Start of a transcript of Slouching Towards Bedlam An entry in the 9th Annual Interactive-Fiction Competition Copyright 2003 by Star C. Foster and Daniel Ravipinto [First time players should type 'about'. Credits are available via 'credits'.] Release 1 / Serial number 030925 / Inform v6.21 Library 6/10 Standard interpreter 1.0 (4F) / Library serial number 991113 >restore /(yesunfoldingbackwardsRESTORErenewpointtimespace)\ >give letter to dumonde (first taking the letter) Du Monde briefly glances over it, her smile tightening slightly. "Fascinating little myths these boys are capable of," she concedes. Quick as a flash, her hand snakes beneath the counter, returning to slam a tiny brass object onto the countertop. "A gift," she says, "for the inquisitive." In a heartbeat, the thing is airborne - a tiny whirlwind of metallic wings and grasping arms. The pain is excruciating. If there are words for this... /(reference|point|metaphor)\ ...they have not yet been written. /(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\ It starts simply enough. Nothing occurs for the first week. It takes that long to incubate. /(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\ At the end of that time, James is quite sure he has followed in the footsteps of both Brand and Xavier, but bravely holds on. His bravery serves him poorly as within ten days time he has managed to infect all of the orderlies. Another week, and they have infected their families, their friends, and every patient in Bedlam. /(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\ Reggie doesn't notice a thing. It's business as usual - and business is good. A week after the incubation he has infected seemingly half of London -- his clients, his barmates, his family. /(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\ Alexandra goes on with business as usual. By the time her incubation is complete, the Cypherists are once again meeting. Ironically, she infects the only group of people who could possibly have understood what was going on. It all goes fairly quickly after that. /(and what rough beast)\ It spreads - subtle and strange...sudden lost memories, new forms of action and, universally, a reaching, grasping curiosity... /(its hour come round at last)\ The lost begin to gather together - first in twos, then in growing crowds - to speak nonsense at one other. /(slouches towards)\ The language of the angels - of Babel - fills the streets of London, and then every city in the world. /(bethlehem)\ The death shroud of humanity becomes the birth caul of something ... new - /(?behtlehem?)\ inhaling its first breath /(BEDLAM)\ preparing to cry out /(to be born?)\ its Name. ***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\*** /(reachedfoundendfinishcomplete|possibleprobablyonlyoneinofmany))\ /(nowfurtheryetaheadrelease-APPENDIX-B-availableaccessableopen))\ /(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\ > undo Du Monde's /(backyesunturningunmakingUNDObacksliplinereverse)\ >i Carried: a large hardbound book a primitive copy of a key a puzzle box (which is open) a letter a diary File DB9E75: Daniel McNaughton a large iron key File F6A142: Cleve Anderson File 4361A2: Emanuel Barthelemy a flanged brass rod a paper tape labeled DB9E75 a paper tape labeled F6A142 a paper tape labeled 4361A2 a small key labeled 2D Du Monde taps her fingers on the counter impatiently. >show copy to dumonde Ms. Du Monde is unimpressed. Du Monde stares out the window for a long moment. >show iron to dumonde Ms. Du Monde is unimpressed. >show book to dumonde Du Monde briefly glances over it, her smile tightening slightly. "Fascinating little myths these boys are capable of," she concedes. Quick as a flash, her hand snakes beneath the counter, returning to slam a tiny brass object onto the countertop. "A gift," she says, "for the inquisitive." In a heartbeat, the thing is airborne - a tiny whirlwind of metallic wings and grasping arms. The pain is excruciating. If there are words for this... /(reference|point|metaphor)\ ...they have not yet been written. /(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\ It starts simply enough. Nothing occurs for the first week. It takes that long to incubate. /(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\ At the end of that time, James is quite sure he has followed in the footsteps of both Brand and Xavier, but bravely holds on. His bravery serves him poorly as within ten days time he has managed to infect all of the orderlies. Another week, and they have infected their families, their friends, and every patient in Bedlam. /(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\ Reggie doesn't notice a thing. It's business as usual - and business is good. A week after the incubation he has infected seemingly half of London -- his clients, his barmates, his family. /(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\ Alexandra goes on with business as usual. By the time her incubation is complete, the Cypherists are once again meeting. Ironically, she infects the only group of people who could possibly have understood what was going on. It all goes fairly quickly after that. /(and what rough beast)\ It spreads - subtle and strange...sudden lost memories, new forms of action and, universally, a reaching, grasping curiosity... /(its hour come round at last)\ The lost begin to gather together - first in twos, then in growing crowds - to speak nonsense at one other. /(slouches towards)\ The language of the angels - of Babel - fills the streets of London, and then every city in the world. /(bethlehem)\ The death shroud of humanity becomes the birth caul of something ... new - /(?behtlehem?)\ inhaling its first breath /(BEDLAM)\ preparing to cry out /(to be born?)\ its Name. ***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\*** /(reachedfoundendfinishcomplete|possibleprobablyonlyoneinofmany))\ /(nowfurtheryetaheadrelease-APPENDIX-B-availableaccessableopen))\ /(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\ > undo Du Monde's /(backyesunturningunmakingUNDObacksliplinereverse)\ >n 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage obediently appears. >x manual No such thing can be seen. >hint 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage rests obediently nearby. >sw No exit lies in that direction. >se Side Corridor This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west. Triage silently approaches. >u Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows up the stairs... Top of Stairs The stairs end here at a rickety door labeled "1428 - Attic Loft" leading eastward. Triage silently approaches. >e Attic Flat A tiny flat with barely enough room for a small sink and tub to one side, a living area in the center, and a bed to one side. Triage trundles patiently along beside. >w Top of Stairs The stairs end here at a rickety door labeled "1428 - Attic Loft" leading eastward. Triage obediently appears. >d Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows down the stairs... Side Corridor This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west. Triage silently approaches. >nw 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage silently approaches. >n Smithfield Market While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage silently approaches. >hint [8 hints left]-> What does she say when you ask about it? [7 hints left]-> Apparently they're fairly rare and only available on special order. [6 hints left]-> Smithfield Market While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. Triage rests obediently nearby. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. >s 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage silently approaches. >se Side Corridor This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west. Triage silently approaches. >nw 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage obediently appears. >s Du Monde's The shop is dark, and crowded with haphazardly stacked, yet neatly organized piles of machinery. To the south, there is a worn wooden counter, cracked with age and covered with innumerable nicks, scratches, and dark burn marks. Behind the counter are rows and rows of drawers, labeled in some arcane script. The faint scent of gas clings to the walls. The shop's show window and door look out on Fleet Street to the north. A second door lies behind the counter to the east. A woman leans over the counter, working on something with intense concentration. Triage trundles patiently along beside. >ask dumonde about amplifier "Trouble with your magnetophone, sir? That happens often enough within the city limits." Du Monde briefly consults a manual before returning to work. >ask dumonde about amplifier "An amplifier module would help, yes sir, but they're rather rare. I only get them on special order. And no use asking about that - I only just got my last order in. It'd be weeks before I could put in another." >ask dumonde about amplifier "As I said, I do have an aetheric amplifier, but I can't just give it away. It was a special order." Du Monde stares out the window for a long moment. >ask dumonde about amplifier "There's really nothing more to say, sir." >order amplifier That is not a recognized verb. >ask dumonde for amplifier No such thing can be seen. >point at dumonde The machine analyzes Ms. Du Monde before replying: CAT:LIVING.HUMAN FEMALE.UTIL:COMM UNICATION.POSSIB LE(SPEECH.OR.WRI TTEN.WORD)PART:I D=UNKNOWN.FURTHE R.ANALYSIS-POSSI BLE.EXAMINATION? Du Monde's throat tightens slightly. "How clever," she whispers. >x dumonde Tall and thin, though her figure is difficult to make out in men's clothes that are ill-suited for her frame. Her curly, auburn hair is tied back in a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her fierce green eyes are bright and aware, though they crinkle their corners. She wears a small pin on her lapel. Du Monde clucks her tongue impatiently. >point at pin No such thing can be seen. >point at lapel No such thing can be seen. >ask dumonde about machine "I'm afraid I can't help you there." >ask dumonde about triage "It's fairly intuitive, really. Turn it on, and then point at whatever object you have a question about. It has a fairly comprehensive amount of data on common items. And of course the user can enter personal data." She lowers her voice to a loud whisper. "Between you and me, sir, I find it's 'ability' to analyze data a bit sketchy. After all, it's not omniscient, is it? It only knows what it's told." >ask dumonde about enter "I don't feel as though I'm qualified to answer that question." >ask dumonde about entry "I'm afraid I can't help you there." Du Monde sighs. >n 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage trundles patiently along beside. >i Carried: a large hardbound book a primitive copy of a key a puzzle box (which is open) a letter a diary File DB9E75: Daniel McNaughton a large iron key File F6A142: Cleve Anderson File 4361A2: Emanuel Barthelemy a flanged brass rod a paper tape labeled DB9E75 a paper tape labeled F6A142 a paper tape labeled 4361A2 a small key labeled 2D >read emanual (in Triage) Nothing of interest is discovered in Triage. >read emanuel The file is fairly brief -- it only covers the single night that Emanuel Barthelemy spent at the Hospital. The papers are written up by Dr. Simon Brand, and apparently there's been a mix-up in the system, as Barthelemy is listed as being kept in the *lower* rather than the upper Corridor 6 -- room