essentials: a backpack, a flash drive, a monocle, some Origin Paste, a pan (really the smuggled plans in disguise), a roll, your S-remover, and a tub of restoration gel. We are also carrying some ale, an arm, some asparagus, a band, a clock, a funnel, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, a heel, a jotter, a leaflet, a letter, a lime, a May, some members, a mug, some oil, a pastis, a pea, a sill, some toes, and a watch. Everything we carry is in the backpack except the ale, the arm, the band, the oil, the pastis, the pea, the sill, and the watch. The backpack is closed for greater concealment. We are wearing the backpack. >* OK that should get most of our most incriminating stuff hidden before we go traipsing past the Bureau * OK that should get most of our most incriminating stuff hidden before we go traipsing past the Bureau That's not a verb I recognize. >se se That way is just a corner of the room, though we could go east to the Docks. >e e Docks Here are some dozens of boats tied up: some of them are small to medium-sized fishing craft, some tourist boats for trips around the island, some merely ferries to the deeper harbor where the cruise ships anchor. To the east, up a moderate rise from the sea-level docks, is the imposing exterior of the Customs House. The classical look is only a little undermined by the public-service posters along the front. Immediately west, the Counterfeit Monkey's sign sways in the wind. >s s Fish Market Not very fishy at the moment, in fact: all the real trade happens in the early morning; then there is a period of tourist trade when the seafood sale tails off and most of the purchases are of polished conch shells and starfish; and then a little after noon the area clears out completely, leaving only briny rivulets on the concrete. Just east of here is a rusting corrugated tin building, which was built to house various possessions of the fishermen. We can go north to the Docks, south to Outdoor Café, southeast to Deep Street, and east to the Tin Hut from here. >se se [If you're traveling far, you can always type GO TO (location name) to get there automatically.] Deep Street This road descends steeply from southwest to northwest, passing between white concrete buildings to provide access to the marina ? the Fish Market, the Docks, and a bar or two. The street is in deep shadow, protected from sunlight from almost any angle by its narrowness and by the height of the walls. Our pathetic little car is parked right outside Aquarium Bookstore. We can go northwest to the Fish Market, southwest to the Roundabout, east to the Aquarium Bookstore, and west to Outdoor Café from here. >sw sw We get into the car. We switch the ignition on. The whole Roundabout has ground to a halt, with protesters walking in the street and in some places completely filling the road. But this is mostly a nuisance until I notice that there are a couple of teenagers handcuffed to a tree. I give the wheel a yank and run the car up onto the central traffic circle a little way. Call it a parking job. We need to get those kids out of here before their arrest is processed and they go to storage. I might not have the nerve to do anything by myself, but you're with me, and I'm starting to appreciate that's like being Batman. >* missing line break * missing line break That's not a verb I recognize. >* But of course, let's draw attention to ourselves right before waltzing past enemy headquarters * But of course, let's draw attention to ourselves right before waltzing past enemy headquarters (You can just begin your command with the verb. Retrying that as "* but of course, draw attention to ourselves right before waltzing past enemy headquarters".) You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* Like maybe we should respect people's civil disobedience here * Like maybe we should respect people's civil disobedience here You will need to be more specific. Try typing LOOK to get a description of your surroundings. >l l Traffic Circle (jammed into the car) Normally no pedestrian ever comes to this circle of grass and litter: the flow of traffic is too constant and too fast. But the protest has stopped the traffic and I'm determined to do something about the two teenagers I saw just now, so here we are. Though we probably have to get out of the car if we're going to be useful. >x teenagers x teenagers We don't have a good angle on the action from inside the car. >out out I can see an officer making his way between the cars and stopping at the fake ones. Maybe we'd better conceal our car before we leave it ? we may need to make a quick getaway later. >put paste on car put paste on car We open the backpack. We surreptitiously smear some of the Origin Paste onto the car. Nothing obvious happens, of course, but that is the whole point. [Your score has gone up by one point and is now thirty-eight.] >out out We open the door of the car. We climb out of the car. Traffic Circle A giant Atlantida statue stands at the center, decorated in an unorthodox fashion with a sign and a stuffed octopus. Atlantida is to us a bit as Uncle Sam might be to you, except that she embodies the spirit of the people rather than the government. In recent years she's become a symbol of opposition to the Bureau. Two teenagers are cuffed to a brown tree, apparently for safe-keeping while the All-Purpose Officer undoes their vandalism. He has a diminutive affixer. "Go ahead, put us in Cold Storage!" shouts the defiant teenager. "I'm happy to sleep through all this shit and wake up when we have jet packs and a government that respects the rights of its people." The All-Purpose Officer shifts the restoration gel rifle from one hand to another; looks around; and then props it against the foot of the statue. >* Guess that does make it stand out * Guess that does make it stand out That's not a verb I recognize. >* ooh an affixer! * ooh an affixer! That's not a verb I recognize. >take rifle take rifle The All-Purpose Officer is right here. You have too much sense to make a move until he's a little more distracted. The nervous teenager looks unhappy. "We won't get out of here until our families are all dead and global warming has reduced Atlantis to three square feet of hilltop." The All-Purpose Officer goes around to the back of the statue and begins to climb up the leg, finding footholds in the folds of Atlantida's gown. It looks like a precarious business, but he's determined. >undo undo Traffic Circle [Previous turn undone.] >undo undo Traffic Circle [Previous turn undone.] >save save Ok. >x octpus x octpus I can't see what you're talking about. >oops octopus oops octopus Slightly wrong, actually, but I suppose they didn't have a stuffed squid handy. Of the four symbols associated with Atlantis, the squid ? representing invention and individuality ? is the one that has greatest resonance for protesters. This one has been tied to Atlantida's hand alongside the olive branch she traditionally carries. >x branch x branch A metal olive branch, complete with metal leaves and metal olives. >x sign x sign It reads: The Spirit of Atlantis is the Spirit of Referendum! NO MORE "NON-REFERRABLE PROCEDURES"... ...ON INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS ...ON ECONOMIC POLICY ...ON HUMAN RIGHTS >x tree x tree It's a tree of indeterminate species. I'm pretty sure it wasn't here yesterday. Though the leaves are dusty and brown, there's no leaf-fall at all underneath the tree, and it's not one of the palms that usually grow in this area. >put gel on tree put gel on tree (the restoration gel on the brown tree) There's too much intervening crowd for us to get there with any speed. The nervous teenager looks unhappy. "We won't get out of here until our families are all dead and global warming has reduced Atlantis to three square feet of hilltop." The All-Purpose Officer goes around to the back of the statue and begins to climb up the leg, finding footholds in the folds of Atlantida's gown. It looks like a precarious business, but he's determined. >out out The way is still blocked by protesters. The nervous teenager struggles against her bonds. Gritting his teeth, the All-Purpose Officer climbs for access out onto Atlantida's huge metal arm. It looks about as sturdy as a substantial tree branch, but more slippery, and inconveniently angled. >take rifle take rifle We pick up the rifle. It fits well in your hand: good heft. I feel like we know how to aim this thing. It's illegal to carry, but that doesn't seem to be bothering you right now. One of the other protesters tries to free the teenagers while the All-Purpose Officer isn't paying attention, but the bonds are too strong. Once the All-Purpose Officer comes level with the sign, he shoots it with the diminutive affixer, turning it into a signet. It's an outsized signet bearing the crest of the Bureau of Orthography, now hanging around the statue's neck in the same way that the sign did a moment ago. >shoot rifle at tree shoot rifle at tree We shoot the restoration gel rifle at the brown tree. With an audible SPLORT, the brown tree becomes a brown tee. It's a brown wooden peg for putting a golf ball on. Apparently the All-Purpose Officer performed a little light R-insertion when he found himself in need of a portable tree. Freed from attachment to the tree, the teenagers look at each other and then run off into the crowd. The All-Purpose Officer glances around, but you've made us stand so our body conceals the rifle from his angle. He growls in annoyance. "Station," he says, apparently to thin air. "I need back-up." Understood, says a tinny distant voice. Laboriously and with obvious irritation, the All-Purpose Officer pries the arms of the stuffed octopus off the statue's wrist, where they appear to have been fixed with glue. >drop rifle drop rifle We prop the rifle back at the foot of the statue. The crowd is parting. We might be able to leave soon. The All-Purpose Officer tosses the stuffed octopus away. It falls pathetically to earth. >take octopus take octopus We get the stuffed octopus. The All-Purpose Officer begins to climb down. >enter car enter car We get into the car. No one seems to be much the wiser about what just happened. I have to say, you know what you're doing. Traffic is starting to move again. We'd better get on to the dead drop. Roundabout (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. The traffic flows in a tight circle around a statue which we know all too well. Confusing signs point in various directions: northeast to Deep Street, northwest to High Street, south to Long Street, east to Tall Street. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. Please don't try to change lanes. >* whew * whew That's not a verb I recognize. >change lanes change lanes Oh, please don't, please don't... >change lanes change lanes Oh, please don't, please don't... > I beg your pardon? >change lanes change lanes Oh, please don't, please don't... >* lol * lol That's not a verb I recognize. >* can we go south yet? * can we go south yet? (You can just begin your command with the verb. Retrying that as "* go south yet".) That's not a verb I recognize. >s s Long Street North (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. Long Street is lined on each side with a double-row of tall, anemic palm trees that bend towards one another many feet overhead. This corridor continues some considerable distance south. On the west side of the street is the several-story front of the Fleur d'Or hotel. We can go north to the Roundabout, south, and west from here. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >* oh, guess we can * oh, guess we can You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >undo undo Long Street North [Previous turn undone.] >undo undo Roundabout [Previous turn undone.] >e e Tall Street (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. Tall Street is very quiet. No celebrations have reached this far, and neither is there any business today; so it has an air of dull abandonment. At the east end the street bends to go around an old park rarely visited. To the south is the important blue rotunda of the Bureau of Orthography. The street runs west towards the busy roundabout. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >* Surprised we didn't get any points for that? * Surprised we didn't get any points for that? You will need to be more specific. Try typing LOOK to get a description of your surroundings. >w w Roundabout (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. The traffic flows in a tight circle around a statue which we know all too well. Confusing signs point in various directions: northeast to Deep Street, northwest to High Street, south to Long Street, east to Tall Street. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. Hey, mind the truck! >x statue x statue It is, curiously, easier to get a sense of from a distance than it was close-up in the Traffic Circle. Kind of a 19th-century French style of thing: flowing bronze robes, one breast naked, plump fingers clasping an olive branch. But we can't stop and stare at it with the traffic the way it is. >e e Tall Street (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. Tall Street is very quiet. No celebrations have reached this far, and neither is there any business today; so it has an air of dull abandonment. At the east end the street bends to go around an old park rarely visited. To the south is the important blue rotunda of the Bureau of Orthography. The street runs west towards the busy roundabout. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >x park x park I can't see what you're talking about. >out out We switch the ignition off. We open the door of the car. We climb out of the car. >x park x park I can't see what you're talking about. >x rotunda x rotunda It is brighter blue than the sky and soars many stories. >x bureau x bureau I can't see what you're talking about. >s s Rotunda Echoing space, marble floor, eye-like skylight many meters above us: so far, the Rotunda might belong to any 19th-century government bureau of means and self-importance. What sets this one apart is the lettering, each sigil no bigger than a flea, carved over every inch of the walls. Inscribed here is, in fact, the entire text of A New Orthodox Orthography, which means that if we had a great deal of patience and many rolls of butcher paper, we could take rubbings and wind up with our very own volume. We don't, of course. There are better things to do. More important places to go. The administrative part of the bureau is away to the south, and there is an exhibit of letter tools to the east, which is open to the public. Near the street entrance is a sizable informational bulletin-board advertising the services of the Bureau; and next to this, pushed back to be out of the way, is a bin. In the bin is a shuttle. >read text read text It is far too small to read, especially since the letters are not painted or inked, just carved into the stone surfaces. >x board x board What Can Your Bureau of Orthography Do For You? inquires the bulletin board, in a sprightly casual font. On a sheet labeled From Plumbing to Medicine... "And More", the bulletin board describes the tools available to the All-Purpose Officers, including a synthesizer for combining two word-objects into one; Q- and Z-inserters (most letters are still under development); and even specially licensed equipment capable of producing living creatures. For immigration and importation services, such as assigning Atlantean names to immigrants, neutralizing foreign-language pets, and approving imported goods, we are encouraged to visit the Customs House instead. A handwritten note is tacked up after this, which adds that the synthesizer is unavailable for public use through Dec. 19th because it is on loan to the university Department of Language Studies. Hey, that's my department! >look up tall street look up tall street We take Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis. We flip through Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, but find no reference to tall street. >look up tall look up tall We flip through Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, but find no reference to tall. >look up bureau look up bureau The entry is long and greasily flattering: resplendent blue dome, magnificent interior, warm and hospitable employees, world-renowned historical research department, etc., etc., etc. >look up statue look up statue We flip through Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, but find no reference to statue. >look up roundabout look up roundabout We flip through Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, but find no reference to roundabout. >* ah well * ah well That's not a verb I recognize. >* Anyway looks like we might be able to get our hands on a synthesizer? * Anyway looks like we might be able to get our hands on a synthesizer? (Most connecting and comparative words are not necessary. Retrying that as "* looks like we might _be able to get our hands on a synthesizer".) That's not a verb I recognize. >x bin x bin BUREAU PARKING, reads the bin, in thick black marker. DO NOT TAKE UNLESS AUTHORIZED. In the bin is a shuttle. >x shuttle x shuttle It's a wooden device that holds a quantity of yarn, allowing the user more easily to pass the thread back and forth while weaving. It is also a bit of a snarky joke on the Bureau's part. Atlantean land prices being what they are, the Bureau prefers not to have to build a parking garage. Instead they have shuttles that an All-Purpose Officer with a homonym paddle can easily convert into a full-sized vehicle for use, and back again for easy storage. The shuttles in their untransformed state are no earthly use to anyone else, of course, which is why they can be left around unsupervised. >take shuttle take shuttle We get the shuttle. >* hmm can't do much with the remover, and gel won't work since it doesn't undo homonym transformations I don't think * hmm can't do much with the remover, and gel won't work since it doesn't undo homonym transformations I don't think That does not seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >put gel on shuttle put gel on shuttle We dip out a pea-sized quantity of gel and rub it gently onto the shuttle. Alas, nothing happens. >put all in backpack put all in backpack shuttle: Done. Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis: Done. stuffed octopus: Done. pastis: The pastis would just spill. ale: The ale would make a real mess. pea: Done. watch: Done. band: Done. sill: The sill couldn't possibly fit. oil: The oil would just spill. arm: The arm would just stick out. >close backpack close backpack We close the backpack. >x octopus x octopus Slightly wrong, actually, but I suppose they didn't have a stuffed squid handy. Of the four symbols associated with Atlantis, the squid ? representing invention and individuality ? is the one that has greatest resonance for protesters. >e e Tools and Techniques Exhibit This area, though technically part of the Bureau, is open to the public as a display of the tools (past and present) of orthographical dominance. Everything is, alas, behind glass. Over at one end of the room is a Regency version of your own letter-remover ? known as the Model T, because that is all it was originally able to remove. Next to that there is an anagramming gun and an Etymological Reversing Chamber. >* ooh * ooh That's not a verb I recognize. >x model x model The Regency-era T-remover is clumsy-looking and too big to lift, thanks to the coal boiler required to power it. It still bears the maker's mark of one S. Meretzky. >* lol * lol That's not a verb I recognize. >x tools x tools Tools and Techniques Exhibit This area, though technically part of the Bureau, is open to the public as a display of the tools (past and present) of orthographical dominance. Everything is, alas, behind glass. Over at one end of the room is a Regency version of your own letter-remover ? known as the Model T, because that is all it was originally able to remove. Next to that there is an anagramming gun and an Etymological Reversing Chamber. >x exhibits x exhibits I can't see what you're talking about. >x display x display On the display platform are a Model T, an Etymological Reversing Chamber (closed), and an anagramming gun. >x glass x glass The casing material would stop a bullet. >x gun x gun Anagramming guns are illegal now, of course, because of their desperately unpredictable behavior. This one is a huge heavy thing, though not quite an artillery piece, because of the colossal amounts of power required and all the stabilizers needed to try to collapse the letters back down to a single phrase. Something makes you think of Brock's comment about anagramming. >remember comment remember comment Galley You and Brock were sitting at the galley table, Scrabble tiles in front of you. "This is what I admire about you," he said, touching your foot with his. "Most kids raised by fundamentalist parents wind up the same way themselves, or they go off the deep end the other way. You just... rearranged the tiles you'd been dealt." More than he realized, in fact, now that you've added my tiles to yours. Then we're back in the present. >take gun take gun I don't want to sound like I doubt your criminal credentials, or whatever, but I doubt even you can successfully steal from this display case. The casing material would stop a bullet. >x case x case On the display platform are a Model T, an Etymological Reversing Chamber (closed), and an anagramming gun. >fire gun fire gun What do you want to fire the anagramming gun at? >me me The display case isn't open. >open case open case No. Sorry, I just don't see how it could possibly work without our getting caught. The casing material would stop a bullet. >x casing x casing I can't see what you're talking about. >x material x material I can't see what you're talking about. >x case x case On the display platform are a Model T, an Etymological Reversing Chamber (closed), and an anagramming gun. >x chamber x chamber It looks like an iron lung ? a large sealed chamber with extensive machinery surrounding it. It is able to make words run back to their linguistic roots: ape into apa, pearl to perle, and so on. The machine is of little popular use and is principally applied by scholars under controlled circumstances. Despite newspaper articles breathlessly proclaiming that the ERC will be able to produce the "God language" ? mankind's original tongue ? in practice even the more modest research goal of rediscovering the vocabulary of proto-Indo-European would require prohibitive amounts of power. As one moves further and further from forms that are familiar to modern speakers, the reification effort required increases exponentially. >* ooh wow * ooh wow That's not a verb I recognize. >* maybe Draconis should write that game :) * maybe Draconis should write that game :) That's not a verb I recognize. >enter chamber enter chamber The display case isn't open. >open case open case Still not interested. The casing material would stop a bullet. >remove d from case remove d from case (opening the backpack) We reset the device to d. The device buzzes, puzzled. It has tried to create a "isplay case": evidently "case" is too tightly bound to its modifiers and can't be manipulated separately. Or perhaps it just doesn't have sufficient power to handle the display case. >* hmm not