Resident data ends at 9b28, program starts at 9b28, file ends at 49308

Starting analysis pass at address 9b26

End of analysis pass, low address = 9b28, high address = 40bcc


[Start of text]

S001: "SO FAR"
S002: "
An Interactive Catharsis
Copyright 1996 by Andrew Plotkin.
(First-time players should type "about".)
"
S003: "951024"
S004: "5/12"
S005: "a"
S006: "You can't go that way."
S007: "the"
S008: "the"
S009: "the"
S010: "the"
S011: "the"
S012: "the"
S013: "the"
S014: "the"
S015: "the"
S016: "the"
S017: "the"
S018: "the"
S019: "Darkness"
S020: "It is pitch dark, and you can't see a thing."
S021: "As good-looking as ever."
S022: "Nameless item"
S023: "your former self"
S024: "You can't go that way."
S025: "
The gale tears at your blanket. "
S026: "
Your blanket only blunts the icy wind. "
S027: "
The quiet chill still seeps through your blanket. "
S028: "
"
S029: "Your ears are, fortunately, not within your field of view."
S030: "be"
S031: "Just you, as usual."
S032: "Rito:"
S033: "Imita:"
S034: "Rito:"
S035: "Imita:"
S036: "Rito:"
S037: "Rito (icily):"
S038: "Imita:"
S039: "Rito:"
S040: "Tato (drawing his sword):"
S041: "Imita:"
S042: "Tato:"
S043: "Ting!"
S044: "Tato (shouting):"
S045: "Imita (simply):"
S046: "Rito:"
S047: "There are many, many people in here, and they're all just as hot and
sticky as you. None of them, as well as you can see, are Aessa."
S048: "not"
S049: "The stage is left with a tumult of flowers and ribbons, the favors
thrown by the audience."
S050: "your"
S051: "The back wall of the theater is that way."
S052: "You're at the top of the aisle."
S053: "He looks old enough to have scrubbed bloodstains in the Calamoscan
Cyclia in his youth. And, if so, he's still annoyed at the slaves for having
bled so much."
S054: "It's a rag. It's seen a lot of bench, but that doesn't make it
interesting."
S055: "People flock here, in the shade of the colonaded portico, talking and
drinking sharp beer. The main entrance to the theater is back north; the street
runs bright and dusty to the south, and the crowded portico continues to the
west."
S056: "A servant, looking terribly uncomfortable in dark formal garb, blocks
your way. "Can't let yar back in. They'll be setting up for another show after
sundown. Sorry, sar.""
S057: "The wall of the adjacent building stands in your way."
S058: "The theater entrance is north."
S059: "People stand around the portico, talking, drinking, avoiding the
dreadful afternoon sun, if not the heat."
S060: "has"
S061: "The kegman's stand is in your way."
S062: "There's no way in there."
S063: "The kegman is selling sharp beer in cheap clay flasks. You see quite a
few being tilted and expansively waved around the crowd."
S064: "It's just a plain doorway, leading into the relative dimness of the
theater. A small sign by the jamb reads "By right, please.""
S065: "The sign reads "By right, please.""
S066: "This is obviously a service hallway for the theater. You are surrounded
by crates and arbitrary stacks of paper, and pieces of scenery lean against the
rough planking walls of the hallway to the north. Light glares in from the
south."
S067: "The hall runs north and south."
S068: "The cool air is definitely coming from the north, up the hallway."
S069: "The hallway ends at a heavy door to the north, and a storage room opens
west. The wooden planking of the walls is old and unpainted; you notice a
narrow crack to the east. The heavy door is closed."
S070: "The hall runs south; there's a door to the north and a doorway to the
west."
S071: "Just a door, in heavy oak, with a wrought-metal handle. The door is
closed."
S072: "The cool air breathes from the western doorway."
S073: "It's a bare fingerwidth across and perhaps a yard long; just a gap where
the wall planks have warped."
S074: "Or perhaps ex-storage, since the room is almost bare. A small dirty
window to the west admits bright beams, but they fall across only the floor and
a battered cabinet against the north wall. The doorway lies to the east."
S075: "The doorway lies to the east."
S076: "This part of Tertuga has borne the silent vise of high summer sun for
weeks. But, in the heart of a city baked to dust, this room has the tang of a
smoky autumn wind. You don't know what it means; but the breeze is coming
from... behind the cabinet?"
S077: "Beams of sunlight filter in through the window. They cut bright
rhombuses onto the floor, and onto the cabinet, leaving dark shadow behind it."
S078: "The glass is old and wavery, and streaked with dirt and cobwebs besides.
Nonetheless, sun scorches in. Outside you see the avenue that crosses by the
theater; beyond that tower the columns of the rijusticas."
S079: "flares."
S080: "flares"
S081: "an"
S082: "The box is strange, even stranger for being so simple. Just polished
wooden sides, trapezoidal, no two faces parallel. But the joinings are precise;
no seams show. The craftwork is exact. No mark shows on the rich reddish wood,
except for the natural grain; and also a row of paler circles on each side.
These seem to be inlaid discs of a blond wood, flush with the surface, each
incised with a deep star-shaped mark."
S083: "The discs are each about as long as the last joint of your thumb. They
are arranged in precise rows of three discs each, one row on each face of the
box. Each disc is incised with a mark in the shape of a three-pointed star."
S084: "The sky is almost violet, infinitely distant -- you've never seen such a
sky, and without the haze of metallic heat that summer should have. But the
wind is sharp and chilly, and the trees nearby are a quilt of orange, red, and
gold.

Beneath you the road is old, filled with weeds and ragged moss; dirt shows only
in patches. To the south, the track is choked with trees, as it runs into the
fringes of an autumn forest. It continues the other way, though, towards an
immense stone wall that hems the northern horizon."
S085: "The road runs north and south."