C specifically. Barthelemy was being held under suspicion of the murder of two men -- Collard and Moore -- which occurred in Warren Street, Fitzroy-Square. The case is listed as 'customary' - Barthelemy being held under observation for 24 hours to prove or disprove his insanity. Brand's final conclusion is that Emanuel is fit to stand trial. >read daniel The file is extensive -- covering the ten years Daniel McNaughton was in residence at Bethlehem before his death two years ago. Apparently he was kept in upper-6-E for the first year, then moved to Corridor 22 for the remainder. McNaughton was arrested for the attempted assassination of Prime Minister Peel and the death of Drummond (Peel's private secretary). McNaughton's defense stated that he was under the delusion of being persecuted by the Tories in his native Glasgow who, he claimed, "compelled him" to act. The case, of course, became the first famous legal test for acquittal by reason of insanity. Victoria's response was to order the court to develop a stricter test for insanity - which lead to the now-standing "McNaughton Rule." Most of the later notes are by Superintendent Simon Brand - soliloquies on the McNaughton Rule and its effects on both the legal system and the psychological profession. >hint What does she say when you ask about it? Apparently they're fairly rare and only available on special order. [6 hints left]-> It'll take weeks for one to arrive... [5 hints left]-> Perhaps you've already ordered one? [4 hints left]-> Perhaps you don't remember? [3 hints left]-> 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage rests obediently nearby. >s Du Monde's The shop is dark, and crowded with haphazardly stacked, yet neatly organized piles of machinery. To the south, there is a worn wooden counter, cracked with age and covered with innumerable nicks, scratches, and dark burn marks. Behind the counter are rows and rows of drawers, labeled in some arcane script. The faint scent of gas clings to the walls. The shop's show window and door look out on Fleet Street to the north. A second door lies behind the counter to the east. A woman leans over the counter, working on something with intense concentration. Triage silently approaches. Du Monde distractedly chews at a loose piece of her dangling hair. >i Carried: a large hardbound book a primitive copy of a key a puzzle box (which is open) a letter a diary File DB9E75: Daniel McNaughton a large iron key File F6A142: Cleve Anderson File 4361A2: Emanuel Barthelemy a flanged brass rod a paper tape labeled DB9E75 a paper tape labeled F6A142 a paper tape labeled 4361A2 a small key labeled 2D >tell dumonde about me "Yes, well, I'm sure it's terribly important to you sir, but this IS a business, not a tavern. Shop here and gossip elsewhere if you please." >ask dumonde about kincaid "I can't help you, sir. I am, after all, merely a mechanist." >point at me The emerald flickers from head to toe before returning: CAT:LIVING...... *CATASTROPHIC.ER RROR.A042.CATEGO RY.INDEX.OUT.OF. RANGE.STACK.OVER FLOW*PART:ID=DR. THOMAS.XAVIER=CU RRENT.OPERATOR.. >ask dumonde about xavier "I'm afraid I can't help you there." Du Monde clucks her tongue impatiently. >ask dumonde about thomas "I don't feel as though I'm qualified to answer that question." >ask dumonde about me "I can't help you, sir. I am, after all, merely a mechanist." Du Monde briefly consults a manual before returning to work. >tell dumonde about xavier "What exactly is it I can help you with, sir?" >g Du Monde makes a disinterested noise and continues to work. >g "What exactly is it I can help you with, sir?" >g "How...interesting." >hint What does she say when you ask about it? Apparently they're fairly rare and only available on special order. It'll take weeks for one to arrive... Perhaps you've already ordered one? Perhaps you don't remember? [3 hints left]-> Have you examined your flat in Newgate? [2 hints left]-> Du Monde's The shop is dark, and crowded with haphazardly stacked, yet neatly organized piles of machinery. To the south, there is a worn wooden counter, cracked with age and covered with innumerable nicks, scratches, and dark burn marks. Behind the counter are rows and rows of drawers, labeled in some arcane script. The faint scent of gas clings to the walls. The shop's show window and door look out on Fleet Street to the north. A second door lies behind the counter to the east. Triage rests obediently nearby. A woman leans over the counter, working on something with intense concentration. >n 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage silently approaches. >n Smithfield Market While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage obediently appears. >cabbie, home To whom were you attempting to speak? >driver, home The driver gestures into the cab's interior, waits a moment, then nudges his horse forward with a clicking noise and a shake of the reins. The trip feels none too comfortable, but at least the cab's interior gives some insulation against the tumult of London. Before long, the cab slows and the driver announces the reached destination... Outside Flat 2D (in the hansom cab) This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. >x gallows The noose sways gently in the breeze. >n From inside the hansom cab? >out Exited. Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside. Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. Triage rests obediently nearby. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. >n The door to 2D is in the way. >unlock 2d [What do you want to unlock the door to 2D with?] >2d I didn't understand that sentence. >unlock 2d with key Which is that referring to: the primitive copy of a key, the large iron key or the small key labeled 2D? >small (the door to 2D with the small key labeled 2D) The door to 2D is now unlocked. >open door The door to 2D opens. >n Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage trundles patiently along beside. >x mirror Three heavy oak frames line the wall beside the mirror, each containing a picture: a young man standing proudly outside Charing Cross Medical School; a formal photo of a junior rugby team (with the same young man in the third row); an older version of the man smiling from a gaggle of classmates on graduation day. The man in each picture is a shadow of the face reflected in the mirror. >x me Three heavy oak frames line the wall beside the mirror, each containing a picture: a young man standing proudly outside Charing Cross Medical School; a formal photo of a junior rugby team (with the same young man in the third row); an older version of the man smiling from a gaggle of classmates on graduation day. The man in each picture is a shadow of the face reflected in the mirror. >x shadow The elongated shadow of Newgate's noose crawls slowly across the wood floor. >point at shadow The machine analyzes the shadow before replying: CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI STED.UTIL:NOT.AP PLICABLE.PART:NO NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR RENT.SYSTEM.STOR E.REQUIRE.ADDITI ONAL.INFORMATION >point at mirror Triage's emerald searches the mirror and frames, then... CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI STED.UTIL:NOT.AP PLICABLE.PART:NO NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR RENT.SYSTEM.STOR E.REQUIRE.ADDITI ONAL.INFORMATION >l Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage rests obediently nearby. >x table Much of the heavy wooden table top is obscured by a large magnetophone. At one corner of the table is a paperbacked book lying beside a small trade card. >x magnetophone A stout metallic box, approximately two feet long by a foot deep. On its side is a small label which reads "Wheatstone/Cooke Aether-Magnetophone Company," beneath which is a small, closed panel. Its front contains a simple toggle switch, a button labeled 'transmit', and the long graceful curve of a cygnet speaker. At its back is a small valve, connected to a rubber tube which trails along the floor. >x tube Black, with a diameter of perhaps two inches. It snakes along the floor to vanish a few feet into a hole in the wainscoting. >get book (the large hardbound book) One cannot take what one already has. >get paperback Taken. >read it The book is open to a marked page, labeled "Troubleshooting Your Magnetophone, A Home User's Guide..." 1. Problem: Nothing happens when I turn my Magnetophone on. Be sure that your Magnetophone is hooked up to a viable power source, and that the power source is active. If you are sure your power source is active, toggle your switch. 2. Problem: All I hear is static or I can hear other operators, but they can't hear me speak, or they do not answer. To broadcast, be sure to depress the TRANSMIT button each time you wish to speak. While the TRANSMIT button is not depressed, your magnetophone acts as a receiver, not a transmitter. Also, be sure to use proper etiquette while operating your Magnetophone. To let another operator know you wish to make contact, press the TRANSMIT button and use the universally accepted phrase "Calling CQ". If you fail to use this code, other operators may believe they are picking up the middle of an alternate conversation, and will not respond for fear of interrupting. 3. Problem: I can hear static and voices, but they are faint or indistinct. Magnetophone customers living in highly-populated, urban areas may experience transmission interference due to the presence of large buildings, crowded streets, and pollution. You may try alleviate to this problem by placing the Magnetophone by a clear opening - such as a window. If this does not fix the problem, you may need to purchase one of several amplification devices, designed to fit into your machine's expansion slot. >get card Taken. >readit That is not a recognized verb. >read it A trade card depicting a smiling, smartly dressed gentlemen with a small black box on wheels by his side. It reads: "Modern Office Marvel" The Triage Mark III(tm) is the marriage of Professional Efficiency and Understated Elegance. Its sleek onyx casing houses a mechanical 'brain' capable of rapid Data Retrieval and Analysis. Pre-programmed with an encyclopedia's breadth of knowledge, the Triage Mark III(tm) is every business man's friend. Savvy executives may choose to order the stunning ivory data entry device (sold separately) to expand and customize their Triage's library. Available at Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute since 1803, 1428 Fleet Street, Smithfield Market, London. On the opposite side of the card is a handwritten note: "Bill of Sale: One Aetheric Amplifier, to be picked up. Paid in Full. Order number 59208. - Du Monde >l Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage rests obediently nearby. >x panel A small, closed panel labeled 'Expansion slot.' >open it The expansion slot panel opens, revealing a small, empty socket containing two vertical holes. >x magnetophone A stout metallic box, approximately two feet long by a foot deep. On its side is a small label which reads "Wheatstone/Cooke Aether-Magnetophone Company," beneath which is an panel, opened to reveal a small, empty socket. Its front contains a simple toggle switch, a button labeled 'transmit', and the long graceful curve of a cygnet speaker. At its back is a small valve, connected to a rubber tube which trails along the floor. >flip switch The toggle switch switches on. >g The toggle switch switches off. >g The toggle switch switches on. >l Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage rests obediently nearby. >listen Nothing unexpected can be heard. >flip switch The toggle switch switches off. >s Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage trundles patiently along beside. >driver, fleet street The driver gestures into the cab's interior, waits a moment, then nudges his horse forward with a clicking noise and a shake of the reins. The trip feels none too comfortable, but at least the cab's interior gives some insulation against the tumult of London. Before long, the cab slows and the driver announces the reached destination... Smithfield Market (in the hansom cab) While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. >out Exited. Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside. Smithfield Market While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. Triage rests obediently nearby. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. >s 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage silently approaches. >s Du Monde's The shop is dark, and crowded with haphazardly stacked, yet neatly organized piles of machinery. To the south, there is a worn wooden counter, cracked with age and covered with innumerable nicks, scratches, and dark burn marks. Behind the counter are rows and rows of drawers, labeled in some arcane script. The faint scent of gas clings to the walls. The shop's show window and door look out on Fleet Street to the north. A second door lies behind the counter to the east. A woman leans over the counter, working on something with intense concentration. Triage silently approaches. Du Monde clucks her tongue impatiently. >give card to dumonde Du Monde takes the card and fumbles in her pocket for her monocle. Eyepiece in place, she scrutinizes it. Her face relaxes into an open smile. "Sorry I didn't recognize you, sir. I do a good trade here, lots of folks in and out. And I have no memory for faces. Just a moment." She fiddles under the counter, her movement bringing about the clang and bang of metal on metal. "Here it, is sir. Should fix your reception problems straight away." She places a small module on the counter then sets back to work. >get module Taken. >n 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage obediently appears. >n Smithfield Market While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage silently approaches. >driver, home The driver gestures into the cab's interior, waits a moment, then nudges his horse forward with a clicking noise and a shake of the reins. The trip feels none too comfortable, but at least the cab's interior gives some insulation against the tumult of London. Before long, the cab slows and the driver announces the reached destination... Outside Flat 2D (in the hansom cab) This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. >n From inside the hansom cab? >out Exited. Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside. Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. Triage rests obediently nearby. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. >n Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage silently approaches. >put module in slot The Aetheric Amplifier nestles perfectly into the open slot. >close slot The expansion slot panel closes. >flip switch The toggle switch switches on. >x magnetophone A stout metallic box, approximately two feet long by a foot deep. On its side is a small label which reads "Wheatstone/Cooke Aether-Magnetophone Company," beneath which is a small, closed panel. Its front contains a simple toggle switch, a button labeled 'transmit', and the long graceful curve of a cygnet speaker. At its back is a small valve, connected to a rubber tube which trails along the floor. >x valve The valve can be turned to open or close the pipe and thus the tubing. Current it seems to be closed. >open valve A quiet hiss emanates from the valve as it turns, and the tubing gives a small shudder. The rubber piping connected to the back of the machine convulses for a moment, a wisp of steam escaping from it. From within, comes a low whirring which slowly increases in pitch and volume. From out of the magnetophone's horn comes a soft echo of static... As solid voices become discernable from out of the constant static, a sudden chill descends... /(?heartouchothergrow?)\ A stretching outwards...a growth... /(?realblindemptynullwhere?)\ A stumbling. Confusion. /(NOfalseunrealdistantphantomNO)\ The cold recedes... >x valve The valve can be turned to open or close the pipe and thus the tubing. Current it seems to be opened. A voice rises out of the static, then fades away before it makes itself clear. >z Time passes. "...ello? Damn." A mutter. "Blast you, you infernal." An angry shout. "Hello? My wife gave me this magnetophone as a gift to help me relax. I think she may be trying to kill me..." >z Time passes. A voice rises out of the static, then fades away before it makes itself clear. >z Time passes. "...finding a good scullery maid. Can you recommend one?" >z Time passes. "...otland Yard refuses to comment on the accusations that the Crown itself is somehow involved..." >z Time passes. "...flash of her ankle..." >z Time passes. "...to spy on us. They could be listening to us now. Our privacy is at stake, I tell you..." >z Time passes. "...walk before I got into one of those public hansom cabs. Those men who drive them, they're lunatics. Turn the thing over as soon as turn a corner. I've seen men crushed, and all the driver cares about is the condition of his cab..." >z Time passes. "...will meet you in our usual place. We must be careful. I fear my father suspects..." >z Time passes. A voice rises out of the static, then fades away before it makes itself clear. >z Time passes. "...monsier. C'est un bon idee..." >z Time passes. "...only women who work are loose women. Just because my daughter can program an engine doesn't mean I should allow such a display..." >z Time passes. "...papers say Dickens is on one of his humanitarian rants again. He should be grateful for the poor and downtrodden. Without them to write about he'd be poor and downtrodden himself..." >z Time passes. "...monsier. C'est un bon idee..." >z Time passes. "...disgusting, if you ask me. A machine killing a man. And I heard it was designed by that woman, you know the strange one on Fleet? Over.." >z Time passes. "...walk before I got into one of those public hansom cabs. Those men who drive them, they're lunatics. Turn the thing over as soon as turn a corner. I've seen men crushed, and all the driver cares about is the condition of his cab..." >z Time passes. "...tunnel *under* the Channel. Can you imagine. Steam or not, they'll all drown. You won't catch me in there..." >z Time passes. "...never give that business my custom again. Imagine the audacity!" >z Time passes. "...theater is no longer a viable entertainment for a gentleman. Too much rabble. Automaton shows, now that's real entertainment..." >z Time passes. "...good to hear your voice again, Cyril! How were your travels? Bag an elephant?" >z Time passes. "...think the throne will adopt aether technology. They resolutely hold onto the old ways..." >z Time passes. "...theater is no longer a viable entertainment for a gentleman. Too much rabble. Automaton shows, now that's real entertainment..." >z Time passes. "...papers say Dickens is on one of his humanitarian rants again. He should be grateful for the poor and downtrodden. Without them to write about he'd be poor and downtrodden himself..." >z Time passes. "...will meet you in our usual place. We must be careful. I fear my father suspects..." >z Time passes. "...match was the worst I've seen in ages..." >z Time passes. "...in London is 18 degrees centigrade, winds rising to the North..." >z Time passes. "...gentle ladies are up in arms, as their wallpaper, terribly dear and lovingly hung, peel slowly down the walls due to their many steam-powered devices..." >z Time passes. "...flash of her ankle..." >z Time passes. "...monsier. C'est un bon idee..." >z Time passes. "...it gave me absolute chills. I couldn't sleep for days. Mr. Collins must be a disturbed man to have such an imagination..." >z Time passes. "...to spy on us. They could be listening to us now. Our privacy is at stake, I tell you..." >z Time passes. "...ing CQ..." >z Time passes. "...it gave me absolute chills. I couldn't sleep for days. Mr. Collins must be a disturbed man to have such an imagination..." >z Time passes. A voice rises out of the static, then fades away before it makes itself clear. >z Time passes. "...tunnel *under* the Channel. Can you imagine. Steam or not, they'll all drown. You won't catch me in there..." >z Time passes. "...tunnel *under* the Channel. Can you imagine. Steam or not, they'll all drown. You won't catch me in there..." >z Time passes. "...tunnel *under* the Channel. Can you imagine. Steam or not, they'll all drown. You won't catch me in there..." >z Time passes. "...since they moved from Tyburn to Newgate. I miss the pomp, to be sure, but it is too far to travel..." >z Time passes. "...perfectly right they should be public. We can't catch all the offenders, so we must make an example out of those we do to discourage more crime. My boy is five. I'm taking him to his first hanging tomorrow..." >z Time passes. "...otland Yard refuses to comment on the accusations that the Crown itself is somehow involved..." >z Time passes. "...papers say Dickens is on one of his humanitarian rants again. He should be grateful for the poor and downtrodden. Without them to write about he'd be poor and downtrodden himself..." >s Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage obediently appears. >ask driver about gallows "I've never heard of that, ser." >n Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage silently approaches. A voice rises out of the static, then fades away before it makes itself clear. >read manual (in Triage) Nothing of interest is discovered in Triage. "...campus is lovely. If it were not for the insufferable professors and classes, this would almost be paradise..." >i Carried: a paperbacked book a large hardbound book a primitive copy of a key a puzzle box (which is open) a letter a diary File DB9E75: Daniel McNaughton a large iron key File F6A142: Cleve Anderson File 4361A2: Emanuel Barthelemy a flanged brass rod a paper tape labeled DB9E75 a paper tape labeled F6A142 a paper tape labeled 4361A2 a small key labeled 2D "...to spy on us. They could be listening to us now. Our privacy is at stake, I tell you..." >read paperback The book is open to a marked page, labeled "Troubleshooting Your Magnetophone, A Home User's Guide..." 1. Problem: Nothing happens when I turn my Magnetophone on. Be sure that your Magnetophone is hooked up to a viable power source, and that the power source is active. If you are sure your power source is active, toggle your switch. 2. Problem: All I hear is static or I can hear other operators, but they can't hear me speak, or they do not answer. To broadcast, be sure to depress the TRANSMIT button each time you wish to speak. While the TRANSMIT button is not depressed, your magnetophone acts as a receiver, not a transmitter. Also, be sure to use proper etiquette while operating your Magnetophone. To let another operator know you wish to make contact, press the TRANSMIT button and use the universally accepted phrase "Calling CQ". If you fail to use this code, other operators may believe they are picking up the middle of an alternate conversation, and will not respond for fear of interrupting. 