seeing any options here * hmm not seeing any options here You will need to be more specific. Try typing LOOK to get a description of your surroundings. >put gel on case put gel on case We dip out a pea-sized quantity of gel and rub it gently onto the display case. Alas, nothing happens. >l l Tools and Techniques Exhibit This area, though technically part of the Bureau, is open to the public as a display of the tools (past and present) of orthographical dominance. Everything is, alas, behind glass. Over at one end of the room is a Regency version of your own letter-remover ? known as the Model T, because that is all it was originally able to remove. Next to that there is an anagramming gun and an Etymological Reversing Chamber. >* well, maybe later * well, maybe later You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >w w Rotunda Echoing space, marble floor, eye-like skylight many meters above us: so far, the Rotunda might belong to any 19th-century government bureau of means and self-importance. What sets this one apart is the lettering, each sigil no bigger than a flea, carved over every inch of the walls. Inscribed here is, in fact, the entire text of A New Orthodox Orthography. The administrative part of the bureau is away to the south, and there is an exhibit of letter tools to the east, which is open to the public. Near the street entrance is a sizable informational bulletin-board advertising the services of the Bureau; and next to this, pushed back to be out of the way, is a bin. >s s Before approaching the secretary ahead, we try to hide all our illegal things in the backpack. Antechamber The most important task of any government bureau is to keep away time-wasters, irritants, and uninformed members of the general public, who might distract the diligent workers within from their important tasks. The Bureau of Orthography is no different. An instructive notice details the criteria for entry to the Bureau proper. Here to guard access to the rest of the building is a secretary on a tall stool. The secretary is carrying the Regulation Authentication Scope and wearing a pencil skirt and a plain white top. We can go north to the Rotunda and east from here. She turns her eyes towards us but doesn't say anything. I'm inclined to ask whether she enjoys her job. >* nice automation * nice automation That's not a verb I recognize. >x notice x notice Please note that those wishing to enter must have a PASS suitable for visitors, which must include an UP TO DATE photograph closely resembling the subject. Passes that do not look like their possessors will be rejected. Visitors will also need an additional proof of their business in the Bureau, such as a letter of invitation from a Bureau authority. All credentials will be subject to inspection with an authentication scope. Anyone attempting to enter the Bureau with a falsified pass or lack of proper credentials may be subject to FINES and INDEFINITE DETENTION. >* OK guess we're gonna do this eventually * OK guess we're gonna do this eventually That does not seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >x secretary x secretary Curiously, she refuses to quite meet our eye. >x scope x scope It looks like a small hand-held telescope, or perhaps a very posh kaleidoscope: all brown leather and brass fittings, and a good heft indicating quality materials. The sophisticated electronics are all concealed within. If we look through the scope at something, we can see its true nature, regardless of spelling changes. >x skirt x skirt A prim, pencil-length number reaching to just below the knee. It is the regulation shade of Orthographical Blue. >x top x top Devoid of ruffles, lace or other distractions. >e e We stride confidently toward the east ? that's my contribution, as you're more of a shuffler or possibly a slinker. Actually, I think a little of your posture must still be showing, because we are stopped by the secretary. "I'm sorry, those with passes only," she says, before waving us out. She has a bored look: not one of the more zealous staff members. I'd like to ask where to get a pass or ask whether she enjoys her job. >ask where to get a pass ask where to get a pass "Where did you say we might get a pass to visit the rest of the building?" we ask, in my very most polite schoolboy voice. "Those with appropriately ranked academic research jobs are already in receipt of documentation," she replies. We could ask whether she enjoys her job. >ask whether she enjoys job ask whether she enjoys job "This must be a good job," we say, in our best making-friendly-conversation way. "Getting to meet lots of new people. Access to all the bureau toys." "They never let me try any of the good equipment," she says, with surprising bitterness. "When they brought in the T-inserter, they let Porson?" Then she stops, her expression that of a guppy being strangled. We could ask how she got this job, ask who Porson is, ask what the T-inserter does, or ask where the T-inserter is kept. >* guess Alex's credentials will work, with a new photo * guess Alex's credentials will work, with a new photo You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >ask how she got this job ask how she got this job "How did you get this job?" we ask. "Through the usual process," she says. "I qualified through the regional spelling bee, then was submitted to a battery of examinations, followed by a three-year course of rigorous training." We could ask who Porson is, ask what the T-inserter does, or ask where the T-inserter is kept. >ask about porson ask about porson "Who is Porson?" we ask curiously. "Porson works in the Historical Research Room," she says. "A job he got, I might add, through sheer nepotism. He's no more qualified than I am, but they say he has a 'job-related need' to see all the new developments first." I'm inclined to ask what the T-inserter does or ask where the T-inserter is kept. >ask what inserter does ask what inserter does That does not seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >ask what t-inserter does ask what t-inserter does "What does the T-inserter do?" we ask, as though we were a couple of yokels. She raises her eyebrows as though she cannot believe the phenomenal idiocy of this question. No answer is vouchsafed. >ask where t-inserter ask where t-inserter "This T-inserter must be pretty delicate," we say. I'm letting you talk, this time. I think I'm too direct. "I'm surprised the Bureau keeps it in a public building." She visibly struggles between two impulses: the feeling that she shouldn't be talking about such a secret piece of equipment at all, and the desire to convince us that it couldn't be easily found or stolen. Finally she compromises with "Not all parts of the Bureau are equally available to visitors." >* OK so that's what we'll be needing eventually, I guess * OK so that's what we'll be needing eventually, I guess That does not seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >n n Rotunda Echoing space, marble floor, eye-like skylight many meters above us: so far, the Rotunda might belong to any 19th-century government bureau of means and self-importance. What sets this one apart is the lettering, each sigil no bigger than a flea, carved over every inch of the walls. Inscribed here is, in fact, the entire text of A New Orthodox Orthography. The administrative part of the bureau is away to the south, and there is an exhibit of letter tools to the east, which is open to the public. Near the street entrance is a sizable informational bulletin-board advertising the services of the Bureau; and next to this, pushed back to be out of the way, is a bin. >n n Tall Street Tall Street is very quiet. No celebrations have reached this far, and neither is there any business today; so it has an air of dull abandonment. At the east end the street bends to go around an old park rarely visited. Our car ? which might better be described as a covered bicycle ? is parked nearby. To the south is the important blue rotunda of the Bureau of Orthography. The street runs west towards the busy roundabout. >e e Abandoned Park In contrast with the parks in the more savory parts of town, this is a bit of patchy grass where local dogs occasionally come out to do their business. A granite war memorial is fixed at the center, which is why tourist maps optimistically call the place Monument Green. But the memorial is only moderately monumental and the grass hardly green at all. We step on a twig before we back away again. It is a place that might have been developed long ago; only it is known that there are remains of Roman settlement here, and there is a risk that digging out the foundations would turn up some of those ruins, exposing a large number of Latin-language objects to the light of day. To prevent this catastrophe the whole area has been placed off limits to development. We can go southeast and west to Tall Street from here. >look up monument green look up monument green The backpack isn't open. >open backpack open backpack We open the backpack. >look up monument green look up monument green We take Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis. We flip through Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, but find no reference to monument green. >look up memorial look up memorial We flip through Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, but find no reference to memorial. >look up park look up park The fountain is listed as one of the attractions of the old town park: the design and execution of the sculpture credited to one M. Antoinne, and was apparently his final work before he faced a firing squad for his use of an irregular surname. (This was during one of the more blood-soaked episodes of standardization, evidently.) >dig dig There does seem to be something metal just under the surface. A bit of scrabbling at the dirt is enough to excavate it: a dog, made of metal, which might be almost any age. >take dog take dog We already have that. >x it x it A small, heavy metal figurine representing a watchdog. He looks ferocious, on the verge of attacking. The teeth are especially savage. >* huh * huh Try typing LOOK for a description of your surroundings. You might try get more details about something you see by trying a command like EXAMINE FLASH DRIVE to get more details. Any compass directions indicate exits which you can use by typing SOUTHEAST, for example. Type INVENTORY to see a list of what you're carrying. You can also TAKE or DROP some things, OPEN or CLOSE others, and so on. >remove d from dog remove d from dog We take the D-remover. The device buzzes, puzzled. It is unable to create anything recognizable called "og". >remove g from dog remove g from dog We reset the device to g. The device buzzes, puzzled. It is unable to create anything recognizable called "do". >* Umm I wonder... * Umm I wonder... That's not a verb I recognize. >l l Abandoned Park In contrast with the parks in the more savory parts of town, this is a bit of patchy grass where local dogs occasionally come out to do their business. A granite war memorial is fixed at the center. A twig lies in the grass. We can go southeast and west to Tall Street from here. >x memorial x memorial It's a curious thing: it stands taller than a person and yet seems almost embarrassed and self-effacing. The lettering is cut quite small, and the names thereon are tightly spaced. Since 1829 there have been only thirty-five officially sanctioned surnames on the island, which means that, for reasons of space, the names have been truncated to numbers, and the result is a list that looks almost like a table of Biblical quotations: John 31, Mark 12, Paul 29. The reason for all this compactness is that the memorial is dedicated to the