The Hole Man

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This is the Nocturne Mall, your apparent new home away from home. The sky is dark blue with stars and the faintest strip of pink can be seen on the horizon. There's a very unhelpful public clock and a lighted but otherwise inactive fountain. It's still not open, but if you leave the mall, you can go to the [[courthouse]]. Many of the stores are open for your business, though, even late at night. If you're hungry, you can go to the [[diner|The Diner]]. If you need ideas, you can go to the [[bookstore|The Bookstore]]. If you need energy, you can go to the [[candy shoppe|Candy Shoppe]]. If you need memories, you can go to the [[antique store|Antique Store]]. If you need to feel beautiful, you can go to the [[fashion boutique|Fashion Boutique]]. If you want some real, common-sense advice, you can go to the [[Tax Preparer's Office]]. If you're ready to be on your way, you can go to the [[the parking structure|The Parking Structure]], or the [[Bus Stop]].

The city courthouse, a formidable block of brutalist architecture from the baby boom era, looms before you. It is elevated by about a story from the surrounding grounds, necessitating an uphill walk to the jury assembly room. The jury assembly room is locked and barred. You cannot enter-- not that you could even if it were open, since your juror pass was in your back jeans pocket when your body was stolen. There are a number of people milling about aimlessly, as if waiting to be let into the assembly room. You can [[speak to them|Talk To Lost Souls]] if you wish. Otherwise, you can go back to [[The Mall]].

<<if lastVisited("The Mall") is 1>>The bell on the door jingles as you enter. <</if>>Welcome to Night Hawks, the elegant downtown diner with an uptown feel. <<if visitedTags("store") is 1>>You are greeted at the door by a white owl in a waitress uniform. "Hiya, hon! Have a seat anywhere at the counter. The tables are all closed for cleaning right now, hope that's not a problem." (This is a bit of a surprise, since most people aren't animals in your experience, but there isn't really a way to bring it up that doesn't seem rude to someone who's just doing their job.) Back in the kitchen, you can see another, bigger brown owl wearing a hair net as he (or she?) works the grill. We're two for two on people not being people around here. <<elseif lastVisited("jukebox") is 1>>The white owl waitress is still swinging her hips as she works. She must really like the song you played! <<else>>The white owl is busy with another customer, but the cook notices you and hoots a welcome, gesturing to the counter.<</if>> You can pick a seat at the [[counter]] if you'd like to order something. There's a [[jukebox]] on the far side of the counter. There is also a [[gumball machine]] next to the door you just came in through. The door is open, and you're free to go back to [[The Mall]].

This is the bookstore. <<if visitedTags("store") is 1>>Waiting behind the counter is a firefly. (This is a bit of a surprise, since most people aren't animals in your experience, but there isn't really a way to bring it up that doesn't seem rude to someone who's just doing their job.) "Welcome!" the firefly smiles, waving. "New books are shelved. Used books are available in the bulk bin in front. Let me know if you see anything you like!"<<set $shopsvisited += 1>> <<elseif lastVisited("substore") is 1>> <<else>>The firefly sees you enter again and smiles, her stomach lighting up involuntarily. She lowers the book to hide the glow, but her cheeks glow a little with her blush, too.<</if>> There's a big selection of books to choose from. What's your favorite genre? • <<linkreplace "''Fantasy''">>You pick out a book called "The Plordwacks of Chinselheim". This is high fantasy with a lot of realistic details, like how the Plordwacks lost the trust of the Spumblings after the tragic failure of the Second War of the Smoonipulorbs, and how only the holder of the Great Hwoab of Yetchogulip can unify the two zoakfilbs into the great haglipkin they were fated to be, once upon a trathmolligum. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a nonfiction book called "The Glossary of Chinselheim" is about twice the price of this novel. <</linkreplace>> • <<linkreplace "''Mystery''">>This is a spooky story with an ominous castle on the cover: The Man Who Made Men. It's a very [[absorbing tale|the foothills]], that you could get lost in.<</linkreplace>> • <<linkreplace "''Science Fiction''">>Here is a novel titled "We Can Drain Your Bone Marrow From A Distance And Sell It Back To You, And It Will Thank Us Even If You Don't." It's a trippy dark science fiction story that deals with ontological paradoxes, the nature of the self vs. the body, and ultimately a stinging indictment of the moral failings inherent to capitalism. After flipping through a few pages, you begin to recognize this story; yeah, you saw a movie based on this. It was just called "Bonepires", of course. You can't fit a title like that onto a movie poster. What's strange is that, unlike the movie, this book is based on a line of action figures for children. <</linkreplace>> • <<linkreplace "''Manga''">>Hmm, what's this... The Enigma of Amigara Fault? This doesn't feel like something you should be reading right now. Here's [[something else|Cherry Orchard]] you might like, though. It's got yokai!<</linkreplace>> • <<linkreplace "''Nonfiction''">>Here's a book about building your own window louvers. Yippee, thrillsville-- wait, no, it's getting good now. You're getting really invested in the plot. <</linkreplace>> • <<linkreplace "''Interactive''">>Oh, come on. Don't be an apple-polisher.<</linkreplace>> You can go back to [[The Mall]] anytime you want.

This is the tax preparer's office. <<if visitedTags("store") is 1>>What, seriously? You went to the tax prep place ''first?'' This is where you go for fun when you're not otherwise occupied, huh? Either you're in big financial trouble or you're a real weirdo! On the other hand, maybe you're on to something; the clerk behind the counter of this tax office appears to be some kind of lemur, maybe a slow loris or bushbaby. It seems rude to ask someone what species they are when you first meet them. Strange that they'd be an animal at all, since no one else you've met so far has been. <<elseif visitedTags("store") gt 5 and visited() is 1>>"Well, it's about time you showed up," says the proprietor, looking annoyed. "What's the matter, proper tax filing not as exciting as candy and toys? How old are you, anyway? Well, come on in, I suppose." It's hardly even surprising now to see that he's a lemur, or slow loris or something. <<elseif visited() is 1>>Said tax preparer is another animal, some kind of small furry lemur-ish thing. A bushbaby? A slow loris? He's not the first nocturnal animal you've seen today, so it doesn't surprise you as much. He's busy reading a brief, but he nods and gestures for you to sit down. <<elseif lastVisited("Audit") is 1>>The galago has returned to his filing work, but he's keeping an eye on you and will go over your case again if you need to. <<else>>The galago sees you enter again and nods, grunting an acknowledgment and gesturing for you to sit down. <</if>> This is a very small office with nothing but a desk for the clerk, a chair for you, and a potted fern. If there's anything else, it's hidden behind a wall of movable partitions. <<if visited("Auditintro") gt 0>>[[Have a seat.|Audit]]<<else>>[[Have a seat.|Auditintro]]<</if>> You can go back to [[The Mall]].

This concrete parking structure serves the Nocturne Mall and courthouse areas. Parking is free when you have jury duty, how convenient for you. You don't seem to have taken advantage of that privilege, though, because this parking structure is completely barren. No one is parked here. Apart from the hum of fluorescent lights, you are alone with the silence and darkness. There are three levels to this structure. You can take a [[stairwell|the stairwell]] or an [[elevator|the elevator]] to the top floor. The ramps are for vehicle use only, though, so you can't see a way to the basement level from here. There's a large public exit that opens up on the [[Nocturne Mall|The Mall]], and you can return there if you wish. There's also a [[Bus Stop]] visible from here, just outside the parking structure on the surface streets.

This is the parking structure's stairwell. Climbing it is a trial because you never know when you're going to step on somebody's fountain drink that they left there for just a second and then forgot about. You can climb up to the [[roof of the parking structure]], or return to the [[main floor.|The Parking Structure]]

This elevator has a big advertisement for the mall printed on the inside doors. It has a grinning cartoon moon and reads, "The Mall That Never Sleeps! //Except in the daytime.//" The parking structure has three floors. [[Roof Level|roof of the parking structure]] [[Ground Level|The Parking Structure]] [[Basement Level|basement level parking]]

You're on the roof of the concrete parking structure. From here all you can see is the cityscape, like an endless circle of jagged black teeth all around you. In the distance you can see a skyscraper that's still under construction, even at this time of night. The city lights all seem to be dimmed, throwing the bright stars into sharper relief. You can see the whole Milky Way spread through the stars, and new constellations you've never seen before. One of them winks at you. <<if $mandarin is not true>> You can see an [[airplane|coach]], flying low over the city. It feels so close, it's as if you could reach out and grab it.<</if>> You can go back down [[the stairwell]] if you've seen enough. You could also take [[the elevator]].

It feels like such low-hanging fruit to make fun of air travel, but it really is kind of an expensive unpleasantry. Everyone does need to fly sometimes, of course, but it feels unnecessary for it to be this awkward. You are in the coach section. Everyone who needs to fly very cheaply is here: your row is full of chickens, for example, but there's a raucous group of penguins behind you, and looming in the seat in front of you, occasionally turning to glare sullenly at you, is a lone cassowary. The kiwi flight attendants are having a lot of trouble pushing the snack cart up the aisle. It sounds like something's happening in the [[cockpit]], but you can't tell what from here. There is an [[emergency exit]], but you could also just sit back and [[enjoy the ride|Cherrystone]].

You take a look at the emergency exit. There's a round window to view the clouds through. However, there is no emergency at the moment, of course. <<if $mandarin is not true>>The one other human on board is lingering nearby. It's //you!// The other you! But as soon as you're spotted, you jump out the [[emergency exit.|Freefall]] This seems like something you should think very carefully about doing yourself. (Of course, since the emergency exit door just opened and closed, and there was no alarm and the air masks didn't come down, this might not be the safest plane to be riding on in the first place.)<</if>> You can [[return to your seat|coach]] at any time, naturally.

You enter the cockpit out of curiosity. It stinks of hay and bird droppings, and the noise is overwhelming-- the sound of birds squawking and spectators cheering. The pilot and co-pilot, two huge and beautiful roosters, are stalking around each other in a circle, warily eyeing each other with distrust. In a moment the two are on each other, screeching for blood and kicking wickedly at each other with the daggers strapped to their feet. The pilot's shirt is ripped, and the co-pilot's hat lies in shreds on the floor. Several other birds are gathered around, cheering and drinking corn syrup, as the fighters rake at each other with their blades. Cash rains down on the dusty hay floor as the bets pile up, and two hens-- the pilot and co-pilot's wives-- are collecting the bets as fast as they can. Well, what did you think happened in a cock pit? When you've seen enough you can return to the [[passenger cabin|coach]].

You are in Schmutzengloggen's Candy Shoppe. Brightly lit, with shining black and white tile floors, this is the kind of candy store you're meant to envision when someone is likened to a kid in a candy store. With a mountain of sugar like this before you, it's hard to know where to start, but only one thing really catches your attention: a rack of [[suckers]]. <<if visitedTags("store") is 1>>Waiting behind the counter is a woman with a warm smile, and an impressive pair of wings. She is a white-furred bat, with a bright yellow noseleaf and matching ears. (This is a bit of a surprise, since most people aren't animals in your experience, but there isn't really a way to bring it up that doesn't seem rude to someone who's just doing their job.)<<set $shopsvisited += 1>> <<elseif lastVisited("Souvenir Cubby") is 1>>The bat lady is taking a brief nap, which is unusual for someone who's on the clock, but she seems like a hard worker so you don't disturb her. She's having enough trouble keeping her shirt from falling down over her face as she hangs from a light fixture during her nap. <<else>>The cashier, a white-furred bat, waves with one wing as she works. "Hi!" she says. "Take all the time you need. We have T-shirts and other souvenirs [[in the back|Souvenir Cubby]]."<</if>> The door is open, and you are free to return to [[The Mall]] if you wish.

You've chosen to peruse the treasures at Limbo Antiquarian. <<if visitedTags("store") is 1>>Waiting behind the counter is a cricket. He's very tall and slender, wearing a vintage stovepipe hat and tailcoat, but there can be no doubt he's a cricket, especially since he greets you with a friendly chirp instead of saying anything. (This is a bit of a surprise, since most people aren't animals in your experience, but there isn't really a way to bring it up that doesn't seem rude to someone who's just doing their job.)<<set $shopsvisited += 1>> <<elseif lastVisited("substore") is 1>>The cricket shopkeeper is rummaging through a large stack of magazines, and has gotten distracted flipping through one; he chirps to acknowledge your return. <<else>>The cricket shopkeeper is playing a few notes on a dusty fiddle when you come in. He chirps a greeting, pausing to rosin his bow, and gestures for you to have a look around.<</if>> A number of interesting things catch your eye: <<linkreplace "An antique glass lamp.">>Whee, this looks like fun! You grab it by the cord and swing it around in a circle about a dozen times, the glass shade missing the furniture around it by inches. But you don't break it, so luckily you don't have to buy it! <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "A tarnished brass trumpet.">>You take a deep breath and blow, making an incredibly rude sound. The cricket shopkeeper looks at you reproachfully, fanning the air. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "A wooden box of myriad toys.">>Just looking at these things, with their scraped paint, tattered clothing, antiquated ideas of 'cute', and sometimes even casual racism, tells you a lot about the generations that came before your own. It also suggests some ideas for horror movies. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "A towering wooden wardrobe.">>This wardrobe feels cold to the touch. You open it, and a few flakes of snow blow out. You could [[go inside|The Snowscape]] if you wanted. <</linkreplace>> The door is open, and you are free to return to [[The Mall]] if you wish.

You're in Hot Nights, an exclusive fashion boutique that caters only to the most fashionable people, with only the most exclusive styles that can be sourced from nearby deep discount stores. <<if visitedTags("store") is 1>>Waiting behind the counter is a moth. (This is a bit of a surprise, since most people aren't animals in your experience, but there isn't really a way to bring it up that doesn't seem rude to someone who's just doing their job.) She's quite a fashionable moth, dressed in radiant yellows and blues that set off her hot pink fur in a way that might come across as eye-searing, but just looks eye-catching on her. "Come on in," she says. "Normally you have to be wearing clothes to come in, but I can see you're in a bind here..."<<set $shopsvisited += 1>> <<elseif lastVisited("changing room") is 1>>The moth looks up abruptly, seeing you return from the dressing room, and guiltily hides a half-eaten sweater behind her back. "Finding everything all right?" she asks rhetorically. <<else>>The moth shopkeeper waves to you, busily dusting the shelves, even as more dust flies off of their wings.<</if>> There's a clearance rack with a lot of unusual options, and you can also use the [[changing room]] if you like. The door is open, and you're free to go back to [[The Mall]].

You have fallen out of the plane. The plane was at cruising altitude, which is roughly eight kilometers from the ground: you don’t feel it’s necessary to convert that to miles at the moment.<<if $mandarin is true>> From this altitude, almost nothing you could see on the ground is recognizable. There are a few landmarks you can pick out: the clock tower of the [[courthouse]] you were headed for at the start of the day, the incomplete department store [[skyscraper|Skyscraper Rooftop]] that hunches over the downtown area like a vulture, the silos that mark a [[certain farm|Pfeffernusse Farm]] way out of town.<</if>> The ground is a very long way away, but it is coming toward you frighteningly fast.<<if $mandarin is not true>> You can [[spread your arms and legs|The Darin' Man]] to slow your fall; or, you can roll into a ball and hope you bounce.<</if>>

The air streaking past you burns your skin and vibrates your cheeks as you fall. Though you cannot catch your breath, you fear opening your mouth, for fear you’ll inflate like a garbage bag held in front of a fan. At this speed, the air feels so solid and dense you start to wonder if you could walk away and forget this waking nightmare. "Hey, need some help?" A perfectly calm voice is speaking to you from just over your shoulder. You force your eyes open and look up. There’s a man standing over you, if that can be called standing: he’s falling at the same speed you are, as Galileo proved, but in a standing position. In fact, he looks quite relaxed; he’s not just standing, he’s leaning, as if against an invisible telephone pole. "You must be new to the sky," he laughs. "Let me help you up. [[I'm the Darin' Man.|Meeting The Darin' Man]]"

Here, at last, is the ''Darin’ Man.'' He is tall and trim, dressed in what looks like an auto racing jumpsuit, cream white and safety orange. He is black, just like you, and has quite a nice mustache which is always spread wide over his smile. When he bends to "help you up", however, you can see a puckered scar under his chin which might make you wince. "Don’t worry, no one’s laughing at you," he says. "This can be scary when you’re new here. Believe me, when I first came to the sky I thought I was going to die." [[We ARE going to die!]]

"What, is that news to you or something?" This time he does laugh, covering his smile and trying to be polite. "Nah, man. That happens to everyone, doesn’t it? But there’s a lot to see and do before that happens." [[What is there to see in the sky?]] [[How can you be so calm? We’re falling!]]

"Glad you asked. Let me show you!" He starts to walk, and you find yourself swimming desperately in midair to try to keep up with him. He turns his head, seeing you struggling, and gives a knowing nod. "It’s all right, take your time. Takes some practice to get your sky legs." The Darin’ Man takes you to a misty white cloud— although the cloud may simply have blown over to you instead. It’s difficult to tell your relative position from where you were just falling. He shades his eyes from the sun, peering into the cloud, and gestures for you to join him. From your position in space, there seem to be objects wiggling around inside the cloud. [[What’s in there?]] [[How can you be so calm? We’re falling!]]

"Sky creatures," the Darin’ Man says, now very invested. He reaches into his jumpsuit and pulls out a mason jar; he readies it in his hand, waiting for the right moment, before swinging the jar into the cloud and out again, slapping the lid back on triumphantly. "Got it! Wonderful! Oh, this is magnificent!" he crows. Before you can ask what’s so magnificent, he kicks nimbly off the cloud and sails over to show it to you. Inside the jar is a soft, creeping, wiggling thing, like a fat worm with tentacles. It is completely transparent and almost colorless: you can only see its outline when the Darin’ Man holds it in front of his orange jumpsuit. "You ever heard the phrase, ‘As above, so below’?" the Darin’ Man says casually, holding the jar up to look at it with the sun behind it. "It’s true. Everything on land has a counterpart in the sky. Meadowlarks, Scottish terriers, and rats— skylarks, Skye terriers, and pigeons." He hands you the jar for a better look. "And this, as you probably know… is a sky cucumber!" When you hold up the jar to look, the creature seems to notice your presence; it turns its snout in your direction, and makes a rude noise that fizzes the jar full of bubbles. The Darin’ Man claps with delight. "Oh, that’s their thing they do! They defend themselves by shooting air at their enemies! Animals that live in moist environments like clouds can’t stand to be dried out like that, it’s like being attacked with a hair dryer." <<set $skycucumber to true>> [[There are other things in there?]]

"Hey, you name it! Just in this cloud I saw sky stars, sky urchins, sky horses… if we’re lucky, we might even see a leafy sky dragon!" The Darin’ Man points at a larger cloud further away. "It’s a lot harder to get any research done over there because it’s a colony of sky lions. The noise alone makes it so hard to work there, and the smell! I don’t know how the sky otters can stand it." It’s about now that you notice just how much closer the ground has gotten during your conversation. [[How can you be so calm? We’re falling!]]

<<if $skycucumber is true>>"Sorry, what? Didn’t catch that over the wind," the Darin’ Man says, examining his jar. <<else>>"Sorry, what? Didn’t catch that over the wind," the Darin’ Man says. <</if>> You shriek your question louder, and this time he picks up on the hysterical fear in your voice. "Whoa, whoa! Calm down. Don’t freak out." He puts a warm hand on your shoulder. "You really are out of your element here, aren’t you. It’s all right." <<if $skycucumber is true>>He gestures toward the rapidly expanding ground below. "You’re not alone, you know. Everyone looks down sometimes and sees the ground coming closer, and starts to panic." He unzips his jumpsuit enough to replace his jar in an inner pocket. "It happens to me too. Some daring man, huh?" He cackles. <<else>>He gestures toward the rapidly expanding ground below. "You’re not alone, you know. Everyone looks down sometimes and sees the ground coming closer, and starts to panic." He glances downward and winces. "It happens to me too. Some daring man, huh?" He cackles. <</if>> [[How long have you been up here??]]

"Same as you. We’re falling at the same speed, after all," says the Darin’ Man. He looks down, through his feet; although he cringes slightly, he doesn’t panic. "But we’re a long way up— it's a long way to fall, and I’ve been in free fall long enough to learn some things." He points at the ground. "See that? You might think that’s just our problem," he says. "Something so huge you can’t escape it, coming right at us, and it can’t miss." He shakes his head. "Thing is? We don’t like to think about it, but that happens to everyone, even the ones who aren’t falling from an airplane." He looks to you for confirmation, but seeing the confusion on your face, [[he continues.]]

"I study life up here," the Darin’ Man starts. "But the thing about life on Earth, is that it comes FROM Earth. There’s no life that comes directly from the air or space. Everything up here came from down there." He gives an emphatic point downward. "And, unfortunately, everything goes back too." "The ground is rising up to meet all of us. Some of us will meet it in the form of, say, a heart attack, or cancer, or a traffic accident; others might have something more unique, like a practical joke gone tragically wrong, or falling out of an airplane." He chuckles. "Almost makes you feel privileged to have such a rare opportunity, doesn’t it?" The expression on your face seems to suggest to him that you don’t agree. "Regardless of your situation, Earth wants you back, and it’s going to get you," he says simply. "We are in the rare position of seeing it coming. Threats are an unavoidable part of life, but most of the truly existential threats to life move so slowly we never see them as a threat at all." [[What about you?]]

"Same as anybody: I’m too busy living to think about dying," the Darin’ Man chuckles. "There’s so much to discover up here, you know? And even the things that have already been discovered, we can still learn so much from." He reopens his jar and releases the sky cucumber, which gratefully air-jets its way back into the cloud. "Yeah, we’re probably going to hit the ground in about 60 seconds, now," he continues casually. "But who has time to stress out about that? There’s so much left to learn up here. And even the things we already know can benefit from my work. No one else can do what I do from my unique perspective, with my unique experiences." He pauses, looking at you for a moment. "Then again, [[who says it has to be me?|darinmanconclusion]]?"

<<if $skycucumber is true>>It sounds strange that he’d want to leave when he’s expressed such contentment with his lot up here, but the Darin’ Man shrugs. "I knew it was a temporary position when I got it. Anyway, I’m sure you have a lot to bring to the table yourself! You get to ride airplanes, jump out of airplanes, meet skymaids…" <<else>>"Just like anywhere, your time up in the sky is temporary, but there's a lot you could be bringing to the table," he nods, in reaction to your confused face. "My work up here is biology. You'd really be surprised by how many creatures are still undiscovered in the sky! Even your basic raincloud has as much life to discover as a bustling tide pool! And that's assuming you find one that hasn't already been colonized by skymaids..." <</if>> Skymaids? "There are many benefits to being an empyrean biologist," he grins. Will you become the new Darin’ Man? [[Yes.|Darin Ending]] [[No.|Mandarin]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. It’s a dreamsicle-orange Prius, its back end festooned with a large assortment of bumper stickers championing various progressive causes and conservation efforts, with the familiar kelp-circle symbol of the Monterey Bay Aquarium having a prominent place. The driver cheerfully pays his parking fee and swings out into the downtown traffic, soon lost among hundreds of other cars. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|darinmanending]] from the juror pool.

\<<set $mandarin to true>> \<<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> \ \The Darin’ Man doesn’t look disappointed at all; he smiles. "It sounds like you’ve got something more important to do after all," he says. "You’re not so afraid of hitting the ground after all, are you!" He reaches into his jumpsuit again, this time with his off hand, and pulls out a gift which he places in your hand. It’s a tangerine, or something like it. "We haven’t yet seen someone who hits the ground from thirty thousand feet and BOUNCES," the Darin’ Man says. "But that doesn’t mean you won’t be the first!" Suddenly the air seems to catch him, and you’re [[plummeting faster than ever]] as he waves goodbye from his seemingly solid perch in space.

The good news is that you’ve landed safely, and even comfortably, rather than hitting the ground like a rocket. The bad news is that the family that this backyard belongs to is very unhappy that a hole shaped like a person fell out of an airplane and landed on the bouncy castle they were inflating for their child’s birthday party. [[You should probably go.|The Suburbs]] Oh well, a one-year-old wouldn’t know what to do with a bouncy castle!