S086: "You approach the forest, but underbrush has grown across the road and
young trees are springing up in it. After pressing a few yards farther, the
effort becomes too much, and you retreat."
S087: "The road was wide once, you think, but weeds fill the ruts and push in
from the edges. A smooth moss has covered most of what must have been bare
dirt."
S088: "The forest is thickly dappled with autumn color -- color which you
should not see for months yet, and never so rich, not in the southern climate
where you live. (But you are already certain that you are elsewhere.) The trees
are thick as well, old and crowded, choking the road that disappears into
them."
S089: "A worn stub of brick juts up here, by the road. It's no more than twice
your height; but scattered bricks in the weeds attest to an imposing chimney in
time past. Whatever building the chimney served is now just rotted scraps of
wood and a few stony ridges, and some mounds off to the west. The road
continues towards the wall north, and the distant forest south."
S090: "The road runs north and south, and vaguely artificial hummocks stand to
the west."
S091: "Most of the chimney is fallen; only a ragged angle remains, casting its
shadow far out into the afternoon weeds. Weathered bricks lie uncaring in the
grass below. They've been there a while, and they're not moving soon."
S092: "flares"
S093: "The road was wide once, you think, but weeds fill the ruts and push in
from the edges. Just about all of what's left is covered with a smooth olive
moss."
S094: "Stony ridges and low, overgrown mounds are visible in the meadow to the
west."
S095: "This was probably a building once. Those ridges lie straight and at
right angles; the rotted logs are tumbled too close to be natural. Nothing but
field, now. A few mounds by the foundation were probably something once;
although a bright vine on one catches your notice. The broken chimney to the
east marks the old road."
S096: "Once you push much beyond the old foundations, the meadow plants turn
thick and tangled. It's not worth the effort."
S097: "They're obviously long left to decay. But you don't find much else of
interest."
S098: "Grassy things and things with leaves. You're no expert. But the shades
of green are pretty, sweeping in slow waves with the spicy autumn wind."
S099: "The mounds are just a few feet high, and overgrown; it's hard to tell
what was down there. But a strikingly yellow vine crawls over one of them."
S100: "The wall stands that way."
S101: "The wall stands that way."
S102: "The road was wide once, you think, but weeds fill the ruts and push in
from the edges. Just about all of what's left is covered with a smooth olive
moss. The road runs up to the gate in the wall."
S103: "There's nothing much in that direction."
S104: "The wall stands that way."
S105: "It's no different here. Forty feet high, close-fitted stone."
S106: "boonnng."
S107: "The pillar rises through hollow dimness, lit only by the daylight
pouring through the hatch at your feet. Far above, a few needles of light show
that the top of the pillar is decaying as badly as the rust-eaten walls around
you. A set of narrow rungs ascends."
S108: "You are at the bottom of the shaft. The floor seems to be some wet stony
substance, but it is even with the ground outside."
S109: "You can only climb up or out."
S110: "You cling to the rungs at the top of the metal shaft. The walls are
miserably corroded, and there are several rust-edged holes around you. The roof
above you is solid, but it is not metal; it's an odd black substance. It's also
heavily overgrown with yellowish vines that crawl in and out of the pillar."
S111: "The holes are too small to fit more than a hand through. The only way
out is the hatch far below."
S112: "This is as high as the pillar goes, as high as the ladder goes, and
really much higher than you wanted to go."
S113: "There are several irregular rusty holes near the top of the pillar.
There's also one which is obviously meant to be there; the cable runs out
through it."
S114: "The top of the pillar is sealed with a cap of some smooth black
substance. You can't tell much about it, but the vines have nearly covered it."
S115: "The cable hangs down only a few feet, to a frayed, ragged end. It's
wrapped several times around the great pulley; and from there, it leaves the
pillar through a small gap to the north. Outside, you can see that the cable
runs across a yard of empty space to the top of the stone wall. There it passes
into the metal track which descends this face of the wall."
S116: "go"
S117: "It's a thick block, not perfectly rectangular; the edges are a bit
lumpy. The dim light brings out hints of hammer marks in the surface. The slab
is nearly as wide as the shaft, although there's room to stand in front of it.
Spliced to the top is a metal cable; it lies in untidy loops across the slab
and spills onto the ground."
S118: "thump"
S119: "The cable is about thirty feet long. One end is spliced to itself
through a hole in the slab; the other is just a frayed end. The cable spills
loosely across the ground."
S120: "There's nothing much in that direction."
S121: "The wall stands that way."
S122: "boonnng."
S123: "The pillar rises through hollow dimness, lit only by the daylight
pouring through the hatch at your feet. A set of narrow rungs ascends the
rust-touched wall of the shaft."
S124: "You are at the bottom of the shaft. The floor seems to be some wet stony
substance, but it is even with the ground outside."
S125: "You can only climb up or out."
S126: "You cling to the rungs at the top of the metal shaft. The walls are
somewhat corroded, mostly beneath a small hole in the north side of the pillar.
The roof above you is solid, but it is not metal; it's an odd black substance."
S127: "The hole is too small to fit more than a hand through. The only way out
is the hatch far below."
S128: "This is as high as the pillar goes, as high as the ladder goes, and
really much higher than you wanted to go."
S129: "There's a small gap in the north wall of the pillar; the cable runs out
through it."
S130: "The top of the pillar is sealed with a cap of some smooth black
substance. You can't tell much about it."
S131: "They're just curved metal rungs. They're not wide, but they're wide
enough, and they're spaced much as any other ladder you've come across. The
metal is rough and rusted; but it seems firm."
S132: "The wall stands, massive and unyielding, to the south. The road issues
from its open gate, though, and leaps merrily over a rise to the north, and
beyond it. Ivy-wound towers are visible, somewhere at the road's end."
S133: "The road leads north and south."
S134: "This side is the same as the other. Forty feet high, close-fitted
stone."