dead of all wars. Deaths from the War of Secession and the Civil Dispute of Standardization, losses from islanders volunteering in the French Foreign Legion, and the hefty cost of World Wars I and II, all are crammed into the upper left corner, leaving room for a long and bloody future. On the war memorial is a poppy. >* oof * oof That's not a verb I recognize. >x poppy x poppy Not a real, fresh poppy, but a construct of bright red fabric with a black heart. >take poppy take poppy We get the poppy. >remove y from poppy remove y from poppy We reset the device to y. The device buzzes, puzzled. It is unable to create anything recognizable called "popp". >remove p from poppy remove p from poppy We reset the device to p. The device buzzes, puzzled. It is unable to create anything recognizable called "oy". >* guess it needs the gevalt too * guess it needs the gevalt too That's not a verb I recognize. >x twig x twig Nine or ten inches long, very thin and somewhat flexible. There are no leaves left on it. >take it take it We take the twig. >remove t from twig remove t from twig We reset the device to t. With a distinct whiff of the faintest whiff of shampoo, the twig turns into a wig. A surprisingly realistic wig, cut to about the shoulder. It looks like our hair, but a good bit longer. >* might be helpful to look more like our picture * might be helpful to look more like our picture (Most connecting and comparative words are not necessary. Retrying that as "* might _be helpful to look like our picture".) That's not a verb I recognize. >wear wig wear wig We settle the wig on our head and adjust our hair underneath. >* now we're double incognito * now we're double incognito (Most connecting and comparative words are not necessary. Retrying that as "* we _be double incognito".) That's not a verb I recognize. >* almost to the dead drop, but let's summon Cthulhu first * almost to the dead drop, but let's summon Cthulhu first (You can just begin your command with the verb. Retrying that as "* almost to dead drop, but summon cthulhu first".) (Most connecting and comparative words are not necessary. Retrying that as "* to dead drop, but summon cthulhu first".) You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >w w Tall Street Tall Street is very quiet. No celebrations have reached this far, and neither is there any business today; so it has an air of dull abandonment. At the east end the street bends to go around an old park rarely visited. Our car ? a sub-sub-compact that looks like it might be outraced by a kid on a scooter ? is parked nearby. To the south is the important blue rotunda of the Bureau of Orthography. The street runs west towards the busy roundabout. >w w We get into the car. We switch the ignition on. Roundabout (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. The traffic flows in a tight circle around a statue which we know all too well. Confusing signs point in various directions: northeast to Deep Street, northwest to High Street, south to Long Street, east to Tall Street. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >nw nw High Street (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. We are surrounded by tail-lights and impatient men swearing. A garage has sprung into being between two high-end boutiques. There is a mechanic in the garage. To the west, the street turns into a monumental staircase leading to the old fortified area; a cross street heads southeast towards the main roundabout. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. The mechanic nods at us. >out out We switch the ignition off. We open the door of the car. We climb out of the car. >nw nw To the northwest the Monumental Staircase meets the hexagonal tower. To the west, the street turns into a monumental staircase leading to the old fortified area; a cross street heads southeast towards the main roundabout. >w w We have a tiring climb up the Monumental Staircase, with the view of the sea getting better and better as we go. Monumental Staircase Once, the central hillock of the city was a fortified enclave, protected from the harbor and the peasant town by great walls. Now, however, the walls are mostly gone, except for a little spur that runs north from here. The walkways and tower are open to the public. Meanwhile a staircase as wide as a street ascends into this town square, with the fountain playing at the center. An enormous blue and orange warning poster covers the wall alongside the staircase. We can go north to Old City Walls, south to Heritage Corner, southwest to Fair, east to High Street, and west to Park Center from here. >n n Old City Walls Only portions of the old walls still stand, but you can walk along what remains, as though you were defending the place. They're a meter and a half wide, made of ashlar blocks. On the vertical faces these blocks are still rough, but underfoot they have been worn smooth by the passage of many defenders and (subsequently) tourists. One of the blocks in the wall has even been defaced, some old inscription gouged out. Down below in the distance are the docks and the sea, and immediately east of here is an old hexagonal turret. >w w Hesychius Street As the street names make obvious, this part of town was laid out in a different political age, when it was considered more important to commemorate linguistic richness than to standardize practices. Even the single farmer from earlier is now gone. >n n [If you're traveling far, you can always type GO TO (location name) to get there automatically.] Webster Court Hesychius Street opens here into a broad and plainly-paved court, named for the statue of Noah Webster. The large, pale pink building north of us is my parents' home. The streets continue south, east, and west; and just to the northeast is my parents' side garden. >w w Roget Close A pleasantly sheltered lane in which I learned to ride a bicycle, and where my friend Lucy used to live, before she and her parents moved off-island. Restrictions were looser even twenty years ago. Our old schoolhouse is just west of here. If you look just north between the houses, you'll notice also the footpath down to an almost-private beach. It used to be open, but it's now gated off, and built into the gate is a chic modern sculpture. >e e Webster Court A broad and plainly-paved court, named for the statue of Noah Webster. The large, pale pink building north of us is my parents' home. The streets continue south, east, and west; and just to the northeast is my parents' side garden. >w w Roget Close A pleasantly sheltered lane in which I learned to ride a bicycle, and where my friend Lucy used to live, before she and her parents moved off-island. Restrictions were looser even twenty years ago. Our old schoolhouse is just west of here. If you look just north between the houses, you'll notice also the footpath down to an almost-private beach. It used to be open, but it's now gated off, and built into the gate is a chic modern sculpture. >put dog on pedestal put dog on pedestal We put the dog on the pedestal. The mirror rotates in leisurely fashion, and when it is done there is a god. A small, heavy metal figurine representing some pagan deity. He carries a bow and quiver, and looks prepared to use them. >take it take it We acquire the god. >* ....well that's disappointing * ....well that's disappointing That's not a verb I recognize. >e e Webster Court A broad and plainly-paved court, named for the statue of Noah Webster. The large, pale pink building north of us is my parents' home. The streets continue south, east, and west; and just to the northeast is my parents' side garden. >s s Hesychius Street As the street names make obvious, this part of town was laid out in a different political age, when it was considered more important to commemorate linguistic richness than to standardize practices. Even the single farmer from earlier is now gone. >e e [If you're traveling far, you can always type GO TO (location name) to get there automatically.] Old City Walls Only portions of the old walls still stand, but you can walk along what remains, as though you were defending the place. They're a meter and a half wide, made of ashlar blocks. On the vertical faces these blocks are still rough, but underfoot they have been worn smooth by the passage of many defenders and (subsequently) tourists. One of the blocks in the wall has even been defaced, some old inscription gouged out. Down below in the distance are the docks and the sea, and immediately east of here is an old hexagonal turret. >se se To the southeast the harbor meets the Monumental Staircase. We can go north to Crumbling Wall Face, south to the Monumental Staircase, east to Old Hexagonal Turret, and west to Hesychius Street from here. >s s Monumental Staircase Once, the central hillock of the city was a fortified enclave, protected from the harbor and the peasant town by great walls. Now, however, the walls are mostly gone, except for a little spur that runs north from here. The walkways and tower are open to the public. Meanwhile a staircase as wide as a street descends east from the town square toward the harbor. An enormous blue and orange warning poster covers the wall alongside the staircase. We can go north to Old City Walls, south to Heritage Corner, southwest to Fair, east to High Street, and west to Park Center from here. >e e High Street Hustle, bustle, dirt; ugly American chain shops; lots and lots of people. A garage has sprung into being between two high-end boutiques. There is a mechanic in the garage. Our car ? which might better be described as a covered bicycle ? is parked nearby. To the west, the street turns into a monumental staircase leading to the old fortified area; a cross street heads southeast towards the main roundabout. The mechanic nods at us. >se se We get into the car. We switch the ignition on. Roundabout (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. The traffic flows in a tight circle around a statue which we know all too well. Confusing signs point in various directions: northeast to Deep Street, northwest to High Street, south to Long Street, east to Tall Street. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >e e Tall Street (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. Tall Street is very quiet. No celebrations have reached this far, and neither is there any business today; so it has an air of dull abandonment. At the east end the street bends to go around an old park rarely visited. To the south is the important blue rotunda of the Bureau of Orthography. The street runs west towards the busy roundabout. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >out out We switch the ignition off. We open the door of the car. We climb out of the car. >e e Abandoned Park In contrast with the parks in the more savory parts of town, this is a bit of patchy grass where local dogs occasionally come out to do their business. A granite war memorial is fixed at the center. We can go southeast and west to Tall Street from here. >x patch x patch I can't see what you're talking about. >x grass x grass It's growing in dry flat tufts, from dusty earth. >e e The used furniture shop is not open during Serial Comma Day. We can go southeast and west to Tall Street from here. >se se Bus Station A currently-desolate depot from which buses run seasonally to Maiana, the island's other major town. The old station building is a low, rectilinear edifice from the 60s, all pebbled concrete and sheet glass, but it's shut, leaving accessible only a series of empty bus bays and a wall-mounted schedule. The public convenience to the east is the only thing open, while the area to the northwest is open parkland. A dove flutters from one surface to another, occasionally stopping to stare at us. A shed, rather ramshackle and unlikely, sits on the pavement, where it ought to be in the way of incoming buses. You have a fleeting thought of leaving your family for the last time. >remember family remember family Bus Stop Your suitcase was next to your leg. It was nearly three in the morning. There were thirty more minutes before the bus would take you to San Francisco. Your mother would have warned you not to be in a place like that alone so late at night, but it didn't feel, then, like anything that could happen to you would be worse than your mother's behavior and her anger. Then we're back in the present. >l l Bus Station A currently-desolate depot from which buses run seasonally to Maiana, the island's other major town. The old station building is a low, rectilinear edifice from the 60s, all pebbled concrete and sheet glass, but it's shut, leaving accessible only a series of empty bus bays and a wall-mounted schedule. The public convenience to the east is the only thing open, while the area to the northwest is open parkland. A dove flutters from one surface to another, occasionally stopping to stare at us. A shed, rather ramshackle and unlikely, sits on the pavement, where it ought to be in the way of incoming buses. >remove v from dove remove v from dove We reset the device to v. The dove flickers and there is a brief image of a doe in its place, but a legal override kicks in: a V-remover is hardware-crippled to prevent generating any living creature. >* ah well * ah well That's not a verb I recognize. >x depot x depot I can't see what you're talking about. >x building x building It's the most pathetic thing imaginable: the future, as imagined by the past. No one is in there at the moment. >x bays x bays There are three bays, though it's rare for more than one to be in use at a time unless a chartered bus service is running on behalf of tourists or the schools. >x schedule x schedule The schedule is an intricate affair, and the deciphering of the various letter-codes and footnotes was actually a subject of study in my grade school. The buses run every sixty-two minutes during daylight in the winter, every forty-three minutes in summer, with every third bus running as an express without stops if the passengers of this bus do not vote otherwise. During the run of the school year there is an extra inbound bus in the morning and outward in the afternoon; contrariwise the bus is on half-schedule Sundays and holidays, except major patriotic holidays when there is no bus at all. Like today. >x dove x dove It is pure white, probably a refugee from a group released at a wedding. People do occasionally get married on Serial Comma Day. >x shed x shed Sheds like this are typically cheap and very very temporary housing for the homeless. The policy of the Bureau is that no one is allowed to beg, and punishments for begging and homelessness are often quite stiff, so there is nothing in the way of an established shelter on the island and little recourse for those who might need it. >* ugh * ugh That's not a verb I recognize. >put monocle on put monocle on (first taking the monocle) Everything turns computer-monitor green when viewed through our right eye. And staring fixedly at anything will turn up its authenticity status. >x shed x shed Sheds like this are typically cheap and very very temporary housing for the homeless. The policy of the Bureau is that no one is allowed to beg, and punishments for begging and homelessness are often quite stiff, so there is nothing in the way of an established shelter on the island and little recourse for those who might need it. There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the shed is a faint, greenish image of a shred. >put gel on shed put gel on shed We dip out a pea-sized quantity of gel and rub it gently onto the shed. With an audible SPLORT, the shed becomes a shred. Just a torn rag-end of cloth. It is white and blue, and bears every evidence of having been part of an obligatory-service uniform. >take shred take shred We take the shred. >e e Public Convenience There are just the two toilet stalls and a couple of sinks, but the place has been kept up reasonably well, if one doesn't count the graffiti. A soap dispenser hangs beside the mirror. About knee-height in one of the stalls is a hole that runs right through the wall between the men's and women's restrooms. It's here that you and Brock and Slango usually leave things for one another. A faint smell of lavender lingers in the air. >x stalls x stalls You can't use multiple objects with that verb. >x stall x stall It is the usual beige metal dividers, the usual topical graffiti. The monocle pings happily as we sight the toilet stall with the crosshairs. >x sink x sink We see nothing special about the sink. >x graffiti x graffiti We glance over the range of messages from past occupants and notice... Some wag has drawn an arrow pointing to the toilet and written beside it: P-REMOVER. The monocle pings happily as we sight the graffiti with the crosshairs. >* lol * lol That's not a verb I recognize. >x graffiti x graffiti We glance over the range of messages from past occupants and notice... There was a young lady from France Who was wearing a plain pair of pants 'Til a linguistical gent With indecent intent Left the girl crawling with ants. The monocle pings happily as we sight the graffiti with the crosshairs. >x graffiti x graffiti We glance over the range of messages from past occupants and notice... Some wag has drawn an arrow pointing to the toilet and written beside it: P-REMOVER. The monocle pings happily as we sight the graffiti with the crosshairs. >x graffiti x graffiti We glance over the range of messages from past occupants and notice... There was a young lady from France Who was wearing a plain pair of pants 'Til a linguistical gent With indecent intent Left the girl crawling with ants. The monocle pings happily as we sight the graffiti with the crosshairs. >x graffiti x graffiti We glance over the range of messages from past occupants and notice... Some wag has drawn an arrow pointing to the toilet and written beside it: P-REMOVER. The monocle pings happily as we sight the graffiti with the crosshairs. >smell smell The smell seems to emanate from the small hole in the wall. >* well that's a clue * well that's a clue That's not a verb I recognize. >x dispenser x dispenser It's the kind where a squeeze will dispense new soap into the sink. The monocle pings happily as we sight the soap dispenser with the crosshairs. >get soap get soap We give the dispenser a squeeze. It deposits some soap in the sink ? just viscous enough not to drain away instantly. >x soap x soap Clear fluid for washing up with. The monocle pings happily as we sight the soap with the crosshairs. >remove o from soap remove o from soap We reset the device to o. With a distinct whiff of pine resin, the soap turns into some sap. Sticky and yellow-colored goo from a tree, rather than "sap" as in a person. But considering it comes from a dispenser, that was probably inevitable. There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the sap is a faint, greenish image of some soap. >take sap take sap The sap is too fluid and sticky to pick up easily. >i i We are equipped with the following essentials: a backpack, a flash drive, a monocle, your O-remover, some Origin Paste, a pan (really the smuggled plans in disguise), a roll, and a tub of restoration gel. We are also carrying some ale, an arm, some asparagus, a band, a clock, a funnel, a god, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, a heel, a jotter, a leaflet, a letter, a lime, a May, some members, a mug, some oil, a pastis, a pea, a poppy, a shred, a shuttle, a sill, a stuffed octopus, some toes, a watch, and a wig. Everything we carry is in the backpack except the ale, the arm, the god, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, the monocle, the O-remover, the oil, the pastis, the poppy, the shred, the sill, and the wig. The backpack is gaping wide open so everyone can see what's inside. We are wearing the monocle, the wig, and the backpack. >put sap in mug put sap in mug The sap sticks to the bottom of the sink. >put gel on sap put gel on sap We just touch a coated fingertip of gel to the sap. With an audible SPLORT, the sap becomes some soap. >put soap in mug put soap in mug The soap sticks to the bottom of the sink. >* hrm * hrm That's not a verb I recognize. >remove a from soap remove a from soap We reset the device to a. With a distinct whiff of stale wine, the soap turns into a sop. A hunk of bread dipped in something red-brown. There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the sop is a faint, unappetizing image of some soap. >take it take it We acquire the sop. >x hole x hole It's too small to get a good look through, really, and usually cluttered with junk. In the hole in the wall is some ash. The monocle pings happily as we sight the hole in the wall with the crosshairs. >x ash x ash It's fine grey-white powder, and a fair quantity of it: too much to have come from a cigarette or two. The monocle fails to make any sound or response at all, but no green image forms revealing the true nature of the ash. >take ash take ash The ash is not the kind of thing we can just pick up and carry away. >put gel on ash put gel on ash We just touch a coated fingertip of gel to the ash. With an audible SPLORT, the ash becomes some trash. Most of it's junk: sweet wrappers, tissues, bus tickets. But there's also, suggestively, an appointment card for Arbot Maps & Antiques. [Your score has gone up by three points and is now forty-one.] >x card x card It's a card from Arbot Maps & Antiques: FINE GOODS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY. The time scribbled at the bottom is 9 AM this morning. Looks like Brock's handwriting. There's also a tiny heart drawn in the corner. The monocle pings happily as we sight the appointment card with the crosshairs. >take it take it We already have that. >l l Public Convenience There are just the two toilet stalls and a couple of sinks, but the place has been kept up reasonably well, if one doesn't count the graffiti. About knee-height in one of the stalls is a hole that runs right through the wall between the men's and women's restrooms. There is some trash in the hole. A soap dispenser hangs beside the mirror. >x trash x trash A collection of random bits ? sweet wrappers, tissues, bus tickets. Nothing of any value. The monocle pings happily as we sight the trash with the crosshairs. >take trash take trash We take the trash. >remove t from trash remove t from trash We reset the device to t. We wave the T-remover at the trash and produce a rash, severed. Achievement accomplished: Igor Rosehip award for creating at least five body parts in one playthrough! >x rash x rash A patch of skin ? it looks like human skin at that ? and all red and itchy. There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the rash is a faint, greenish image of some trash. >* eek * eek That's not a verb I recognize. >save save Ok. >* welp, off to the last major area * welp, off to the last major area You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >w w Bus Station A currently-desolate depot from which buses run seasonally to Maiana, the island's other major town. The old station building is a low, rectilinear edifice from the 60s, all pebbled concrete and sheet glass, but it's shut, leaving accessible only a series of empty bus bays and a wall-mounted schedule. The public convenience to the east is the only thing open, while the area to the northwest is open parkland. A dove flutters from one surface to another, occasionally stopping to stare at us. >nw nw Abandoned Park In contrast with the parks in the more savory parts of town, this is a bit of patchy grass where local dogs occasionally come out to do their business. A granite war memorial is fixed at the center. We can go southeast to the Bus Station and west to Tall Street from here. >w w [If you're traveling far, you can always type GO TO (location name) to get there automatically.] Tall Street Tall Street is very quiet. No celebrations have reached this far, and neither is there any business today; so it has an air of dull abandonment. At the east end the street bends to go around an old park rarely visited. Our car is parked nearby. To the south is the important blue rotunda of the Bureau of Orthography. The street runs west towards the busy roundabout. >w w We get into the car. We switch the ignition on. Roundabout (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. The traffic flows in a tight circle around a statue which we know all too well. Confusing signs point in various directions: northeast to Deep Street, northwest to High Street, south to Long Street, east to Tall Street. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >s s Long Street North (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. Long Street is lined on each side with a double-row of tall, anemic palm trees that bend towards one another many feet overhead. This corridor continues some considerable distance south. On the west side of the street is the several-story front of the Fleur d'Or hotel. We can go north to the Roundabout, south, and west from here. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >out out We switch the ignition off. We open the door of the car. We climb out of the car. >x trees x trees The only foliage comes in a clump high above. The effect is distorted and unnatural, and I say that having lived with them all my life. They are trees in the same sense that ostriches are birds. The monocle pings happily as we sight the anemic palm trees with the crosshairs. >x hotel x hotel The Fleur d'Or used to have a very fussy, ornate façade done up with pilasters and statue niches and a cornice that looked like it had been piped on with cake icing. The hotel has recently had a face lift, with the silly old ornamentation pried off, and smooth modern material laid down in its place. Blue tiles pick out the shapes where pilasters used to be, and panels of frosted glass have been fitted to cover the statue niches. If you are my mother, you call this style Atlantean Postmodern. Less kindly, it is something from the sweaty dreams of an upscale swimming-pool installer. The monocle pings happily as we sight Fleur d'Or front with the crosshairs. >* looks ugly * looks ugly (Adverbs are almost never necessary. Retrying that as "* looks ".) That's not a verb I recognize. >look up hotel look up hotel The Fleur D'Or is listed as the town's only four-star hotel. (There are no five-star hotels on this island. It is not that kind of place.) As the Fleur d'Or principally attracts those interested in business or research to do with linguistic efficacy, it also maintains a bar with the only publicly-licensed homonym paddle. Visitors to the Fleur d'Or Drinks Club can enjoy linguistically-generated gimlets, rusty nails, and more. >* oooh the paddle * oooh the paddle That's not a verb I recognize. >w w Fleur d'Or Lobby The Fleur d'Or is a high-end hotel that serves businessmen and luxury tourists interested in the linguistic mechanisms of the island. As a result, it has all kinds of paid exemptions, including an exemption allowing it to operate under a foreign name. The spotlights in the ceiling light the floor in distinct pools of Bureau blue, and a sheet of frosted glass etched with random letters separates the lobby from the drinks club to the west. There is no one at the glossy piano in the corner, though a piece has been left on the piano bench. >x spotlights x spotlights The spotlights are more or less steady blue, just fluctuating a little in intensity to add to the sense of being underwater. The monocle pings happily as we sight the spotlights with the crosshairs. >x glass x glass The glass is a good three quarters of an inch thick, and looks very sturdy. The etched letters glow or fade out again depending on the changing light conditions in the lobby. Annotation in the corner indicates that this is a commissioned artwork by Anne Landis Rosehip, entitled "The Primeval Sea." The monocle pings happily as we sight the sheet of frosted glass with the crosshairs. >* hmm, that's our mom, right? * hmm, that's our mom, right? You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* well, Alex's * well, Alex's You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x letters x letters I can't see what you're talking about. >read glass read glass The glass is a good three quarters of an inch thick, and looks very sturdy. The etched letters glow or fade out again depending on the changing light conditions in the lobby. Annotation in the corner indicates that this is a commissioned artwork by Anne Landis Rosehip, entitled "The Primeval Sea." The monocle pings happily as we sight the sheet of frosted glass with the crosshairs. >l l Fleur d'Or Lobby The spotlights in the ceiling light the floor in distinct pools of Bureau blue, and a sheet of frosted glass etched with random letters separates the lobby from the drinks club to the west. There is no one at the glossy piano in the corner, though a piece has been left on the piano bench. >x piano x piano A glossy grand, probably worthy of better than bar music. The monocle pings happily as we sight the piano with the crosshairs. >x piece x piece It looks like a setting of "The Grammatical Number of Our Enemy (Is Singular)," a popular music-hall piece of the 1890s that still gets trotted out now and then. There are rousing choruses where the audience can join in to represent the enemy sailors just prior to their encounter with the depluralizing cannon. The monocle pings happily as we sight the piece with the crosshairs. >remove e from piece remove e from piece We reset the device to e. There is a peach cloud, and the piece turns into a pic. It's a snapshot of a happy family visiting Typo Land Funfair, the closest thing Anglophone Atlantis has to an amusement park. There is a dismissive blatt from the monocle, and transposed over the pic is a faint, greenish image of a piece. >take pic take pic We take the pic. >* sounds like a fun place to visit! * sounds like a fun place to visit! That's not a verb I recognize. >w w Fleur d'Or Drinks Club The back wall is dramatically decorated with bottled liquors of all sorts, from gin to cachaça; there's a giant bottle of Campari, taller than your average three-year-old, with a red ribbon around its neck. What makes this place technically a drinks club rather than a bar is its license to serve letter-manufactured food and drink. A toolkit on the bar contains some screwdrivers, some gimlets, and some rusty nails, ready to be transformed into their respective cocktails. The bartender is in the middle of showing her homonym paddle to a patron holding a gin and tonic. The other patrons are scattered around the room at small tables, drinking or talking among themselves. She acknowledges us with a nod as we stroll up to the bar and get close enough to hear their conversation. "It was originally produced as a toy, but it's actually a bit dangerous," the bartender is saying. "Dangerous? How so?" asks the patron. "Various ways," she says. "Suppose I hit a small object that has a big homonym, like say a plane. You know, the carpentry kind. Suddenly I've got an airplane-style plane on top of me." >* sounds bad! * sounds bad! That's not a verb I recognize. >x paddle x paddle Who had the idea of hitting things to make them swap with their homonyms, I couldn't guess. Nonetheless the toy ? shaped like a ping-pong paddle and formed of coral-colored rubber ? enjoyed a brief vogue in the 80s. To prevent theft, the paddle is attached to the bartender's wrist by a thin steel cable and bracelet. The monocle pings happily as we sight the homonym paddle with the crosshairs. >x bartender x bartender She has masses of curly hair, a classically straight nose, and the most peculiar eyes ? a color neither hazel nor green, and exotically turned up. The monocle pings happily as we sight the bartender with the crosshairs. >greet bartender greet bartender We already have the attention of the bartender, not to mention the curiosity of the patron. "What if you hit something that doesn't mean anything else?" the patron asks. "Like a chicken?" "Nothing," she says. "That's safe." As though to demonstrate, she smacks the paddle against her left buttock. "See? I don't get changed into a different bartender. Want to try?" She holds up the paddle as though she's going to tap him with it. "Uh... my name is Mark," he says. "Maybe not, then!" she says, laughing brightly. >* lol * lol That's not a verb I recognize. >* hopefully it's reversible * hopefully it's reversible (Adverbs are almost never necessary. Retrying that as "* it's reversible".) That's not a verb I recognize. >* oh, when did it become late afternoon? * oh, when did it become late afternoon? You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >save save Ok. >restore restore Ok. >restore restore Ok. >* back last update, seems like -- maybe the Slango visit did it * back last update, seems like -- maybe the Slango visit did it You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >l l Fleur d'Or Drinks Club The back wall is dramatically decorated with bottled liquors of all sorts, from gin to cachaça; there's a giant bottle of Campari, taller than your average three-year-old, with a red ribbon around its neck. What makes this place technically a drinks club rather than a bar is its license to serve letter-manufactured food and drink. A toolkit on the bar contains some screwdrivers, some gimlets, and some rusty nails, ready to be transformed into their respective cocktails. Mark notices someone he knows across the room, and waves. The bartender and Mark are still talking about the homonym paddle. The other patrons are scattered around the room at small tables, drinking or talking among themselves. >x mark x mark He looks like a business traveler, though perhaps at the end of a long day. The monocle pings happily as we sight Mark with the crosshairs. >x patrons x patrons They're mostly dressed in suits or business casual outfits at least, and are having odd stilted conversations in which they try to avoid saying anything meaningful about the work they are here to do. I don't think we have much to gain from the crowd. >greet mark greet mark We already have the attention of the bartender, not to mention the curiosity of Mark. "That was a little dangerous, wasn't it?" Mark asks. "If you had tapped me with that thing, wouldn't I be a giant X on the carpet now?" "Not for long," the bartender says. "I do have some restoration gel for emergencies. Or I could just hit you again with the paddle. But there would be an incident report and I could lose my license. So, yeah, better not." >ask bartender for paddle ask bartender for paddle "Tell me about that paddle," we say. "This item," says the bartender, flourishing it for you to see, "is a genuine licensed homonym paddle. Changes one item into another item as long as the two have identical names." >i i We are equipped with the following essentials: a backpack, your E-remover, a flash drive, a monocle, some Origin Paste, a pan (really the smuggled plans in disguise), a roll, and a tub of restoration gel. We are also carrying some ale, an appointment card, an arm, some asparagus, a band, a clock, a funnel, a god, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, a heel, a jotter, a leaflet, a letter, a lime, a May, some members, a mug, some oil, a pastis, a pea, a pic, a poppy, a rash, a shred, a shuttle, a sill, a sop, a stuffed octopus, some toes, a watch, and a wig. Everything we carry is in the backpack except the ale, the appointment card, the arm, the E-remover, the god, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, the monocle, the oil, the pastis, the pic, the poppy, the rash, the shred, the sill, the sop, and the wig. The backpack is gaping wide open so everyone can see what's inside. We are wearing the monocle, the wig, and the backpack. >give god to bartender give god to bartender "Check this out," we say, holding out the god for inspection. "I don't think that would turn into anything," says the bartender. She taps it with the paddle to demonstrate. "See? No change." >* ah well * ah well That's not a verb I recognize. >give shuttle to bartender give shuttle to bartender (first taking the shuttle) "Here, have a look at this," we say. We hold up the shuttle. "Can you do this?" we ask. The bartender frowns. "If I paddled that, it'd break the whole bar. Besides, isn't it Bureau property?" We shrug amiably. She gives us a long, admonitory stare, then goes back to what she was doing. >* yeah this might not be the best idea in the world * yeah this might not be the best idea in the world (Most connecting and comparative words are not necessary. Retrying that as "* yeah might not _be best idea in world".) That's not a verb I recognize. >give rash give rash We draw the bartender's attention to the rash. "Ew!" says the bartender. Mark looks thoughtfully into his gin and tonic. "I hear that sometimes the Bureau turns people into inanimate objects as a criminal sentence. Is that true?" For the first time, the bartender looks uncomfortable. "I just pour the drinks," she says. "Hey, you're almost out there! Let me give you a refill." And she busies herself getting down the Bombay Sapphire and refilling his drink. "You ever tempted to paddle the Sapphire?" Mark asks. "Should be worth a lot." "Alas, jewelers tend to check for authenticity around here," she replies. >give arm give arm "Here, have a look at this," we say. "Yuck," the bartender replies. Mark talks with the bartender about the weather in Atlantis. >give bad give bad I can't see what you're talking about. >give band give band (first taking the band) "Check this out," we say, holding out the band for inspection. "The band would be bigger than I want to generate in here," comments the bartender. >give pan give pan (first taking the pan) "What do you make of this?" we ask, showing off the pan. "I don't think that would turn into anything," says the bartender. She taps it with the paddle to demonstrate. "See? No change." >* not an unkind review? * not an unkind review? That's not a verb I recognize. >i i We are equipped with the following essentials: a backpack, your E-remover, a flash drive, a monocle, some Origin Paste, a pan (really the smuggled plans in disguise), a roll, and a tub of restoration gel. We are also carrying some ale, an appointment card, an arm, some asparagus, a band, a clock, a funnel, a god, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, a heel, a jotter, a leaflet, a letter, a lime, a May, some members, a mug, some oil, a pastis, a pea, a pic, a poppy, a rash, a shred, a shuttle, a sill, a sop, a stuffed octopus, some toes, a watch, and a wig. Of that collection, the asparagus, the clock, the flash drive, the funnel, the heel, the jotter, the leaflet, the letter, the lime, the May, the members, the mug, the Origin Paste, the pea, the roll, the stuffed octopus, the toes, the tub of restoration gel, and the watch are packed away in the backpack, which is gaping wide open so everyone can see what's inside. We are wearing the monocle, the wig, and the backpack. >close backpack close backpack We close the backpack. >* we'll be back, I'm sure * we'll be back, I'm sure Please rephrase your command to start with an imperative verb, like LOOK. >e e Fleur d'Or Lobby The spotlights in the ceiling light the floor in distinct pools of Bureau blue, and a sheet of frosted glass etched with random letters separates the lobby from the drinks club to the west. There is no one at the glossy piano in the corner. >e e Long Street North Long Street is lined on each side with a double-row of tall, anemic palm trees that bend towards one another many feet overhead. This corridor continues some considerable distance south. Our car ? a sub-sub-compact that looks like it might be outraced by a kid on a scooter ? is parked nearby. On the west side of the street is the several-story front of the Fleur d'Or hotel. We can go north to the Roundabout, south, and west to the Fleur d'Or Lobby from here. >s s We get into the car. We switch the ignition on. Long Street South (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windshield. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. Long Street is lined on each side with a double-row of tall, anemic palm trees that bend towards one another many feet overhead. We are now in the southern part of this long corridor, between the Canadian Embassy and Arbot Maps & Antiques. Someone has left a shopping bag at the roadside ? maybe by accident when loading up a car, maybe because they mean to come back for it. The shopping bag contains a ball and a jigsaw. We can go north to Long Street North, south, and west from here. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >save save Ok. >x embassy x embassy The embassy is the largest foreign embassy here: Canadians do a lot of business with Atlantis, but the Québécois require special permission to enter, so there's a call for substantial clerical work. The building is a solid 1960s block in concrete with slit-shaped windows. The monocle pings happily as we sight the Canadian Embassy with the crosshairs. >x windows x windows The embassy is the largest foreign embassy here: Canadians do a lot of business with Atlantis, but the Québécois require special permission to enter, so there's a call for substantial clerical work. The building is a solid 1960s block in concrete with slit-shaped windows. The monocle pings happily as we sight the Canadian Embassy with the crosshairs. >* nice color * nice color That's not a verb I recognize. >x arbot x arbot I can't see what you're talking about. >x store x store I can't see what you're talking about. >x maps x maps I can't see what you're talking about. >x bag x bag The logo on the outside is from Landison's, a popular toy store on the island. It's probably closed today, so this would have been bought earlier ? possibly even as a present for Serial Comma Day. In the shopping bag are a ball and a jigsaw. The monocle pings happily as we sight the shopping bag with the crosshairs. >x ball x ball Made of blue and white rubber, and decorated all over with a pattern of random letters in different sportive fonts. The monocle pings happily as we sight the ball with the crosshairs. >x jigsaw x jigsaw The boxed puzzle displays an execution scene, with several pro-British traitors from the 1820s being lined up before the depluralization cannon. It was thought a considerable punishment to be forced to share a body and consciousness with others. The monocle pings happily as we sight the jigsaw with the crosshairs. >* eek well that confirms how deplurization works * eek well that confirms how deplurization works That does not seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >take bag take bag We switch the ignition off. We open the door of the car. We climb out of the car. We pick up the shopping bag. >* I'm guessing this is what Draconis misremembered * I'm guessing this is what Draconis misremembered That does not seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >remove b from ball remove b from ball We reset the device to b. The ball flickers and there is a brief image of an all in its place ? the concept strangely embodied in a physical form ? before the power gives out. I guess your device there just isn't tuned to reify abstracts. >* less exciting than you'd think * less exciting than you'd think That's not a verb I recognize. >w w We show the appointment card, and are let in. Arbot Maps & Antiques There is a large collection of vintage and antique maps under glass ? the island of Atlantis as a whole, street maps of here and of Maiana, navigation maps of the harbor, and then maps of more distant places as well. A stylish mannequin near the front sports a pair of Britishizing goggles. Overseeing all this is a woman named Kate. "Welcome to Arbot," says Kate. "Feel free to browse and ask me any questions you may have about the merchandise." My response would be to ask whether she has seen Brock. >* ooh fancy goggles * ooh fancy goggles That's not a verb I recognize. >x maps x maps We study the maps. One in the collection stands out: a map of Slangovia, framed like all the others but of suspiciously recent vintage. >x maps x maps We pore over a map of forbidden dig zones in Atlantis. The monocle pings happily as we sight the maps collection with the crosshairs. >x maps x maps We pore over a map of the Old City when the walls were still intact, as reconstructed from archaeological surveys. The monocle pings happily as we sight the maps collection with the crosshairs. >x maps x maps We pore over a map of bus routes between here and Maiana ca. 1973. The monocle pings happily as we sight the maps collection with the crosshairs. >x maps x maps We pore over a map of forbidden dig zones in Atlantis. The monocle pings happily as we sight the maps collection with the crosshairs. >* fun * fun That's not a verb I recognize. >x maps x maps We pore over a map of 1880 shipping lines between Atlantis, Gibraltar, and points east. The monocle pings happily as we sight the maps collection with the crosshairs. >buy maps buy maps None of the other maps seems important. We could ask whether she has seen Brock. >* other maps? * other maps? That's not a verb I recognize. >x map x map It's a detailed street map pretending to correspond to some remote South African town called Slangovia. Cryptic icons dot the surface. There is a legend in the lower right corner that appears to be a separate piece glued on. The monocle pings happily as we sight the map of Slangovia with the crosshairs. >x legend x legend This legend tells of Iphis and Ianthe: Iphis, a girl raised in disguise as a boy, falls in love with her playmate Ianthe. She prays to the goddess Isis, who takes pity and transforms Iphis into a man, able to marry Ianthe after all. It bears no obvious relation to the map of Slangovia. >* ah there's the homophone * ah there's the homophone That's not a verb I recognize. >take legend take legend Kate is watching us; I think we'd best buy anything we need here, rather than trying to filch it. I'd like to ask whether she has seen Brock. >ask whether she's seen brock ask whether she's seen brock That doesn't seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >greet kate greet kate We wave. I'm inclined to ask whether she has seen Brock. >ask whether she's seen brock ask whether she's seen brock That doesn't seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >ask whether she has seen brock ask whether she has seen brock "Have you seen a man ? maybe this morning ? about this height, dark hair, very blue eyes, kind of cocky?" There's a light of recognition. "Yes, he was in. A friend of my boss. He visited the shop and sold us a map he happened to have with him. Then they left, together. I believe there was some discussion of seeing a demonstration." I'm inclined to ask which map was sold, ask what sort of