There's a sidewalk under your feet for the first time in hours. You've found your way into a residential area-- in fact, this is a big cul-de-sac, with pretty painted houses and flower gardens everywhere. It certainly looks like the nice part of town, although you're not sure if you've ever been anywhere in your down that looks //this// nice. You might be priced out of this school district. The one strange thing about this area is that, for all the cars and well-manicured lawns and shiny mailboxes, there's no people. You keep thinking you see a person here and there, but it's always just a lawn ornament or something; a lawn gnome, a stone jockey holding a ring, a wooden silhouette of an old lady bending over and showing her underwear. You think you see a woman looking at you from her window, but when you look closer, it's just a <<linkreplace "dressmaker's dummy.">>dressmaker's dummy. The second you look away, there's a sharp whipping sound; when you look back, the shutter is pulled over the window where the dummy was standing. In fact, the lawn ornaments are all gone too. Even the crowd of pink flamingos in the yard behind you have disappeared.<</linkreplace>> There's a bus stop here, but it looks like the next bus isn't coming for a while, so you may have to [[start walking|Charming Road]] if you want to go somewhere else right now. You probably should.

mphasis //Emphasis// <em>Emphasis</em> Emphasis Strong ''Strong'' <strong>Strong</strong> Strong Underline __Underline__ <u>Underline</u> Underline Strikethrough ==Strikethrough== <s>Strikethrough</s> Strikethrough Superscript Super^^script^^ Super<sup>script</sup> Superscript Subscript Sub~~script~~ Sub<sub>script</sub>

<<set $darinmanending to true>>A cloud passes over the sun, and for a moment the your silhouette can be seen across the side of the courthouse building. Following close behind your shape is another, harder to interpret, silhouette; the top half strongly suggests a beautiful woman, but the bottom half is something no biologist has ever described. [[Do you dare?|endtitle]]

The Hole Man A game by [[E. Z. Poschman|Credits]] [[Start Game]]

\<<set $shopsvisited=0>> \<<set $skycucumber=false>> \<<set $taxes to false>> \<<set $metmen to 0>> \<<set $parkinglot to false>> \<<set $mandarin to false>> \<<set $mango to false>> \<<set $manchild to false>> \<<set $manservant to false>> \<<set $manmade to false>> \<<set $mankind to false>> \<<set $mandrake to false>> \<<set $manhandle to false>> \<<set $manhood to false>> \<<set $manslaughter to false>> \<<set $manager to false>> \<<set $AMending to false>> \<<set $darinmanending to false>> \<<set $mango to false>> \<<set $manchild to false>> \<<set $manservant to false>> \<<set $manmade to false>> \<<set $mankind to false>> \<<set $mandrake to false>> \<<set $manhandle to false>> \<<set $manhood to false>> \<<set $manslaughter to false>> \<<set $manager to false>> \It's strangely dark. Looking up, you see stars in the sky. There's only the faintest pink ribbon in the sky to the east, suggesting it's nearly dawn. How long were you unconscious?? You glance around the open air mall. It's deserted, as you would expect this time of night. The storefronts appear to be open, however, and brightly lit. No time to investigate, though. You've got to get to the [[courthouse]]. Are you playtesting? Go to the [[Cheater's Circle]].

You're sitting at the bus stop. This one will let you catch the [[northbound bus|Northbound Bus]]. However, you think you see the southbound bus coming down the street now. There are no cars at this time of night, so if you run across to the other stop, you can [[catch the southbound|Southbound Bus]] instead. You hear a merry ringing sound from the west: a [[trolley car]] is headed east. It doesn't look like there's any ride going west for a while. If you were feeling like yourself, you'd probably remember which direction home was in, but you kinda still don't. Returning to [[The Mall]] is an option, of course.

This is the northbound bus. At first you think it's been vandalized, but it turns out the number of this bus really is 420-69. It's been a while since you had to ride the bus, but you were still relatively sure that the bus didn't run this late at night; and if it did, most buses take surface streets, while this one took the first freeway onramp. Now you ride on through the silent night, periodically blinded by the headlights of oncoming drivers, at the mercy of this tall vehicle with no seat belts. You are the sole passenger. There's nothing to do but soldier on and wait to be [[dropped off at the end of the line.|The Suburbs]]

You are on the southbound bus, number 666-42. This is probably the favorite bus of both metal heads and science fiction nerds. When this bus says southbound, they mean it. The familiarity of downtown soon vanishes, and you find yourself driving through unfamiliar neighborhoods. Soon even the residential areas are behind you, and now the bus has entered a more rural area. Gas stations and silos become more common to see than houses or shopping centers, and even the billboards look more rustic, often carrying accusing political slogans and religious rhetoric. Though it's dark, the city seems to be receding in the distance behind you. There's no place to go but south, apparently. You'll just have to disembark when you reach the destination, [[wherever that is|The Snowscape]], and try to find your way back from there. It is getting colder and colder.

You're standing at a lonely bus stop under a gray sky, in a valley blanketed in [[snow|snowplay]]. The bus stop is worse for the wear, almost bent in half and hopelessly rusted by road salt. The bench next to it is flattened and unusable. It seems that buses frequently don't see this stop until it's too late. Although it's hard to see due to inclement weather conditions, there's a number of steep [[hills|snowy hills]] visible from here: one of them looks like it has a [[castle|Dragon Trail]] perched on top. On the other hand, deeper into the valley, you can almost see the lights of a [[building|Lost Blizzard]] piercing the snow. <<if $mandrake and $mankind>>The [[northbound bus|Bus Stop]] is idling here, waiting for any passengers to get on. <</if>>It's probably best not to waste time waiting for the next bus. If this snow gets any worse, there may not be a safe place to stand around here when the bus barrels through.

<<set $shopping to true>> This is a towering wooden display of lollipops (or "suckers" if you prefer). Most of them are intimidatingly huge and look like they would not be easy to fit into your mouth, which is why the word "sucker" seems so out of place; yet, if you were to call it a "licker", it would invite only further confusion. Many of the lollipops are decorated in <<linkreplace "hypnotic spirals.">>hypnotic spirals. One is even swinging a pocket watch. How silly, you know that's not how hypnosis works!<</linkreplace>> There are also a number of exceedingly long and helix-shaped lollipops, which remind you of a <<linkreplace "unicorn's horn.">>unicorn's horn. When you touch one to examine it, though, it turns out to already belong to someone-- an embarrassed narwhal that you didn't realize was looking over your shoulder. He mumbles an apology as he stumbles to another part of the store.<</linkreplace>> Even further up the display are some <<linkreplace "very elaborate pops.">>very elaborate pops, that must have taken tremendous time and effort on the part of the confectioner. Some of these are in iconic shapes, like an ice cream cone, [[scallop shell]], skull and crossbones, and the faces of some of your least favorite cartoon characters; but even beyond that, there's a pink '57 Chevy, the smiling face of John Ritter, and an astonishingly authentic-looking recreation of the //Méduse//, a three-masted, 40-gun Pallas-class battle frigate of the French Navy, first launched in 1810. It almost seems like a shame to cram it in your mouth like this, but it __is__ your second favorite flavor. <</linkreplace>> All in all, this whole display fills one with the intense urge to put on a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit and play hopscotch. There's more to see in the [[candy store|Candy Shoppe]] if this isn't your favorite.

<<set $shopping to true>> This is Schulzen... Splutzen... what's this place called again? It's the candy store. Anyway, this corner is a display of souvenirs and other non-edible items. You can get T-shirts, novelty kazoos with the store's logo, and random bags of semi-precious stones. One of the collectibles is quite edible, though: it's a tin gift box of those trendy Pfeffernusse Farm cookies, in shortbread and molasses flavors. The box has a lovely painted scene of gingerbread people working on a [[farm|Pfeffernusse Farm]], using animal crackers as their beasts of burden! How quaint. You can [[return to the candy|Candy Shoppe]] if you've seen enough.

Taking a closer look at the scallop shell, it appears the scallop is taking a closer look at you, too. Hundreds of beady, bright blue eyes are watching your every move. Before you can say anything, a muffled voice can be heard from the shell. "Don't even think about putting me in your filthy mouth, bucko," it snarls. "What's the matter, don't you know the difference between a scallop and a scalloped potato? Now put me down, I am in //no// mood to mess around today." You gently place the scallop on the sand, and it hops away into the ocean, grumbling under its breath. <<set $shopping to false>> [[The cool surf|The Beach]] washes over your bare feet as you try to piece together what just happened.

The sun is hot and the wind is cool, and you are standing all alone on a beautiful white-sand beach. This may not be what you planned on doing today, but it comes very close to what you //wished// you had been doing today. The sea crawls before you like a living thing, changing from crystal blue to obsidian green and back with every crashing cream-colored wave. As the foam skims in and cools your feet over and over, you can see sea creatures in the pools formed by the surf. You could even [[grab one|Tide Pool]] if you were curious. A great wooden [[wharf|Lieutenant's Wharf]] stretches out into the sea, fairly sagging with entertainments and distractions. You can hear the barking of sea lions in the distance, and also the hysterical laughter of gathered surfers. On your left side, there seems to be a [[gathering|Monster Party]] of children and families of some kind, and you can smell barbecue and picnicking happening. To your right, the beach ends in high, rocky [[bluffs]], and hanging over them, like some vast, predatory bird, is an immense mansion overlooking the sea.

You're standing at the base of the Colony Center Building. The base of the building is home to Humble's, an elegant and expansive [[department store]]. You can enter and shop there, or you can just [[window shop]] if you'd rather stay outside. A few floors up, the Colony Center becomes office space. There's an [[escalator]] to the first business floor, with employees streaming up and down. Looking even higher, you can see residential apartments some ten floors up, with clotheslines and potted plants populating the windows. If you crane your neck and bend backward, looking at the very top of the building, it's clear that it's not even complete yet: red girders stand out against the blue sky, and workers can be seen crawling like ants on the high steel. A tower crane looms higher than the building itself, mounted in the tall skyscraper next door. This crane is hard at work moving materials, which is why the block is cordoned off beyond this building. Beyond the barrier, you can see a broken I-beam projecting from a hole in the shattered asphalt; it probably isn't a good idea to investigate. There is a staircase to a [[subway station]] across the street. That seems like the most reliable way to move along if you've seen enough.

This is the peaceful countryside. Hay particles hang in the air, and if you wait a couple of minutes, you're sure to hear a moo from somewhere nearby. There's something very familiar about this place. Maybe it has something to do with the big, spacious sky above you, or the amber waves of grain all around. The majestic purple mountains visible in the distance ring a bell too. Maybe you've been here before when you were younger? Hard to say. There is a fine crop of corn nearby, filling an acre lot. At least you think it's corn. Maybe it's sorghum? You can't remember if you grew up around farms or not. That's worrying. Looking northward, the road seems to lead to [[a large farm|Pfeffernusse Farm]]; you can see its windmill and silos in the distance, and even a billboard advertising its wares: //Pfeffernusse Farm.// With the sun shining bright it looks quite inviting. The road going east, on the other hand, seems to be leading up into [[the foothills]], where the weather looks grim, with dark clouds and fog. A rumble of thunder catches your ear as you glance in that direction. If you've had enough fresh air and chores, the [[southbound road|Northern Road]] bears a sign that reads "(Shotgun blast) miles to Suburbia".

The marina at the end of the pier is quite active, more so than the mall back home. Boat owners and renters are all gathered here, as well as tourists looking for souvenirs. It is a motley group of visitors, though. Partially dismembered zombies slumping along. Possessed puppets. Clowns with glowing green eyes. A guy wearing a hockey mask, with an axe stuck in his head. Not your typical beach rats, but then again, neither is a big walking hole.<<set $flightdest to "airport">> <<linkreplace "Check out a street food stand">>The local cuisine is very nautical, in that it's mostly made out of boats. There's mainsail fries, garlic mast rings, geolocator dumplings... the most popular stand is just shaving down an old anchor into a deep frier, and customers are eagerly wolfing down the paper-thin iron sheets. You see a stand touting "Admirals", but decide it's best not to find out. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Look at the arcade">>Oh cool, a video arcade! And it has all your favorite games, like: • Skee-ball! • Wedges & Ledges! • Flyin' Tickets! • Boatload O' Tickets! • Ultimate Tickets! • Licensed Characters N' Tickets! • Zero Skill Tickets! • Mesmerizing Tickets! • Glowing God Tickets! • Put In A Token And Maybe Get Tickets! • Feed Big Bertha Your Quarters For Nothing! • Skee-ball but the balls are white! • Game You've Got On Your Phone But Large! • Win A New Game System, No Really, We (snicker) Swear! The ticket redemption counter has a big CLOSED sign over it. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Visit the art gallery">>If you've ever been to an art gallery near the coast, you know what this is all about: glass sculptures. Every coastal town has at least one person who can render absolutely phenomenal-looking sea urchins, feather duster worms and shrimp, all in the medium of pulled and sculpted glass. It's all gorgeous, but as always, it's a bit out of your price range. You meet the artist after poking around a little, and she's happy to demonstrate her technique: she's a gorgon, and she just looks at sea creatures while wearing dark sunglasses, which turns them into silica rather than pure marble or granite. A handy tip! <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Watch the ships for a while">>Most of the ships in this port are personal yachts. There is a tugboat scooting around, which is a little surprising since there's no big freight ships or anything to pull into port. There must be some kind of use for this though. After watching it for a moment, you see the tugboat beach itself, then rise up on little webbed feet and waddle away, finding a secluded nest near the bluffs and settling down comfortably. <</linkreplace>> You can also get tickets to ride a [[seaplane]] if you wish! The next flight is still boarding. East of here is [[a beach|The Beach]], if you'd like to put your feet on dry land for a while.

You've found yourself in the middle of a beach party, and luckily for you, you seem very welcome there! The host put a Hawaiian lei over your neck, chuckling at how it dangled into your body-void like a well, and encouraged you to join the fun. The host, by the way, is quite clearly a vampire-- pale skin, cape, fangs, widow's peak and all-- but he's wearing a poncho and a straw hat and has zinced up his nose, so he seems to be doing OK in the sun. As a matter of fact, all the people at this party are monsters. There are cackling witches cooking at the fire pit, and a group of zombies playing steel drums. The bamboo minibar is being tended by a man-eating plant! There's even a three-piece band of skeletons... or possibly just very thin men. Just because you don't have a body doesn't make you a monster, of course. Either way, if the monsters like you this much, it's party time! <<linkreplace "Dance!">>I know what you're thinking. They're doing The Monster Mash, right? ''Wrong!'' This is a monster //beach// party, so of course they're doing the Zombie Stomp! You must feel pretty silly for misjudging the monsters like that. The monsters, of course, forgive your minor faux pas, and soon you're bringing your foot down with an awful CLOMP in time with all the rest. It's the livin' end! <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Check out the luau!">>Two shapely werewolves in grass skirts welcome you to the buffet. It's a magnificent spread! The menu contains such fabulous options as: • Mermaid sashimi • Cockatrice skewers • The ghosts of onion rings • Steamed pork bao wearing little witch hats • Chef's fingers tempura • Egg rolls with staring eyes, that maintain terrified eye contact from the first bite to the last • A roast pig portrayed by Boris Karloff • Dracula's ribs • Dracula's eye of round steak • Dracula's pineapple rings (Dracula really went all out for this) • Dracula's heart. Don't eat it, it's just a garnish. • Dracula's fingernail... ew! Not sanitary! • Crystal Pepsi • Beer and wings-- wait, no, beer WITH wings You could keep eating all day, but... you're literally a bottomless pit. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Play beach volleyball!">>All right, two on two beach volleyball! It's you and a blood-red blob with a single eye floating inside, versus a headless horseman and his headless horse! The other team, appropriately enough for a monster party, slaughters you. A lot of it is your partner's fault, since she didn't have much of an air game, but the real issue is that the headless horseman had an unfair perspective advantage, since you were using his substitute pumpkin head as the ball. You console the disappointed blob, as the horseman and his horse celebrate with multiple high fives and hoof bumps. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Play limbo!">>The other monsters see you, an ambulatory hole, approaching the limbo bar, and a hush falls over the crowd. You don't need the details of what happened, but let's just say you're going home with a trophy. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Play with the kids!">>When you sit down to take a break, a small group of monster kids come running up to you, looking curious. "What's your name, mister?" says a small mummy, who has her head bandages tied up in braids. "I don't think that's a 'mister'," says a small gorilla with the head of a bubble-domed robot. "Are you a boy or a girl? ...If you're neither one, me too! I'm a robot." "Are you really a hole? Can we put stuff into you?" asks a little mer-person girl eagerly. She has human legs, which look speckled as if by vitiligo, but otherwise looks like a beautiful red and white koi. "I bet if we throw in a quarter we can make a wish!" "They're not a well, they're a hole!" says the tallest child in the group, a skeleton wearing nothing but an inflatable floaty ring-- and a live octopus on its skull, its tentacles tied back like a ponytail. "Mr. or Ms. Hole, do you live in Swiss cheese normally?" "Don't be a know-it-all, Tibia!" says the little mummy, her one visible eye glaring. "I bet they weren't always a hole. I bet they used to be a person... you know, like me." "Or me," says the skeleton soberly. "I'm sorry, Mr. or Ms. Hole. Did you really lose your body? That happened to some of us too." "Most of mine got eaten by a crocodile," says the mummy. "I hope you can get yours back, though." The other kids nod and agree enthusiastically. You know what? The kids are alright!<</linkreplace>> <<if $manchild is not true>>[[Enter the sandcastle contest!|Sandcastle Contest]]<<else>>The sandcastle contest has come to a close. No prize was awarded, because the tide came in and destroyed them all before the judges got here.<</if>> [[Run away because monsters are scary!|The Beach]]

You have a great view from this spot on the bluffs. You can look down on the beach, marina, boats, everything. No wonder someone built a [[gigantic mansion|seaside manor]] near here! The one downside is the proximity to the beach. It's only about thirty steps away... but all thirty steps are downhill! The big wooden staircase built into the bluffs leads to [[The Beach]], but your thighs are hurting just looking at it. At least you think that's why they're hurting. Did you used to use a wheelchair with your old body? You barely remember now. It's a [[long walk]] back to the closest road.

<<if lastVisited("courthouse") is 1>>There's something strange about the people in this group: they don't seem to be entirely there. Some are only partially visible, as if standing in shadow; others seem to fade in and out, like a TV image with bad reception. Still others are blinking in and out of existence rapidly, seeming as horrified to disappear as they are to reappear.<</if>> <<set $lostsouls to random(5)>> You address the closest one to you. <<if $lostsouls is 0>>"I'm //not//," says the woman in a yellow dress, looking at you accusingly. "I'm not, I'm not, I'm not! Why am not I? I should be, but I don't be!" Her eyes focus on something behind you, and her mouth disengages. "Limbo limbo limbo limbo limbo.........." Her voice fades to static. You can [[talk to someone else|Talk To Lost Souls]], or return to the [[courthouse plaza|courthouse]]. <<elseif $lostsouls is 1>>"Bacon monkey," giggles a man in a faded T-shirt. "Chocolate bacon weasel! Cheeeeeeeese!" He mistakes your blank expression for laughter, and continues. "Ninja zombie! Pirate ninja!" His eyes go wide as he gets a big bright idea. "Zombie ninja bacon Jesus!" he exclaims. "Bacon bacon bacon limbo limbo limbo limbo limbo bacon limbo bacon limbo." You can [[talk to someone else|Talk To Lost Souls]], or return to the [[courthouse plaza|courthouse]]. <<elseif $lostsouls is 2>>A balding man in a business shirt rushes up to you with a frantic look on his face. "He came for you? He came for me too! Then I came for him but I couldn't come any further, so I came here, and I've come back, and I compute, and I camcord, and i chemistry and i chimera and i kimpossible..." As his warning devolves into word salad, his face seems to split into pieces that all belong to different time frames, his left eye looking at something his right eye won't see for fifteen seconds. "Limbo! Limbo! Limbo! Limbooooooooooo!" his detached mouth screeches before he vanishes completely. You can [[talk to someone else|Talk To Lost Souls]], or return to the [[courthouse plaza|courthouse]]. <<elseif $lostsouls is 3>>A young woman in a unicorn sweatshirt walks up to you, her eyes haunted and her expression devoid of hope. "What was it like to be real?" she pleads. "Tell me before you forget. I can't remember anymore either. Did air have a smell? I forgot. Does food have a taste? I forget that too. Do names have people attached to them? Or did I make that part up??" Suddenly she freezes, as if someone hit the 'pause' button, nothing moving except her mouth. "Limlimlimlim limlimlimbo limlimbobo limbobobo bobobobo." Abruptly, she drops through the ground, like a coin into a slot. You can [[talk to someone else|Talk To Lost Souls]], or return to the [[courthouse plaza|courthouse]]. <<elseif $lostsouls is 4>>A very tall woman with gauze over one eye approaches you, walking with a limp that makes her drag her right foot. She has an expression of surprise and delight on her face. "Would you //look// at that," she exclaims, shaking her head in amazement. "What won't they think of next! Let's see... I'll have a McDouble and a small fries, please. Are drinks still a dollar for any size?" You are unsure how to respond. She waits expectantly, watching you intently to see your reaction. A look of puzzlement dawns on her face. "I'm sorry, aren't you a McDonald's? I said I would like a--" Before you can say anything, she gasps in apparent horror. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were closed! I don't want to bother you on your day off." Excusing herself, she limps away. From behind, you can see the problem with her right foot: it's only there every other step. You can hear her muttering as she hobbles away: "Limbo... limbo limbo... limbo limbo limbo..." You can [[talk to someone else|Talk To Lost Souls]], or return to the [[courthouse plaza|courthouse]]. <<elseif $lostsouls is 5>>A large and masculine-looking man catches your eye and saunters over. He's not the most attractive guy you've seen today; his eyebrows meet in the middle and he has a big, gaudy gold tooth right in front, but his big smile is reassuring somehow. "Hey, I know you," he says. "Saw you in the mall earlier. Someone got away with a whole lot of you, didn't they?" He has a boisterous laugh, but he pats your shoulder in sympathy. "That's rough for you, brother. I know just what it's like. Happened to me too, man; that guy hits people in this mall all the time. What's he even do with our identities, right?" He looks at his muscular, tattooed arms, and shakes his head. "You know, you don't get guns like these without pumping serious iron. That's what they tell me... but you know something? I don't I've ever seen the inside of a gym." He studies them a little longer. "I don't think these are my arms. I must have gotten these from one of them..." He gestures toward the crowd of people in the court plaza; they are wandering aimlessly, sometimes bumping into each other, other times walking right through each other with no reaction. When you look back, the muscular man is looking at you with a sad expression. "You don't wanna end up like us, man," he says. "You better go get your identity back. You don't want to stay in limbo //limbo// __limbo__ ''limbo.''" He pronounces each line break with haunting precision. You can [[talk to someone else|Talk To Lost Souls]], or return to the [[courthouse plaza|courthouse]]. <</if>>

<<if $metmen is 0>>"First things first, you need to get a new identity," the galago says. "Now, you're a... what do they call it. Human? There aren't a lot of those around here." He flips through his case files. "But we do have some. You could find out if any of them have an identity they're willing to part with." He starts to draw a map for you on a napkin, but his pen runs out of ink and he throws it away in disgust. "Aaah! Just listen and don't forget. You're not going to find any of these guys in this mall area. You basically want to look around in a big circle." He draws a circle with his foot around his hand. "You probably want to check in the high-rent district downtown, where all the construction is going on. Some of them live a little ways outside of town, in the suburbs? And there's some more that live, like, WAY out of town, in the sticks! You want to check the beach, the snowy mountains... oh, also, some of them don't really have a set location, they kind of fly all over the place." The galago sips his coffee with this foot. "The bad news is, I don't have a phone number for any of them. Some of them might know each other, though. Doesn't hurt to ask... but you can't ask until you find one. Nothing wrong with finding out."<<elseif $metmen gt 0>>"I guess you didn't meet anyone new you wanted to be, then?" the loris says as he scoots his chair into the desk. "That's too bad. But tell me all about it, who'd you meet?" You tell the slow loris your adventures, and although he never seems intensely interested, he listens to every word you say. "That's wild. For real. And you didn't want that last one either?" He shakes his head. "It is what it is. Let me do some calculations."<</if>> The galago punches some numbers into his adding machine and looks at his figures. "OK. As your tax preparer, I can give you this official advice:" <<if $mandarin is true and $manchild is true>> • Don't worry about buying any more plane tickets. You're all good there.<</if>><<if $manhood is true and $mandrill is true>> • You can save a lot of money if you don't go back to that overpriced department store. <</if>><<if $manchild is true and $manservant is true>> • As far as real estate goes, beachfront property is a bad investment. There's nothing for you at the beach anymore. <</if>><<if $manservant is true and $mango is true>> • Want to save money on gas? Stay out of the suburbs. Rent's cheaper in the city anyway. <</if>><<if $manslaughter is true and $manmade is true>> • Take advantage of tax breaks on densification. You don't need to go back to rural areas. <</if>><<if $mankind is true and $mandrake is true>> • Maybe I'm biased because I'm tropical? Still, I advise you to stay away from cold, snowy places. <</if>><<if $metmen lt "3">> • There's still a lot of places you haven't been. Just look for a new path, wherever it might be, and you'll probably end up meeting someone new!<</if>><<if $metmen gt "6" and $mandrill is not true>> • Are you running out of places to look? Maybe ask that guy who works downtown, in construction. He might be able to help.<</if>><<if $metmen gt "6" and $mankind is not true>> • Have you talked to the jolly fat guy who lives in the snow with the elves? Yeah, you know the one I mean. He can probably help you a lot.<</if>> • If you're wondering what kind of progress you've made, I suggest you go to the basement level parking area? It's quiet and you can sort of take stock of everything you've collected there.<<if $metmen is "9">> • You're really running out of options here. If I were you, I'd only go out looking one more time. If you find someone and it doesn't work this time? Come on back and see me.<</if>><<if $metmen is "10">> • All that and nothing to show for it, huh? Well, it is what it is. If there's anyone left for you to ask, they're probably in the basement level of the parking garage... not that I want to talk to that creep.<</if>> He finishes his takeout coffee and tosses it in the trash. "Not that I have anything better to do? But you should probably be on your way," he says. "The longer you just stand around, the closer you come to losing your identity for good..." [[Time to go.|The Mall]]

<<if lastVisited("THE LAST PAGE") is 1>>This message should only appear the first time you visit the rummage page.<</if>> <<set $rummagenumber to random(5)>> This message appears on every visit. <<if $rummagenumber is 0>> This is the first rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 1>> This is the second rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 2>> This is the third rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 3>>This is the fourth rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 4>>This is the fifth rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 5>>This is the sixth rummage message of six. <</if>> You can [[load another rummage message|Rummage Template]], or return to the [[NAME OF PREVIOUS SCREEN|previous screen.