S135: "Slender, ivory towers are visible beyond the rise, to the north."
S136: "A dawn-tale, ivory castle stands far to the north, heavily strung with
ivy and reddening sunlight. The road runs towards it, and back to the south,
over a hill that hides the stone wall. A branch of the road also leads
northwest, towards a dome, which seems to float in a magenta lake."
S137: "The road leads north, northwest, and south."
S138: "A large pile of pipes and cable is sprawled untidily by the road."
S139: "The pipes are of various lengths, most longer than your body, though no
thicker than your wrist. The metal cables run in and out of their open ends.
Everything is heavily stained with rust, and a few of the cables seem to be
broken."
S140: "The castle is delicate and graceful; its ivory-white stone gleams
beneath a carpet of vines. There seems to be a moat circling its base."
S141: "You cannot see much detail; it's a low, wide dome, shining grey, perhaps
wood or polished stone. It's surrounded by what looks like a magenta pool.
Perhaps not, though; the color fades into the surrounding green, rather than
ending at a sharp bank. You really can't tell."
S142: "The main road ends here, at the edge of a deep dry moat. Or nearly dry;
a trickle of dark water crawls past jagged rusty edges of iron, far below. A
broad stone arch spans the trench, up to the ivy-choked facade of the castle. A
smaller road follows the moat's curve, east and west."
S143: "The main road leads south; the lesser roads run east and west, along the
trench; and the bridge is north."
S144: "The bridge is as wide as the road. Low stone walls curve along its
edges. It ends at the castle gate, beyond the moat."
S145: "The plates are undoubtedly meant to discourage invaders. Or... no. They
look, indeed, more as if they're meant to maim and kill invaders."
S146: "This gentle, broad arch curves above the castle moat. It meets the road
at the south bank. The north end widens directly into the castle gate -- or
would, if the gate were not entirely blocked by masses of tangled vine. You can
see no way through."
S147: "Green ivy tangles and knots across the gate. You push aside a few vines,
but nowhere near enough to make any progress."
S148: "The castle rears into the sky, immense yet still graceful. Ivy vines
entwine it even more thickly than you saw from a distance; green runs up the
towers and dangles into the moat, and the ivory-white stone peeks out in ten
thousand fringed gaps. A gate stands at the north foot of the bridge, but the
ivy curtains it entirely."
S149: "The plates are undoubtedly meant to discourage invaders. Or... no. They
look, indeed, more as if they're meant to maim and kill invaders."
S150: "The road curves around the east side of the castle, edging the trench.
To the north, it falls into the shade of trees; forest has grown down to the
castle's north edge."
S151: "The road runs north and south here."
S152: "There is no way across the moat here."
S153: "Once within the forest, the road is rapidly overgrown with greenery and
small trees. You turn back."
S154: "An unmarked brass lever rises from the stone lip of the trench."
S155: "The forest is thickly dappled with autumn color -- color which you
should not see for months yet, and never so rich, not in the southern climate
where you live. The trees are thick as well, old and crowded, choking the road
that disappears into them."
S156: "The road curves around the west side of the castle, edging the trench.
To the north, it falls into the shade of trees; forest has grown down to the
castle's north edge. A smaller road branches off towards a dome that squats to
the southwest."
S157: "The road runs north, south, and southwest here."
S158: "Once within the forest, the road is rapidly overgrown with greenery and
small trees. You turn back."
S159: "An unmarked brass lever rises from the stone lip of the trench, just by
the base of the pile of pipes."
S160: "The mosaic paving is every shade of scarlet and grey, a shocking
contrast to the castle walls, the ivory stone which was all that was visible
from the ground beyond the moat. Even the ivy that chokes the walls above and
below you does not venture far onto the colored tiles. A small arch would lead
east into the castle, were it not entirely filled with vines. To the west, wild
ruffling meadows spread under the violet sky; the dome is visible to the
southwest, in its magenta stain of lichen."
S161: "The arch, and as far as you can tell the space beyond, is knotted and
tangled full. You push aside a few vines, but nowhere near enough to make any
progress."
S162: "There is only the blocked arch east, and the bridge west."
S163: "The tiles are in bold reds and greys, really quite unnerving in this
rural world. But the patterns are abstract, just jagged, sharply-angled strips
and rhombuses."
S164: "The bridge is a spacious webwork, but its shadow is a solid black span
across the grey and red tiles. Something glitters at the shadow's edges...
frost?"
S165: "flares"
S166: "Shades of green roll over and over in the breeze."
S167: "The castle rears into the sky, immense yet still graceful. Ivy vines
entwine it even more thickly than you saw from a distance; green runs up the
towers and dangles into the moat, and the ivory-white stone peeks out in ten
thousand fringed gaps. There is an open arch to the east, but the ivy curtains
it entirely."
S168: "The dome rises to the west, without looming; its curve is gentle. A
rough arch leads within. The dome's surface is a polished brown-grey, a bit
mottled, and the whole structure is very slightly irregular; a homey,
reassuring effect. The ground beneath you is a shocking contrast. Bright lichen
covers everything with magenta tufts; there's not a blade of grass or stick of
shrubbery within fifty yards of the dome. The olive-mossed roads are the only
relief; they run northeast, towards the castle, and southeast."
S169: "The roads lead northeast and southeast, and the dome is west."
S170: "A smooth, dark olive moss covers most of the road. Very smooth, in fact.
The few patches of bare dirt are more eroded."
S171: "You've never seen anything like it. A crusty, raggedly tufted growth
spreads for tens of yards around the dome, and it's a searing-bright magenta.
The slanting sunlight makes streaks and shadows of it; your eyes hurt. You do
notice, though, that the patch stretches considerably farther west of the dome
than it does east."
S172: "The road was wide once, you think, but it's rutted now, and lichen
pushes in from the edges. A smooth moss has covered most of what must have been
bare dirt."