demonstration, or ask whether Brock seemed upset. Something makes you think of how it started with Brock. >remember how it started remember how it started Sunning Deck Brock was sprawled out on the cushions with his sunglasses on. Pretending not to see you. You stood so that your shadow crossed his face and he had to look up. "I've been a jerk and I'm sorry," you said. "I'm not the man-whore of Babylon," he replied. "I've had the odd fling. That's all." "I know." "I'm not James Bond here." You pulled your towel more tightly around you. "I know." "And you have lost the right ever to give me crap about women again," he said. Your teeth were starting to chatter. "Yes." "Okay. Apology accepted." He lowered his sunglasses again. Then we're back in the present. >* I think we've seen an installment of this already? * I think we've seen an installment of this already? (Most connecting and comparative words are not necessary. Retrying that as "* i think we have seen an installment of already".) That's not a verb I recognize. >ask about demonstration ask about demonstration "What sort of demonstration is that?" She smiles and shrugs. "Mr. Arbot used to work for the Bureau before he retired to sell antiques. He still has lots of connections. It could be anything." We could ask which map was sold or ask whether Brock seemed upset. >ask whether brock was upset ask whether brock was upset That doesn't seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >ask whether brock seemed upset ask whether brock seemed upset That doesn't seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >ask if brock seemed upset ask if brock seemed upset That doesn't seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >ask about brock ask about brock "There's a chance my friend was in trouble. Did he seem to be in a hurry or concerned about anything?" "Not at all. He appeared eager to speak with Mr. Arbot, and they had plans together, but he didn't seem agitated. If anything, he seemed a little more worldly and collected than people in his line of work usually are." Cryptic. Perhaps he was posing as a researcher? But we can't very well ask, not if we're supposed to be a friend of his. Kate rearranges a few objects in the shop window. "If your friend is missing, you could report him to the Bureau, you know," she says. "I believe they keep close tabs on academic and research visitors. They may well know where he is." "Thank you," you say. "I don't think things are quite at that point." And they never will be, obviously. >ask which map ask which map "You mentioned that the gentleman sold you a map ? which one was it?" "It's just here," Kate says, going over to the selection and pointing out a map purporting to depict Slangovia. "An unusual piece." She glances sideways at us. >l l Arbot Maps & Antiques There is a large collection of vintage and antique maps under glass ? the island of Atlantis as a whole, street maps of here and of Maiana, navigation maps of the harbor, and then maps of more distant places as well. A stylish mannequin near the front sports a pair of Britishizing goggles. We can see a map of Slangovia here. Overseeing all this is a woman named Kate. >x goggles x goggles An experimental prototype that (from the perspective of the viewer only) adds -u- into words ending in -or, and reverses -er into -re wherever possible. Subjects wearing the Britishizing goggles generally began to develop implausible accents and to have better than usual success wooing American tourists. Otherwise, the goggles are not much use: like my monocle, they don't affect the actual form of an object in any way. The surplus stock were mostly given away as rewards to supporters of public television, and the Bureau discouraged even recreational use in the 1980s as they began to make progress towards greater linguistic purity. The monocle pings happily as we sight the Britishizing goggles with the crosshairs. >x mannequin x mannequin A head and torso only, and abstractly rendered. The vaguely masculine shape is covered in coarse white linen. On the mannequin is a pair of Britishizing goggles. The monocle pings happily as we sight the mannequin with the crosshairs. >buy goggles buy goggles "I'm interested in these Britishizing goggles," we say. "An excellent choice," Kate assures us. "They're the real thing, vintage made, not the plastic knock-offs that were all the rage in the 80s. Leather straps, brass fittings, top-grade lenses." A large number of bills later and we're the proud owner of the goggles. Kate removes the goggles from the mannequin and fits them to our face. >* lol * lol That's not a verb I recognize. >wear goggles wear goggles We're already wearing that! >x me x me I don't think anything about us looks out of place. We are female, though a little taller and leaner than average, and with slightly boyish facial features. It's nothing that would attract attention, though. We are wearing the Britishising goggles, the wig, and the backpack. >* ooh there we go * ooh there we go You will need to be more specific. Try typing LOOK to get a description of your surroundings. >buy map buy map "I'll take the Slangovia map," we say. "It's not every day you see something like this." "Very good," she says. "Too bad he didn't think to offer it to you directly! But just as well for us, I suppose." I take this to mean that Arbot is getting a big commission on the sale. Kate removes the map from its case and packs it up carefully for us. >e e Long Street South Long Street is lined on each side with a double-row of tall, anaemic palm trees that bend towards one another many feet overhead. We are now in the southern part of this long corridor, between the Canadian Embassy and Arbot Maps & Antiques. Our car ? which might better be described as a covered bicycle ? is parked nearby. We can go north to Long Street North, south, and west to Arbot Maps & Antiques from here. >n n We get into the car. We switch the ignition on. Long Street North (jammed into the car) We are jammed into the car with our knees almost at our chin, looking out through the bulbous little windscreen. The motor is growling like a housecat with pneumonia. Long Street is lined on each side with a double-row of tall, anaemic palm trees that bend towards one another many feet overhead. This corridor continues some considerable distance south. On the west side of the street is the several-story front of the Fleur d'Or hotel. We can go north to the Roundabout, south to Long Street South, and west to the Fleur d'Or Lobby from here. The car is making an unpleasant raspy growl. >w w Since there's no way by road, we'll have to leave the car here. It is a moment's work to find a parking spot. We switch the ignition off. We open the door of the car. We climb out of the car. Fleur d'Or Lobby The spotlights in the ceiling light the floor in distinct pools of Bureau blue, and a sheet of frosted glass etched with random letters separates the lobby from the drinks club to the west. There is no one at the glossy piano in the corner. >w w Fleur d'Or Drinks Club The back wall is dramatically decorated with bottled liquors of all sorts, from gin to cachaça; there's a giant bottle of Campari, taller than your average three-year-old, with a red ribbon around its neck. What makes this place technically a drinks club rather than a bar is its licence to serve letter-manufactured food and drink. A toolkit on the bar contains some screwdrivers, some gimlets, and some rusty nails, ready to be transformed into their respective cocktails. Mark and the bartender from earlier are still here. The other patrons are scattered around the room at small tables, drinking or talking among themselves. "Hello," the bartender says. >show legend to bartender show legend to bartender "Check this out," we say, holding out the legend for inspection. "This?" she says, looking a little surprised. "You want it converted?" "Why not?" "No reason," she says. "Just I did the same item a few hours ago for a gentleman. Really hot, with these amazing eyes-" "Whatever," you say, before she can get any more excited about Brock. She smirks. Then she taps the legend with her paddle and it transforms into a proper map legend. We want to thank the bartender. [Your score has gone up by one point and is now forty-two.] >thank bartender thank bartender "Thank you!" One of the customers comes up and asks the bartender about the toolkit, and the bartender explains what drinks they turn into. There's a brief pause. "Don't mention it," she says. "It's what I do." >ask her about brock ask her about brock That doesn't seem to be a topic of conversation at the moment. >x legend x legend This legend has been edited from its original form, replacing the words like HOSPITAL and RESTROOM with other, hand-written labels: INVITE, GOT, 11, OUT, T-INSERTER, etc. By arranging the words of the legend in the order in which the icons appear along the main street, we arrive at GOT INVITE T-INSERTER DEMONSTRATION. OUT 11 AM. Of course, it's already long past 11 AM, so Brock's plan clearly went wrong. If we're going to go after him, we'll have to go to the T-inserter demonstration ourselves. The catch is that, as dangerous new technology, it's held inside the Bureau and requires a special invitation to enter. I think I know where we can get one, though. My advisor Professor Waterstone ? that's the person overseeing my graduate research ? was also invited to this demonstration. We might be able to get his. [Your score has gone up by three points and is now forty-five.] >* as expected * as expected That's not a verb I recognize. >i i We are equipped with the following essentials: your B-remover, a backpack, a flash drive, a monocle, some Origin Paste, a pan (really the smuggled plans in disguise), a roll, and a tub of restoration gel. We are also carrying some ale, an arm, some asparagus, a ball, a band, a pair of Britishising goggles, a clock, a funnel, a god, Guidebook to Anglophone Atlantis, a heel, a jigsaw, a jotter, a leaflet, a letter, a lime, a map of Slangovia, a May, some members, a mug, some oil, a pastis, a pea, a pic, a poppy, a rash, a shopping bag, a shred, a shuttle, a sill, a sop, a stuffed octopus, some toes, a watch, and a wig. Of that collection, the asparagus, the clock, the flash drive, the funnel, the heel, the jotter, the leaflet, the letter, the lime, the May, the members, the mug, the Origin Paste, the pea, the roll, the stuffed octopus, the toes, the tub of restoration gel, and the watch are packed away in the backpack, which is closed for greater concealment. The ball and the jigsaw are in the shopping bag. We are wearing the Britishising goggles, the wig, and the backpack. >score score You have earned 45 points: 1 point for using the letter-remover 3 points for passing through the temporary barrier 3 points for winning the gel 1 point for using the gel 3 points for opening the locker 3 points for retrieving the backpack 1 point for using the spinner 3 points for fueling our car 3 points for repairing our car 5 points for traveling by car 3 points for winning a barroom bet 3 points for arranging contact with Slango through his lady friend 5 points for meeting Slango 1 point for using the Origin Paste 3 points for visiting the dead drop 1 point for getting a product of the homonym paddle 3 points for reading a legend You have not yet removed c, g, i, j, k, q, v, or z from anything. The achievements you have accomplished so far include: Finished tutorial mode Igor Rosehip award for creating at least five body parts in one playthrough >goals goals Here's what we think we need to do: Speak to Professor Waterstone and get his invitation to see the T-inserter Gain entrance to the Bureau Find Brock >save save Ok. >