<<if lastVisited("The Beach") is 1>>You've found your way to a rocky outcropping by the shore. These rocks are pounded smooth by the sea, and make a convenient home for all kinds of sea creatures. You could spend hours with your nose in the tide pool... er, not for the sake of the smell, of course. The surf crashes into it every few minutes, completely changing its contents. You never know what you're going to get when you reach in. Just now, for example...<</if>> <<set $tidecritters to random(9)>> <<if $tidecritters is 0>>You reach into the surf and pull out a chiton. It’s actually just your size! But then some frat guys on the beach see you wearing it, and start chanting "Toga! Toga!" You start feeling self-conscious and let the chiton go. You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 1>>You reach into the surf and pull out a fiddler crab. Sensing it has an audience, the crab adjusts its little starched dickey, tunes up, and launches into a selection of passages from Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. Ah, it seems this one is a //violinist// crab. How refined. After enjoying the performance for a moment, you return the crab to the violinist worm, violist shrimp, and cellist squid that have been waiting patiently. You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 2>>You reach into the surf and pull out a sea hare. It shrieks, "Put me down! I must be off! Oh, my ears and whiskers, I shall be too late!" Wriggling out of your fingers, it races away and disappears down a hole in the sand. You let it go. You may be lost, but you know better than to go down //that// kind of rabbit hole. You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 3>>You reach into the surf and pull out a mole crab. "Of all the impertinence!" it exclaims. "Do you even know who I am?" You can’t say you do, since you would definitely remember a mole crab in a herringbone tweed suit. "Well, now! Permit me to introduce myself." The crab presents you with its card. "I am a member of one of the most illustrious and well-loved races in literary history. One of us was a very phenomenon at the turn of the 20th century, you see! I’m sure you’ve heard of us." The card reads: //Moderately magnified, thoroughly educated WOGGLE-BUG.// You graciously take the card, and hurriedly launch the crab into the ocean, as far away as you can fastball it. The creature shouts something at you as it splashes down, but you didn’t hear, nor do you care to know, what the Woggle-Bug said. You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 4>>You reach into the surf and pull out a Venus comb shell. What luck! Maybe if you find some Venus wax paper, you can make a Venus Kazoo! You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 5>>You reach into the surf and pull out a box jelly. Box jellies, it should be noted, are some of the most phenomenally deadly animals in the ocean. Boy, it's a good thing you're just a hole shaped like a person right now, or this would be a Game Over screen! You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 6>>You reach into the surf and pull out a Spanish dancer. What a beautiful dress! You can't help but admire it, and she shyly allows you to feel the material. You get to talking, and she tells you all about [[where she bought it|Fashion Boutique]]. Why wait! You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 7>>You reach into the surf and pull out a sea cucumber. Wait, no, this is just a regular land cucumber. Maybe it's an exchange student. Wait, no, this is a pickle. It's been brined by the sea! Wait, wait, wait. This isn't a tide pool, it's a pickle jar. You realize that you've just been eating pickles out of a jar for the last few minutes. You must have gotten really distracted and forgotten all about the tide pool! You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 8>>You reach into the surf and pull out a clione. Oh, look, there's more. You've got five in all-- what luck! It's the world-famous Clione Quintuplets! You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. \ \<<elseif $tidecritters is 9>>You reach into the surf and pull out a by-the-wind sailor. This beautiful little blue cnidarian, also known as Velella, is well known for being stranded on beaches en masse. This is because they really are at the mercy of the wind, and whatever their tiny sails pick up, that's where they're headed. The by-the-wind sailor in your hand seems to notice you for the first time, and begins to mutter under its breath: //"huh, whaddawe got here, looks like this lubber's got a gap in their resume! Ug-ug-ug-ug!"// It pulls a tiny red and white can out of its pocket labeled SPINACH; that's a good enough reason to put it back down again. You can [[fish around for something else|Tide Pool]], or return to the [[beachside|The Beach]]. <</if>>

<<if lastVisited("The Diner") is 1>> You sit down at the counter and tell the cook to hit you with his best shot. He hoots an acknowledgement, and you can hear sizzling and bubbling from the kitchen immediately.<</if>> <<set $rummagenumber to random(5)>> The white owl waitress cheerfully deposits your plate in front of you. "Enjoy, hon!" she chirps. <<if $rummagenumber is 0>> This is the largest single plate of creamed corn you've ever seen. You may be curious if there's anything besides corn in here, but if you dig too deeply, you may get [[lost in corn|Corn Maze Chamber]]. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 1>> This is a whole roasted bird. It smells delicious, but it seems wrong somehow: why would an owl serve you another bird? Upon further inspection, it seems you were mistaken; it's not a bird at all. It's actually a very small, stuffed and broasted, dragon. Now you just want to know [[where he got this.|Dragon Trail]] <<elseif $rummagenumber is 2>> This is a jack o' lantern, with a lighted candle inside. It is, admittedly, //food//, by a very technical definition of food, but you're not sure how to explain to the cook that this isn't what people come to restaurants to eat. You signal him for his attention: he takes one look at your plate, smacks his forehead in embarrassment, and comes running out to personally deliver you the ketchup and salt. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 3>>This is a huge, multi-tiered birthday cake, with about a dozen tiers and lit sparklers stuck in the frosting. Each tier is a different flavor and all of them are absolutely buried in thick, fudgy white frosting, which flows all over like lava from a volcano. "We don't have any boxes left, sugar," says the white owl apologetically. "I hope you can finish this here. Happy birthday, by the way!" Is it your birthday? This is a great coincidence if it is, although it really sucks you had to have jury duty on your birthday. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 4>>This is an impossibly tall hamburger. The ingredients seem to come in this order: Top bun, lettuce, cheese, tomato, bottom bun, pickle relish, ketchup, bottom bun, salt, bottom bun, another top bun (upside down), fish sauce, cheese, lettuce, cabbage, bottom bun, quarter pound patty, olive on a toothpick, uncut whole hamburger bun, ranch dressing, hot dog, pickle, egg, chef's hat, bottom bun, plate, bottom bun. You can't help but wonder how he has so many orphaned bottom buns to use up. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 5>>This is a frozen two-pack of White Castle freezer burgers. The chef points you toward a microwave on the counter behind the diner counter. There's no joke here. This happened to me at a diner once. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 6>>The house has served up two strips of bacon, two eggs any style, and a pancake with butter and syrup. It's breakfast for dinner! Or maybe it's just breakfast, you're still not sure what time it is. Before you can sink your fork into the pancake, though, it opens one eye and cringes, seeming to pull into itself. Thank goodness you didn't take a bite. It's not a flapjack, it's a flapjack octopus, and it's lost! "Aw, poor little guy," says the waitress, petting its head. "Here, let me get you a subway ticket home." She turns to you. "You want to [[give him a ride|subway station]] there?" <</if>> If you're still hungry, you can [[ask for another chef's surprise|counter]], or return to the [[diner lobby|The Diner]].

\<<if lastVisited("The Diner") is 1>>This is a rather run-down antique jukebox, loaded with vinyl records. Its lights and bubble tubes still work, but the buttons that let you choose a record are completely worn away, meaning that any song you choose is random. Luckily, someone left a quarter in the coin return slot, so you can play something for free.<</if>> \<<set $rummagenumber to random(2)>> You take the coin from the coin return, chuck it in the slot and push random buttons until a song begins to play.<<if $rummagenumber is 0>> This song has a real retro-50s, circa the early 80s, feel. The lead singer has a squawky voice like a megaphone crooner. //I need a glass-bottomed boat I need an able seaman I need the kind of attraction That you can’t find anywhere but the Amazon River! (Please do not stand up until The boat has docked at the pier) Help me. Electric eel! I want a giant snakehead! I want an arapaima! I want to prove the existence, of an ahuitzotl, with a hand on its tail! (Don’t jump in if you can’t swim The danger here is for real) Please, help me. Electric eel! Help me. Electric eel! Electric eel! Electric eel!//<<elseif $rummagenumber is 1>> This is a bass-heavy dance pop song from the late 80s. It sounds familiar; you think you remember seeing a music video for this song, which had some wild and surreal animation. //You say you never loved me You said it’s just a tease You say you never said that Let’s roll the tape back, please You always talk your way around it But not now You take a girls’ weekend Don’t want me in your hair You need a ride at dawn in your shoes and underwear You always talk your way around it But not now Climb on your cross, say your alcoholic mom made you act out in a negative way When you feel threatened, you talk faster, faster, faster, till there’s no room for what I’ve got to say Talk’s cheap Talk’s cheap Listen to me Nothing is free What’s in this for me?//<<elseif $rummagenumber is 2>> This is a bluesy story-song from the folk revival of the 70s. Steel guitar gives it a laid-back honky-tonk flavor. Well, it had been one year since I hit the ground running When my wife and I split and I fell into drinking and trucking So at breakfast, when Luanne and I were sitting down at the diner table, she said, “Al… If she was someone you’d really do anything for, then, What would you do to show her?” I said, “Well, I’d give her the biggest Valentine in North Dakota.” From me, the biggest valentine in North Dakota So the very next day we loaded up the truck with calculators, pads and ledgers, We’d been making plans all night and had just two weeks to pull it off Called my boss and said I wouldn’t see him till March, goodbye! And so began our wild scheme I picked up Luanne, standing on her porch in an anorak, She kissed my cheek and she said “we’re gonna make a great team!” Hadn’t seen my wife in so long, Had to start, but in what direction? Luanne parked herself in back, saying “That’s my job, I’ve got connections” And for all I knew, we were joined together in one common thought As we turned up the elevated offramp in her ’81 White Road Commander Volvo It’s gonna be the biggest valentine in North Dakota We’ll give the biggest valentine in North Dakota (This is a really long song, there's like four more minutes after this!) <</if>> There's an awkward clunking sound, and the coin plops back down in the coin return. You can [[play another song|jukebox]], or return to the [[diner lobby|The Diner]].

[[It's full of owl pellets.|The Diner]]

Looming before you, ten stories tall and roughly cubical, is the largest, most ostentatious mansion you’ve ever seen. It looks ''hilarious.'' You’re no student of architecture (or are you? Hard to remember when your brain’s in another place!), but even you can tell that this house was built with no plan, no theme, no school of aesthetics, and possibly to no specifications. The entire first floor is taken up by gigantic picture windows that make it look like the house is wearing wraparound sunglasses. Intentional, since it’s a beach house, or coincidence? No way to tell. From there up, the house becomes a patchwork of bay windows, louver shutters, sun decks, flower boxes, wooden trellises, sliding glass doors, sculpted metal embellishments in the shape of the sun and moon, Pennsylvania Dutch hex signs, a larger than life-sized replica of the //Bocca della Verità,// and exteriors that change at such random intervals, you can almost see the fads in home design changing in real time as this facade was built. The word “McMansion” does not seem appropriate for this. This is more like the mansion your mother makes, that she says is just as good as a mansion from McDonald’s. It looks like you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a perilous climb if you want to get in, so this might be a good time to do some stretches, see if you can buy a grappling hook near here, or— <<if $manservant is not true>>Oh, the door’s open. You can [[go right in.|Mansion East Hall]]<<else>>Wait, there’s a big DO NOT DISTURB sign hung on the doorknob! Oh well.<</if>> You could climb back down the [[bluffs]] at any time, of course.

This long, unpaved dirt road is covered in dusty footprints, with no sign of tire tracks. There's a glorious burning sunset to the west, reflected in the sea. There are some rocky [[bluffs]] overlooking the sea, topped a house; a towering mansion, big enough to block out the sun. <<if $manservant is not true>> You can see a very familiar figure silhouetted on the mansion's roof. The figure turns, notices you, and dives out of sight.<</if>> To the east, stars are coming out in the purple sky, over a [[lonely stretch of highway|Lonely Crossroads]] with no cars. It's a long walk either way.

By sheer coincidence, you’ve met up with ''The Servant Man.'' Although he looks middle-aged, he’s tall and broad-shouldered, and fills out his formal jacket well. He has a well-trimmed white beard, and wears a dastar, the turban that marks him as Indian; in fact, judging by the steel bangle on the wrist of the hand he offers to shake, he’s Sikh, just like yourself. “I’m terribly sorry for not being there to receive you,” he says. “I was busy attending to the master’s needs, which I’m afraid must always come first.” He bows. “I’m called the Servant Man, and I am caretaker as well as tour guide for this mansion… and, of course, great Molluch’s personal assistant.” [[“Molluch”??|servantman1]] [[You work for… that thing??|servantman2]]

It's very hot, and this broken, pebbly road feels like an infinite set of tiny mirrors, all focusing the hot sun on you as you trudge its seemingly endless length. Any road signs or crops to observe ran out a long way back, and now it feels like you've been walking for hours with nothing but brown dirt on either side of you. Following the road [[north|Northern Road]] will lead you even further from civilization. Following the road [[south|Southern Road]] will get you started on a long journey; the airport is that way. If you turn [[east|Charming Road]], you'll find your way back to a residential area. There's a [[dirt driveway|long walk]] to the west, the only diversion from this endless road in sight. At the end of the driveway, you can see a large house; beyond that, you can't see anything, but you can hear seagulls.

This is a long and dull road, but at least there's some vintage advertising to read along the way. ''THE GINGER MAN AND GINGER MRS. BOTH LIKE IT SMOOTH FOR CHOCOLATE KISSES //BURMA-SHAVE//'' From here you can go north to the [[Countryside]] or south to the fork in the [[road|Lonely Crossroads]].

You're on a road to... somewhere. It's noon and sunny, with no long shadows. With the sun directly overhead, it's hard to remember whether you're walking east or west. On a day like this, though, either is fine. You're passing by an orchard of beautiful pink-blossomed trees. The sweet smell of their flowers and the gentle buzz of bees in the trees is a mood boost you feel like you sorely needed.<<if $mango is not true>> You think you see someone familiar walking through the trees. You can leave the road and [[have a look|Cherry Orchard]], if you like.<</if>> The waving pink trees fill you with optimism. You don't know where this road will take you, but you can't help but look forward to where you're going. [[Follow the road east.|The Suburbs]] [[Follow the road west.|Lonely Crossroads]]

<<if lastVisited("Countryside") is 1>>This message should only appear the first time you visit the rummage page.<</if>> <<set $rummagenumber to random(5)>> This message appears on every visit. <<if $rummagenumber is 0>> This is the first rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 1>> This is the second rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 2>> This is the third rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 3>>This is the fourth rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 4>>This is the fifth rummage message of six. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 5>>This is the sixth rummage message of six. <</if>> If you didn't find what you were looking for, you can [[try the maze again|Maize Maze]], or return to the [[peaceful country road|Countryside]].

Never before have you visited such an idyllic pastoral setting. Atop the barn, a rooster inhales to crow welcome; contented pigs sleep in the shade of the barn; the bells round the necks of milk cattle echo from inside the barn; and the farmer and his expansive family are hard at work in the fields, all of them contented and prosperous, with nothing to ask for in life but the promise of another day like this. Most importantly, though, it all smells delicious. The entire farm is //baked//, buildings, trees, farming equipment and furniture, down the the sandy walkway that smells of pecans. The farmer and his family are gingerbread people, the beasts of burden and livestock are animal crackers, and even the barn and farmhouse are towering gingerbread constructions, with shortbread siding. You idly wonder whether or not a hole can gain weight. Guess we’ll find out. <<if lastVisited("Countryside") is 1>> The longer you observe, though, the more one thing weighs on your mind: the silence. The rooster on the barn roof never did crow; the pigs roll over in their chocolaty sty but never grunt or oink. Small gingerbread children romp and play, but there's none of the shrieking laughter you'd expect from kids getting into shenanigans like this. Farmer Pfeffernusse himself approaches you, brushing the flour dust from off his icing coveralls, and offers a mitten-shaped hand to shake. You can see his icing lips, smiling and genial, speaking silent words from under his elegantly piped mustache. He must be speaking clearly enough for himself, at any rate. Luckily, he's an expressive cookie, and through gesture and facial expression you get the gist of what he's saying: he's welcoming you to the farm and offering you a tour. <</if>> You can visit the [[farmhouse]], the [[silo]], or the [[barn]]; or if you've seen enough (and don't have a stomachache yet) you can turn back to the [[open road|Countryside]].

You're standing at the bottom of a series of low hills. They don't really look like a difficult climb, but there are issues. For one thing, the actual paved road is weirdly circuitous, swerving back and forth all over the hills; it might be faster to just go straight, but that would involve ducking over a bunch of cow fences. The weather is also looking worse and worse. Black anvil clouds are gathering over the mountains, and you think you see lightning flash in the distance. It could be atop you soon if you're not careful. You can go back to the [[countryside crossroads|Countryside]] , or continue up the spooky path to the [[very spooky castle|Haunted Castle]] in the moderately spooky hills.

Welcome to the barn-- the nerve center of the farm. This is where the action happens, so to speak. All the way down to the end, there are cattle in stalls, chewing their glutinous cuds and looking at you with quiet curiosity. You don't see any kind of milking equipment, though. Most of them are plain animal crackers, with a slight lemon scent, but some of them are chocolate, and a row of stalls at the far wall hosts some //iced// cows, pink and white with sprinkles the size of your fist. Grandpa Pfeffernusse is here, his shaved coconut beard hanging to his knees, sitting on a hay bale (chow mein noodles in butterscotch) and waving his cane excitedly, telling a raucous if silent story to an enthralled group of gingerbread children; their icing mouths are all hanging open in little O shapes. You're not sure what their grandfather is saying, but from the way he's gesturing with that cane, you suspect it's a war story with lots of machine gun fire. With no voices, and no mooing, and no buzzing of flies, it's a rather eerie silence, broken only by the sound of heavy machinery.<<if $manslaughter is not true>> Suddenly you hear a voice for the first time, an awkward cry of surprise. Looking up, you only barely see someone disappearing through a [[doorway|abattoir]] in the back of the barn. You're almost certain that was your own voice you just heard.<<else>> The machine sounds themselves are muffled behind a heavy iron door, the only door you can't eat your way through here: someone has hastily piped the word "ABATWA" across it in icing. <</if>> You can go back to the main [[Pfeffernusse Farm]] area the way you came.

You're standing outside of a very tall silo on the Pfeffernusse farm property. Mr. Pfeffernusse is with you, looking puffed up. He's sawing his hands in the air and making very lofty gestures: clearly he's quite proud of his farm. You haven't said anything to anyone since you got here. It feels impolite, like you would break the spell. In a moment, you do hear a noise, for the first time in a while: a motor truck comes lumbering around the side of the silo, and you and Mr. Pfeffernusse back up for it. The truck has an elaborately painted logo on the side, reading, "Humble's Dept. Store, Est. 2019." The driver of the truck is a large brown darkling beetle in a baseball cap, who looks very confused by the whole situation. As the truck backs into place, Mr. Pfeffernusse gives the go-ahead gesture to someone atop the silo you hadn't seen before. A spout lowers from the side of the silo, pointing toward the truck's open top. One by one, sugar cookies roll down the spout and into the truck. You take a second look at the silo-- or is it a grain elevator, now that you think of it? Either way, it's actually made of glazed pottery, and the roof looks rather like a lid with a stone handle. It's one of the few things that isn't made of cookies around here: a cookie jar. Mr. Pfeffernusse seizes his overall straps with both hands, looking very proud. You realize from his gestures that he's singing. What he's singing, there's no way to know. You can return to [[the farm|Pfeffernusse Farm]] if you're done watching.

With rare hospitality, the Pfeffernusse family welcomes you into their home. Although modest, with a small dining table for such a large family, this is clearly a well-loved house that a lot of living gets done in. You enter through the back door, which leads directly into the kitchen. Mother Pfeffernusse and several of the children are busy preparing a second breakfast for the workers outside. There's a counter full of kitchen equipment, but a lot of it is either made of sugar or simply piped on with an icing bag, so it's hard to tell what they're doing. In the dining room, some of the workers, as well as older children, are gathered at the table waiting for breakfast, laughing and joking in their silent cookie voices. Though they themselves don't make any sounds, the rattling of plates and silverware, not to mention the boisterous pounding of the table as they laugh, is a welcome respite from the silence of the farm. Mrs. Pfeffernusse helps you to a chair and presents you with a plate of whole wheat flour, molasses, wheat germ and dry spices. A moment later, she pours you a tall glass of coconut oil. You could almost pretend it was curry and rice, if it wasn't so dry. The walls are covered with vintage black and white photographs of gingerbread people hard at work in the sun, tending crops and currying livestock, and sometimes having fun in the sun too; one very professional-looking photograph shows a barn dance, with dozens of gingerbread people in their most formal icing outfits whirling each other around in gleeful abandon. (All of these images are printed on icing, like a photo cake; be careful not to smudge them. Look but don't taste.) If you've finished your meal-- or gotten far enough into it that your hostess doesn't look disappointed-- you can return to [[the farm.|Pfeffernusse Farm]] //"Farm-to-table" is pretty overrated, in your opinion...//

As soon as you enter this room, you feel like you've taken a wrong turn. This place is not like the pastoral paradise you came here through. Gingerbread walls and crisp wafer moulding are gone; this is a place of brushed steel and glazed tile, rusty pipes and crunching gears. The rural spell of silence has been broken by the cold brutalism of 21st-century industry. Abruptly, a cow swings over your head. It's hanging helplessly from a hook by one flat leg; the hook deposits the animal cracker on a conveyor belt and zips back the way it came on its track, presumably to pick up another one. You watch as the dazed cow slides slowly to a station, and realize what's going to happen before the cow does. A massive stamp-- a cow-shaped array of redundant cookie cutters-- comes down over the cow, obscuring it entirely. When the stamp lifts, the cow is nowhere to be seen, and lying in its place are about six dozen shortbread cookies, arranged in a pattern that suggests a cow. From here, a third machine slides the cookies into a collection tray, where they fall into slots to be weighed and distributed to the silos, while the cookie stamp enters its self-cleaning phase, dropping the crumbs and scraps into an offal vat. You're not paying attention to that, though. You're looking at what just came in on the hook from the next room. It's not a cow at all-- it's one of the gingerbread people, flailing and struggling. [[You have to find someone who can stop this|Slaughter Man]].