S173: "The dome is perhaps seven or eight yards high, and three times that
across at the base. The sides slant sharply inward even at ground level, and
they rise in a smooth curve to the dome's broad cap."
S174: "The eastern arch leads outside, and other doors are northwest,
southwest, and west."
S175: "A thin cord dangles from the dimness; a decorative little bob adorns its
end. It hangs near the tiled depression, at about shoulder-height."
S176: "The plants grow in large blue ceramic pots. Most are somewhat pallid and
spindly, in this dim chamber, but each one has a single fuzzy white blossom
crowning its stem."
S177: "They're plain, blue-glazed pots. All pretty much the same. Each one has
a plant in it."
S178: "The door is just a door. It has a keyhole by the handle."
S179: "It's a decaying stem, all that's left of the flower you picked from the
plant-pots."
S180: "A cloud of vapor, barely visible, hangs about one of the plants."
S181: "The hatch leads east. It's standing open, so the hatch cover itself is
lying against the wall in the next room."
S182: "."
S183: ". They swell visibly as you watch."
S184: "It's a bulging pod, about the size of your fist. The reddish skin
glistens just a bit."
S185: "red pods"
S186: "Aagh!"
S187: "Whummp!"
S188: "The east pillar stands nearly as high as the wall, a bit rusty. You can
make out a cable running from its top to the top of the east gate-track."
S189: "You really have no idea what it is. A worn shard, no longer than your
finger. The surface is dirty and weathered, and scored by the vine's roots, but
you can see that it was once brilliant blue. And it's no material you know;
much too light to be metal or wood, and slightly flexible. Perhaps some kind of
horn or bone. But the blue color isn't just a surface stain."
S190: "Bricks are the same everywhere."
S191: "Weeds are pushing in from the sides of the road, and a smooth, dark
olive moss covers most of what remains. Very smooth, in fact. The few patches
of bare dirt are more eroded."
S192: "yellow"
S193: "blue"
S194: "You are alone to the east of a long wooden platform. This must be the
back, for a slat fence runs around this small field, enclosing you, assorted
rolls of canvas, and a small mountain of hay bales. A small closed gate breaks
the fence to the north. The sun is bright, but the air is mild and
fertile-scented."
S195: "The fence surrounds all directions but north and west."
S196: "Several long rolls of canvas are stacked in a corner of the field.
There's nothing very remarkable about them."
S197: "The fence begins and ends at the corners of the platform, sealing this
area off, but for the closed gate to the north. It's of board slats bound in
wire, and a little higher than you."
S198: "The hay is baled in massive blocks, bound with coarse twine, breathing
sweet dusty warmth. And... a touch of smoky coolness, too. You look for and
find the night-black behind the hay bales: the shadow you stepped out of when
first you came between this springtime land and its sky."
S199: "The shadow of the hay bales lies on the grass, black, impossible, and
real. You wonder how you can be not even surprised, anymore."
S200: "widens"
S201: "It's dried grass."
S202: "The platform is surrounded by a low fence, except to the southwest."
S203: "It's just a low railing."
S204: "The yard is fenced on that side."
S205: "The arch is a slender curve of golden brick, light and wide. It flies
over the road, unrepentantly, for its own sake."
S206: "It's galloping madly from you, head down, crest sticking up."
S207: "A low railing surrounds the arena, except to the south."
S208: "The three are wearing dull clothing, just dirty grey wraps and breeches.
They're carrying brooms, spades, and sacks, and they're carefully tidying the
earth of... well, the usual mess. They do not speak; in fact, they never even
look up from their work."
S209: "The doors lead north and south."
S210: "You see the yard outside to the north."
S211: "surge."
S212: "sunlight...."
S213: "surge,"
S214: "Splash."
S215: "thud"
S216: "You force an objective stance upon your stomach, and examine the dead
animal. The wounds are claw marks. Undoubtedly the clawed creature you...
unhh... you turn away."
S217: "not"
S218: "outside"
S219: "beyond the arch"
S220: "beyond the arch"
S221: "north"
S222: "south"
S223: "north"
S224: "south"
S225: "crack."
S226: "A busy crowd surrounds you, here in the sun. Spacious brick buildings
line the square; a road runs east, a path leads west under a wide arch; and to
the south the plaza continues, a stream of cobblestone, trees, grass-cuts, and
lively people. Lively, but... quiet. Feet moving, smiles, waving hands, but not
one voice. It feels too normal to feel odd. In the center of the cobble circle
that forms this end of the mall, a statue rises from sprawled shrubbery."
S227: "There is no entrance to the buildings in that direction."
S228: "road to the east"
S229: "building to the north"
S230: "building to the southwest"
S231: "The statue is of some black marble, veined in red and gold. A tall man,
larger than life, faces south down the plaza; but he is not looking to the
horizon. His eyes are lowered; his expression pensive, turned inward. A hint of
bitterness quirks his lips."
S232: "Spacious brick buildings line the square; there are entrances north and
southwest."
S233: "A busy road runs west, towards the plaza, and east, towards a tall tower
that gleams whitely in the distance."
S234: "No exit. [BUG]"
S235: "The light is dim after the bright plaza."
S236: "No exit. [BUG]"
S237: "The crowded mall stretches north and south, a cheerful bustle of people,
trees, benches, and grass. The hush of the crowd is merely restful. Ornamental
building facades stand along the sides of the plaza, although a dark and narrow
alley slips between brick walls to the east."
S238: "alley"
S239: "There is no entrance to the buildings in that direction."
S240: "The alley is narrow and deep, but the late sun falls square along it.
Something stands motionless in the light at the far end."
S241: "Benches stand here and there on the edges of the mall. They're simple
slabs of rough sandstone, and people are smoking, gesturing in groups, dozing,
and simply sitting on one and many of them."
