Start of a transcript of JIGSAW An Interactive History Copyright (c) 1995 by Graham Nelson Release 3 / Serial number 951129 / Inform v1600 Library 6/1 Standard interpreter 1.1 Interpreter 1 Version C / Library serial number 951024 >set clock to 59 The clock starts, silently and slowly, and the jigsaw board pulses with a flickering amber light, warm and erratic as though from an oil lamp. >press b1 The piece at b1 presses in smoothly, like a button, then releases. You are sucked up once again into the time vortex. As you slow down, you briefly make out W. H. Auden's first book of poems being printed and then everything begins to change... [Press SPACE to continue.] Chapter Four - Temps Perdu Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. Inexplicably, your attention is drawn to the closed door of number 44. >save Ok. >open door You open the street door. >s The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. A small coin lies among the fallen blossom. >get coin You sneeze convulsively as you stoop for the coin, but with great physical dexterity recover your footing just in time. The coin remains mockingly in view. >s You are overcome with asthmatic coughing, and find that you've made no progress. >e You are overcome with asthmatic coughing, and find that you've made no progress. >w Maison du The In other words, a rather dark and gloomy tea-shop beside the river, to which none of the lustre of Paris has attached. The river bank runs east. A tall grandfather clock stands immobile behind the counter. In one corner is a bowl of jasmine tea nobody seems to have noticed. >twist kd You set the threefold arm spinning, but after a brief moment it spins its arms up together, chiming a rough bell twice. The motion then dies away. >get tea Under the eyes of the staff, walking off with the tea is out of the question. >e The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. A small coin lies among the fallen blossom. >n Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. The door of number 44 stands ajar. >n Avenue Kleber This is one of the avenues meeting at the Arc de Triomphe, and at this time of night carriages still hurtle down the cobbles, their sprung wheels sparking off the stone, horses steaming in the warm air. A slightly damp "Le Figaro" lies in the gutter, occasionally puffed up by wind. >get figaro Taken. >read it "Le Figaro" for May 18th, 1922. In the studied, literary style of French newspapers, it carries critiques of Poincare's hard-line policy on German reparations, and there is a frisson of excitement over the serialisation of the latest volume of "A La Recherche du Temps Perdu". >e Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. An ageing aristocrat, with rouged cheeks, hurries by on some disreputable business to the northeast. >ne Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. An ageing aristocrat, with rouged cheeks, hurries by on some disreputable business to the southeast. >se Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A carriage swings into view, and you just glimpse a dark lady within, talking to someone who looks suspiciously familiar - Black? - before it pulls through to the southwest. >sw Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A carriage swings into view, and you just glimpse a dark lady within, talking to someone who looks suspiciously familiar - Black? - before it pulls through to the southeast. >se Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A little band of girls in Breton jerseys skips by, playing some complicated game and chattering about Racine, before chasing each other away northwest. >nw Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. An ageing aristocrat, with rouged cheeks, hurries by on some disreputable business to the west. >w Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A green flask of absinthe sits abandoned on a doorstep. >get absinthe (putting the first aid box into the canvas rucksack to make room) Taken. >e Avenue Kleber This is one of the avenues meeting at the Arc de Triomphe, and at this time of night carriages still hurtle down the cobbles, their sprung wheels sparking off the stone, horses steaming in the warm air. >x horses You see nothing special about the street horses. >sketch horses You already have that picture. >e Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. A little band of girls in Breton jerseys skips by, playing some complicated game and chattering about Racine, before chasing each other away northwest. >ss That's not a verb I recognise. >s You can't go that way. An ageing aristocrat, with rouged cheeks, hurries by on some disreputable business to the northwest. >s You can't go that way. A carriage swings into view, and you just glimpse a dark lady within, talking to someone who looks suspiciously familiar - Black? - before it pulls through to the northwest. >w Paris by Night You are in a warren of twisty little Parisian streets, all alike, which strike out in all directions. An ageing aristocrat, with rouged cheeks, hurries by on some disreputable business to the northwest. >n Avenue Kleber This is one of the avenues meeting at the Arc de Triomphe, and at this time of night carriages still hurtle down the cobbles, their sprung wheels sparking off the stone, horses steaming in the warm air. >s Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. The door of number 44 stands ajar. >e 44, Rue Hamelin A dark, high-ceilinged entrance foyer, adding to the seedy atmosphere of gloom. A broad staircase is barred by locked doors, but there is a metal cage-lift shaft. On one side is a glass window to the concierge's office, which is dark and silent. A door to the west leads out to the street. The cage lift stands open at this floor. A handsome uniformed boy politely does not stare at you. >x window That's not something you need to refer to in the course of this game. >x cage It is unclear how the lift can be worked. >x boy A handsome boy of perhaps seventeen, who attends the lift. >w Rue Hamelin A quiet, narrow and gloomy Parisian street, running south downhill to the Seine and north uphill to the Avenue Kleber. It is the dead of night, though the air is warm. Despite the seedy look, the brass name-plates on the door belong to the minor nobility. The door of number 44 stands ajar. >s The Seine Paris in the spring time... the blossom scent on the trees, the last strollers along the banks to the west and in the Trocadero across the river, the great skeletal A of the Eiffel Tower... You inhale the scents of night, and sneeze with hay fever. A small coin lies among the fallen blossom. >w Maison du The In other words, a rather dark and gloomy tea-shop beside the river, to which none of the lustre of Paris has attached. The river bank runs east. A tall grandfather clock stands immobile behind the counter. In one corner is a bowl of jasmine tea nobody seems to have noticed. >x clock (the grandfather clock) It seems to have stopped. >start clock (the grandfather clock) The staff will not allow you to meddle with the clock. >drink tea You sip a little from the tea, but it is both harsh and weak. >save Ok. >quit Are you sure you want to quit? yes