At the far side of the room, you find him. The one who is manning all the equipment, and whom you've come here to confront. ''The Slaughter Man.'' He's not imposing: he's tall and rangy, with big hands and feet, but he has the slouch that very tall people get from talking to people shorter than them. His face is red, but his hands are pale. Something in the nose and brow makes you think he might be Eastern European, like yourself. His mouse brown hair is tied up under a safety helmet. He sees you, gives a barely perceptible nod, and returns to his work; the hook deposits its gingerbread victim on the conveyor belt, and it begins to slide toward the cookie stamp. [[Say something!|slaughterman1]] [[Watch and wait|slaughterman2]]

The ominous stone castle in the mountains towers before you, its battlements and towers seeming to be ringed by the black stormclouds overhanging the whole area. The whole entryway of this castle is shaped like a jawless human skull. Strangely, the front teeth are not the eaves, but the front step: you enter through the nasal cavity. You hope the castle doesn't sneeze on your way in. It's not too late to [[turn back|the foothills]] . If you still want to go on, feel free to [[enter|Castle Interior]] and explore.

You have entered the abandoned, run-down, possibly even haunted castle. In all honesty, it doesn't look that bad. No one lives here now, but it's not like no one //ever// lived here-- there's a couch, an armchair, a big bookcase full of science fiction from the 50s. There's a refrigerator in the kitchen... or maybe it's an actual icebox? It's so old you can't tell. What's really weird is that all the furniture is zipped up in plastic vinyl coating. Who lived here before? Grandma? There is in fact a sort of spooky-looking belfry filled with bats on the property, but that's not scary! Bats are very helpful pollinators and also eat mosquitoes. Having bats on your property is nothing to be ashamed of! The single scariest thing about this house? No wifi. You can [[leave the castle|Haunted Castle]] if you want. If you watch your step you can take the stairs to the [[basement]].

It is very dark. You feel around the wall for a light switch, but when you find one, you barely recognize it; it’s a very old-fashioned knife switch, the kind you //throw// rather than flick. Once you figure out how it works, <<if $manmade is true>><<linkreplace "you give it a swing.">>you give it a swing, and the lights go on. The basement is empty, and silent as a tomb. Nothing remains here of the hive of homemade industry it once was. All you can see is the imprintations on the carpet of where the machinery stood. [[Return to the upper floor.|Activate Machine]] <</linkreplace>><<else>> <<linkreplace "you give it a swing.">>you give it a swing, and the lights go on. The basement is a very large room, but floor space is at a premium; there is almost nowhere to stand, what with all the heavy equipment in here. The room is packed with machinery, each unit the size of a refrigerator or larger. None of them are the same, but you cannot fathom what any of them do. You creep your way around the major appliances, seeing strange details here and there: one is filled with what looks like huge, obsolete radio tubes, while another looks like a modern Internet server, if it had been made with the technology of the 1960s. One console even has what looks like a huge, boxy robot head on top, its dial eyeballs stuck in a cross-eyed strabismus; you’re sure you’re only imagining them rotating to follow you. At the end of this maze of machinery, mounted in the largest and most intimidating metal cabinet yet, haloed by yellow caution stripes and bearing warnings in every language except the one you speak, you find a single lighted red button, pulsing gently. Can you resist temptation? Do you have the inner fortitude, the willpower, not to extend one finger and press such a tempting, inviting red button? Can you hold out any longer? [[Press the button.|Activate Machine]] [[Return to the upper floor.|Activate Machine]] <</linkreplace>><</if>>

An electronic whine pierces the stale air: a dynamo is spinning, and all the equipment is powering up. Did someone press that big red button? Was it you?? Well, someone must have! All the equipment is activating at once, and the noise is making it hard to think; you can’t extricate yourself from this labyrinth. Digital counters are spinning wildly; needles are burying themselves in the red zone; the giant robot head is whirling in place like a top, steam blasting from its ears, its bulldog-like jaw chomping at nothing. ''“WARNING,”'' says a synthesized woman’s voice. ''“SYSTEM ACTIVATED. PLEASE CLEAR AREA. WARNING. WARNING.”'' A great claw, like an arcade crane game, comes to jerky life. It readies itself and hovers over you menacingly, then changes its position slightly and dips instead into the machine case that is closest to you. You duck anyway. When the claw emerges from the metal case, it’s holding a disembodied human head. “Just hang on! I’ll be with you in a minute,” says the head, as the claw carries it to another side of the room and drops it into a large funnel, which it rolls around in a couple of times before falling into the machine below. [[What the hell is going on??|Activation2]]

You have discovered ''The Made Man.'' Or, perhaps more accurately, you //made// him. Of all the strange people you’ve met so far, the Made Man has given you the best idea of his appearance, because you’ve literally just seem him constructed, seemingly from raw materials. He’s a big man, both tall and fat, but disarmingly friendly. His red hair and mustache may only be cosmetic, but coupled with his freckled face, they suggest he might be Irish, like yourself. He has a handshake that feels like he could break you in half. “Well! To what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting today?” he says, clapping his hands together. “I must say, you don’t seem to be entirely present.” He adjusts his glasses, squinting at your body-shaped hole. “Of course, I was just in that club myself five minutes ago!” [[What just happened?|mademan1]]

<<if lastVisited("Skyscraper") is 1>>Luckily, the sidewalk is pretty empty, so no one will yell at you for standing around looking at windows.<</if>> <<set $rummagenumber to random(5)>> You take a look at the store window display. <<if $rummagenumber is 0>>This window has a scarecrow being menaced by a large group of crows, which he's failing to scare. This is familiar somehow. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 1>>This window has a man made out of tin cans. This strikes you as familiar. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 2>>This window has a plush lion cowering from a plush mouse. You've seen this kind of thing before, right? <<elseif $rummagenumber is 3>>This window shows a witch being scared by a dummy with a pumpkin for a head. Okaaaaay. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 4>>This window shows a square monster made all of right ankles shooting fire at a wooden wall, as a boy, an old man, a woman made out of patchwork quilts, and a glass cat are all looking delighted. What the hell? <<elseif $rummagenumber is 5>>This is just perfume. <</if>> You can [[keep checking out windows|window shop]], or return to the front door of the [[department store|Skyscraper]].

This is the main floor of Humble's Department Store, a tradition in your city since 2019. All around you are insects. Luckily, they're not swarming; they're shopping. Honeybees in scarfs and jackets are flocking to the perfume counter, where friendly stinkbugs are showing them the latest fragrances. At the jewelry counter, bagworms are modeling some eye-catching pendants, and a solemn-looking deathwatch beetle mans a case of pocket watches. The fashion trend of the year is "silk", and a small platoon of moths, silkworms and spiders are on hand to both model the hottest fashions, and alter them as on-site tailors. A trailing line of centipedes is waiting patiently at the alterations counter; it's hard to buy off the rack when they never know how many legs you'll have. Carols are playing over the loudspeakers. You'd almost forgotten it was the holiday season! Why, you can even <<if $mankind>>meet Santa<<else>>[[meet Santa]]<</if>> here if you want; a little photo booth is set up, and damselflies in little elf costumes are welcoming various nymphs and grubs for the big meeting. <<if $mankind>>Looks like Santa's taking a coffee break at the moment, though.<</if>> At the back is an [[glass elevator]], where you can visit other floors. There's a [[directory]] posted helpfully in front of the doors. The [[front door|Skyscraper]] is open, and the greeters at the door (actually, //skeeters//) will cheerfully wave goodbye even if you don't purchase anything.

You decide to take the escalator to the skyscraper's rooftop plaza. This is a really long ride up. You've never ridden an escalator that has turns before: climbing the side of the skyscraper, it twists around at the second story and continues climbing on the next side over. A second turn can be seen at the next corner. A few floors up, the stairs flatten into a conveyor belt, which re-enters the building and passes through one floor of the department store. You pass over the shoppers' heads, encased in a long glass tube, feeling not unlike a hamster or ferret. The conveyor belt emerges again on the other side of the building and becomes the escalator again. Around the next corner, it becomes something else you've never seen before: a //spiral// escalator. It's a little dizzying to climb up the outside of a building in such a tight helix, but you're OK as long as you don't look at the horizon. Finally the escalator deposits you on [[the plaza|Skyscraper Rooftop]], just in time for you to see how everyone else was getting up: they simply walked up the side of the building.

This is the elevator! The elevator operator is off duty, so there's no one to tell you which floor is which, unfortunately. It would have been nice if they'd labeled them. Which button will you press? [[L6|Sixth Floor]] [[L5|Fifth Floor]] [[L4|Fourth Floor]] [[L3|Third Floor]] [[L2|Second Floor]] [[GL|department store]] <<if $manhood>>B1|Store Basement (This floor is out of service.)<<else>>[[B1|Store Basement]]<</if>>

Sixth Floor! Treasures of myth and legend! They really did put the best stuff on the highest floor. You feel blinded by the sheer opulence on display in this department, because it is literally the stuff that dreams are made of. Almost everything featured on this floor is encased under bulletproof glass and cloaked in a weave of lasers and motion detectors; it's like being in a museum, except everything has a cartoonishly high price tag attached. Some of them are quite familiar to your eye, like the antique oil lamp, the glass slippers, and so on; others, like the silver shoes or the vintage tinder box, aren't as familiar. Then there are some, like the red-tinted version of those same silver shoes, or the tiny red pill in a box, that you think you recognize, but there's a big sticker on the front that says "Not For Sale; will enter Public Domain soon, please wait." There's also a glass tube that passes through this room completely, letting daylight in from outside: other shoppers are riding on a moving sidewalk through this tube, staring down at you in curiosity as you shop. <<if $manhood is false>>As dazzling as all of this is, you are still momentarily distracted when you think you see a familiar face. It's your own. The interloper wearing your skin has slipped past you, and back into the elevator while your back was turned; you pound on the doors and buttons, but this elevator is headed all the way to the basement, trying your patience. The elevator is empty when it finally returns to you. <</if>> You can get back on the [[elevator|glass elevator]] if you're done here.

Fifth Floor! Intimates! This floor has nothing but what is hanging from the ceiling, spotlights focused on it from all directions: a giant pair of white men's briefs, big enough to wrap around a small house. You can get back on the [[elevator|glass elevator]] if you're done here.

Fourth Floor! Kitchen supplies! This floor looks like a grocery store. There are numerous aisles to wander, all of which are stocked with multiple brands of what looks like canned and other nonperishable foods. <<linkreplace "Run Aisle 1.">>You pick up a plastic canister bearing a logo that says, "Love My Microwave." The slogan underneath says, "Doesn't your microwave deserve to be at least as clean as your kids?" The photo on the back shows a family lathering up their microwave in a kiddie pool in the backyard. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Peruse Aisle 2.">>You examine a can with a smiling blender on the label. It reads, "//Blender's Choice//-- guaranteed to give your blender a glossy coat and fresh breath." It comes in several 'flavors', including Dish Soap, Homemade Mayonnaise (Crunchy), Smoothie, and Fingers. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Study Aisle 3.">>The boxes on this aisle are too big to pick up and play with, but most of them have a picture of a toaster, or toaster oven, in a large plastic tube, often accompanied by laughing families. "ToasterTrail! Hours of fun for your whole family-- especially your toaster!" One picture shows a ToasterTrail that encircles a whole living room, with the family pointing and clapping delightedly at the toaster in the tube over the front door. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Explore Aisle 4.">>This aisle has large bundled packages of something soft and puffy. They say, "//My Best Friend// brand cedar-scented litter chips. 100% recycled paper (6% post-consumer). For use with most major appliances, including refrigerators, dishwashers, and stand mixers. Not for use with sink garbage disposals. Remember to place litter box in a secluded but well-ventilated space."<</linkreplace>> You thought you knew what kitchen supplies were, but now you're not so sure. You can get back on the [[elevator|glass elevator]] if you're done here.

The third floor, strangely, is completely barren of merchandise. The shelves and displays are all packed up under plastic wrap, and most of the lights are off. A large public sign is situated in front of the elevator. It reads: <center><h3>NOTICE</h3></center>//We regret to inform our customers that, due to the extremely competitive nature of online shopping, our toy department is now closed. We recognize the inconvenience of this situation, but unfortunately it has now been conclusively proven that children prefer to shop for toys online in a few clicks rather than making a day of their trip to the toy store. We would like to reassure our customers that, although online shopping trends have indeed affected all our merchandise categories, everything else besides toys will remain for sale, at full and uncompetitive prices.// You can get back on the [[elevator|glass elevator]] if you're done here.

Second Floor! Menswear! From the announcement, you wonder if this might be a good place to meet some Men, which is one of the things you've gathered you're looking for. As it turns out, this floor specializes in men's //swears//. All of the most masculine cuss words and insults are on sale today. The featured phrases on display include: • Son of a bulldozer! • Kiss my Xbox! • Go SUV yourself! • Bacon-A! • Take two running jumps and go straight to Bass Pro Shops! • Daddy loves you and is very proud of you! (This one is on clearance.) You can get back on the [[elevator|glass elevator]] if you're done here.

You exit the [[glass elevator]] and step onto the cold concrete floor. A department store is bright and clean, an enticing place to shop and hunt for treasures. This, however, is not a place for shoppers; it’s hard to even see it as a place for employees. This is buzzing fluorescent lights, worn duct tape on the floor, faded instructions for operating pallet jacks and forklifts. You haven’t yet found the dock where products are loaded into the building, but clearly, this is where they go. Wall to wall, floor to ceiling, this room is stacked with colorful cardboard boxes. No wonder there was no floor dedicated to toys: [[they’re all down here.|The Dream]] The stacked toys form [[a tunnel]], at the end of which is the only other source of light.

At last, you’ve found ''The Hood Man.'' He is tall, much taller than you, let alone his many tiny worshipers. With his face in full shroud, you can’t quite tell his ethnicity, but his bare hands are the same color as yours. Beneath the cowl, he is naked to the waist, his towering and muscular torso on full display, with black robes obscuring his legs. He is facing away from the audience as he orates loudly, sometimes half-singing his words in an ominous Latin chant: ''"Volo esse servus tuus homo Volo tibi auxilium, si possum Servus tuus ero, servus verus vivo homo! Si nuntius est, mitte per Tu in potestate es, usque ad te est Programma cor meum et sciam quid facere!"'' You approach tentatively to address him, but a loud sound alerts him to your presence; you didn’t realize this dais is actually a large piano keyboard, and you’ve hit an E flat. "Can I help you?" he says, in a more gentle voice than his imposing figure suggests. [[Are you the Hood Man?]] [[What are you doing?|Hood Man 2]]

You approach the packages walling the room and take a closer look— and gasp. The very first package your eyes light on is one that you would know anywhere; you’ve had dreams about it. It’s //That// Toy— your dream toy from when you were just a child. There was a time in your life when this toy was the one thing you wished to possess more than anything else in the world. You wanted it a need that burned your little heart and made you bitterly jealous of any friend who did have one— assuming any of them did and weren’t just lying to you. You never did see them play with it. You know which toy that is. Whisper its name if you want. No one is listening. Did you get one? No, of course not. There was always some nonsensical excuse not to buy it for you; money too tight, house not big enough, you’ve already got enough toys. You need more kids to play with that. That’s for babies (or big kids), not big kids (or babies) like you. You can’t have a toy of that character— they never made one! But, for all your need, your desire, your pining and longing, you never did have one. Not as a child, and not now, and now they’re not making them anymore— and yet, here it is. Built into the walls of this room made of perfectly packaged toys. Stepping back a bit, you realize that this basement is completely walled in toys that are all somebody’s white whale. The Dark Crystal. Maxx FX. Darkwing Duck and Liquidator. Jacques LaLean. The Two-Headed Monster from Sesame Street. Unicron (with Orson Welles sound chip). This whole room must be worth millions of dollars… one brick at a time, to someone who wants it more than anything else. You can return to the [[basement entrance|Store Basement]] when you’re done looking. What you do with the toy you’ve wanted all your life, however, is your business.

It has been a long time since you sat on Santa's lap, after all. Luckily, there's no line, and the damselflies wearing elf costumes are happy to escort you into the room where Santa is waiting for you. "Well, there's someone I didn't expect to see again," says a jolly voice, unfamiliar to you, and yet unmistakable. "Goodness, how you've changed since I saw you last! Come on over, we're all friends here. You know me, ho ho!" There can be no doubt about it: it's //him.// It's not just someone in a cheap Santa suit from the store. The laugh is genuine, the good cheer is legit. This is the real Santa Claus, and even if you don't have the body you normally wear with you, he recognizes you and he's happy to see you again. Of course, you might not have known it was the real Santa if you saw him walking around on the street. Most people don't realize the real Santa is a [[seven-foot-tall tarantula]], after all.

That bushy white beard may really be a pair of fuzzy chelicerae, but the smile behind them is true. You sit on one of his eight red knees and try to contain your excitement. Santa adjusts his bifocals, looking curiously at the gap where your body should be. "It's not hard to guess what you want," he says sympathetically. "It must be very difficult to get along without an identity, isn't it?" He pats your back with two legs. "Every year I get wishes from boys and girls who are missing something, like you. Good, honest, deserving children, who didn't get some of the things all children should be entitled to." [[He heaves a sigh]]. You've never seen Santa look sad before.

"Sometimes it's an arm or a leg... and just because I've got plenty of legs of my own doesn't mean I can share them," he chuckles drily. "Other times it's a harder job. I've been getting letters from the beginning of time asking me for help... changing from a boy to a girl, or the other way around. I can't just say 'you already are,' that's no present." His chin--if he has a chin--sinks into his hand. "And sometimes they're wishing for a mama or papa, or both. Those are the hardest." Santa focuses his two main eyes on you; it's hard to tell where the other six are looking. "My friend, I wish I could pull your identity out of my sack and send you home with it right now, but some things are beyond even my power to give. There //is// a man I know who... well, never mind. What you need from me right now is some hope!" Santa Claus rises slightly in his seat and claps four of his hands together. "[[Rudolph]]! Can you come in here for a second?"

From outside, you can hear jingling sleigh bells approaching, as if something were coming trotting towards the shack. The door bursts open in a swirl of snowflakes, and a new figure crawls into the room, making Santa clap his paws in laughter. The newcomer turns to you and smiles, or at least you hope that's a smile. It's a black widow the size of a Shetland pony. "I'm sure you know my old friend, Rudolph the Redback Spider," says Santa. "Rudy, are you free to help a friend today?" "Cool as," says the spider, dipping its cephalothorax in a nod. "Me fortnight's pay hasn't rocked up yet, got bugger to do today." Santa pats your head, even as Rudolph begins to spin fine webs around you, as strong as steel cable. "You'll be fine. Rudy's very gentle as long as the two of you don't get too intimate." "Oi, that's a myth!" Rudy says. <<set $spider to true>> The spider shoots a huge dragline of silk out the door, which seems to crackle with static electricity for a second-- until it hauls the black widow out the door, and <<if $mankind>>[[you with it.|The Snowscape]]<<else>>[[you with it.|The Workshop]]<</if>>

You're riding light rail! They don't charge you anything because you yourself are so light. It's a smooth ride and it goes fast with no traffic, but it doesn't last. Pretty soon you've reached the end of the line. The driver announces over the intercom, "I'd like to announce my retirement, effective immediately. I've purchased this trolley car with my savings, and now that we're at the perfect location, I'm going to start refurbishing it into a donut shop. This is now private property, so please exit to your right." You can smell hot coffee and hear crackling grease from the operator's compartment. Looks like [[this is where you get off.|Skyscraper]]

<<if lastVisited("Fashion Boutique") is 1>>This small booth has room for a mirror, a seat, and a rack to hang clothes hangers on, but that's about it. This might be a good time to take a look in the [[mirror]], if you're up for it. For all you know, you may have to get used to looking like this.<</if>> <<set $rummagenumber to random(6)>> You rummage through the clothes left in the changing room, curious how they would fit you in your current state. <<if $rummagenumber is 0>> You're wearing a men's three-piece suit. It's clearly made for someone much taller than you, though, as your feet are swimming in the pants cuffs and your hands are lost in your sleeves. Coupled with your current intangible state, it looks like a very tall person abruptly shrunk and is fighting to escape his clothes. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 1>> You're wearing sunglasses and Hawaiian-print jams. [[Time to hit the beach!|The Beach]] It occurs to you that this is probably a great time to go to the beach, since there's no way you can get sunburned... although it's hard to remember how vulnerable your skin was to sunburn originally. Was it light or dark? It's kind of depressing to think about, so you take the jams off. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 2>> This outfit took a few minutes to put on; it was a very involved process. Now you're wearing a black corsetted dress with layers of short black and white petticoats, long ruffled sleeves, a white apron with black laces, and black gloves and tights, topped with a ruffled Victorian headband. It only seems appropriate to pick up an umbrella with a long handle and spin it slowly over your shoulder as you look at yourself in the mirror. ...Oh no, you opened an umbrella indoors! Bad luck! <<elseif $rummagenumber is 3>>You've got a black dress on with a Peter Pan collar and an empire waist. It doesn't seem to fit you well, being very baggy in the middle. It sort of makes you look like... oh, well, of course, you should have guessed. It's a maternity dress. Looking around the booth, you notice a round cushion sitting at the bottom of the clothes rack. So that's what that's for! With the cushion under the dress, it fits much more flatteringly. It actually looks pretty natural when you lock your hands under... wait. ''Wait.'' Were you pregnant when you lost your body? You can't even remember now. //Does the thief have your baby???// You fairly rip the dress off and hurl it across the booth, not wanting to even consider such a panic-inducing thought. <<elseif $rummagenumber is 4>>A clownish face stares back at you from about the level of your stomach. You're wearing a huge mascot costume that makes you look like a grinning bag of french fries with a bow tie. Well, at least people can't tell you're just a hole when you wear this! <<elseif $rummagenumber is 5>>You start putting on garments as you find them. Striped pants... zigzag shirt... shoes ten sizes too large... polka-dot tie... rainbow wig... bulbous red nose. You look in the mirror and do a double take; you really didn't expect to see yourself looking so attractive today. Rowr! <<elseif $rummagenumber is 6>>You're wearing a string bikini with spaghetti straps, which leaves almost //nothing// to the imagination. Well, with you it leaves //everything// to the imagination. <</if>> You can [[try on something else|changing room]], or return to the [[lobby|Fashion Boutique]].

<<linkreplace "butt">>FART!<</linkreplace>>

This is the roof of the skyscraper. Actually, the skyscraper goes up for several more stories, but this is a large open-air area surrounding the smaller tier. It's more like a large observation deck. There are public binoculars, including several specialized ones for those with more specific visual needs, like the colorblind, and people with compound eyes. There is a snack stand, where the insect employees are handing out popcorn and nectar, and a gift shop. You think about buying a T-shirt, but they all have too many sleeves. From here, you can take the [[staircase]] that will take you to the office space or to the residential apartments. Unfortunately there's no elevator for the next ten stories. The escalator from the ground level only comes up to this height, but if you want to go down you can always take the [[elevator|glass elevator]] down through the department store.