S242: "The cobble way from the north ends here, at a broad tree-lined square
which runs down to a gentle river. Smaller roads runs east and west, along the
water's edge. In the center of the square is a marble pedestal. Silent people
stand and flow around the mall, animated or relaxed."
S243: "road to the east"
S244: "road to the west"
S245: "building to the northeast"
S246: "The river runs along the south edge of the square."
S247: "There is no entrance to the buildings in that direction."
S248: "Buildings line the square. There is an entrance to the northeast."
S249: "You can't make out much in the park besides the flagpole; even that is
partially hidden, and you can't see the top or its flag, if indeed there is
one. But you do recognize the inky shadow that streaks the grass at the pole's
foot. Stranger than that are the people moving through the park: though sound
doesn't carry beyond the hedges, they seem to be laughing and talking."
S250: "The light is dim after the bright plaza."
S251: "No exit. [BUG]"
S252: "A busy road runs west, towards the plaza, and east, along the river."
S253: "No exit. [BUG]"
S254: "A busy road runs east, towards the plaza, and west, along the river."
S255: "No exit. [BUG]"
S256: "Blank walls stand close, all ways but west. The sun, hovering low over
the west horizon, shines almost directly into this alley; the brick walls are
streaked with the vivid scratchy shadows of their own roughness."
S257: "This is a blind alley."
S258: "Crowds teem silently to the west."
S259: "leaps"
S260: "The mall is dusted with small trees, each rising from a small plot of
gardened earth. The trees are spread wide enough to keep the mall whole and
clear, but close enough that one or two are always nearby. They are of several
kinds; many show spring flowers."
S261: " "
S262: "
"
S263: "
"
S264: "
"
S265: "
"
S266: "
"
S267: "
"
S268: "
"
S269: "
"
S270: "
"
S271: "
"
S272: "
"
S273: "The space is cool and half-shaded by frequent trees. Shaggy bushes,
untrimmed, surround the park, casting the aura of unspoiled wilderness. A river
peeps through shyly to the north, and a wider gap in the irregular rhythm of
hedges leads your eye west. In the center of the space rises a bare flagpole. A
few people stroll here, chatting quietly or simply walking."
S274: "You walk to the gap between the hedges, and find the river at your feet.
The shrubbery grows right to the water's edge; there's nowhere to go."
S275: "You move behind a bush, and find another couple of bushes blocking your
way. There doesn't seem to be any way through here."
S276: "tatuara"
S277: "This corner of the park centers around a grey stone pedestal. The
pedestal supports a large and curious sculpture, or construction -- or
something, made of metal columns and wire. Trees and bushes ring the pedestal,
granting it unspoken precedence in the quiet landscape. A path leads east
through the hedges. A few people stroll here, chatting quietly or simply
walking."
S278: "It's an unadorned rectangular slab of some grainy grey granite. It's
just big enough for the construction which rests on it."
S279: "There are perhaps two dozen wires, each running horizontally from one
outward-leaning column to the other. They are polished and twisted strands of
some black metal. The bronze disc hangs horizontally between two of them,
pinned to the wire just above it."
S280: "The disc is nearly half a yard wide. A pin rising from its center
attaches to the midpoint of one wire; the disc hangs horizontally between the
columns, at belt height. A delicate tracery is etched on its upper surface... a
map? The shapes are nearly familiar... yes, the outlines of the continents, but
distorted, strangely flattened around the rim of the circle. And even by that,
not quite right. Some islands are too small, or missing. That peninsula should
continue across the southern ocean. Odd."
S281: "toonk."
S282: "toonk."
S283: "They are of several kinds; many show spring flowers."
S284: "The bushes seem wild, untrimmed. But you notice their foliage is
everywhere rich and healthy; and their pattern is ideal, making every nook of
the park private, without being isolated or hemmed in."
S285: "tatuara"
S286: "tatuare"
S287: "ntuni"
S288: "mhiele"
S289: "The flame is no longer than the last joint of your thumb. It shoots
straight out from the broken corner of the square, a bright diagonal line: dim
blue at the base, but eye-stingingly bright along the rest of its length."
S290: "It's just a small triangular chip, slightly rough where you broke it
from the ceramic square. The red dot is still visible on one side."
S291: "Not a flat tame greensward, mind you; you are surrounded by wild,
waist-high, reed-yellow growth that hisses and rattles in the dry breeze. The
grasses roll to every cloudless horizon. Above you towers an immense tree --
the only one visible anywhere in this prairie world -- and its shadow slices
blackness past your feet. A path of flat, trampled grass cuts south down the
hill."
S292: "From the top of the hill, everywhere is down."
S293: "It must be visible for miles. The burly trunk is broader than your
shoulders; limbs splay out over most of the hilltop. Dense foliage shrouds its
branches. The tree's shadow is a line of utter black, thrown far across the
grass by the setting sun."
S294: "flares"
S295: "flares"
S296: "You are sitting on a thick branch under the tree's dense green crown.
The hill and grasslands spread below you and off into the distance, for there
are no other branches nearby to block your view."
S297: "There isn't another limb within reach."
S298: "You're not agile enough to go clambering out on limbs."
S299: "The tree is just as large when you're perched on it as it was from
below. Unfortunately, there are no higher limbs within reach."
S300: "The shadow runs from the tree's roots, far into the east."
S301: "You are on the south flank of the grassy hill. The flattened path runs
up the hill to the north, towards the towering tree, and also leads west. The
unconstrained grass spreads everywhere else."
S302: "You are on the southwest edge of the grassy hill. The path hugs the base
of the hill, running east and north from here. A tiny clear rivulet burbles
from a crack in the earth, just off the path; it trickles away through the
grass to the west."
S303: "The spring is barely a handspan wide, just a thread of water which flows
across the dry earth and is lost in the grass. The crack it comes from is
narrower than your finger."