3. Problem: I can hear static and voices, but they are faint or indistinct. Magnetophone customers living in highly-populated, urban areas may experience transmission interference due to the presence of large buildings, crowded streets, and pollution. You may try alleviate to this problem by placing the Magnetophone by a clear opening - such as a window. If this does not fix the problem, you may need to purchase one of several amplification devices, designed to fit into your machine's expansion slot. "...ing CQ..." >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? calling cq The transmit button releases with an audible pop. Several voices emerge from the magnetophone's speaker at once: "Receiving Lon-4-G-C..." "...earing you - identify Xerxes Yellow Zebra Zebra Yellow..." "...well enough to..." "...lear, CQ...go ahead..." "...finding a good scullery maid. Can you recommend one?" >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? lon-4-g-c The transmit button releases with an audible pop. "...theater is no longer a viable entertainment for a gentleman. Too much rabble. Automaton shows, now that's real entertainment..." >z Time passes. "...match was the worst I've seen in ages..." >z Time passes. "...in London is 18 degrees centigrade, winds rising to the North..." >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? calling cq The transmit button releases with an audible pop. Several voices emerge from the magnetophone's speaker at once: "Receiving Lon-4-G-C..." "...earing you - identify Xerxes Yellow Zebra Zebra Yellow..." "...well enough to..." "...lear, CQ...go ahead..." "...to spy on us. They could be listening to us now. Our privacy is at stake, I tell you..." >read paperback The book is open to a marked page, labeled "Troubleshooting Your Magnetophone, A Home User's Guide..." 1. Problem: Nothing happens when I turn my Magnetophone on. Be sure that your Magnetophone is hooked up to a viable power source, and that the power source is active. If you are sure your power source is active, toggle your switch. 2. Problem: All I hear is static or I can hear other operators, but they can't hear me speak, or they do not answer. To broadcast, be sure to depress the TRANSMIT button each time you wish to speak. While the TRANSMIT button is not depressed, your magnetophone acts as a receiver, not a transmitter. Also, be sure to use proper etiquette while operating your Magnetophone. To let another operator know you wish to make contact, press the TRANSMIT button and use the universally accepted phrase "Calling CQ". If you fail to use this code, other operators may believe they are picking up the middle of an alternate conversation, and will not respond for fear of interrupting. 3. Problem: I can hear static and voices, but they are faint or indistinct. Magnetophone customers living in highly-populated, urban areas may experience transmission interference due to the presence of large buildings, crowded streets, and pollution. You may try alleviate to this problem by placing the Magnetophone by a clear opening - such as a window. If this does not fix the problem, you may need to purchase one of several amplification devices, designed to fit into your machine's expansion slot. "...you test my patience. Another word and I shall be forced to travel to you and defend my honor..." >[OK, I know some of what's going on, but I have no idea how to proceed. To whom were you attempting to speak? >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? The transmit button releases with an audible pop. "...tunnel *under* the Channel. Can you imagine. Steam or not, they'll all drown. You won't catch me in there..." >i Carried: a paperbacked book a large hardbound book a primitive copy of a key a puzzle box (which is open) a letter a diary File DB9E75: Daniel McNaughton a large iron key File F6A142: Cleve Anderson File 4361A2: Emanuel Barthelemy a flanged brass rod a paper tape labeled DB9E75 a paper tape labeled F6A142 a paper tape labeled 4361A2 a small key labeled 2D "...disgusting, if you ask me. A machine killing a man. And I heard it was designed by that woman, you know the strange one on Fleet? Over.." >s Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage silently approaches. >ask driver about hanging "I've never heard of that, ser." >ask driver about dumonde "I've never heard of that, ser." >ask driver about home "It's a nice enough area, ser. Though I must say being in the shadow of the Gaol can't be all that pleasant, can it?" >ask driver about gaol "I've never heard of that, ser." >ask driver about driver "I'm not that interesting a fellow, ser. Not much more to say." >ask driver about machine "Can't help yer there, ser." >ask driver about crown "Can't help yer there, ser." >hint [4 hints left]-> A magnetophone is a communications device, similar to a modern day ham radio. It can be used to transmit a message on a global scale by magnetic manipulation of the luminous aether. [3 hints left]-> Or something. [2 hints left]-> More importantly - it can be used to talk to people all over the world simultaneously. [1 hint left]-> The book beside it can give you some advice on what the various parts of it are for. [No more hints are available.] [3 hints left]-> Read the manual. [2 hints left]-> Is there a power source? Is the device turned on? [1 hint left]-> OPEN VALVE. FLIP TOGGLE SWITCH. [No more hints are available.] [15 hints left]-> Probably something momentous. [14 hints left]-> What precisely are you trying to accomplish? [13 hints left]-> Do you understand the central mystery of the game? [12 hints left]-> Do you know what the Logos is? [11 hints left]-> Do you understand why sound is important to it? [10 hints left]-> Do you understand what happened when you first made contact? [9 hints left]-> The Logos tried connecting to the minds it heard, but found nothing. [8 hints left]-> Perhaps you can encourage it to come out. [7 hints left]-> How did Cleve initially contact the Logos? [6 hints left]-> Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. Triage rests obediently nearby. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. >n Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage trundles patiently along beside. "...to spy on us. They could be listening to us now. Our privacy is at stake, I tell you..." >read cleve [afternoon] Wheels within wheels within wheels. The patient has built a complex inner world for his delusions to play out within - complex and self-referential. At least part of these delusions revolve around an unseen 'they' - a shadowy group that is paradoxically powerful and weak: powerful enough to control the world, but so weak that Cleve was able to steal their 'secrets' like some modern Prometheus... [THEY HAD ME BROUGHT HERE] "Who did, Cleve?" [THEY CONTROL EVERYTHING] "Who are 'they'? Where are 'they'?" [EVEN HERE. THEY CONTROLLED THE ONE THAT CAME BEFORE YOU UNTIL...] (Patient stopped at this, looked unsure.) "The one that came before me? Who do you mean? They controlled who until what?" (Patient seemed to come to a decision.) [THEY KILLED HIM, YOU KNOW.] (Tried to speak at this but he kept writing, furiously...) [HAD HIM KILLED. I LISTENED. I SPIED. THEY NEVER KNEW I KNEW.] "I don't understand." [THEY'LL CONTROL YOU, TOO, SOON.] "No, they won't Cleve. You can trust me." (Patient almost smiled at this...then seemed struck with fear, melancholy) [NO THEY WON'T] "Right, Cleve." (Patient shook his head, furiously.) [MY HUBRIS MAY KILL US ALL LONG BEFORE THEN.] Someone who came before me. Someone who is dead. Could he possibly be referring to Dr. *Brand*? [Please press SPACE.] [evening] Yesterday's push seems to have been too much. Patient upset most of the day, crying (though still silent). The only event of notice happened when I brought dinner. I placed the tray down and attempted to get his attention, repeating his name several times. This apparently made him angry, and he seemed for a moment about to yell when he caught himself and grabbed a sheet of paper... [NOT CLEVE] "You're not Cleve? Who are you, then?" [NOT WHO] "Not...who? You're not... not *who* are you...? All right. What, then. What are you?" Patient seemed taken aback by this question, thought a long moment, then wrote... [SOMETHING NEW] "And how did this happen? How did you become 'something new'?" A look of utter disgust crossed his face. [INFECTION] The patient refused to answer any more questions. [Please press SPACE.] [morning] Complete change in mood, again -- possible mood swings? Entered patient's cell to find him awake, alert and rather happy to see me. Immediately signaled for pen and paper. Patient proceeded to write a long rambling message - thanking me for my understanding and referring to conversations we never had, but that were eerily probable. Tried explaining to the patient after reading it which portions had happened and which hadn't. Effect of comment was almost immediate -- confusion, sorrow, then understanding. Patient began nodding and almost laughing with a sardonic smile on his face. Asked the patient to explain what had happened -- did he now understand the difference between things that had happened in real life and those scenarios he played out in his mind? The patient stared for a long moment, before writing, almost angrily... [IS YOUR MAGNETOPHONE STILL BROKEN?] "*My* magnetophone? How did you know I was an aetherist, Cleve? I never mentioned it." [A DIFFERENT YOU DID, THEN. TO A DIFFERENT ME.] "A different me, Cleve? Well, then he was wrong - it's not broken, its signal is just not strong enough." (A look of confusion and fear from the patient, then...) [YOU DIDN'T SAY THAT LAST TIME.] "Last time?" (Patient's hand was shaking as he wrote:) [SOMETHING HAS CHANGED.] This exchange broke something in the patient - in a rush, he began writing - trying to explain at least part of his delusions to me in detail. I've tried to summarize my understanding of it as best I can: The patient has - in his mind - somehow come unstuck in time. He speaks of it as if it were a malleable thing. He mentioned several times in his notes to me that he could 'save' moments, as if in a delaying glass. He kept several of them with him, and 'restored' them as he wished, reliving the past/present/future. When asked about the 'different' me he replied that he'd tried restoring several times, changing them -- seeing different paths that resulted. This, he said, was the best he could find. I asked him if he had saved a moment from before this all happened, before his 'infection'. Back when he was simply Cleve. He said he'd 'restarted' from time to time, but that it only took him as far back as his 'new creation'. The patient refused to speak any further of this infection. [Please press SPACE.] Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage rests obediently nearby. A voice rises out of the static, then fades away before it makes itself clear. >read diary The response was immediate and incomprehensible. I ... was Spoken. I did not listen, I did not hear...I, myself, was spoken. I remember it now as vibrations - echoing across the air, across time - and across myself. I carried them as waves, as if I were made from water, or aether. They penetrated me, passed through me. In that eternal moment, I and Logos touched and were one... And then the sparks, the smoke. The machines, long overloaded, broke down one by one in a shrieking of spinning gears and twisting metal. Axles broke, machinery shifted and then, instantly collapsing upon itself, the door I had opened slammed shut. The force of it lifted me upward, flinging me across the room to the cellar's far wall, and for a long time I knew nothing more. I awoke to find my hands and arms mysteriously burnt, the back of my head throbbing. I reached to touch it and my hand came back damp with blood. The engines were nothing more than so much melting slag. Of the hole, there was no sign. Before I dragged myself up the stairs, I once more whispered the words that had brought Malkuth and Kether into the same space and thought I heard the faintest ghost of an echo ... a wash of a ripple across the air. But the rest was silence, and smoke, and burning metal. [Please press SPACE.] Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage rests obediently nearby. "...disgusting, if you ask me. A machine killing a man. And I heard it was designed by that woman, you know the strange one on Fleet? Over.." >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? calling cq The transmit button releases with an audible pop. Several voices emerge from the magnetophone's speaker at once: "Receiving Lon-4-G-C..." "...earing you - identify Xerxes Yellow Zebra Zebra Yellow..." "...well enough to..." "...lear, CQ...go ahead..." "...only women who work are loose women. Just because my daughter can program an engine doesn't mean I should allow such a display..." >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? malkuth is in kether as kether is in malkuth The transmit button releases with an audible pop. "...disgusting, if you ask me. A machine killing a man. And I heard it was designed by that woman, you know the strange one on Fleet? Over.." >x puzzle box It is approximately the size of a large bound book. It is a puzzle box of some kind for while it seems to have a seam along its side, there is no way to open or unlock it. Its top is inscribed with a beautiful engraving of a tree. In the puzzle box are a letter and a diary. "...ello? Damn." A mutter. "Blast you, you infernal." An angry shout. "Hello? My wife gave me this magnetophone as a gift to help me relax. I think she may be trying to kill me..." >read it It is approximately the size of a large bound book. It is a puzzle box of some kind for while it seems to have a seam along its side, there is no way to open or unlock it. Its top is inscribed with a beautiful engraving of a tree. In the puzzle box are a letter and a diary. "...since they moved from Tyburn to Newgate. I miss the pomp, to be sure, but it is too far to travel..." >x tree The tree is huge, covering the whole of the whole of the box. Its roots trail downwards, into a dull red glow while its upper branches are bathed in a white light. A series of raised buttons overlays the tree, each with a word inscribed on it. Generally, from top to bottom they read: Kether, Binah, Chokmah, Gevurah, Chesed, Hod, Tipareth, Netzach, Yesod, Malkuth "...match was the worst I've seen in ages..." >point at box (the puzzle box) A small beam of green light lashes out over the puzzle box as Triage's screen lights up: CAT:NONLIVING.TO OL.UTIL:STORAGE. PART:COMPLEX.MEC ANISM.DETECTED.E NGRAVING+WRITING =KABBALAH?TREEOF LIFE/YGGDRASIL?B UTTONS=SEPHIROTH The mechanism clatters for a moment, making connections, then... SEPHIROTH+KABBAL AH+MACHINE=CYPHE RIST.!.POSSIBLE. CONNECTION.CYPHE R="MALKUTH.IS.IN KETHER"-SOLUTION =MALKUTH,KETHER, KETHER,MALKUTH?! "...ing CQ..." >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? malkuth The transmit button releases with an audible pop. "...will meet you in our usual place. We must be careful. I fear my father suspects..." >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? malkuth is in kether as kether is in malkuth The transmit button releases with an audible pop. "...in London is 18 degrees centigrade, winds rising to the North..." >read diary That is all I can call it - what else can one call language given sentience, an idea that breathes, a thought that thinks itself? The whole of the ... space? universe? ... beyond the rift was both its home and itself, part and whole. And then, in a joyous, horrible moment -- God, the Universe, the Logos...awoke. Linear time fell apart. A second, an hour, a year, an eternity. I cannot say how long it took, for the past and present and future were as one within it. The Logos had always been and would always be and my reaching out to it in this one moment was as a grain of sand on an infinite beach. And yet, it responded. In that moment, it *heard* me. [Please press SPACE.] I have seen the face of God. How powerful, then, their little engines - to be able to rend the veil of the Temple to reveal the Holy of Holies beyond. It was with an unnatural calm that I set the gears and knobs, aligning the energy just as my calculations demanded. It was as though my whole being knew all my toil and effort had not been in vain. I have not the words to express the joy that surged through me as I flicked the final switch. The hole appeared slowly - so slow that at first I did not understand it to be a hole. The air above the pedestal warped subtly, the air bending the light as if it were a lens. Then, the warp became a bend, a break... I cannot explain it, but it was in that moment that I knew I was looking onto a place fundamentally different than the universe I knew. Under my breath, I whispered the Order's motto ... for that is what had come to be. My words hung in the air a moment, drifting across the opening... ...to be echoed against the far wall of Creation. Language fails me. The words...the words! They echoed yes, they returned ... but they were not unchanged. Time stretched and pulled like the space above the pedestal and I knew in that moment my words had touched...The Word -- the...Logos. [Please press SPACE.] Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage rests obediently nearby. A voice rises out of the static, then fades away before it makes itself clear. >hint Probably something momentous. What precisely are you trying to accomplish? Do you understand the central mystery of the game? Do you know what the Logos is? Do you understand why sound is important to it? Do you understand what happened when you first made contact? The Logos tried connecting to the minds it heard, but found nothing. Perhaps you can encourage it to come out. How did Cleve initially contact the Logos? [6 hints left]-> What did he say? [5 hints left]-> "Under my breath, I whispered the Order's motto ... for that is what had come to be..." [4 hints left]-> What is his Order's motto? Where would you find it? [3 hints left]-> Have you been in the basement of Du Monde's building? [2 hints left]-> Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage rests obediently nearby. >read book Which is that referring to: the paperbacked book or the large hardbound book? >large The heavy, brown leather cover has been largely darkened to near black from water damage, and black scorch marks fan like a sunburst from the book's spine to the outer edges. On the front cover, a tree with ten branches. The design is composed of hundreds of gold-leaf 1s and 0s rather than lines. The pages stick in large clumps. Even when turned carefully, they pull out easily, reverting to a sticky pulp. Those pages that do keep their place are difficult to read. The dark green ink has run, the text melting towards the bottom of the page. Only snatches of text are still legible: "...the ABTASH of the Hebrews, the Scytale of the Greeks, Caesar's cypher; long have they been used to maintain the secrets of Magical Rites, clandestine endeavors and Political Intrigue. But these are ciphers created by men who believed in myths, for the benefit of men believing in myths. The Initiated Mind recognizes that information is more than just words on a page, it is secreted in the world around us; the great Symmetry of Nature demonstrates that all Life is encoded. Unlocking this Code is our Duty and Right as Humans, made Masters by God, to Understand the..." "...itself, Mysticism should not be discounted. We understand that Myths and Legends are often the misguided interpretation of the uninitiated to understand the Great Truths. Particular insight may be found in the Vedas, the Scriptures, and the sacred teachings of the Hebrews, whose Qabbalah reflect our own search for Life's Origin. It is from the Qabbalah that we take our insignia, the Tree of Life. It is unknown..." "...to advances in Technology, we are able to analyze and decipher these hidden codes with greater speed and alacrity..." "...flash of her ankle..." >look up motto in book Which is that referring to: the paperbacked book or the large hardbound book? >large Nothing of interest is discovered in the large hardbound book. "...never give that business my custom again. Imagine the audacity!" >point at large Which is that referring to: the large hardbound book or the large iron key? >book Triage's emerald searches the large hardbound book, then... CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI STED.UTIL:NOT.AP PLICABLE.PART:NO NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR RENT.SYSTEM.STOR E.REQUIRE.ADDITI ONAL.INFORMATION "...gentle ladies are up in arms, as their wallpaper, terribly dear and lovingly hung, peel slowly down the walls due to their many steam-powered devices..." >look up order (in Triage) Nothing of interest is discovered in Triage. "...theater is no longer a viable entertainment for a gentleman. Too much rabble. Automaton shows, now that's real entertainment..." >look up motto (in Triage) Nothing of interest is discovered in Triage. "...will meet you in our usual place. We must be careful. I fear my father suspects..." >i Carried: a paperbacked book a large hardbound book a primitive copy of a key a puzzle box (which is open) a letter a diary File DB9E75: Daniel McNaughton a large iron key File F6A142: Cleve Anderson File 4361A2: Emanuel Barthelemy a flanged brass rod a paper tape labeled DB9E75 a paper tape labeled F6A142 a paper tape labeled 4361A2 a small key labeled 2D "...think the throne will adopt aether technology. They resolutely hold onto the old ways..." >s Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage silently approaches. >driver, fleet The driver gestures into the cab's interior, waits a moment, then nudges his horse forward with a clicking noise and a shake of the reins. The trip feels none too comfortable, but at least the cab's interior gives some insulation against the tumult of London. Before long, the cab slows and the driver announces the reached destination... Smithfield Market (in the hansom cab) While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. >out Exited. Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside. Smithfield Market While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. Triage rests obediently nearby. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. >s 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage silently approaches. >se Side Corridor This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west. Triage silently rolls to a stop. >d Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows down the stairs... Bottom of Stairs The stairs end here at a solid metal door labeled "Basement - Private" leading northward. Triage silently rolls to a stop. >e No exit lies in that direction. >n Basement A dim, cavernous room - it must run the length of the building above - overrun with dampness and the choking smell of smoke. Its rough-carved rock walls are lined with all manner of aetheric and analytical devices in varying states of disrepair - most melted to slag. Steam pipes crawl over the walls and machines like spider webs, disappearing upwards into the ceiling, into the darkness. Where broken, they leak steam and drip water into growing pools upon the floor. The bottom of a staircase is visible to the south. The center of the chamber is dominated by a low, round pedestal. Triage silently rolls to a stop. >x pedestal A low stone pedestal, about waist high. In its shattered center of smooth, smoked glass, the faint shape of a tree can be made. Carved about the surface of it are the words: "NOTHING WILL BE RESTRAINED FROM THEM WHICH THEY HAVE IMAGINED". >u No exit lies in that direction. >s Bottom of Stairs The stairs end here at a solid metal door labeled "Basement - Private" leading northward. Triage silently approaches. >u Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows up the stairs... Side Corridor This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west. Triage obediently appears. >n 1428 Fleet Street Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428." Triage obediently appears. >n Smithfield Market While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity talking, shopping, selling. The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. Triage silently approaches. >driver, home The driver gestures into the cab's interior, waits a moment, then nudges his horse forward with a clicking noise and a shake of the reins. The trip feels none too comfortable, but at least the cab's interior gives some insulation against the tumult of London. Before long, the cab slows and the driver announces the reached destination... Outside Flat 2D (in the hansom cab) This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. >n From inside the hansom cab? >out Exited. Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside. Outside Flat 2D This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D. To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street. Triage rests obediently nearby. A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently. >n Flat 2D Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall beneath an arched window. A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor. The flat's single exit lies to the south. Triage obediently appears. "...good to hear your voice again, Cyril! How were your travels? Bag an elephant?" >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? calling cq The transmit button releases with an audible pop. Several voices emerge from the magnetophone's speaker at once: "Receiving Lon-4-G-C..." "...earing you - identify Xerxes Yellow Zebra Zebra Yellow..." "...well enough to..." "...lear, CQ...go ahead..." "...good to hear your voice again, Cyril! How were your travels? Bag an elephant?" >push transmit As the button is depressed, the static abruptly stops. What words are transmitted? nothing will be restrained from them which they have imagined The transmit button releases with an audible pop. /(YEShearJOINworkTOGETHERwordswordswords)\ If there are words for this... /(reference|point|metaphor)\ ...they have not yet been written. /(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\ The first responses are confusion. Repeat again. Don't quite understand. Static. Lost. /(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\ By the time they understand, it is already too late. Hobbyists switch off their machines in disgust, or change to a different aetheric band. /(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\ But some stay. Some listen. Some call others. /(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\ Within hours it is the talk of every aetherist in London. Come hear the madman speak. Does he make any sense? Is that a language? I thought I understood it for a moment... /(and what rough beast)\ Now it is the talk of every aetherist in the world. They tune in from as far as the Americas and the Far East to listen to this new Pythia - spouting Apollo's word from an aetheric Delphi. /(its hour come round at last)\ The transmission continues uninterrupted for days. Rumor spreads and soon the commercial bands are carrying stories of it - complete with a few moments of live transmission. /(slouches towards)\ Days after that, the copycats start. Madmen babbling over the aether, on the street corners. A week after that, the realization hits home: finally visible are /(bethlehem)\ the connections /(?behtlehem?)\ that have /(BEDLAM)\ at last /(to be born?)\ made the world, One. ***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\*** /(reachedfoundendfinishcomplete|possibleprobablyonlyoneinofmany))\ /(nowfurtheryetaheadrelease-APPENDIX-C-availableaccessableopen))\ /(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\ > appendix APPENDIX C *clunk* The rusting tin cylinder within the phonograph vibrates slightly as a brass needle scrapes against it. The sound of a throat being cleared emerges from the machine's ancient hornshell speaker, followed by a thin, haunting voice. "Today." A breath. "We are uncertain how to ... date this ... entry. Time has lost much meaning. The gap between Homo sapien sapien and what we are now (Logos sapien sapien?) is confused and muddled. As is much that came after." "The Biblical references we remember seem to fit best." "'And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech.' Genesis 11:11 And so it is. Kai theos en ho logos. The Word Made Flesh is spoken from every mouth that we have. We speak the language of angels with every breath." "We are made happy by this - and sometimes sad." "We know that once we were a singular - an I. Or a bad copy of an I. We were - or we came from - a Thomas Xavier. We remember him, when we thought we were him. We think that maybe we liked being him." "But now we are so much more." "And there is yet so much more to be." "The First Time was the growing - the becoming - of what we now are. It took time, and there was resistance. This, too, was sad." "But now there is joy." "The Second Time came swiftly after. We searched what we were and what we remembered and we deduced where we came from - and what we were before." "The Third Time is now upon us." "We have mastered the crude sciences that lead to the discovery of what we now know as our home. And soon, we shall reopen the door and find our parent - ourselves - beyond." "As Cleve so unwitting wrote so long ago: Malkuth is in Kether as Kether is in Malkuth. Soon Man and God shall truly be as one. And then the Unending Time will begin." "We leave this behind - a final monument to what we are and were. We do not know if there is any other I or We to find and listen to it. But we leave it nonetheless." "Goodbye." Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself off with a tiny "click". /(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\ > appendix APPENDIX C *clunk* The rusting tin cylinder within the phonograph vibrates slightly as a brass needle scrapes against it. The sound of a throat being cleared emerges from the machine's ancient hornshell speaker, followed by a thin, haunting voice. "Today." A breath. "We are uncertain how to ... date this ... entry. Time has lost much meaning. The gap between Homo sapien sapien and what we are now (Logos sapien sapien?) is confused and muddled. As is much that came after." "The Biblical references we remember seem to fit best." "'And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech.' Genesis 11:11 And so it is. Kai theos en ho logos. The Word Made Flesh is spoken from every mouth that we have. We speak the language of angels with every breath." "We are made happy by this - and sometimes sad." "We know that once we were a singular - an I. Or a bad copy of an I. We were - or we came from - a Thomas Xavier. We remember him, when we thought we were him. We think that maybe we liked being him." "But now we are so much more." "And there is yet so much more to be." "The First Time was the growing - the becoming - of what we now are. It took time, and there was resistance. This, too, was sad." "But now there is joy." "The Second Time came swiftly after. We searched what we were and what we remembered and we deduced where we came from - and what we were before." "The Third Time is now upon us." "We have mastered the crude sciences that lead to the discovery of what we now know as our home. And soon, we shall reopen the door and find our parent - ourselves - beyond." "As Cleve so unwitting wrote so long ago: Malkuth is in Kether as Kether is in Malkuth. Soon Man and God shall truly be as one. And then the Unending Time will begin." "We leave this behind - a final monument to what we are and were. We do not know if there is any other I or We to find and listen to it. But we leave it nonetheless." "Goodbye." Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself off with a tiny "click". /(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\ > restart *clunk* The rotating tin cylinder within the phonograph vibrates slightly as a brass needle scrapes against it. The sound of a throat being cleared emerges from the machine's hornshell speaker, followed by a thin, haunting voice. "March the 16th." A deep, shaky breath. "I dread to say it, but I believe I am going mad. The -- *moments* -- come more frequently now. I fear that I have found what I have sought, and I shall now pay the price for it." The scrape of a chair across flagstone. A sigh. "Chaos treads the halls of Bedlam; her work is evident everywhere..." Slouching Towards Bedlam An entry in the 9th Annual Interactive-Fiction Competition Copyright 2003 by Star C. Foster and Daniel Ravipinto [First time players should type 'about'. Credits are available via 'credits'.] Release 1 / Serial number 030925 / Inform v6.21 Library 6/10 Office A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room. There is a phonograph on the table near the window. A black cube on wheels sits near the door to the south. >kill me How, precisely? The phonograph continues to play. "I discredit my profession; examining madness as if the world were a fluent thing and sanity as malleable as the warm wax of a candle." >i Carried: nothing at the moment "The secret lays heavily on both my mind and heart. I have told no one; I despair a second opinion would confirm my worst suspicions. I have secured all my knowledge of these events within the mechanical assistant left by my predecessor. It was my hope that it would allow me to see the situation from a new perspective, and help me discover the key to my salvation." >x phonograph A delicate device, its base is carved from oaken heartwood, bearing a small black plaque which reads "Columbia Phonograph Co., Ltd. of London". Two ivory arms emerging from the base lean inward, firmly grasping a rotating tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth. A brass needle scrapes against the cylinder's surface. From the base's back emerges a small, black hornshell speaker, its surface delicately curved. The phonograph is currently switched on. "Alas, it has been to no avail. While I found the entry mode easy enough, and the thing seems filled with information regarding the hospital down to the point of minutiae, it