Well, you were lucky enough to get a ride up here, but from here up, it's all stairs. You should probably do some stretches, because these stairs go up for about twelve floors, and the last thing you want is to get a charlie horse or something halfway to the top. The first stair landing takes you to the [[industrial complex|Office Space floors]], a series of floors devoted to office space. After that, another six floors up, are some [[residential apartments|Residential Apartments]]. You can see people hanging their laundry out the windows, watering plants, and looking down on the skyscraper plaza with dull amusement. If you climb to the very top of the stairs you will reach the [[spire|Construction Zone]]-- or what is considered the spire at the moment, for this skyscraper is still under construction. Of course, you could always go back to the [[rooftop plaza|Skyscraper Rooftop]] and forget about all of this.

At last, you’ve found the ''Drill Man.'' He’s wearing sunglasses and a hard hat, and has an easygoing smile. Neither tall nor thin, he’s got plenty of safety equipment on, including a visibility vest over his white business shirt. His jeans are tucked into his leather boots, and his hand is brown and callused from years of hard work. When he speaks you hear a hint of a Mexican accent, just like your parents. "How did you get up here, anyway? Did you get lost?" he says, scratching his head with his left hand. He has to, because his right hand is encased up to the elbow with a colossal mechanical device, the size of a mini-fridge but shaped like a cone. It’s a monster drill bit, as big around as a manhole, narrowing to a tiny and strangely elaborate point. [[Did you save me when I fell?]] [[What’s that tool for?]]

These apartments are super high! What a magnificent view! Kinda sucks you have to take an escalator halfway up here and walk the rest of the way to your apartment. Also, no parking. But what a view!! Feel free to knock on any door and see who lives there. Why not, right? Knock on <<linkreplace "Apt. 101.">>Apt. 101. The door swings open to reveal a dirt road in waning daylight. You can hear the ocean spraying in the distance. [[Go inside?|Lonely Crossroads]] <</linkreplace>> Knock on <<linkreplace "Apt. 102.">>Apt. 102. The door opens, and you hear raucous, drunken laughter. Hay dust flies up into your face. [[Go inside?|cockpit]] <</linkreplace>> Knock on <<linkreplace "Apt. 201.">>Apt. 201. The door swings open, and warm sun shines on you as rock n' roll music blasts out. There's a party going on and you're invited! [[Go inside?|Monster Party]] <</linkreplace>> Knock on <<linkreplace "Apt. 202.">>Apt. 202. This door opens on a cold and dimly lit concrete space full of cars. Hey! This place actually //does// have great parking! No wonder the rents are so high. [[Go inside?|basement level parking]] <</linkreplace>> Knock on the door of the <<linkreplace "PENTHOUSE?">>PENTHOUSE? ... It's unoccupied, of course. Who could afford to live here, anyway?? <</linkreplace>> Back to the [[staircase]].

Here you are at HexTech, an information solutions and bleeding-edge technology outlet for syngergetic cross-platform business deliverables and proactive client-centric networking. Get MACRO Managed! It's not the most exciting place. The workers here are all office drones; literally, in that they're male bees without stingers, dressed in business casual and wearing little nametags. The nametags all seem to have instructions for a different dance printed on them. Feel free to poke your head into the cubicles (which are actually hexagonal) and see what's going on. <<linkreplace "Cubicle">>This cubicle houses a solitary bee. You've never seen a bee look so somber, or write such touching poetry. It's true, prison really does change you. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Cubicle">>This cubicle houses a mason bee. Seeing you enter, he engages you in an elaborate handshake, which you're surprised to find you can return without a miss. "I haven't been able to get to meetings lately," says the bee. "We do still secretly run everything, right? Or did something change?" Suddenly a bee wearing a Water Buffalo Lodge hat pokes his head over the cubicle to talk, and your new friend becomes very tight-lipped. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Cubicle">>The bee in this cubicle is strangely cartoonish-looking. You wonder for a moment if it's a cereal mascot. She sees you and perks up, flying over to you with a microphone in hand. "Buzz buzz buzz, Miss Bee reporting!" she exclaims. "We're here live with, uh, a hole, and the first question for you that's on everyone's mind: Have you ever read Joy T--" She lets out a sudden shriek of surprise as giant blocky letters abruptly tumble into the cubicle and squash her flat. The letters read ''"PRESS BEA."'' "I'll be okay," you hear her mumble into the carpet. <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Cubicle">>The bee in this cubicle isn't actually a bee; it's a fairly large yellow robot who looks like he's mostly made out of car parts. He's on the phone with a loud and angry customer; seeing you, he makes the throat-cutting gesture and sadly returns to his call. Wonder if he can even talk? <</linkreplace>> [[Cubicle]] <<linkreplace "Cubicle">>This cubicle houses a squash bee. DUCK! This bee is swinging its racket everywhere like a maniac! Why couldn't it have been a handball bee! <</linkreplace>> <<linkreplace "Cubicle">>This cubicle houses a blueberry bee. Looking down the aisle, you can also see a big friendly bee, an enormous crocobee, a trunchbee, a vermicious kbee, a bee who is the champion of the world, a wonderful Henry Sugar bee, and six more. Why are all the bees on this particular aisle Roald Dahl references? It must be for tax reasons. <</linkreplace>> Return to the [[staircase]].

This cubicle is home to a potter wasp. She looks up from her keyboard with an eager smile. "Which house are you?" she asks. "I'm a Gryffindor. You can tell because I'm a natural leader and it's best for everyone if I'm in charge!" Suddenly her attention is drawn back to her computer screen. "Jiggery-pokery! There's new information!" She reads her social media feed intently, then turns back to you in excitement. "Did you hear?" she exclaims. "We just found out that since Dudley lost weight when he grew up, he stopped being evil and now he's a cop too!" Absolutely none of this makes any sense to you. The wasp frowns, fluttering her wings. "All right, muggle, let's go. You've got a date with the [[bookstore|The Bookstore]]!"

You follow the tunnel of toys to the dim purple light at the end. Once in a while you can hear a faint rattling or scuffling, as if something was moving in its box. At the end of the tunnel a room opens up, and after walking for so long with nothing but glow-in-the-dark toys for illumination, the purple light is almost blinding. When your eyes adjust, it’s like you’re in a [[totally different place.|The Cathedral]]

You’re standing in the nave of a great black cathedral, its tall windows stretching to the ceiling, its pews lit only by roiling magenta clouds outside. The windows are all different lengths, and the two in the center are significantly lower than the others; it suggests two great hands raised. Many parts of this nave, the railings and pews for example, are constructed from empty toy boxes. Seated in the pews are numerous worshipers; every one of them is unrecognizable beneath a black shroud and mask. Each is hunched over with its face buried in its hands, as if weeping, but you cannot hear any sounds. Almost none of them are over a foot tall. The sanctuary before you is sheltered under two enormous statues: a giraffe and a toy soldier, who stretch across the aisle to embrace one another, both with tears on their cheeks. In lieu of the customary holy sacrament, there is a silver plate with a toy resting on it. It’s a plush caterpillar, Lots-A-Lots-A-Leggggggs; you’re not sure how you know that, let alone where you learned how it’s spelled. Standing at the sanctuary, his face hidden under a black hood, is [[the bishop of this parish|Hood Man]]; it’s someone you’ve been looking for.

"I am the shepherd of this flock, and I am called the Hood Man." He looks at you curiously, trying to touch your shoulder and failing. "Why, you’re only a hole," he remarks. "I don’t know if we can baptize a hole. The holy water might fall right through you!" He gestures to a tray of holy water and wafers. It looks a lot like a tray of Lunchables, with a Capri Sun. <<set $hoodintro to true>> [[What's going on here?|Hood Man 2]]

<<if $hoodintro is false>>"I know not how you entered, young friend, but if shelter from the storm is what you seek, you have come at a most holy time," he says. "I am the Hood Man, shepherd to this beautiful flock, and you are welcome to observe." He returns his attention to the caterpillar on the plate.<</if>> "This, young unsaved, is a ceremony unique to our faith," the Hood Man says. "If you are interested in joining, please observe and be respectfully quiet as our terrible sacrifice is carried out." Sacrifice? For the first time you notice that in his right hand, he’s carrying a [[seam-ripper]].

The Hood Man raises his seam-ripper, a small forked implement shaped like a rifle with bayonet, high in the air, catching the flash of lightning from the windows in its gleam. "Are you ready, dear brother Lots-A-Lots-A-Leggggggs, to be reborn?" Another flash of lightning blinds and deafens you for a split second. You can’t see if the plush caterpillar responded or not. The seam-ripper plunges down. The [[worshipers]] shriek in approval.

A great clatter arises behind you. Turning around, you see that the worshipers have tossed their black masks in the air like the hats at a graduation ceremony, and now you can see their true faces. Every one of them is a toy. There are teddy bears, baby dolls with blinking eyes, fashion dolls, toy cars, creatures built from construction bricks, rubber ducks, pool rings with faces, convertible robots, robots that stay as just one thing, beanies, squirt guns, tee balls, backyard water slides, toys-to-life figurines, and even a lightbulb-powered oven, clattering its door in ecstatic passion. When you turn back to the sanctuary, the Hood Man’s work is done. The plush caterpillar has been split from chin to tail, its voluminous stuffing bulging from the skin in coils. "Please take from this consecrated body a portion of his stuffing," the Hood Man says solemnly. "And as you take it to offer to the Invisible Hand, pray for the future of Lots-a-Lots-a-Leggggggs. Pray that someday soon, he may wake upon a store shelf again, clean and new, ready to be purchased." "Ready to be loved," the toys all chorus in response, forming an orderly line to take their stuffing. [[Did you kill him?]] [[Does this work?]]

The Hood Man shakes his head. "Toys are only as alive as the one who loves them perceives them to be," he says. "Were our unfortunate caterpillar friend the property of a child who loved him, he might suffer far more grievous injury— the loss of eyes, feet, a complete soiling even— and still be alive, willing to share private jokes, be fed baby carrots at the table, called by a new and different name than he was given on his box, and be loved and cared for. But he wasn’t… and so he made the choice to move on." He glances toward a brazier on either side of the sanctuary, and nods the first worshiper on. "Perhaps the great and beautiful Invisible Hand will not forsake him. Perhaps it will feel his smoke on its fingertips, and remember Lots-a-Lots-a-Leggggggs as we did— and carry him back, to where a new generation waits to point and exclaim ‘I want that’!". [[Does that really work?|Does this work?]]

At this question, the Hood Man takes you aside, further into the sanctuary where the toys cannot hear. "The Invisible Hand works in ways no man or toy could attempt to fathom," he murmurs. "Many of our poor sacrifices have never been seen again on store shelves… and many have, again and again, perennially born and reborn. The Invisible Hand only chooses those it thinks will sell." He bows his shrouded head. "May all of them be so lucky." The two of you watch as the toys each take a small tuft of stuffing, some of them blowing kisses to the plush body, before taking the tuft to one of the hot braziers nearby and tossing it on, making a crackle of polyfill fiber flame and a puff of toxic smoke. "Invisible things can only be seen by filling every space where they are not," the Hood Man says. "By turning our toys’ bodies to smoke, we hope to see the Invisible Hand with us in the room." [[If it doesn’t work, why do you keep doing it?|Hood Man 3]]

The Hood Man watches his parishioners at their work for a moment before answering. "Do you go out of your way to step on sidewalk cracks?" What a puzzling question. "Ah, but as a child, you knew quite well that to step on a crack was as good as breaking your mother’s back, didn’t you," he continues. "Any time you didn’t think about it, of course, you walked over cracks like anyone would. Your mother’s back remained in the same state as ever— and of course, if her back really did get broken, she would never have blamed you for it." He gestures to the toys. "So it is with my flock. This is what they have chosen to believe, for it gives them hope; even those who volunteer for the sacrifice." He gestures to another plush toy in the line: a Pooch Patrol doll, who carries itself in a frail, hesitating manner. The dog takes his piece of fluff to the brazier and kisses it before tossing it into the flame. "The ritual alone brings him comfort, you see," he says. "That one there is surely thinking that it’s time that he too volunteers for the ceremony. It may not be constructive— I can’t promise anyone that Pooch Patrol will ever return to toy shelves— but it’s hope for a future generation. An old man thinking of planting a tree, whose shade he will never enjoy." [[What about you?|Hood Man 4]]

"It’s true, none of this could happen without me," the Hood Man nods. "They rely on me to perform this ceremony… and to light the braziers, return them to their boxes when we’re done, and almost everything. It does come to wear on a man." He shakes his hooded head and chuckles. "Perhaps it’s time I passed my hood on… assuming there’s someone else who might care for these unsold, unwanted toys." Will you become the new Hood Man? [[Yes|Hood Man Ending]] [[No|nohoodman]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. This one isn’t even a car; it’s a shiny chrome Harley-Davidson motorcycle, rumbling loudly as it roars up the ramp. The body has flame decals, and the back wheel guard bears a small bumper sticker that reads "Start Seeing Motorcycles." The face of the driver cannot be seen, as he’s wearing a glossy black helmet with the visor down. He reaches into his denim vest, the only article of clothing on his otherwise bare chest, and pulls out a banknote; it’s enough to pay his parking fee, but he roars under the boom before the attendant in the booth can give him his change. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|hoodmanending]] from the juror pool.

All you can see of the Hood Man’s face are his eyes, a color entirely unlike yours but filled with care and sympathy. It made it difficult to say no.<<set $manhood to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> "I understand," he says. "We all have work to do in this world. Mine is here: I cannot ask you to give up yours." Reaching into his robes, the Hood Man brings out a gift for you: a black monk’s hood, just like his. It’s very clean, but you decide not to put it on. "Knowing what you do now, you will always find shelter in this church, my friend," he says. The Hood Man pauses, distracted, and goes to help some toys toward the end of the line; they’re very small people, shaped like pegs with smiling round heads, and they’re trying to push their entire airport playset toward the sanctuary. The reason becomes clear as they get closer— there is one little peg-person, a cheerful-looking dog, who is permanently mounted in the air traffic control tower, but still wants to take part in the ceremony. "This is heavy… would you mind?" says the Hood Man. "Just [[get them as close as you can|Little People Airlines]]."

It’s a longer walk to the airport playset than you realized. It’s also bigger than you realized from where you were on the dais; soon the Hood Man has vanished behind it in his efforts to move it. There’s also a much bigger parking lot between you and the enormous playset than you realized. Also also, it’s significantly more to [[your own scale|The Airport]] than you probably realized.

<<set $flightdest to "wharf">>Welcome to the airport. This is just what you needed. If there's one thing that's guaranteed to relief the intense stress you've experience today, it's //modern air travel!// You didn't think you were taking a flight today, especially since you don't have a wallet, but maybe you can get a free ticket to one that's about to leave, just so they can fill their seats? Yeah, that's probably how it works. It turns out there's only two tickets you can choose from: a [[jumbo jet|coach]], or a [[seaplane]]. Hurry up, people are waiting on you! If you want to leave the airport, you can start walking [[north|Southern Road]]; there aren't any pedestrian walkways back to town, but there is a handy [[shuttle service|Shuttle Bus]].

<<set $hoodmanending to true>>Days pass quietly in the cathedral. There’s little to do but sweep up polymer dust, eat the treats baked easily for you in the light bulb oven, and read the packaging copy on thousands of toys. It suits you, though. You’re not here to serve yourself; there is a higher power looking down on you. One day soon, you know, the clouds will bubble and froth a fearsome violet, angry lightning flashing from within, and you’ll know that It is watching, in all Its invisibility. Such fearful storms will bring anyone into your nave for shelter, even those who think no one can see them. When that day comes, you will have a volunteer to waken from slumber, and [[a hood to put on.|endtitle]]

It was a long and arduous climb, especially for a hole shaped like a person; you definitely don't have the muscle tone that you used to. But here you are at the very top of this high-rise building, having climbed twelve floors of stairs and gotten a convenient ride up eight more. A plywood door with an "Under Construction" sign is all that separates the top floor from the rooftop. Stepping out onto the roof, though, it appears you're still not at the top. The sky above you is a forest of rust-red steel beams and cables. Stacks of concrete walls lie all around the roof like fallen dominoes, waiting to be sealed in place. There's a roll of industrial gray carpeting to step over as you leave the door. <<if $mandrill is not true>>You also briefly see yourself-- or whoever has your body-- running across the steel, as nimbly as a fly on a wall. If you really do want to see the very top of this building, you may need to [[start climbing|High Steel]].<<else>>You've been to the top already. You could go again, but... naaaah.<</if>> You could go back to the [[staircase]] if you've seen enough. The climb down is always easier.

Climbing steel beams isn't as hard as you thought it would be; now the hard part is getting back down. It’s strange. You don’t remember if you were afraid of heights before your body was stolen; it feels like you were, but that may only be because of the violent vertigo you’re getting now as you look down on the yawning depths of the streets below. You don’t know if it hurts a hole to fall from this height, but you don’t want to find out. There’s a work elevator on the other side of the steel from here. Stable, safe. You spread your arms wide to walk across the beam— WHOA! No, no, BAD idea. Maybe if you sit down, straddling the beam, and sort of hump your way across with your legs locked around the beam… oooooh boy this is harder than you thought. Maybe not. Ow. Maybe if you just [[make a run for it]]…

What happened? You missed a step, and then another and another, and then you were tumbling, feet outstretched, hands grabbing for nothing… and suddenly you were falling //upward//, past the space where you had just been. And now here you are, standing in the work elevator. You’re not alone. "Good thing I caught you there!" laughs your new friend. "That’s not the fastest way to the ground floor, but it’s too fast for most of us." You can’t think of any face you’d rather see right now than [[this one|Drill Man]].

Did you save me? "You did need saving, right? Not quite sure what you got going on with your body, there," he says, curiously poking the tip of his drill into your void-space. "I was on my way up and I saw you on the way down, and figured you needed a hand. You were still a long way from the bottom, though— sorry if you were taking a shortcut I don’t know!" [[What do you have that drill for?|What’s that tool for?]]

"Oh, you mean this? Couldn’t do my job without it!" the Drill Man chuckles. "Here, let me show you." He gestures to the back wall of the service elevator, nodding for you to follow him. [[Follow him?]] He walks through the transparent orange back wall as if it were a beaded curtain. You know this is an elevator; there’s nothing behind that wall but empty air.

After your heart-stopping scare, it takes all of your courage to try it, but the Drill Man’s confidence braces your foot to take your first step through the wall. The wall really does just seem to splinter around your leg, dropping back into place as you pass if you were never there. Your foot finds a stable place to stand, and you hurriedly step through, eager to be out of the swaying elevator. The Drill Man is waiting for you on the other side: you’re on the upper tier of the department store’s first floor. There’s the escalator back down to the lower tier, and the Santa’s Village photo studio, and the large perfume counters and roving salespersons. You know, from experience, that you took the outside escalator and rode it up for stories and stories, then climbed more stairs, then scaled the unadorned steel beams, in order to come face to face with the Drill Man. Yet here you are back on the ground, and it was only a step away. The Drill Man is grinning, seeing your bemusement. [[How did you do that?|Drillman2]]

"What, this? All part of the job." He flicks the end of the drill with one finger, making it twang like a flexible sword. "I’m in construction, you see, and demolitions are a big part of construction. But you don’t always want to demolish everything at once, you know? Sometimes you just want less stuff between you and the place you’re going." He offers you his hand; seeing no reason not to, you take it. The Drill Man hoists his huge drill bit skyward, as if calling upon the power of some ancient castle to grant him the power. It activates with an ear-piercing whine, and pulls the Drill Man straight up in the air— [[and you along with him.|Drillman3]]

Moments later, in a large corn field, the two of you pop up. "Wow, this is a good location!" the Drill Man exclaims, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight with his free hand. "I should leave this one here. We can transport farm goods to the grocery this way, it’ll be faster and fresher." He turns to you, seeing your continued puzzlement. "We’re about ten miles out of town," he explains. "This drill is really useful— it doesn’t just bore through things, it cuts out all the //space// between you and wherever you’re going. This farm is actually one of the department store’s partners! They’ll appreciate having a hole they can just dump everything into and get paid." [[Is it hard?]] [[Can I try it?]]

"Hard? Oh hell yeah, it’s hard. It took me the first ten years of this job just to be able to go where I wanted in a straight line." He points at a certain elaboration of gears on the outside of the drill. "This setup here is adjusted solely with the thumb, and you use it to determine the yaw and pitch of the exit hole you’re producing. Get it wrong, and you end up with a crooked hole; things start tumbling down it diagonally and filling the place you just came from with dirt and rocks… it’s no good!" [[Have you been doing this for ten years??]]

The Drill Man chuckles. "I dunno, friend, you seem a little… incorporeal for that right now. But I can show you how it works." He undoes a series of safety locks around his elbow and unhitches the drill, holding it up to the light for you to look inside. The inner core of the drill is an absolute maze of buttons, switches, touch screens, dials, a small magnetic mouse, and some input devices you’ve never seen before, including a series of buttons shaped like zoo animals. His right arm is noticeably paler than his left— there’s no sunlight in the drill. You realize that he’s working all of these controls //blind//. [[Isn’t it hard doing it that way?|Is it hard?]]

"Coming up on thirty! I started out as an apprentice to the last Drill Man… of course, he had to do it the old-fashioned way, with a rusty old pickaxe and a yellow legal pad to do all the calculations on." The Drill Man groans at the very thought of it. "What a nightmare! I mean I can //do// all that, in a pinch, but now that the technology has caught up with the business, I’m not pulling 50-hour weeks anymore. I have time to sleep!" [[Why did you stay with this job?]]

The Drill Man looks surprised at this question. "You sound like you don’t think this is much fun, kid," he says. "You must not be very happy with your own job, right?" For some reason you don’t feel like responding to that question. "You know, a lot of people have a terrible attitude about work," the Drill Man says. "And they’re really wrong, when you think about it. Everyone loves to work!" //Excuse me??// "No kidding! Most people are never as happy as when they’re working really hard on something they really love. Look at people who make model cars, for example." He ticks off a list on his pale hand. "Kids making up video games in crayon at the library in school. Kids building treehouses, clubhouses, soapbox cars. Adults with a big Lego habit. Backyard barbecue enthusiasts. Guys who obsess over their lawns. Podcasters. People who edit Wikipedia!" He cackles, having run out of fingers long ago. He cuts you off before you can say anything. "But that’s not WORK work, right?" he goads you. "That’s just a hobby, a time killer. It’s not important." He shakes his head sadly. "The real work you get paid for is important things that have to get done… or so they say." He jams his hand back into the drill, grabbing your arm at the same time, and you are pulled along with him as he drills you [[somewhere else|Drillman4]].

Next thing you know, you’re stepping out of a hole into a room that smells absolutely delicious. You’re surrounded by brushed-metal appliances, steel racks that stand a minimum 8 inches off the ground as required by code, and most especially, //bread//. Mountains of it. The smell of hot yeast and wheat is so thick, you feel you could eat the smell alone by the slice. "Here’s the bakery," says the Drill Man. "These guys bake bread every day, over and over, day after day. You can bet anything they get sick of bread. But you know what they’re thinking about when they get home?" He winks. "New recipes. New ingredients. New ideas for cake decorations. It never stops being new to them, because they can test and experiment, and you can usually eat even the failed experiments!" He kicks his drill into high gear again, and the two of you roar into [[another location|Drillman5]] that might as well be a step away.

This room has a much less enticing smell: industrial gray carpeting, burned coffee, ozone. You’ve seen this place before, on your way up the skyscraper. It’s HexTech. The office drones remember you, but say nothing beyond a polite nod. "These guys?" the Drill Man says. "I know them. I eat with them on my lunch break." He shakes his head sadly. "They are either convinced that they are dead and in Hell, or else have given up hope of ever dying and finding their way to Hell." One of the drones is engaged at his workstation, all four arms in action at his two keyboards. Yet his compound eyes are dull, focused on neither of his three screens. "This isn’t work, you see," the Drill Man says, patting the drone’s shoulder sympathetically. "When you’ve learned all there is to know, and there’s nothing to do but repeat it by rote, mechanically? That’s a //chore.//" [[He fires up his drill again|Drillman6]]. "And most people would rather do their chores at home."