S304: "You are on the western face of the hill. It leans serenely above you,
with the sunlit tree alert at its crest. The flattened path runs north and
south."
S305: "You are on the northwest side of the hill. The path runs south along the
hillside, but continues north into the open grassland."
S306: "The man has pale hair, nearly white, and red lines are painted across
the corners of his eyes. He sits knee-bent; he'd be facing south, watching the
path, if he wasn't leaning blissfully sideways with his head propped on his
forearm. His other hand rests open on the ground, with the spear lying across
it."
S307: "
Startled, you stop what you were doing."
S308: "It's a handsome weapon, a four-foot length of some polished red wood.
The point is a fluted leaf of black glass -- a smooth shape, not chipped into
shape. The spear is lying loosely in the man's hand."
S309: "The knife is a simple slim blade in a handle of reddish wood. The blade
is the length of your hand."
S310: "The jar isn't tilted, or cracked; the trickle seems to be oozing
straight from the clay, just above the smudge."
S311: "All that's left of the jar is this scattering of pale potsherds."
S312: "It's a clear liquid, just slightly thicker than water."
S313: "A trickle of water oozes from the jar, apparently straight from the
clay, just below the lip. It drips down the side and falls steadily."
S314: "The grass is an unending reach of tall, broad blades. Each is creased
lengthwise into a V. The stalks are dry and somewhat yellowed, and the wind
changes them to infinite rippling waves, and a sound like a distant rainstorm."
S315: "sh--"
S316: "He is not tall, but his limbs are wiry and long. He wears a tight brown
garment that leaves him free to move. His face is intense, with golden hair
above the black bar of paint that masks his eyes."
S317: "She wears a tight brown garment that does not cover her arms and legs,
and she dances with abandon. Her white hair is bound into a queue, and a stripe
of white paint crosses her eyes."
S318: "He is tall and thin, and dances with tight energy. He wears a tight
brown garment that leaves him free to move. His hair is sparse and grey, and
his face is covered with jagged crossing stripes of black and violet."
S319: "She is tall, wearing a tight brown garment that does not cover her arms
and legs. Her shape is that of large pregnancy, but her movements suggest that
this is costuming, light padding. A stripe of grey paint crosses her eyes."
S320: "west"
S321: "The ground seems solid."
S322: "The spire is twice your height; it juts alone from the bare and
unadorned snow, and there is nothing like it visible for miles. The wind has
carved it into a mad folly of curves and hollows. At the spire's foot, a
night-black shadow falls across the snow."
S323: "flares,"
S324: "You step to the lip of the crevasse. There's no going further without
going down, and you're most uncertain about that."
S325: "Coward."
S326: "just waiting for you to lick it."
S327: "throthe"
S328: "thonh'"
S329: "entirely"
S330: "Heh heh."
S331: "Owww!"
S332: "Hold on a minute. I dare you to lick that pole."
S333: "Come on, lick the pole. I double-dare you."
S334: "I double-dog-dare you to put your tongue on that iron pole."
S335: "Go on, lick it."
S336: "I double-dog-dare you."
S337: "The ground seems solid."
S338: "The distant cliff runs across the western edge of the world. It doesn't
look very high, though distance may be deceptive. You're sure it looks lower to
the north, though. The sun is low enough to have set behind the cliff, and its
ragged top edge slices sunbeams into a long, wavered veil of light across the
sky."
S339: "The sun is low enough, and the western cliff high enough, that you are
in the cliff's shadow. The world is dim and the snow grey. But the sky is still
brightly blue; it's not yet night."
S340: "The sun is low enough to have set behind the cliff, and its ragged top
edge slices sunbeams into a long, wavered veil of light across the sky."
S341: "You make a dedicated attempt, but the slope rises too sharply, and your
feet slip again and again on the snow-covered ice."
S342: "Which way do you want to descend?"
S343: "There's a gleam of metal in the snow -- a twisted bit of rod, pronged;
perhaps a key of some sort."
S344: "The key, if that's what it is, is only a few inches long. Three small
prongs spread from each end. They look as if they were meant to angle straight
out, symmetrically; but the rod is twisted, and the prongs bent and flattened."
S345: "The drop is dizzying. Perhaps you should descend back north."
S346: "The wind batters you back."
S347: "Crack!"
S348: "Crack!"
S349: "the"
S350: "It's constant, deathly strong, and cold."
S351: "The ground seems solid."
S352: "The cliff prevents you."
S353: "The cliff prevents you."
S354: "Large chunks of stone are piled at the base of the cliff, below the
cave. Their edges are raw and sharp, freshly broken."
S355: "The tunnel is round, as you saw from the outside, and the walls are
smooth; a hint of groove curves around them. The passage recedes west, dimly,
though you can make out a hint of glow in the distance. A blinding blue and
white circle of outer world glares at you from the east. Somehow, the wind is
not blowing in, so the air is icily still."
S356: "The tunnel runs west and east."
S357: "You can't make out the source of the glow. It's soft, and very distant."
S358: "The tunnel is very straight. You can tell that it's not quite east-west,
though; the distant bright spot of outside snow is more east-northeast, and a
strange watery glow is visible west-southwest."
S359: "The tunnel runs west and east."
S360: "It's the light at the beginning of the tunnel, far to the east."
S361: "You can't make out the source of the glow. It's soft, distant, but
pervasive."
S362: "The shape of the tunnel is the same, but you are surrounded by
translucent ice, here at the end. To the east the passage returns to the
dimness of stone. The west wall is an irregular sweep of ice; and it glows,
with what must be the setting rays of the sun, somewhere to the west. Ripples
of gold light fall through milky blue veils, turning this space into a small
still cathedral."
S363: "The tunnel runs only east."
S364: "The cave is walled with pure ice, but the western curve is a phantasm of
frozen, muted color and light. An indistinct shape is caught within it."