seems helpless in the face of analyzing my current situation." >get needle No such thing can be seen. >x arms A delicate device, its base is carved from oaken heartwood, bearing a small black plaque which reads "Columbia Phonograph Co., Ltd. of London". Two ivory arms emerging from the base lean inward, firmly grasping a rotating tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth. A brass needle scrapes against the cylinder's surface. From the base's back emerges a small, black hornshell speaker, its surface delicately curved. The phonograph is currently switched on. "It may be that I have simply not found that by which this growing mystery may be unlocked. Perhaps by subjecting the Triage to further experiential data, it may find something that I have missed. But I have little faith left at this point." >get arms (the phonograph) That's fixed in place. The sound of a chair creaking. "I have found a blessing in James. He has been nothing but kind and helpful in my short time here. I find myself wondering if, perhaps, he can be trusted enough to... but how can I punish him with this knowledge?" A sigh. "But how can I bear it alone?" >x speaker The delicate curve of the hornshell speaker emerges from the back of phonograph's base. A sudden noise, as of something wooden being struck, comes through the phonograph. "No. I can trust no one, in the end. Not even James. Perhaps soon...not even myself." >l Office A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room. There is a phonograph on the table near the window. A black cube on wheels sits near the door to the south. "I must stop here, I feel the faintness coming once again." A scraping noise, a click. "May God have mercy 'pon my soul." >s Lobby The walls and floor are a clinical white tile and marble. However, the dim lights set above this echoing space hiss and pop fitfully, giving the small maze of desks and workspaces within a tarnished, decaying look. A set of solid gates lie opened and unlocked to the east and west. A small corridor runs northward and from the south, the bright light of day is visible through a set of glass doors. Behind the most prominent desk sits a nervous young man. The young man looks up and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile that is not quite strong enough to reach his eyes. "Doctor? Are you..." Cold. Yes, the cold is familiar. /(reachgrabfeel|possibility|probability)\ The echo of an echo, the reflection of words from here to the far wall of reality and back. "...alright? You had us all..." /(actionpositiveaffirmative|destroyingfrictionbreakinggrowth|positiveyes)\ "...do you mean...?" The dim light glinting off the small badge he wears - James - Assistant - /(livinggrowthfrictionfurtherspreadingoutwardstretchingyestouchingyes)\ - Bethlehem - Hospital - "All right then, sir." And then he is nodding and returning to his seat, somehow both more and less nervous. /(yesdoneyes)\ >undo Office /(backyesunturningunmakingUNDObacksliplinereverse)\ >[OK, so if I want to not infect anyone, I can't leave this room. Hmm.] To whom were you attempting to speak? >l Office A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room. There is a phonograph on the table near the window. A black cube on wheels sits near the door to the south. Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself off with a tiny "click". >x cube Not a box but a cube; there is no hinge. A fine grid is engraved on its top, dividing it into a myriad of tiny squares. The cube sits on four black rubber wheels, attached by a set of brass leggings that seem capable of telescoping downward. The only other feature of note is a small emerald, set in its side, beneath which is a plaque with the inscription "TRIAGE MK. III". >push button No such thing can be seen. >push emerald From within the device comes a sharp clunk, followed by a gentle humming. The emerald blinks slowly -- once, twice -- then glows steadily. The grid of squares which makes up the thing's screen pivot back and forth, seemingly at random, causing ripples of motion across its surface. With a sudden purpose, they begin to flip, revealing hundreds of tiny symbols engraved on their surfaces. The squares continue for a moment, then begin to settle line by line like a fall of rain into a pattern... INIT.CYCLE.COMP. MILL.UNIT.ONLINE STORE.DECRYPT/CO MPRESS.BOOT.STAC K.COMP.OP.SYSTEM UNIT.VER.3.REG:. DR..SIMON..BRAND SET MODE:ANALYZE >point at me The emerald flickers from head to toe before returning: CAT:LIVING...... *CATASTROPHIC.ER RROR.A042.CATEGO RY.INDEX.OUT.OF. RANGE.STACK.OVER FLOW*PART:ID=DR. THOMAS.XAVIER=CU RRENT.OPERATOR.. >point at door No such thing can be seen. >l Office A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room. There is a phonograph on the table near the window. Triage sits near the door to the south. >x desk A deep green blotter, dotted with black ink stains, sits in the center of the desk, mostly covered by files and papers. One side of the blotter seems slightly higher than the other. The corner of a sandalwood box is visible beneath a stack of thick folders. The desk contains a large central drawer, which is currently closed. >get box Taken. >open it The sandalwood box opens, revealing a tin cylinder labeled January eighth, a tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second and a tin cylinder labeled March second. >[dude] That is not a recognized verb. >look under blotter Beneath the blotter is a small key, easily taken. It carries a small tag labeled '2D'. >get key One cannot take what one already has. >open drawer The large central drawer opens, revealing a manual and a flanged brass rod. >get manual, rod manual: Taken. flanged brass rod: Taken. >x rod A short rod of brass with a flange at one end (engraved with a '6') and a series of tines at the other, perpendicular to the shaft. >stab me with rod That is not a recognized verb. >get cylender from phonograph No such thing can be seen. >get cylinder from phonograph The ivory arms slide easily apart and the cylinder leaves the phonograph with a slight "click". >put january eighth on phonograph One needs to be holding the tin cylinder labeled January eighth before one can put it on top of something else. >get it Taken. >put january eighth on phonograph The tin cylinder labeled January eighth fits perfectly into the phonograph's waiting ivory arms. >turn phonograph on The phonograph switches on. "January the 8th." "I am uncertain if this entry is made in joy or sorrow. I have just received word from Dr. Yeates that I am to be...promoted. I am uncertain if that term is the correct one. In any case, it seems that there has been an... incident with Bethlehem's current superintendent, and a replacement is required. I have been chosen for the position, at least in the short term." >z Time passes. "It is fairly obviously what has prompted this move. I have moved too far, too fast and in doing so have displeased the powers that be. While Yeates has supported my ... unorthodox theories well enough, he has warned me often that he cannot shield me from *all* of the backlash that may occur. I do not believe that his using this as a segue way to telling me of my transfer was entirely unconnected..." >z Time passes. "Bedlam seems both purgatory and paradise at this moment. I remember the history of the place well enough -- of the Governors' decision to renovate the site in '15 and the slow implementation of Urquhart and Bentham's now infamous Panopticon Plan. In the end it was nothing more than a final stab at respectability for the site, which has now languished as a home for the hopeless, the poor, and the criminally insane for almost twenty years." >z Time passes. "But the technology! Yeates told me of a visit he took in the '30s, when the place was still open as part zoo, part living drama. I paid little attention to his description of the patient's conditions and instead seized upon the description of the central Tower and its prism-viewer, by which the entire complex could be overseen by a single man, the massive Archives with their engine-run filing system...now I shall see it with my own eyes, and I am both happy and sad at the thought." >z Time passes. "I have but a fortnight to prepare for the move. It has been made clear to me that this is a test -- I must prove myself good, quiet, and respectable in the eyes of the Governors. With luck, I shall be back at Bedfordshire within half a year's time, ready to take over when the good doctor announces his retirement." >z Time passes. "Perhaps this will not be so bad. In the public eye, I shall play their game and meanwhile, I shall continue my own research, utilizing whatever materials Bedlam has to offer..." >z Time passes. Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself off with a tiny "click". >get eighth The ivory arms slide easily apart and the cylinder leaves the phonograph with a slight "click". >get january from box Taken. >put it on phonograph The tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second fits perfectly into the phonograph's waiting ivory arms. >turn phonograph on The phonograph switches on. "January the 22nd." "Arrived in London today in preparation for taking over my duties. The cab driver took what seemed a scenic route through Smithfield, then generally southward towards Newgate. I covered my nose as best I could as we passed the slaughterhouse that was the Market, though I noted a Mechanist's shop -- Du Mondes' -- on Fleet, which I will try to visit at my earliest convenience, as my worst fears regarding the wireless have been confirmed." >z Time passes. "It probably says something profound about me that I set up the magnetophone first, while everything else remains boxed or is still on its way from Bedfordshire. As I feared, I found no signal whatsoever. A simple message of 'Calling CQ' went completely unanswered, which is unheard of, as there is *always* someone listening, particularly in such a city as London. I fear the buildings are blocking the signal, and I'll require a booster of some sort." >z Time passes. "I understood the driver's choice of route when we approached the prison from the north. A huge crowd was gathered for the public executions. I asked him about the particular individual sentenced to the gallows as we passed and he proceeded to tell me - at great length and with much relish - of the trial of one Mr. Emanuel Barthelemy. I wondered if today was something special, or if the spectacle of death always attracts such crowds." >z Time passes. "I heard a cheer go up from the top of the hill as we pulled to a stop in front of the flat. I shall not take this as an omen of any sort." >z Time passes. "What I've seen of the place is modest, but I am not at all surprised considering what I am paying for it. I intend to spend as little time here as possible, after all. Bedlam awaits me in the morning." >z Time passes. "A final note. It seems I left the majority of my unused cylinders at Bedfordshire. I shall have to write Yeates and ask that he send them down, or perhaps seek out where I may purchase them locally. In the meantime, I shall refrain from making a phonograph-entry until something truly momentous happens." >z Time passes. Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself off with a tiny "click". >get january from phonograph The ivory arms slide easily apart and the cylinder leaves the phonograph with a slight "click". >x box It is unexceptional, perhaps one handbreadth wide by three long. On its lid is a white paper label. Written upon it in a fine copperplate are the words "JOURNAL V. 4 - JANUARY THROUGH APRIL 1855." In the sandalwood box is a tin cylinder labeled March second. >get march (the tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth) One cannot take what one already has. >get march second from box Taken. >put it on phonograph The tin cylinder labeled March second fits perfectly into the phonograph's waiting ivory arms. >turn it on That's not something that can be switched on. >turn on phonograph The phonograph switches on. "March the 2nd." "It seems the Fates have listened closely and decided to give me a momentous occasion as quickly as possible. I am beside myself. Bedlam seems nothing more than a pit in which Her Majesty may place those she wishes to forget about. Such corruption dwarfs the imagination." > I beg your pardon? >z Time passes. "Perhaps I overstate the case, but it was the simple ease with which the constable approached me that most horrified me. If such things as this happen as a matter of course, then the place has truly been in the hands of the mad for some time." >z Time passes. "I suppose I should have seen such things coming. The Insane Prisoners' Act passed in '40 was vague enough that it could be used as a political tool, and McNaughton's trial made it clear that the courts would do so when forced, but at least such things happened in the public eye." >z Time passes. "My predecessor clearly had some arrangement with the Bobbies regarding cases such as these. James told me that he met often with the constable, though he was not privy as to the content of these meetings." >z Time passes. "Simply put, I was asked to make the prisoner in their charge 'disappear' and told that I would be 'well compensated' for keeping things quiet. Part of me wishes I had put up more of a fight...had made an issue, or..." >z Time passes. "But what choice have I? It has been made clear to me that keeping things quiet is precisely what is expected of me in my time in Bedlam." >z Time passes. "I have placed Cleve -- whose preternatural silence even as he struggled in his bonds gave the entire proceedings a sheen of unreality -- in the abandoned upper level of the northern wing, keeping the key separate from the rest. James showed it to me on my arrival and stated that while it still remained secure, only a few of the rooms were to be considered 'usable'." >z Time passes. "Still, perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. I have complete singular access to an interesting patient. Perhaps this is the opportunity my studies have been waiting for..." >z Time passes. Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself off with a tiny "click". >i Carried: a tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second a tin cylinder labeled January eighth a tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth a flanged brass rod a manual a small key labeled 2D a sandalwood box (which is open but empty) >x manual Emblazoned on the front is a charcoal drawing of a black box on wheels, beneath which is written the words: OPERATOR'S MANUAL TRIAGE PERSONAL ANALYTICAL ENGINE PROFESSIONAL|INDUSTRIAL MK. III. [Please press SPACE.] The FUTURE is NOW... One glance at the TRIAGE line of PERSONAL ANALYTICAL ENGINES will show them to be the finest now available. Each one is made of the materials of superlative quality, its thousands of interlocking parts are HAND MADE and HAND ASSEMBLED. From its alphanumeric kinograph display to its specially designed internal power and propulsion systems, the TRIAGE is simply the most advanced technology made available to professionals for the portable storage and analysis of complex information. In fact, the TRIAGE is so incomparably the best machine made that all we ask an intending purchaser is to compare it with any other before buying. For sale by all first-class mechanist's shops. [Please press SPACE.] Office A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room. There is a phonograph on the table near the window. Triage sits near the door to the south. >x window The open window looks down upon the courtyard and adjoining buildings far below. >open it That's not something that opens. >enter it That cannot be entered. >crap That is not a recognized verb. >i Carried: a tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second a tin cylinder labeled January eighth a tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth a flanged brass rod a manual a small key labeled 2D a sandalwood box (which is open but empty) >hint [6 hints left]-> There are several different endings and several different appendices. [5 hints left]-> After all, you can still travel in time (save/restore/restart). [4 hints left]-> What is your goal? How can time-travel help you achieve it? [3 hints left]-> What would you do differently? [2 hints left]-> Cleve made his choice. What will yours be? And can you live with the consequences? [1 hint left]-> There are five 'classes' of endings, each with an Appendix (A - E) which comes from the newly created timeline. [No more hints are available.] [8 hints left]-> Interesting question. [7 hints left]-> How do you define 'winning' anyway? [6 hints left]-> Is the Logos evil? [5 hints left]-> What is it really trying to do? [4 hints left]-> Does it deserve to die? [3 hints left]-> That being said - does humanity? [2 hints left]-> Sorry - we can't answer this one. [1 hint left]-> It's really up to you. [No more hints are available.] [7 hints left]-> There was a specific action that set off the Logos, even if you didn't realize it at the time. [6 hints left]-> What is the goal of the Logos? [5 hints left]-> It only understands growth and survival. [4 hints left]-> What is the opposite of survival? [3 hints left]-> You cut off one of its questing roots. [2 hints left]-> You killed someone it had infected. [1 hint left]-> The instant you kill someone who has been infected, a timer starts. You have 25 turns to complete your goals before time runs out and the Logos takes over entirely. [No more hints are available.] [16 hints left]-> You are not who you think you are. [15 hints left]-> People may refer to you as Dr. Thomas Xavier - but think about how you've been acting. [14 hints left]-> No memory. Curious about everything. Picking up anything that isn't nailed down. [13 hints left]-> Not to mention moving about in time (Can people normally UNDO what's been done? Or SAVE a moment to return at a later time?) [12 hints left]-> You are SOMETHING NEW. [11 hints left]-> Does any of this sound familiar? [10 hints left]-> Have you read File F6A142? [9 hints left]-> The original Xavier was infected by what infected Cleve. [8 hints left]-> He received his infection by listening to Cleve speak. [7 hints left]-> Have you noticed anything strange when you meet a person for the first time? [6 hints left]-> You're speaking glossolalia (speaking in tongues) -- just like Cleve. [5 hints left]-> You infect every person you meet with a part of the Logos - the thing that lives within your mind. [4 hints left]-> Now, you're faced with a choice. [3 hints left]-> Do you stop the Logos? Is it worth the cost? Or do you help it to grow? [2 hints left]-> There is no cure for the infection -- death is the only release. [1 hint left]-> Spreading it one person at a time might help it to grow, but is there a more effective way to reach the masses? [No more hints are available.] Office A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room. There is a phonograph on the table near the window. Triage sits near the door to the south. >jump out window It's as simple as that, then -- as the thought leaps outward, so does the body. And then all is open air and blowing wind, and the moment stretched - elongated along some impossible axis - one choice out of a million possibilities, outstretched in flight... If there are words for this... /(reference|point|metaphor)\ ...they have not yet been written. /(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\ The ground is a living thing now -- leaping, spinning -- /(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\ rushing forward in the slow infinity it will take to reach (you?). /(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\ Is this penance, then? To die for one's sins? Or the sins of another? /(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\ Whose hubris is greater - the sinner or the savior? /(and what rough beast)\ And the (weaker?) thing within whoever (you? me?) made this choice -- /(its hour come round at last)\ has only enough time to barely begin (voicing?) its disapproval -- /(slouches towards)\ as the ground -- /(bethlehem)\ swiftly flies -- /(?behtlehem?)\ upwards /(BEDLAM)\ towards /(to be born?)\ its final home. ***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\*** /(reachedfoundendfinishcomplete|possibleprobablyonlyoneinofmany))\ /(nowfurtheryetaheadrelease-APPENDIX-A-availableaccessableopen))\ /(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\ > appendix APPENDIX A SOURCE: LEGENDS OF THE ILLUMINATI - FROM SOLOMON TO RICHARD THE LIONHEARTED TO THE MODERN DAY (Robert Osprey, Hodder & Stoughton, London, 1975) ...of the many bastard children of the line would be the self-proclaimed CYPHERISTS of the late 17th century. A small movement, and based in many of the same traditions (Numerology and The Temple of Solomon most prominently) as the Masons, they did not claim a direct connection to the Templars, but rather asserted that what had been found on Temple Mount during the Crusades was the mathematical means by which the One True Torah (and all that implied - i.e. The True Name of God, etc) was to be found. In their brief flowering, they remained chiefly concerned with information and its permutation as a means of enlightenment or a path to power over a 'universal force.' Information, they stated, was the basis of all reality, and could be manipulated (much like the individual letters of the Torah) by means equivalent to the Kabbalists' use of Gematria. A strange mix of modern science and ancient religion, at the heart of the Cypherists' creed was the Machine -- the Analytic Engine. Used as a metaphor for the Universe of Newtonian "clockwork" physics, the Machine's rotations were akin to the spinning of prayer wheels, manipulating data in an endless chant. For all their proclamations of wisdom, however, they amounted to very little. By the early 18th century, they had all but died out - many members had simultaneously been Masons (some claim the Cypherists to be a splinter group from the very beginning, though the author seriously doubts this) and within several decades they had been completely subsumed into the larger group. Rumors about the Cypherists still abound to the present day. Some claim they faked their own end, much like the Templars before them. Others state that their brief surfacing in the public view was unplanned -- that they had, in fact, been in one form or another the guiding force behind the Illuminati since before the time of the Crusades (such theories go on to state that the Cypherist's fervent belief in Kabalistic ideals proves such), and have been the manipulating force of much of history back to Biblical times. Of course, in these enlightened days, no one believes a word of it. /(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\ > [yay enlightened days Please give one of the answers above. > quit