With a whiz of the drill and a rush of wind, the two of you are back in the freight elevator at the top of the skyscraper. The heights don’t make your stomach lurch quite as much, knowing that the Drill Man could have you at the bottom floor in a moment. "Not saying I don’t need a rest, or that I dream about doing this," he chuckles. "But I know I’m lucky. So few people get to wake up and do something that fascinates them every day!" He unbuckles the drill and airs out his arm for a minute, holding it outside the elevator to catch the high winds. "It does wear on you, though," he admits a moment later. "My mentor, the last Drill Man, spent a lot of his last five years on the job chomping pain killers, because his shoulder was so overworked… he ended up getting a shoulder replacement." He starts to do therapeutic stretches, bending his wrist back and forth and arching his arm behind his back. "That’s something else I ended up learning on my own, without his help. I suppose if I took an apprentice of my own, I could save them a lot of pain in that department…" He looks at you, and the empty drill, and smiles. "Want to try it on now?" Will you become the next Drill Man? [[Yes.|drillmanyes]] [[No.|mandrill]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. The attendant hears it before she sees it: a vintage muscle car, looming like a battleship next to the tiny compact cars of today. Its engine roars like the tear of sheet metal, and the bright sunlight sparkles on all the metal flakes in its iridescent plum finish. The driver leans his tanned and sunbaked left arm out of the window to pay his fee. Receiving his receipt with the other hand, which is pale and white, he revs his engine and peels out with a laugh, tossing something out the window as he goes— an empty hard hat. It catches on the raised boom and hangs, no longer needed. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|drillmanending]] from the juror pool.

The Drill Man just smiles and claps the drill back onto his arm. "I’m not ready to retire either," he says. "Oh! Hang on, I’ve actually got something for you here." He peeks into the drill, rummaging around in what sounds like a bunch of loose parts. "Ah! Here we go!" He takes off the drill and shakes it out like a shoe with a rock in it. At the third shake, an animal falls out, landing heavily on the floor of the elevator. You’d know it anywhere. A tailless monkey, about the size of a large child, walking on all four legs like a wolf. It stares at you mutely, tiny eyes set into a brilliantly colored blue and white face with a red stripe down the nose. Before you even have time to panic, it breaks into a run… and dives into you, as surely as a pool ball into a side pocket. <<set $mandrill to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> "He likes you!" the Drill Man exclaims, clapping his hands in triumph. [[What just happened??|drillmangoodbye]]

<<set $drillmanending to true>>The heights don’t scare you anymore. You’ve had enough beginner’s mistakes now to know there’s much worse things that could happen to you than falling off a tall building. Sitting on the high steel with a sandwich in your free hand, you think of your old mentor, and how hard it was for him to retire. He made sure to go over everything that could go wrong with you, and spent a couple of weeks trying to think up new ones before he finally handed the drill over for good. The sandwich is an inch from your mouth when you notice one of those things, the ones he was trying to make up, happening right now. Imminent danger. Shopping crowd on the sidewalk. An unprecedented situation, one there’s no planning for. And you, with the tools and talent for this situation that no one else has. You can always get another sandwich; this comes first. [[This is not a drill.|endtitle]]

<center> ''THE END'' <<if $notaman is true and $wholeman is true and $beenmen is 10>><h1>"The Whole Man"</h1><<else>><h2>"The Hole Man"</h2><</if>> A game by E. Z. Poschman <h3>You Have Been:<<if $beenmen is 10>> EVERYONE!<</if>></h3><<if $beenmen is 10 and $wholeman is not true and $notaman is not true>><h5>(Except yourself!)</h5><</if>><table style="width:100%" ><tr> <td><center><<if lastVisited("CMending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $CMending is true>>The Child Man<</if>></center></td>\ <td><center><<if lastVisited("darinmanending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $darinmanending is true>>The Darin' Man<</if>></center></td> </tr> <tr> <td><center><<if lastVisited("drakemanending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $drakemanending is true>>The Drake Man<</if>></center></td> <td><center><<if lastVisited("drillmanending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $drillmanending is true>>The Drill Man<</if>></center></td> </tr> <tr> <td><center><<if lastVisited("GMending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $GMending is true>>The Go Man<</if>></center></td> <td><center><<if lastVisited("hoodmanending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $hoodmanending is true>>The Hood Man<</if>></center></td> </tr> <tr> <td><center><<if lastVisited("KMending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $KMending is true>>The Kind Man<</if>></center></td> <td><center><<if lastVisited("MMending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $MMending is true>>The Made Man<</if>></center></td> </tr> <tr> <td><center><<if lastVisited("servantmanending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $servantmanending is true>>The Servant Man<</if>></center></td> <td><center><<if lastVisited("slaughtermanending") is 1>>''NEW!'' <</if>><<if $slaughtermanending is true>>The Slaughter Man<</if>></center></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan=2><<if $notaman>><center>You are officially: ''Not a man''</center><</if>></td> </tr> <tr> <td colspan=2><<if $notaman is true and $wholeman is true and $beenmen is 10>><center>All endings cleared!<h2>YOU ARE A SUPER PLAYER!</h2></center><</if>></td> </tr> </table> </center> <<if $notaman is true and $beenmen is 10>>[[Continue from the courthouse|altcourthouse]]<<else>>[[Continue from the courthouse|courthouse]]<</if>> [[Restart? (All progress will be lost.)|Title Page]] [[Credits]]

"Well, my break is almost over," says the Drill Man. "But I think I see what you’re all about. Looking for a new identity, huh?" He snaps the drill back on his arm and warms it up. "What if I give you a quick ride to your next stop? I’ve got time for that. Any idea where you’re going next?" \<<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mandarin>>[[I’m looking for an orange?|Freefall]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mango>>[[I feel like a mango?|Garden 2]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manchild>>[[Maybe a toy car?|Sandcastle Contest]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manservant>>[[Do you know anything about origami?|seaside manor]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manmade>>[[Jewels! I need jewels!|Haunted Castle]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mankind>>[[Do I smell bad to you?|The Workshop]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mandrake>>[[What I need is magic!|Dragon Castle Exterior]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manhood>>[[Take me to the hood.|a tunnel]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manslaughter>>[[I think I need some legal documents?|abattoir]] <</if>><<if $metmen is 10>>[[I just want to go home.|The Parking Structure]] <</if>><<if $metmen is 1>>[[I could use a ride back down?|Skyscraper]] <</if>> It only takes him a second to think of what you’re looking for; with a whiz of his drill, the elevator door is open to exactly the room you need. "Good luck, amigo," the Drill Man smiles.

You have what you came for, so there's no reason not to go. The Kind Man gives you a hug-- the most substantial hug you've felt since you lost your body-- and sends you on your way. With a rush of warm air, you're up the chimney and on your way. You take a deep breath and take a step. Your foot misses. [[You tumble into empty space.|it’s happening]]

The elevator lets you out on the basement level of the parking structure. It is very quiet here. Your footsteps echo, and so does the persistent buzz coming from the many fluorescent lights on the concrete ceiling. You're feeling woozy and a little bit out of it; you can't remember which of the ten cars here is <<linkreplace "yours.">>yours. Is it the red Lamborghini? Is it the orange Prius? Is it the yellow K-car? Is it the blue Mini? Is it the green Alfa Romeo? Is it the purple Camaro? Is it the pink Corvette? Is it the black hearse? Is it the white Rolls-Royce? Is it the brown Volvo? Could it be the dusty pickup truck with the horse trailer in back? Maybe it was the Harley-Davidson motorcycle? Or did you take that mountain bike? For that matter, did you even take your own car downtown this morning, or did you ride the bus? It hardly matters, since you don't have the key to any of them.<</linkreplace>> There's a [[closed door]] on the far side of the parking structure. The only other exit is back in [[the elevator]].

This is a service elevator, not for public use. It says so right there! On the other hand, there's something strange going on with this elevator. There's five little cubbyholes on either side, like cubical storage units. Each one has a little icon that may seem familiar to you. \<<if $metmen is 0>>There's a couple of symbols resembling fruits, a race car, a bottle of perfume, and some kind of origami instructions. Beyond that, you also see a jewel display, an inbox for legal documents, a mannequin head, and a flowerpot filled with potting soil. The largest cubby touches the ground: it has a monkey face icon in the back.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $mandarin is true>> • You put the orange in the round fruit box.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $mango is true>> • You put the mango in the pear-shaped fruit box. <</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $mandrill is true>> • You hear a shriek from inside you, and the baboon runs out and sits down eagerly in the monkey-faced box, looking enthusiastic about something.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $manslaughter is true>> • One box is just an inbox for documents. You have the acquittal the Slaughter Man gave you; that seems appropriate.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $manservant is true>> • You stand your little origami man up in the box with a folding diagram on the back.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $manmade is true>> • That jewelery display looks like it needs a big diamond. Luckily, you have one right here.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $mankind is true>> • A well-lit display that looks like it came out of a department store looks like a good place to show off your cologne bottle.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $manhood is true>> • The styrofoam mannequin head looks a little bare: maybe you could stretch that hood you got over it.<</if>> \<<if $metmen lt 10 and $manchild is true>> • This box is a perfect little garage for your toy car!<</if>> \<<if $metmen is 10>>You look at your little treasures that you collected from the men, ten in all, and try arranging them in the proper spaces. • The mandarin goes in the Darin' Man's slot. • The mango goes in the Go Man's slot. • The mandrill abruptly jumps out of you and sits eagerly in the Drill Man's slot. • The manslaughter acquittal slides into the Slaughter Man's slot. • The manmade diamond can be mounted in the Made Man's slot. • Yakko-san, the origami manservant, can stand in the Servant Man's slot. • The Mankind(TM) cologne can be displayed in the Kind Man's slot. • The mandrake root seems relieved to be plunged into the soil of a flowerpot in the Drake Man's slot. • The race car bed goes in the Child Man's slot-- oh, now you get it. • There's a mannequin head in the Hood Man's slot, which you slide the hood he gave you over. (You're glad he didn't give you his... well, anyway.) The door slides open for you. You may now enter the [[service elevator]].<</if>> \<<if $metmen gt 0 and $metmen lt 10>>It doesn't look like you've got everything you need just yet, so you collect your treasures up again. You should probably keep looking.<</if>> [[Return to the basement.|basement level parking]]

"All right, let's go over some basics," says the galago, sipping his coffee as he sits down with you. "If I were to hazard a guess, you were minding your own business, probably in some busy public place, and then something very strange happened, and now..." He gestures toward your absent body. "There's a word for what's happened to you, my friend... //identity theft."// You could have sworn that meant something else. "You're probably wondering what you did wrong; in all likelihood, you did nothing wrong. This can happen to anyone." He reaches for his filing cabinet with his left leg and dextrously opens the bottom drawer with his foot, retrieving a manila file folder and placing it on the desk. "That's your only good news, though. What you're going through, a lot of people don't get out of, and it can have lingering effects that leave you feeling like less of a person." He gestures with his coffee cup to the courthouse, visible from here through the picture window. "Some of them gather up there, hoping to see their old self again and get it back..." The galago shakes his head. "Poor bastards." While you're watching the gathered group on the courthouse hill, he's arranging your paperwork. "All right, let's go over your to-do list. I can't do your taxes, since they're not yours anymore, but I can give free advice what to do in your situation." [[Uh... OK.|Audit]]

Here you can meet all the Men. Use this tool to test the goals. <<set $metmen to 0>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[Cheat and meet ALL the Men]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $mandarin to true>> <<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $mandrake to true>> <<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $manchild to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $mango to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $manservant to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $manhood to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $manslaughter to true>> <<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $mankind to true>> <<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $mandrill to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

<<set $manmade to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> [[Cheat and meet the Darin' Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drake Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Aged Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Child Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Go Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Servant Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Hood Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Slaughter Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Handle Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Kind Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Drill Man]] [[Cheat and meet the Made Man]] [[courthouse]]

One thing that surprises you is that you're not cold. Snow //is// supposed to be cold, right? You bend down and scoop up some snow from the snowbank. This is a surprise; you'd always heard that no two snowflakes are alike, but you've got a whole big handful here, and every single one is a perfect circle, only about a centimeter wide. It also seems to have writing on it, sometimes on both sides. The snow around here is either really weird, or someone just emptied out their hole punch. You're no closer to knowing if the snow isn't cold or if it's just you, but there are [[other things you could be doing.|The Snowscape]]

There's a lot of snow heaped around them, so it's difficult to read, but you think you see a sign perched on one of the hills. <center><h2>[[H O L _ Y W O _ D|The Snowscape]]</h2></center>

There’s a signpost pointing toward a convenient trail. It says, This way to Wod Castle: Beware Of Dragons. Turning toward the mountains, you start up the trail that seems to lead toward that looming castle on the hilltop. It’s a long but not arduous walk. The slope is gentle, and the snow is light. The trail is lined with richly needled fir trees that sway in the snowy breeze. Some of the snowflakes even seem to glow, like fireflies. As you pass through a thick pine hedge that has overgrown the road, one of the glowing snowflakes hangs in midair just above you, and then abruptly dives steeply down, hovering in front of you as if to take a look. It’s not a snowflake at all: it’s a tiny, tiny person, aloft on her fluttering wings. Maybe ‘person’ isn’t the right word: this creature actually looks a bit more reptilian than human. Although it looks female to your eyes, it has wide and slitted eyes of its own, like a snake, and has a black tongue that flicks out periodically to taste the air. The wings are beating too fast for you to see them, but they don’t look like an insect’s from what you can see. Every time she flicks her tongue out, her face is lit by the tiniest of sparks. The tiny green figure stares into your body void with great curiosity, then tries diving into you and out again. She claps excitedly, a sound as small as a soap bubble popping, and flies back up to the tops of the trees. The glowing ‘snowflakes’ gather, brightening, and light your way through the trees, <<if $mandrake>>but the strange castle at the top of the hill has wandered away, leaving you with no choice but to [[return the way you came|The Snowscape]].<<else>>all the way to [[the castle.|Dragon Castle Exterior]]<</if>>

The snow is falling in sheets, and any hope of following any kind of landmark is lost. There's nothing to do but pick a direction and start hiking. <center>[[Let's try this way.|Blitz Lobster]] [[Maybe this way?|Blast Lizard]] [[I think it was this way.|The Snowscape]] [[Which way? THIS way?|Lost Blizzard]] [[Would it help if I just screamed?|scream]]</center>

Wait. Is that a light? Way out in the distance downhill? You must be close! <center>[[At last! There it is!|Blast Lizard]] [[I see it! That must be it!|Lost Blizzard]] <<if $mankind is not true>>[[That's it! This is definitely it for real!|The Workshop]] <</if>>[[Land ho! Or something like that.|The Snowscape]] [[DESPAIR|scream]]</center>

The snow is falling in sheets, and any hope of following any kind of landmark is lost. There's nothing to do but pick a direction and start hiking. <center>[[Onward!|Blast Lizard]] [[Progress!|Lost Blizzard]] [[Viva victory!|The Snowscape]] [[Sydney or the bush!|Blitz Lobster]] [[This is the worst and I'm in hell.|scream]]</center>

It's really frustrating. You've had the worst experience of your life today, having your entire self stolen, it seems like no one you talk to makes any sense, and now you're lost in a blizzard. When does it end? When is it your turn for things to go your way? For once? ONCE? You throw your head back and scream, a long and long-coming scream that doesn't seem to stop. Like a roar of the tides that echoes through the hole that you are, every frustration of the day comes out in one cry of bitter discouragement. You fall to your knees in the snow, and for a moment, you feel peace. The ground begins to rumble. Oh, that's right... you were on a downhill slope, and there was a ton of snow behind you. [[This should be fine.|The Avalanche]]

\<<if $spider is true>>The huge spider sets you down as gently as a leaf, and instantly bungees back into the air with a loud "STREWTH!" <<set $spider to false>><</if>>Although a bitter snowstorm rages around you, you've found your way to a building that gleams with warm light through the fog and sleet. (Perhaps you haven't so much found your way there as you were //deposited// there, but you aren't about to go wander around in the snow now.) This building is solidly and cozily built in an old German style, and although it doesn't seem to be a church, it does have a tall and stately steeple, with a large clock set in the center. There are stables to your right, and on the left, an open cowsill door with welcome mat. A group of four strange-looking people emerge from this door, approaching you with curiosity but not malice. Every one of them is marbled snowy white in color, with huge and staring yellow eyes, and the longest, widest-spanning ears you've ever seen; almost more like wings than ears. All of them are dressed in cool-weather clothes, with one even wearing green lederhosen. His legs are as white as his face, and shaggy white wool shrouds his feet up to the toes. The four of them surround you, seeming more curious than afraid, and although they don't say a word, they seem puzzled. They look down at you, then at each other, flapping their ears thoughtfully. Eventually they seem to decide you're harmless, and gesture for you to follow them. They form an orderly line and reenter the cowsill door, which has a wooden sign hanging overhead which reads, ''"The Workshop"''. [[Go on in.|Workshop Interior]]

Well, //now// you know where you are. It was obvious when you see it in context! This warm and brightly lit shop employs some twenty to thirty of those white-feathered people who greeted you, all of them hard at work with hand tools at a number of work stations. They joke and hoot with laughter as they work, but clearly every one of them loves their job and is devoted to it. The air is filled with the smell of sawdust, but you can also smell hot cocoa and candy canes. A gift box passes through a service window on a conveyor belt. You follow along, wondering what's going to go into it, and along the way you learn the whole process, from start to finish. 1. The wrapped gift box emerges from the wrapping station in the next room. 2. The worker with the hammer takes it and examines it, brushing off any sawdust or glue flecks. 3. He gives it to the twin workers with airbrushes, who flip it upside down and pass it to the next worker. 4. The next worker flips it right side up again and passes it to another. 5. This worker tosses the empty package lightly across the room, to where three girl workers, triplets, put it in a canvas bag and tie the bag tightly with rope, then place it back on the conveyor belt. 6. The package rides the conveyor belt to an authoritative-looking brown-and-white worker, who cuts the rope with a knife, tossing the bag back to the triplets, and examines the box again. 7. He nods, satisfied, and tosses it out the window. Running to the window, you discover a towering mountain of gaily wrapped and ribboned gift boxes, none of which contain anything, nor did they ever seem to contain anything in the first place. Maybe it's not so obvious where this is, after all. The supervisor (from step 6) pats your back to get your attention. He gestures toward the back of the room, seeming to suggest you'll find your answers there. But who is that, with no feathers or wool, working so intently on the grinder? [[Who else could it be?|The Kind Man]]

Of course, it’s ''The Kind Man!'' Who were you expecting, Santa Claus? He’s short, old and bald, with a silver-white beard and a well-trimmed mustache. He seems to be Southeast Asian, like yourself. He’s wearing a work apron and leather gloves because he was just using the bench grinder; there’s even a few glowing steel sparks still on his apron. Seeing you, he takes off his work cap and gloves as he approaches with a warm smile. “Ahh! I know what you want. Looking for an identity, I’m sure,” he says. “Well, no need to waste time. Would you like to be the Kind Man yourself?” [[I… yes?|kindmanyes]] [[No, thank you.|kindmanno]] [[Wait, what? Why?|kindmanwhat]]

A wall of snow hits you from behind, swallowing you completely, and continues down. You spin helplessly in the avalanche like laundry in the dryer, your sense of up vs. down lost completely. You can sense nothing, seeing only white, and hearing only the sound of snow falling, turned up to its highest volume. You can no longer tell whether you're moving or if you've come to a complete stop. You cannot imagine suffering a quieter death. However, you are a hole at the moment, and the convenient thing about holes is that things fall into them. As you lay buried in the snowbank formed by the avalanche, the snow sifts into your gaping silhouette, leaving a perfect 'snow angel' for you to look up out of. You're alive and unharmed, but you would hate to have to go through that again! <<if $mankind is not true>>Straight ahead, gleaming through the thinning snow, is the [[destination|The Workshop]] you've been hunting for. <<else>>[[So don't do that again.|The Snowscape]]<</if>>

\<<set $mandarin to true>> \<<set $mango to true>> \<<set $manchild to true>> \<<set $manservant to true>> \ \<<set $manmade to true>> \<<set $mankind to true>> \<<set $mandrake to true>> \ \<<set $manhood to true>> \<<set $manslaughter to true>> \<<set $mandrill to true>> \<<set $metmen to 10>> \<<set $beenmen to 10>> Now you know ALL the men! Go straight to the ending. [[courthouse]]

All right, the paperwork is done and you're all set up with your own space, ready to take part in the sandcastle contest. What have you gotten yourself into? There are excited teams of professional sandcastle builders all around you— which doesn’t seem like a sustainable industry— but over here it’s just you and a big pile of sand. This has nothing to do with your goal of finding a new identity. Why in the world did you volunteer? It’s hardly worth asking, there’s no backing out now. You look down at the sand, and shrug. [[Why not?|SC1]]

You start marking out plans in the dry sand. Soon you’ve got your plastic bucket full of sea water to start construction. It’s not hard work, it’s kind of mindless, but it is engaging, and you have the freedom to improvise as you go. You’re only working from your own blueprint, after all. Around your fourth or fifth return from the seashore to collect shells for decoration, you’re starting to get noticed. "Yeah, that’s the one. That… hole," says a towering Frankenstein in a wetsuit, gesturing to you as you go by. "Have you seen what they’re building?" You set to work again with your new supplies, and by the time you look up, there are eyes all around you. A crowd has gathered to watch you work, and as you put the finishing touches on the spires around your sandcastle, there’s a smattering of applause. "That’s really amazing!" says a mummy in Bermuda shorts. "Are you a professional too? You should be!" Professional? Are they kidding? It’s just a sandcastle. The outer fortress walls and pillars aren’t that hard to make once you’ve got some sticks for the sand to grip onto, and anyone can find kelp to give the walls some texture, right? Anyway, the outside is done. Now for some [[interior decoration.|sc2]]

You knew this was a pretty big sandcastle, but it is surprising to find that you don’t even have to duck your head to walk in the door. It’s very beautiful on the inside. The many hand-sculpted windows keep it well lit, and you took great care to sweep the floor smooth and flat. It only took four support pillars to hold up the ceiling, giving the main hall an airy feeling. You feel tempted to run around and shout to see what kind of echo you can get in here. The part that really takes you by surprise, though, is how well furnished it already is. There’s upholstered benches by the walls, a red carpet under your feet? Torches keep it lit in the spaces the windows can’t reach. You don’t remember lighting those. At the center of the main hall is a raised platform, which houses a sandy throne that you made yourself. You’d been hoping to find something appropriate to sit in the throne before you finished. It looks like [[someone|The Child Man]] found the throne already.

There he is, slumped in the throne waiting for you; ''the Child Man.'' Man or not, he can’t be older than ten. He’s dressed, much like everyone else on the beach, in swim trunks, his only garment apart from the large cap from a beer bottle that he wears on his head. The bottle opener left just the right size of dent for it to be worn like a crown. Like you, he’s black, and he has a natural hairstyle, loose and unbraided. "Hey, what’s up," he says, starting to giggle as he sees you. "You built this? This place is the best. We all love it!" [[I don’t remember inviting you.]] [[Who's "we"?]]

"No, but I needed a sand castle, and you were still building this one… I didn’t think you wanted to live in it too! Most people don’t!" It’s hard to argue with that one, honestly. [[What do you need a sand castle for?|Who's "we"?]]