S365: "Caught within the western ice is a dark, indistinct form. The glow
behind it casts a night-black shadow across the tunnel's floor."
S366: "Pale light and ice veil its shape; you are sure only that it's been
still for a long, long time."
S367: "blurs,"
S368: "The snow is dry, powdery, and actually quite a thin sheet. Only a few
inches down, it turns to iron-hard ice. The snow is tracked with the prints of
some large-pawed animal."
S369: "the"
S370: "The wind seems to be eternal, here. It's cold and sharp as metal, and
the sound that it shivers across the ice is the sound of utter patience."
S371: "You stand on the east side of a wide circle of grey, glittering sand.
The sky is black; but it is not night, for the sun hangs above the western
horizon, a strange, fierce white dot that does not dim the stars around it or
the moons above. A familiar sky-black shadow lies at your feet, cast in dim
sunlight from a waist-high dome which stands at the center of the circle. The
sand is surrounded by a fence of sorts -- tall silver bars rise around you, a
roofless cage. And beyond that is nothing but endless barren plain."
S372: "The dome is in your way."
S373: "You can pass around the dome to the northwest or southwest."
S374: "The sun, shrunken and sullen, casts a long shadow from the dome east
across the circle. A trace of frost whitens the sand, at its edges."
S375: "spreads"
S376: "The dome is in your way."
S377: "You can pass around the dome to the northeast or southeast."
S378: "leaping?"
S379: "spreads"
S380: "spinning"
S381: "It's a small mound of clean, grey sand."
S382: "The ground is solid."
S383: "In to what?"
S384: "Out from what?"
S385: "The rapping echoes louder, a percussive blow that sends you stumbling
back."
S386: "You would run into the teeth of the tintinnabulation."
S387: "Hear the sledges with the bells... silver bells..."
S388: "What a world of merriment their melody foretells..."
S389: "To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells..."
S390: "From the jingling and the tingling of the bells."
S391: "Hear the mellow wedding bells... golden bells..."
S392: "What a world of happiness their harmony foretells..."
S393: "What a gush of euphony voluminously wells..."
S394: "To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells."
S395: "Hear the loud alarum bells... brazen bells..."
S396: "What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells..."
S397: "In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire..."
S398: "In the clamor and the clangor of the bells."
S399: "Hear the tolling of the bells... iron bells..."
S400: "What a world of solemn thought their monody compels..."
S401: "Keeping time, time, time, in a sort of Runic rhyme..."
S402: "To the moaning and the groaning of the bells."
S403: "The wail rises to a glass-edged shriek before you can complete a step."
S404: "The rattling attenuates as you move that way. You freeze, vaguely
disturbed by the abrupt sense of echoing distance."
S405: "As you begin to move that way, the rumbling scales abyssally downward in
pitch. You retreat quickly, before you are drawn with it."
S406: "shifts"
S407: "The incessant dripping is strongest that way, and its force threatens to
overwhelm you, until you back away."
S408: "A particularly loud note, as of silver on steel, flays your thoughts for
an instant."
S409: "The voices rise as you begin to move, and take on a definite tone of
hostility. Another step brings on an angry hub-bub. You move back, glancing
futilely around in the dark."
S410: "You move towards the distant thudding sound. The gentle thudding around
you keeps pace, and the two rhythms blend imperceptibly."
S411: "The irregular thudding draws closer, and louder. It's almost painful --
no, it is painful, the sound is jarring your mind; you back away."
S412: "A particularly violent crystalline crash comes from just in front of
your feet. You flinch back, even though nothing touches your skin."
S413: "The thudding becomes syncopated as you move that way. It grows more
irregular, dragging with it the rhythms of your body, pulling them off-true and
into a queasy weaknesss -- you retreat, quickly, while you can."
S414: "Thud thud"
S415: "thud"
S416: "thud thud"
S417: "thud"
S418: "thud thud"
S419: "thud"
S420: "expands"
S421: "writhes"
S422: "It's just mud, packed and smoothed by a million passing feet... or
passing something. The surface is damp, but too hard to show your footprints as
more than another irregularity."
S423: "You can see no way out."
S424: "It doesn't get much more in than this."
S425: "sit"
S426: "The ceiling is a bare sheet of metal, somewhat rust-stained."
S427: "The floor is a bare sheet of metal, somewhat rust-stained."
S428: "tunk,"
S429: "tink,"
S430: "Tunnnggg...."
S431: "Tinnnggg...."
S432: "lengths of thin pipe"
S433: "It's a length of silver pipe, the length of your hand, and not quite
wide enough to fit two fingers into. A carved-bone handle juts out; it's
fastened a quarter of the way along the length."
S434: "lengths of thick pipe"
S435: "It's a length of silver pipe, the length of your hand, and not quite
wide enough to fit your fist into. A carved-bone handle juts out; it's fastened
a quarter of the way along the length."
S436: "The metal floor and ceiling seem a bit farther apart here -- at least,
you can nearly straighten your neck, from where you sit. The floor is scarred
by thin parallel grooves."
S437: "Two spots of light shine palely on the ceiling."
S438: "The grooves are barely wide enough to fit a thumbnail into. They are
spaced about an arm's-length apart."
S439: "You are still kneeling between unyielding surfaces, much too close above
and below. Long parallel ridges cross the ceiling, perhaps an arm's-length
apart, and disappear into the darkness around you."
S440: "The ridges are about the width of your finger. They seem to be pressed
directly from the metal above you."
S441: "You sit hunched between parallel metal planes. Your chin is tucked down
and your head still pressed uncomfortably against the ceiling. Dim-glowing
traces on the floor stretch into the distance, however; low as it is, this
space seems vastly wide."
S442: "The light comes from thin lines inset into the floor, a dimly
phosphorescent grid."
S443: "The space between these plates is, if anything, fractionally lower than
the first one you fell into. A dim phosphorescent grid is traced out across the
ceiling, marking silent distance in all directions."