"My people," he says, standing up in the throne and crossing his chest with his fist. "Introduce yourselves!" At first his words seem to have doomed the sandcastle; the room begins to crumble, grains of sand dropping from the walls. Then it becomes clear that those aren’t the walls at all; the light was just too dim to recognize the other residents of this place. From behind pillars, under benches and behind walls, they come: people made of sand. They have dry twig arms and legs, their bodies are wet sand, and each of them is equipped with a unique head: a seashell, with two googly eyes hotglued on. Some have clamshells, some have cowrie shells; one very odd-looking one has a murex shell, too narrow for eyes, so they’re arranged vertically instead of horizontally. Due to their gangly twig limbs, each of them towers over you by at least a head. The sand people all look at you, their googly eyes focused in a very non-googly manner. It would feel threatening if they weren’t all just made of sand. [[Where did they all come from?|AA]]

"What? I made them, of course! They’re my children!" It’s strange to hear a relatively young boy say that— and with such pride and conviction. You’re about to ask another question, but then there’s a crisis. The one with the murex shell suddenly loses its head, his sand body giving way and collapsing into a pile of twigs. The other sand people cringe in empathy and horror. "Make a hole! Dad’s coming, don’t worry!" The Child Man brushes past you at high speed, making straight for his injured creation. "Just stay still, OK? We can get through this, we’ve done it before!" He pets the disembodied shell reassuringly as he sets to work. Before your eyes, with the other sand people watching in heavy suspense, the Child Man reconstructs his fallen creation. He sets the twig arms and legs in place, testing them for weight distribution, then sets the shell head in place before heaping up a new core of sand to connect it all together. "OK, let’s get you up. Don’t move just yet, let me separate you from the floor…" The Child Man digs gently into the patient’s body, making a clearer delineation between them and the sand they were formed from. "You ready? Up… there we go!" There’s a gentle drumming sound— the other sand people clapping, beating their featureless stick arms together. The patient is healed and can stump around just as well as any other. With great gentleness, the Child Man wraps his arms around the sand person, taller than himself, and embraces them. "Don’t be sorry," he says. "You know I’d do it any time." [[Does that happen often?|BB]] [[What will happen when the tide comes in?|The Tide]]

"All the time," he says, patting the recovered sand person’s shoulder. "Venus here has a kind of awkward head, so it comes loose and takes the rest of her with it. Everyone has that problem, of course, but her head is so spindly and spiny that it happens to her more than the others." Venus, the patient, touches her gaping seashell mouth with one stick hand, as if hiding a blush. "That is the trouble with having a family made of sand," the Child Man nods. "They’re very delicate, you see. Anything can cause a cave-in like that; a surprising loud noise, a car driving by…" He looks around, making a suggestive shrug, and the sand people all cover their ears, or where their ears would be. With everyone insulated, the Child Man can say a word that would panic them all if they heard it: "The tide coming in…" [[But the tide always comes in!|The Tide]]

As soon as you say it, you regret it: some of the sand people <<if lastVisited("AA") is 1>>heard you<<else>>thought they were safe and had uncovered their ears<</if>>, and are now shaking with fear. "Cal? Clem? It’s OK! Don’t freak out, look how low the tide is." The Child Man points out the window, and all the sand people crane their littlenecks to look. With his children distracted, the Child Man starts down the hall, gesturing for you to follow. "I’ll be right back, everyone. Don’t go outside, you don’t want to dry out without me!" Unable to get any answers from the shell heads, you tag along behind the Child Man. [[Do you know what’s going to happen when the sandcastle contest ends?]]

The Child Man doesn’t answer you until the two of you are in his quarters. His room looks and feels exactly like a ten-year-old boy’s room. There are posters on the walls, a basketball laundry hoop with a hamper of dirty laundry (all swim trunks), and a single bed shaped like a race car. On closer inspection, it’s actually a small toy car that serves him as a bed. You don’t remember building this room. Maybe the Child Man dug it out himself? The Child Man sits on his race car bed, not facing you. "The same thing’s going to happen at the end of this contest that happens every day," he says, continuing your conversation from earlier. "The tide will come in. It always does." You have a question, but it feels rude to ask it. "Why, right?" the Child Man says, turning his head to look back at you. "You put it all together already. When the tide comes in, it destroys the sandcastle we’re living in and everyone in it. The seashells get swept away, and I have to start all over with new shells and make new friends, and find a new sandcastle. So you want to know why I bother at all, right?" [[I guess so, yeah.]]

"Because I’m their dad, that’s why," he says. "Even if something terrible happens to your child, it doesn’t mean you’re not their parent anymore. You grieve, and you move on, but you never forget." He looks out the hallway at his many toddling creations. "Childhood never ends, because everyone was somebody’s child," he says. "And it doesn’t matter which one outlasts the other. Maybe one day I’ll have made my last one of them, and then they’ll be the ones who remember me. No matter how temporary either of us are, we meant something to each other, you know." The Child Man glances out the window. "It’s getting late. The tide will probably come in soon. I’m going to have to leave." He gives you an apologetic smile. "Do you want your sandcastle back? Will you become the new Child Man? [[Yes.|Childmanyes]] [[No.|Childmanno]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The attendant in the toll booth pauses. That’s not a car coming up the ramp at all— it’s a Huffy mountain bike. The boy riding it is wearing swim trunks and has a towel around his neck; it looks like he’s been swimming. Baffling, since there’s no pool around here, but at least that suggests he didn’t sneak down to the parking garage for mischief. The attendant leans out to address him, but he speeds up, pumping his legs intently. He waves to the attendant, yells "Thanks! I gotta go home!" as he speeds by, and does a crazy rad Akira slide under the boom before she can lift it. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|CMending]] from the juror pool.

"No?" The Child Man looks astonished, as if he hadn’t expected you to defer. You’re about to apologize and explain your situation, but you’re interrupted by a growing clamor: the sound of water lapping at the doorstep. You look, to see it draining back toward the beach, only to surge forward again, like a cleansing foam, to sweep this castle clean. "Everybody in here!" the Child Man says, and suddenly the sand people start to barge in, panic visible in their wiggling eyes. "Head count, is everyone here? Venus? Clem? Muscles? Muriel? Who’s missing?" Two sand people are still in the hallway, waiting in line. You try to make room, but it’s very difficult to maneuver with all these fragile, awkwardly-shaped people in your way. The Child Man looks at you, and then his two helpless children, and frowns. "You gotta get out of here," he says. He jumps onto his bed, digging through the pillows and sheets and sham, the sand people helping when they can; finally the car is rideable again. "Jump in," the Child Man instructs you. "Just go ahead and [[drive through the wall.]] You’ll never make it past the surf otherwise." He gently guides his children out of the car’s path. "I have to stay with them."

Seems like that tide never did come in. <<set $CMending to true>> The castle did need a little remodeling; you didn’t need a throne or a crown, and the kids all wanted their own rooms. It was an easy day’s work, and after a quick beachcombing session, you had enough leftover sand (and shells!) to add even more members to your family. What a day for celebration! It will always be there in your memory. No one can say that being a parent isn’t difficult. There’s always some new crisis for you to smooth over, some argument or miscommunication that requires you to be the adult in the room, again. Yet, at the end of the day, as you put them each to bed one by one and kiss every shell-perfect cheek, you don’t regret it. Every one of them is worth it. One day, of course, the sea really will come for your home. Some mornings you swear you feel its spray on your face as you waken. It makes your heart clutch and your teeth clench, and your sand children wonder why you hug them so tightly when they greet you for breakfast. [[That day is not here yet.|endtitle]] When it does come, though? You have the strength. You have the patience. You have the resilience that comes with being a parent. Most importantly, though, you have a bag of googly eyes and a hot glue gun.

A game by <a href="http://www.jarringcontrast.com">E.Z. Poschman.</a> Special thanks to: ''Proofreaders & Debuggers'' Steph Cherrywell Thomas F. Johnson Nola Glumdrop ''Inspiration'' Robyn & Rand Miller Lewis Carroll & John Tenniel Akira Kurosawa Gary Larson & Marv Newland [[Back|previous()]] [[Start from beginning?|First Page]] (Progress will be lost.)

\<<set $shopsvisited=0>> \<<set $mandarin=false>> \<<set $skycucumber=false>> \<<set $taxes to false>> \<<set $metmen to 0>> \<<set $parkinglot to false>> \<<set $mandarin to false>> \<<set $mango to false>> \<<set $manchild to false>> \<<set $manservant to false>> \<<set $manmade to false>> \<<set $mankind to false>> \<<set $mandrake to false>> \<<set $manhandle to false>> \<<set $manhood to false>> \<<set $manslaughter to false>> \<<set $manager to false>> \<<set $mandrill to false>> \It's strangely dark. Looking up, you see stars in the sky. There's only the faintest pink ribbon in the sky to the east, suggesting it's nearly dawn. How long were you unconscious?? You glance around the open air mall. It's deserted, as you would expect this time of night. The storefronts appear to be open, however, and brightly lit. No time to investigate, though. You've got to get to the [[courthouse]].

You gun the engine, your back wheels throwing sand, and burst through the wall of the sand castle. You’re not safe yet, because there’s still an outer wall keeping you here. There’s no time to swivel; you have to rev up again and lunge into the outer wall, wet sand and seaweed blinding you as you bore through. Moments later, you feel a hard lurch as the tires find purchase, and your car leaps to safety; just in time. In the rearview mirror, you see the central spire tipping; you spin the car to a stop, just in time to see the whole structure collapse. Walls, rooms, towers, turrets, battlements, flying buttresses, and occupants, the castle and all its occupants, all reclaimed by the sea, as all sandcastles surely must be. Before you can process what you’ve seen, [[the surf is upon you.]]

Tumble. Spin. Roil. Lurch. Your arms and legs pinwheel and rag doll alternately as you struggle against the current, but you are as helpless as the starfish next to you. <<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>><<set $manchild to true>> Yet for all your ineffectual struggling, the ocean cannot resist you either. The water is draining and draining into your body-shaped hole, which at time produces frighteningly loud gurgles and air bubbles that fill your whole form. Can a hole drown? Can a living hole, like you, be //filled?// The answer is not coming today, thankfully; at last your head crests the water and you can breathe again! (Assuming you need to. Better not get out of the habit of doing that.) Even without salt water blocking your vision, you can barely see. How far did the surf carry you from the beach, anyway? Apparently, pretty far. You’re sitting in [[the fountain in the Nocturne Mall.|The Mall]] You're clutching something cold and hard in your hand. It's a toy car-- the same one the Child Man helped you to make your escape in.

With the forest at your back, you’re standing at the foot of a tall and stately castle. This is not a figure of speech: the castle has a huge, scaled and leathery foot, its sharp nails scratching idly at the ground just a few feet away from you. Looking up at it, you see more and more strange features. The stonework on the outside is actually more like overlapping tiles, reminding you of a turtle’s shell. The tiled roof is even more exaggerated, like spikes bristling from the rooftop. There are two main chimneys, but they are paired awkwardly above the front door, smoke rising lazily in front of the house. Approaching the front door, the drawbridge comes down and the portcullis comes up. Both are lined with gleaming white teeth. You look for any guard in the two main windows in front, but all you see are a pair of enormous slitted eyes, one behind each window. You were warned to watch for dragons; it now appears that the castle is, itself, a dragon. You can still [[go inside|Dragon Castle]], if you want.

You step inside the dragon shaped like a castle. The interior is lush and royally ostentatious, with antique furniture and ornamentation placed tastefully around the main hall, but at no point can you forget that you’re inside a dragon. For one thing, only some of the furniture is real. There are in fact tables and chairs made of oak and teak, but they’re not part of the same collection. The dominant furniture style is a shiny off-white, suggesting plastic— or ivory. In fact, the pillars holding up the ceiling are the same material. The hardwood floors scratch easily, more like fingernails than wood. Touching the pillars, you feel a faint heartbeat. Then there’s the residents. This castle has a number of guards and workers, some in armor and some in simple tunics and wimples, but none of them seem to notice you. Not one of them has eyes in their head or a mouth to speak with; they are simply fleshy lumps with patches that resemble clothing, faces or hair. Some sprout from the walls and floors like plants, footless, but a few seem to have a little range of movement, even though they are anchored to the floor by a thin, veiny cord of tissue. None of them can answer any question you ask, so there’s no reason not to continue into the [[throne room]]. You could always [[go back|Dragon Castle Exterior]], of course.

This is Wod Castle’s throne room. Its carpeting is lush and its ceilings are high, but all around you is the sound of rushing air: the breath of the castle itself. Waiting for you on a throne of tooth and bone is the king of this castle, a diminutive person(?) wearing a crown taller than himself. He takes notice of you and bids you come forward. "Welcome and well met, Sir or Lady Hole," the king says. "May the Holy Empire of Wod receive you in good health. Introductions are in order." It seems the royal court has been expecting you. You can talk to the [[king]], the [[knight]], the [[princess]], the [[wizard]], or the [[jester]].

You approach the king. It seems appropriate to kneel. <<set $castleman to "huntsman">> "No, not necessary. Rise, friend," the King says, gesturing with one fanged hand for you to stand up. "I am King Hydra, ruler of this holy land. Come closer, let me have a look at you! It’s not every day that even a king gets to meet a hole." As he peers curiously at you, you get a good look at him in return. What a peculiar-looking king. He’s quite short, about a quarter of your height, and it doesn’t help that he’s wearing a truly enormous crown shaped like a vase. On closer inspection, the crown is actually made of wicker, painted gold, and the points going around it are in fact elaborately painted rattlesnake tails— which periodically move, even faintly rattling now and then. In fact, there seems to be a lot of snakiness about his person. What initially looked like a bushy beard turned out to be the tails of a lot of little garter snakes, and even the bulbous nose sticking out from under his crown is actually the head of a snake, staring mutely even as it flickers its tongue to smell. "Capital!" says the king, clapping his hands as he finishes his look at you. "I’m only slightly disappointed, I was hoping some tasty rabbit might be hiding in you. No such luck, eh, friend!" He chortles, a chorus of hisses rising from his crown. "I suppose, though, if you wanted to try that, you could always [[ask my huntsman|Castleexit]]. He’s sure to have some rabbits to set loose in you, if you wanted." Uh… thanks? The King offers his hand to shake. It’s the head of another obliging snake, who doesn’t seem to mind being shaken like a hand. Peering down, it appears the feet dangling out of the king’s ermine robe are also the heads of snakes. You’re not sure if you just met royalty, or a just a bunch of snakes that enjoy living in a basket and pretending to be a king. They were quite cordial in any event, though. [[Return to the throne room|throne room]].

You approach the king’s knight. He stands in silent observation, leaving you to be the one to address him first. <<set $castleman to "stableboy">> If we may dispense with the fourth wall for a second: since you’re the kind of person who plays interactive fiction, it seems reasonable to assume you’ve played other video games, like RPGs and so forth, right? Have you ever gotten far enough in one of those to get the really good armor, and it’s like "Dark Wyrm’s Remains" or something, and it literally looks like the skeleton of a dragon reassembled in a human shape to make armor? Most experienced gamers can name half a dozen games where that happens. That is what you’re looking at here. The knight stands coolly before you, fully encased in a suit of gleaming dragon’s bone armor. Its pelvic girdle is his chest plate, and the bones of its spreading wings cross over it like folded hands in front. He wears its calves and tarsals as boots, the shining claws digging into the carpet he stands on. Because this armor was a three-headed dragon to start with, two of its long saurian skulls form majestic epaulets above the knight’s shoulders; the third serves as his helmet, its powerful jawbone left intact to form a movable visor. He stands with a lance at his side, with a spaded blade at the end: the dragon’s tail, now reinforced to serve as a weapon. As you approach, the knight haltingly raises his free arm for a salute. "I am the great knight Miryuu," he says, sounding like he’s speaking with clenched teeth. "I defend the holy kingdom of Wod from all intruders, but you, friend, are welcome here." "Yeah." "Welcome." You aren’t sure where those other two voices came from, but it seems only polite to bow. "As a guest of the kingdom, we shall hold a jousting tournament in your honor," continues the knight in his wheezing, wincing voice. "I shall be the Princess’s champion, as is custom, but if you wish to choose your own champion, you may [[ask the stableboy|Castleexit]]." "He’s good, yeah." "Don’t underestimate him." "Guys, shut up," mumbles the knight. At this point, the king dozing in the throne next to him stirs, and gives an exceptionally large and sonorous yawn; as is the case with all creatures, the knight also yawns in response, his dragon bone jaw opening wide— and for a moment you can see his face. The inside of the helmet is hollow. No head is visible inside; however, it’s far from empty. The whole interior is covered, wallpapered even, with thick reptilian scales, all crammed and rumpled up together. From inside this forest of rippling skin, you can see a pair of slitted, draconic eyes peering out at you— and then two more pairs open up as well, looking startled to have been noticed. It seems the dragon was not parted with his bones after all; they were just rearranged. The knight coughs, feeling awkward about having been recognized for what he is. "I hope you enjoy the joust," he says. "Our suffering never ends." "We are in constant pain." "Hey, I told you two to shut up!" [[Return to the throne room|throne room]].

You approach the princess, who is standing demurely next to her father’s throne. She smiles and does an elegant curtsy as you draw near, lifting the trailing skirts of her satiny pink gown. <<set $castleman to "tour guide">> "Welcome, traveler. I am Princess Lockette, of Wod," she says. Her face is ivory-pale, with dark eyes and an especially wide smile. "We are known for our hospitality here, and hope to receive you well. If you have come here on business, we will accommodate you to the best of our ability. And if not?" She shrugs, her leg-of-mutton sleeves framing her face cutely. "Perhaps we can arrange for a [[guided tour|Castleexit]]! I am always free for such a delightful undertaking." Before you can respond, she frowns. Her shoulders don’t want to seem to unshrug. She jiggles her head back and forth, as if suggesting a hint. [[She may need your help.|princess2]]

"Approach with courage, ensorcelled mortal," intones the wizard. "I am the enchanter, Azhdarcho, and I would have words with you." <<set $castleman to "blacksmith">> This wizard has glaring red eyes and a long, impressive beard, but you can’t see much else because he’s wrapped in heavy, flowing leather robes. His sleeves hang to the floor even when his arms are raised; usually he keeps them crossed over his face. He towers over all the other residents of the castle, although a lot of that is his tall, crooked hat, almost as long as his body. "It’s a sad fate you have met with," he muses. "The body is the seat of the soul, as everyone knows. Yet, here you are, with no body… but where you should be, there is simply nothing." He pokes at you with one claw, which people seem to do a lot lately (although that doesn’t make it any less rude). "Could it be you’ve lost your body and your soul together? There is no place for a soul to take root, here in this nothingness." Soul? This is new. You hadn’t felt like that was in danger before. "Alas, your condition is beyond the repair of my magical arts," Azhdarcho continues, lowering his eyes in shame. "Yet I am quite certain your path will lead you to regain your form… or even //a// form, I suppose." He taps the bridge of his nose— he doesn’t seem to have a whole nose— as he thinks. "Although, we do have quite a clever [[blacksmith|Castleexit]]," he adds thoughtfully. "If anyone could create a device to recover your soul, I’m sure it would be him!" The wizard shakes his head in sympathy, sensing your disappointment. "Take heart, traveler. You are no lost soul, for there is a path to recovery for you." His eyes glitter, meeting yours. "For you see, there is yet one horizon from which no traveler has yet returned…" Azhdarcho throws his cloak open, spreading the sleeves wide— and his beard splits in half with a plaintive squawk, for it was no beard at all, but a toothless beak, covered in fine hair. "EXTINCTION!" he wails, and sails into the air above your head, as all pteranodons like himself once did. [[Return to the throne room.|throne room]]

"What ho! Or should I say… what, hole??" <<set $castleman to "bard">> A lousy pun like that could only come from the court fool of this castle, and up she dances to you now. Merry, agile, swift of foot and sharp of tongue… and completely engulfed in flames. It’s hard to tell what she’s wearing because she’s so covered in fire, but she seems to have a three-tiered jingling hat, and is waving a jester’s baton: it looks like a little red lizard with its tongue sticking out, wearing its own little jester hat. "I’m Sally, and these are the jokes," she proclaims, doing a fiery jig in front of you and offering a crackling hand to shake. Thankfully, they pull it away prankishly before you’re forced to burn yourself out of politeness. "Being a hole has got to be the //pits!//" she laughs, going into an odd little capering dance as she speaks, embers flying off of her with every strut. "You can’t wear anything but a //trench// coat, the dentist always says you have a //cavity//… You can’t even stop to think for too long, or people will say //‘Well???’//" She roars with laughter at every one of her jokes. "One thing’s for sure, when they were passing out bodies… you got the //shaft!//" If she makes one more awful hole pun, you’re going to ditch her. "Oh, and dating has to be a total pain— making little holes is //boring!"// This is when you discover that being a hole means you can give a HELL of a sigh. A great gust of air exits your entire void-body, striking Sally full-on as she dances in front of you… and extinguishes her entirely, like a match being blown out. Nothing is left of her, not even ashes. "Ow!" The jester’s lizard staff did hit the floor, and is looking put out. "OK, maybe I went a little far there. Geez, I wish [[the bard|Castleexit]] were here, he always knows when to play me off before I burn out." The lizard scratches its tail against the stone floor like a flint, trying to start another fire, but can’t get it going. This is awkward. You should return to the [[throne room]].

That sounds like a good suggestion. Excusing yourself, you go in search of the $castleman. It’s not easy to find an exit inside this draconic castle. Although you seem to have entered through the mouth, you don’t seem to have found your way into a stomach at any point. It’s more like this large animal is simply wrapped around you, like a snake, but giving you a lot of room to walk around. You try knocking on a wall to get its attention. What luck! A nearby barricade of scaled flesh begins to slide further in: soon you see a gargantuan clawed foot pass you by, followed by fresh air and the dim daylight of dawn. It seems the castle can retract its legs like a turtle, but normally uses them to guard the exits. Passing through the door, you find yourself in a courtyard. There’s a small building here, about the size of a house, with a thatched roof and modest outer walls to match. Laid by the the side of the house, hanging on pegs, you see a number of tools; a pair of metal tongs, a push broom, a falconer’s glove, and hanging from a hook on the eaves, a lute. One of those tools stands out to you. This must be where you’ll find the $castleman! [[Entering the building|The Drake Man]], however, brings another surprise.

''Disaster!'' The second you took a step forward to assist, her shoulders gave way entirely— her arms slipped down her torso and fell to the ground, taking her whole dress with it! The princess’s anatomy is significantly simpler than the opulent dress suggested. Almost everything above the knees is simply //neck//. With her dress heaped around her, you can see her actual body— a flippered hump with diamond-shaped flukes and a short, straight tail. She’s a small, white plesiosaur! The princess shrieks in horror, and you obligingly cover your eyes out of respect. (Being a hole, you can see right through your hands, but it’s the polite thing to do.) "Awiy wit ye! Whit wey can ye eejits no haud yer geggie shut for a second? I’m talkin tae a guest an ye leave me standin nude, ye fat tubes!" Her genteel manner has vanished as she noses through her clothes, barking insults. In a moment, two snakes— and rotund snakes, at that— peek sheepishly out of the collar of the dress, both hanging their heads in shame. It seems she wasn’t wearing muttonchop sleeves after all. "ゆるしてください," says one of them. "すごくごめんね," agrees the other. "Sudoku goblin, yeself!" the princess snarls. "Bloody tsuchinoko, think ye kin get awiy with anythin? Hell slap it intae ye!" [[This is awkward. Time to leave.|throne room]]

Of all the people to discover in this modest little room, you would find ''The Drake Man.'' He is tall and broad, clearly someone who works with his strong arms and back, and is wearing only patched canvas pants and a heavy leather apron. His feet are bare, leathery and callused, and his long dark hair is tied back. His whole body practically shimmers with muscle and sinew when he moves. His skin is rich brown, and something about his face makes you suspect he might even be South American, like yourself. When you enter the room, he is hard at work on his tool bench, and doesn’t notice you at first until he takes a break. "Oh! I’m sorry, come on in," he says, wiping his brow. "This is giving me some trouble. Maybe you can help." [[What are you doing?|drakeman1]] [[How can I help?|drakeman2]]

"Well, I’ve got this knight in there… did you see him? Well, anyway, he keeps asking me for a horse to joust with," the Drake Man explains, leaning on his work table to talk. "He keeps trying to do it without a horse and it’s just kind of pathetic, you know?" The Drake Man gestures to his workbench. "So I’ve been trying to make him a horse. Of course, mammals aren’t really my forte; I work with dragons." You approach the workbench for a closer look. The Drake Man //has,// admittedly, created something that resembles a horse… in the very vaguest sense. There’s about six or seven snakes here, and they’re sort of twisted together in a quadrupedal shape, like an amateurish balloon animal. You wonder if maybe being a $castleman is his calling after all. "This was tough. I can’t even //draw// a horse, let alone sculpt one," the Drake Man frowns. "Hmm. Wait… wait." He snaps his fingers. "Got it!" He points toward the back wall, over your shoulder. "That’s what I need. [[Over there|drakeman2]]."