S444: "The light comes from a grid of thin lines inset into the ceiling."
S445: "The metal overhead bends you nearly double, even sitting, as you are.
Both floor and ceiling seem more heavily rusted here; small clumps of
phosphorescent moss cling here and there."
S446: "Small clumps of moss shed a faint light, barely visible even from the
corner of your eye."
S447: "You are lying full length on scarred, rusted metal. Your raised head
brushes the ceiling. Is it harder to breathe here? Don't think about it."
S448: "A black outline stretches across the metal -- a shadow, cast by the
light of your flickering flame, from... nothing that you can see."
S449: "The abyss-dark shadow does not reveal a form. It reaches far ahead of
you, shifting as the oil flame moves, but the spot it reaches from is empty."
S450: "flares;"
S451: "There is nowhere higher."
S452: "a dark figure standing in an empty room. Its lips move, silently: Will
you forgive me?"
S453: "two silhouettes standing on a dark porch. They are talking, but they are
huddled somehow away from each other, and one will not look the other in the
eye. A third shape steps out for a moment nearby, and the two freeze, until the
third moves away."
S454: "one silhouette walking slowly in a sunny park. It takes a side path, and
then another, seemingly without aim or direction. A dry tree branch tosses idly
in one hand; the figure does not speak."
S455: "two silhouettes standing in a room; many others sit around them. The two
mouths are moving, soundlessly, and you see a stray foot tapping. The audience
is relaxed, laughing."
S456: "three figures kneeling on pavement, around an arrangement of cards and
small shapes. One silhouette lays down another card and moves an angular shape
onto it. The other two sit back, frowning. One gropes for a jar and sips from
it."
S457: "six silhouettes sitting in a circle, in a plush room. One is reading out
loud, from a book. It turns a page and passes the book to its right, and that
figure continues the reading. There is a distant air of solemnity, until one
reader grimaces, and seems to laugh ruefully. It begins again."
S458: "several figures lying on trim grass, staring up into the sky. The
sunlight is somehow dim. One silhouette sits up, and seems to laugh, and points
at its own shadow."
S459: "a dim figure sitting over a desk, pen in hand. It shuffles through one
sheaf of papers, then another; it picks up a book that is lying on the floor. A
few lines are scratched. The figure jumps up and walks in a tight circle,
waving its arms. Then it sits, writes another line or two, and so it
continues."
S460: "a silhouette standing in a small room -- a kitchen, full of jars and
untidy sacks. The figure mixes furiously, tastes from his bowl, shakes a bottle
over it, taps again to be sure. Peelings and shells pile up on the counter."
S461: "two silhouettes walking slowly across a sunny park. Other shapes play
some game in the distance, but the pair pay no attention. They stop by a low
stone wall. A bird darts down, and lands on it, and eyes them fearlessly."
S462: "a dark figure whispering: Will you forgive me?"
S463: "the two figures standing stiffly on a dark porch."
S464: "the lone figure walking in a sunny park."
S465: "the two figures performing."
S466: "the three figures kneeling around their cards."
S467: "the six figures sitting in a circle, reading."
S468: "the figures lying under strange sunlight."
S469: "the figure hard at work at a desk."
S470: "the figure in a kitchen."
S471: "the two figures walking in a sunny park."
S472: "the"
S473: "the"
S474: "A ring of translucent darkness hangs before you, horizontal, no broader
than your circled arms would be. A thousand fragmentary shapes might flicker
within the shadowy band; but they are all quite still."
S475: "Crash."
S476: "everything."
S477: "A softly glowing sphere orbits you slowly, a phantom of light. Within it
you see a ghost-figure of a woman."
S478: "The sphere is just large enough to fit in your cupped hands, were it
solid, and not a soft luminance in the air. It moves around you, without a
whisper, passing before your eyes once in three heartbeats. And in the sphere's
heart stands the image of a woman. She is dressed simply, in a pale robe and
hairfall. She gazes out away from you. She does not move; but her hands are
outstretched, pleading."
S479: "
Something else catches your eye: there is a shadow upon the mist, far below.
"
S480: "At this distance, it's a mere spot. But it has the same night's-blood
darkness which has brought you this strange, far way."
S481: "There is no way up."
S482: "There is nowhere lower."
S483: "the"
S484: "Veils of mist move far, far above, a slow dance of shape and shadowy
color. Where the pale folds thin, you can glimpse darkness, pierced with bright
points. Stars, or moonlight on waves seen from the bottom of an invisible sea,
or the lights of some dawn-tale city in the sky."
S485: "the"
S486: "The ground is an opaque and featureless grey."
S487: "A perfect four-sided pyramid made of some shiny substance."
S488: "A perfect cone made of some shiny substance."
S489: "A perfect sphere made of some shiny substance."
S490: "green pyramids"
S491: "Crash."
S492: ""Ah, my love. Can you forgive me?""
S493: ""How can I deny you? There is nothing to forgive.""
S494: ""How can I ever forgive you? There is nothing to forgive.""
S495: "It is too dark to see."
S496: "hot, sticky"
S497: "autumn, cool, smoky"
S498: "mild spring, quiet"
S499: "warm, arid, dusty"
S500: "bright, bitter wind"
S501: "bitter reek"
S502: "dank black"
S503: "cramped, crawling"
S504: "It is too dark to see. The ceiling is still there, low and massively
solid, nonetheless."
S505: "formless"
S506: "meaningless"
S507: "[BUGGY]"
S508: "So Far"
S509: "So Far"
S510: "A Change in the Weather."
S511: "The New Dinosaurs,"
S512: "The Outskirter's Secret."
S513: ""The author should always write on the reader's nose.""
S514: "Rito and Imita"
S515: "hot, sticky"
S516: "Rito and Imita"

[End of text]

[End of file]