You suddenly feel eyes on your back. Dozens of them. Whirling around, you see that the entire wall that you entered through is made up of woven-reed cages— cages that are filled with shuffling, rattling, hissing sounds. "Could you get that one for me? On your far left." Sidling past the angry-sounding boxes, you come to some more mellow-sounding ones that are very quiet… until you get too close and something inside starts battering its tail against the box. "Sorry, further left than that. On top?" This is what he wants, then. This mason jar full of fluid… and what looks like a preserved tapeworm??! "There! Thank you! That’s the one! [[Bring it over here|drakeman3]]."

The Drake Man takes the jar from you gratefully and unscrews the lid. "All right, now I know what I’m doing. Check this out. We’ve got snakes for raw materials, and a Guinea worm for starter…" He pokes the worm into the mouth of the largest snake, allowing it to slither its way inside, and then seems to pull the entire assemblage straight, as if shucking corn. "Right, so we start with one of the two basic dragons, the Eastern kind." It’s a difficult process to watch— not in that it makes you cringe, but in that it’s difficult to actually understand what he’s doing at any point in time. Now that he’s somehow smoothed all of those snakes into one big, thick snake, he runs his hands over its sides, changing their texture as if he were flipping over cards. "Carp scales… get those antlers out… there we go!" Abruptly, the snake opens its mouth and what looks like a glowing pearl falls out; it rears up from the table and begins to fly in a large circle, chasing the floating pearl like a kitten chasing a ball of yarn. It now has a flowing mane and four clawed legs as well. "All right, get back down here, you rascal…" The Drake Man catches the pearl in midair and pushes it back down the dragon’s throat, bringing the animal back down to his work table. "Now, if we squish his body in and stretch out the neck and legs…" He sets to work again, pulling the animal’s body this way and that like taffy. In another few minutes, the animal stands up again, now standing tall on four magnificent hooves, its breath coming in puffs that shake its long, trailing catfish barbels as if they were ribbons. "There we go! A qilin!" the Drake Man announces with satisfaction. "A ‘Chinese unicorn’, so to speak, although they do have two horns." He taps his chin. "Still, it’s not exactly a horse. Its feet don’t touch the ground…" Once more the idea comes to him before you can make a suggestion. "Ah! Translation! [[Don’t move]], it’s going to get dark."

The light in this room is coming from a large Chinese paper lantern hung from the ceiling. The Drake Man reaches up and pinches out the flame; now all is darkness, except for the sliver of morning sunlight creeping through the door. "Where are my matches? Oh, here they are." The room brightens again: this time he’s lit a different lantern, one with a grinning cyclops face and a tongue that sticks out cheekily. "Now, Qilin is the Chinese word for this creature, but in Japanese, that word also means…" Standing on the table, its neck bent to clear the ceiling, is a very puzzled-looking giraffe. "It’s a little big for Miryuu to ride… oh, that’s on me." The Drake Man crosses the room, finding something incongruous on another work table: a boom box. He twists one dial, and the giraffe abruptly shrinks to a smaller, pony-like size, and then swells back up to a more horse-like proportions. "Yeah, I should have turned down the volume first," the Drake Man says. The two of you watch as the small giraffe tries a few first steps, then breaks into a racking run. "Magnificent!" the Drake Man exclaims. "I’ll have to make another one so he’ll have something to joust against, but it’ll be worth it!" [[Is that even a dragon anymore?|drakeman4]] [[How did you do that?|drakeman5]]

The Drake Man shoots you a conspiratorial grin. "That’s the thing. What //isn’t// a dragon? The word is used for just about everything!" He gestures to his wall of caged creatures. "Snakes are the original dragon, of course. All the earliest dragon stories presented them as serpents, which extends to sea serpents and many-headed hydras. But they’ve been conflated with so many other animals since, it’s hard to say where the dragon ends and anything else begins." Beckoning for you to follow, he goes to the corner where you found the jar for him. There’s more jars there, each with a worm floating in fluid. "Ever wonder why a dragon is sometimes called a worm? Or ‘wyrm’, with a Y?" He taps the glass jar, making the worm twitch. "The Book of Isaiah talks about a ‘fiery, flying serpent’— that’s this little monster. Guinea worms are absolutely awful parasites you wouldn’t wish on anyone; they imagined it was a dragon hatching out of your body, hence the scientific name //Dracunculus.// I’ll bet that sounds like a word you know too." He leads you to a large cage with a darkcloth thrown over it. He peels it back to give you a peek, and glittering eyes look back at you from the ceiling of the cage. "Dracula, a name that means ‘son of the dragon’, or even ‘son of the devil’… so now dragons are connected, just through words alone, to snakes, worms, the Devil himself— and yes, vampires and vampire bats." He stops the frisking giraffe to calm it, petting its long neck. "If you follow the chain of etymology, it can take you just about anywhere." [[And that’s how you made that giraffe?|drakeman5]]

"How?" The Drake Man looks at the giraffe, snuggling under his arm like a friendly cat, and shrugs. "Honestly? I have no idea. It’s magic." Although you don’t respond, he seems to sense that that’s [[not a satisfactory answer|drakeman6]].

"It helps if you think of it his way," he says, hopping up to sit on his own workbench. "You’ve probably heard the phrase, //A sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?// That’s Arthur C. Clarke’s third law," He chuckles. "There’s a corollary to that, though: a sufficiently transparent engine of magic would be indistinguishable from science." He reaches over to his boom box and turns on some light jazz. "Electricity was once the tool of gods alone. Even those who called themselves witches and wizards feared it… but we studied it, mastered it, and now it comes in a battery you can buy at the dollar store." The Drake Man smiles as he watches the giraffe, whose head is bobbing as it unconsciously grooves to the music. "If magic were something that could be tested, reproduced, and marketed, it would be science! Your cell phone would have magic wand functions built right in, your car would have collision-avoidance spells and they wouldn’t even cost extra!" He jumps to his feet, crossing the room to open the door for the giraffe, who gratefully runs out to frisk in the pink morning daylight. "And of course the opposite is true of science. Magic does have rules, in a way… but they’re literary conceits. No angel investor would //touch// your invention if, like magic, it was subject to things like dramatic irony, deus ex machina, and the rule of three!" He takes off his apron, fanning himself with a sigh. There’s a pegboard with more aprons on hooks on the far wall… but he brings it to you instead. "And while we’re on the subject of deus ex machina… you seem like you could use a new identity. I can make a new one for myself if I want… do you want this one?" Will you become the new Drake Man? [[Yes|Drakemanyes]] [[No|Drakemanno]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. The attendant leans out to get a better look at the car; what a magnificent vehicle. It's a classic Alfa Romeo, spider model, lily pad green and absolutely gleaming. The attendant smiles as the driver pulls up. "That car go fast?" she says conversationally as she stamps his parking stub. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said the driver, who's shaped like a bodybuilder with a waterfall of raven metalhead hair. There's a sound of muted laughter from somewhere in the car. The attendant does a double take as the car drives away; did the headlights on that car just //blink?// Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|drakemanending]] from the juror pool.

The Drake Man gives a belly laugh. "I didn’t think so. This really isn’t a job for everyone… forgive my evolution joke, but I’ve found my niche here."<<set $mandrake to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> He goes to his snake wall and begins hunting for ingredients. "You don’t really look like you’re dressed for the cold… let me give you a ride." He reaches into a large dimly-lit glass aquarium, and rummages around, biting his lip thoughtfully as if he were feeling around in a cookie jar for the one without raisins. "Ah! Here it is." He returns to his work bench with a huge, wriggling fish in one hand, its long tail trailing behind him. "This is an oarfish. Ever heard of it before? They call it the King of Herrings." The Drake Man clears off his workspace, and picks up what looks like a dried ginger root, albeit one that vaguely resembles a human figure. "Ugh. Hold this, would you? Actually, go ahead and take it, I don't need it." The eight-foot, eel-like fish lays gulping on the bench as the Drake Man sets to work… but it doesn’t stay a fish long. He begins to change its shape, opening its gills, and flipping pieces back and forth as if he were changing a toy vehicle into a robot. "When one of these washes up on the beach, people used to take them for sea serpents…" In about five minutes, the Drake Man has stretched and inflated this fish into a thirty-foot-long dragon, legless and wingless, but with great fanning sails and wide, lobed fins. "Here we go. Finishing touch…" He grabs a dusty old saddle hanging on the wall and plops it on the dragon’s back. "Hop on." [[Hop on??|dragonride]]

The Drake Man's thatched-roof hut is thousands of feet below you as the flying sea dragon hurtles into the air. With the wind whistling through your hole and the dragon under your hips, you hold on tight to its dorsal fin and pump your fist in the air, letting loose the loudest ''YEAH!!!'' you can muster! The dragon roars in agreement as it heads for the water. There's a tremendous splash, and you're soaked and it seems to take forever to paddle to shore, but finally you're lying safely on [[the beach|The Beach]] .

You really thought you'd miss the Internet more than you do.<<set $drakemanending to true>> You don't live a //completely// medieval life, thankfully. After all, you've seen what they would call the future: any modern convenience you miss, you can build it yourself with this magical new talent you've learned. Still, most of your needs are better served by a person than a gadget, which is why you finally did build that $castleman after all, and plenty of others. The bard plays for you as you work, the blacksmith keeps your tools tempered up, and the falconer-- if that's what you call a humanoid wyvern who launches little wyverns out of her chest-- scouts out new places for you to ply your trade, when the time comes to pull up stakes and move along. But, no matter where your flying castle takes you, there's always someone new to help. They bring you snakes and lizards and parasites to trade, and you invent something. It doesn't always work as well as you know it would if it were something cheap off the shelf from the electronics store, but it always solves a problem, and ensures your little kingdom and its growing family always have a place to return to when winter falls again. Friendship is magic, they say? There's a corollary to that one too-- [[magic is friendship.|endtitle]]

You're still a hole. You're still just a space where you would be if you were here, except, you're not here. There's no air or anything occupying the space where you are; only a conspicuous lack of //you.// What's really strange is that there's definitely something on the other side of the hole. You can see the back wall of a changing room, but it's not the same changing room you're in: the clothes on the other side ofyou are totally different. Yet, you can't reach in and touch it, any more than you can pull a hole through itself. It's very frustrating to be reminded of how little of yourself you are. Maybe you should [[leave the mirror behind.|Fashion Boutique]]

Bright pink blossoms drift past you like snow, and the hum of honeybees threatens to lull you to sleep on your feet. Spring is literally everywhere in this orchard, and you’re being carried along with it. A tiny whirlwind comes meandering through the orchard, trailing a spiral of cherry blossom petals. They drift around you in a dancing circle as they blow by, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You spin on your heel with them, savoring the moment. You hear wind chimes all around you. The headiness of this experience is making you disoriented. You don’t remember which direction you entered this orchard from anymore. The insistent clunk of a nearby deer scare makes you more alert, and you hear music directly ahead of you. There’s no escape from this ocean of pink petals but <<if $mango is true>>[[forward.|Charming Road]]<<else>>[[forward.|Japanese Garden]]<</if>>

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. It's a real gunboat of a luxury car; a white Rolls-Royce. The chauffeur pulls further forward so the passenger in the back seat can pay the fee. Leaning out of the window, the smiling, bearded man hands a banknote to the clerk. "Keep the change," he says. "It's for you." The attendant looks at him suspiciously, not at first believing it. "This is a joke, right? What, is this fake?" She pops a counterfeit pen out of her front pocket and slashes it against the bill. After a minute, she looks even more startled. "You're sure? This much? For me? ME? Do I know you?" The generous old man just laughs, a deep throaty laugh of joy as his chaffeur escorts him to the next act of kindness on his list. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|KMending]] from the juror pool.

The Kind Man shakes his head with a knowing smile. "That was the right answer," he chuckles. "And yet, you're wrong. You may not be the Kind Man... you may not even be a man, for that matter. But you show great capacity for kindness. With or without a body, or a heart, or even a soul, you make the choices that put others first-- even when they benefit you too." The Kind Man laughs. "Some people think those choices don't count as kind!"<<set $mankind to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> He looks at the gift he was working on in his hands. "This would be wasted on you," he frowns, putting it down before you can see what it was. "Let me see if I can find something you'd appreciate." He squeezes past a couple of his elves(??) and makes his way to the opposite wall, where there's a big pile of gifts, with a crayon sign reading "Rejects" hanging over it. "Let's see, let's see. Expensive new top of the line phone, no good... keys to a brand new luxury car, no one needs that... enough cash to provide comfort and security for the rest of your life..." He tucks that into his pocket without saying anything. "Ah! This is what you want!" The Kind Man returns to your side and presses a small bottle of cologne into your palm. "This is my favorite! I promise you'll like it. Don't worry, I'm not saying you're a stinky hole or anything!" He laughs, and the elves all hoot along. It's a good thing he can't see the disappointment on your face. "[["How about some cocoa?"|leavekindman]]" he smiles.

This question seems to surprise the Kind Man. "Why?" He beckons for you to follow. "Let me show you what's going on in here." He returns to his workstation and holds up the object he was preparing on the grinder. "Do you know what this is?" Although you turn it over and over in your hands, you can't seem to fathom what this object might be. Even the material it's made out of, although hardly unearthly, is difficult to ascertain. You keep thinking that maybe this is something very common, that you //should// know on sight, but it's been turned inside-out? The Kind Man takes it back with a chuckle. "Maybe you've never seen one, but you know what it is." He holds it up to the light, catching an iridescent sparkle. "It's ''forgiveness.'' You've given out a lot of these yourself in your life, haven't you?" Now that he says it, [[you feel silly|kindman2]]. How could you not recognize that?

To the Kind Man's credit, the hot chocolate is very, ''very'' good. Maybe not as good as more money than you would ever deserve, of course. "Clearly you still need a new identity," the Kind Man says as he blows on his own cocoa. "I can't pull out out of that pile for you, I'm afraid; I only have the one to give, and it's not what you're looking for. But, I can at least show you the way back to start again." Taking his mug, he slips past his workers and goes to the fireplace, where he has dozens of framed thank-you notes propped up on the heart. He turns a metal key, extinguishing the fire, and gestures you toward it. "Just walk inside with a wish on your lips, formed but not spoken," he says. "They'll take you you need to go." What will you wish for? \<<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mandarin>>[[I’m looking for an orange?|Freefall]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mango>>[[I feel like a mango?|Garden 2]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manchild>>[[Maybe a toy car?|Sandcastle Contest]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manservant>>[[Do you know anything about origami?|seaside manor]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manmade>>[[Jewels! I need jewels!|Haunted Castle]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mandrill>>[[Show me the MONKEY!|KM2DM]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$mandrake>>[[What I need is magic!|Dragon Castle Exterior]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manhood>>[[Take me to the hood.|a tunnel]] <</if>><<if $metmen gt 1 and !$manslaughter>>[[I think I need some legal documents?|abattoir]] <</if>><<if $metmen is 10>>[[I just want to go home.|The Parking Structure]] <</if>>The Kind Man smiles. "Perhaps you have somewhere else in mind," he nods. "Just [[follow these lampposts|Lampposts]]," he says, opening a back door. "They'll take you where you want to go."

The antique gas lamps shine clearly through the misty snowfall, leading you onward... although the Kind Man didn't actually tell you where you were going, which is ominous. It's a good thing they glow so brightly, or you'd be certain you ran out of trail to follow. There is no road, only the lampposts... and the next lamppost is behind a thick copse of fir trees. You fight your way through a maze of thick pine needles, covering where your eyes would be if you had any right now, and feel blindly for the lamppost; instead, you find a wooden door. Opening it, bright light stuns you for a second, just long enough for that wooden door to close behind you as you stumble through. You're in the [[Antique Store]] in the downtown mall.

They weren't talkative, but the elves really had been quite helpful as you learned the skills for your new job. They showed a lot of support, and you needed it, especially when it came to the //hard// part of your job.<<set $KMending to true>> The hard part wasn't learning all the tool and die work, cleaning and maintenance of the equipment, the chemical safety training, or all the mnemonic devices for injury prevention. That was just part of becoming a skilled worker. The hard part was also not learning the elves' language, for they were silent as an owl's wings, yet expressive in ways no human could match. It was, at times, embarrassing how they understood your needs before you could adequately describe them. No, the hard part was how //easy// being kind turned out to be. It sometimes astonished yourself how much kindness you could produce in a single day. An elf worker would walk up to consult you on something, and walk away with armfuls of resiliency, inventiveness, and peace, just to get them off your desk so you could work. You were throwing away boxes faster than ever. Still it left one question, that burned your stomach and haunted your dreams when you lay snuggled up under your elf-feather bed through another snowy night. If being kind is so easy, [[why do so few people choose to do it?|endtitle]]

"Here at my workshop, we make gifts for good people. Not people who have been good-- the gifts that //make// them good." He picks up a small glass case with some labeled samples. "Reason. Patience. Acceptance. Things you can't put on a store shelf, and that you can't wrap up in a box." You look out the window at the discarded boxes. For a second it all made sense, but then you lost it again. The Kind Man opens a drawer on his workbench and pulls out a small perfume bottle, opening the cap to give you just a sniff. "You recognize that? Sense of humor!" he exclaims. "Daily, all over the world, people fight and die and lose everything, not because they want some of this, but because they never had any." You take a sniff. It just smells like the inside of your nostrils. [[How do you deliver them, without boxes?|kindman3]] [[Why me, though?|kindman4]]

"Distribute?" The Kind Man shakes his head. "Well, we did try that, once. I went out on a big flying bedpan and put them in people's shoes while they were sleeping. I was excited about the idea! We were going to do it every year on March 31st-- the elves marked it on their calendars for years in advance." Elves? Those tall guys that look like owls are //elves??// He shakes his head slowly. "It was a disaster. People abused their gifts, abandoned them, threw them out by the truckload. You can't just give a person patience and understanding; they have to want it, and seek it out themselves." He looks at you, or the void where you would be, and smiles sadly. "Just like you're doing, right?" [[Is that why you offered all of this to me?|kindman4]]

"It's right there in the name, friend. I'm the Kind Man," he chuckles. "A lot of people get the wrong idea about kindness. For one thing, they confuse it with simple hospitality, or even just cordiality. Kindness isn't just about a friendly face or a cup of tea." He reaches into his apron pocket and takes out a jeweler's loupe. "Those things can look like kindness on the outside, but if put to the test... hollow." As if to demonstrate his point, he picks a couple of his strange handmade treasures out of another pocket. "These look quite similar, don't they?" he says, handing them to you. "Can you tell which of them has the flaw?" It's difficult at first, but when you hold them up to the light, one of the two irregular shapes has an infinitesimally thin cleave through its translucent surface, that gleams in the light. "That's right, it's the one on the right," he says. "But you see, the one on the left is politeness. That's something you can maintain in any situation. The one on the right, though?" He takes the flawed treasure, examining it with his own loupe. "Yes, yes. This is //tolerance.// And tolerance must have one crucial flaw; it doesn't tolerate the presence of intolerance!" That takes you a second to wrap your head around. "Kindness without action is indistinguishable from cruelty," he says, jaw set firm. "You can't let others suffer just to be polite. You need an identity, I have one; I can let mine go and build another. It would be cruel to you, wouldn't it, if you came all this way and I just shook your hand and said, 'good luck, slugger', right?" He reaches into a third apron pocket and holds his closed hand up, waiting for you to catch what he drops. Will you become the new Kind Man? [[Yes.|kindmanyes]] [[No.|kindmanno]]

You board the seaplane and take your seat. <<if $flightdest is "wharf">>The captain of this flight is a fish: a fish with glorious iridescent fins that spread like a peacock's tail. "This is your captain speaking," he says over the intercom. "My name's Flynn Fish, and I'd like to welcome to you our nonstop flight to the west coast. We'll be disembarking at Lieutentant's Wharf, a hot spot for dining, shopping and drinking, so if you have a round-trip ticket for a day trip, remember that flights depart at 4 PM, 8 PM, and 12 PM." <<else>>The captain of this flight is a vast manta ray hunched in the pilot's seat, rich blue with cream spots, who salutes you sharply with one wing-like fin as you board. "Who's ready to fly? I am!" he exclaims as he guns the engine. "And awaaaay we go!" A moment later, the "fasten seat belts" sign turns on. "Oops."<</if>> Water sprays from the pontoons and soaks the windows as you lift off, leaving the water far behind... but all too soon you come back down, before you even get a good look at the clouds. It wasn't that long of a journey after all. <<if $flightdest is "airport">>[[Disembark.|The Airport]] <<else>>[[Disembark.|Lieutenant's Wharf]]<</if>>

The shuttle bus is very awkward to ride, what with having to put on a space suit, exit the atmosphere, and return via parachute. It may be going way out of your way, but it does get you back to down pretty quickly! [[Here's your stop.|Bus Stop]] You can keep the freeze-dried ice cream!

Although you can probably think of a hundred things you want to say to this man, only one comes out clearly, and loudly enough for him to hear it:<h1>STOP!!!</h1>This gives him pause, and he looks at you strangely. Then he brightens. "Break time," he reasons. "All right, let me [[finish this|slaughterman2]]."

Maybe you thought the Slaughter Man would suddenly come to his senses, as if waking from a dream, or be ashamed to have someone observe him in his dire work. Perhaps you thought he wasn't confident in the rightness of his work, somehow. You were wrong. The stamp comes down over its stunned target, and leaves nothing behind but a couple of boxes worth of gingerbread cookies. The cookies are pushed down the chute, and the remains dumped into a bin specifically for gingerbread scraps, and you don't see that gingerbread person again. The Slaughter Man turns a key in the console he was working at, shutting down the machinery. "Break time," he grins, but immediately senses your reaction. "Whoa, what's wrong, little hole person?" [[You're a murderer!|sm3]] [[How can you be so cruel?!|sm4]] [[How can you live with yourself??|sm5]]

The Slaughter Man frowns. "Murderer?" He shakes his head. "I'm a //baker//, my dude. I make cookies. This is where they come from!" He gestures around the room. "Where did you think they came from?" It feels like there's an obvious answer to that question, but somehow it's not coming to you. [[This is animal cruelty.|sm4]] [[You really don't think there's something wrong here?|sm4]]

"Cruel?" The Slaughter Man looks genuinely baffled. "There's no animal products in these cookies. They're vegan! No eggs, real coconut oil instead of butter..." He shrugs. "No one gets hurt!" He holds up a disc-shaped slice of the victim. It looks exactly like any other molasses cookie you've ever seen for sale in a grocery store. [[You literally just killed a gingerbread person before our eyes.|sm5]]

"Oh, wait. Wait." The Slaughter Man starts to nod as if understanding. "Your problem is that these little guys run around and play and stuff, before we process them for shipping. Is that it?" The innocence of his question is deeply disconcerting. "I mean..." He waves his hand indistinctly. "There's a lot of reasons we do this this way. We could just bake them straight from ingredients, like a lot of places do... but that's like being born dead. Free-range cookies like this have the opportunity to enjoy life and have some fun while their flavor mellows." [[Somehow you aren't quite convinced yet.|sm6]]

"I get that you're concerned." the Slaughter Man continues. "But you've eaten cookies before, right? Were you ever once concerned about what the wheat and sugarcane were going to do before they were hulled and processed to make flour and sugar?" He gestures toward the kill floor. "You see this big industrial slaughterhouse and immediately you think of slasher movies and dead baby animals. You were horrified, right?" He taps his nose congenially. "But horror isn't a natural reaction. Horror is //taught.// Every culture around the world has different things that are beyond the pale for them, and things that are just an everyday part of life." He steps off his platform, locating a mini-fridge on the near wall, and takes out a glass bottle of milk. "Now, //fear?// That's with you from birth. As a child it's perfectly reasonable to be scared of everything, because you're a little kid! Everything really is dangerous, because you're helpless in a world adults made to suit themselves." He reaches into the scraps box, picking out some choice pieces of scrap shortbread to enjoy with his drink. "But, by and by, some things you learn to trust, while others, things that you might not think of be scared of, remain beyond the pale. Like eating meat at all, for some cultures; others just don't eat //certain// meats, regarding them as pets first. Rabbit meat has been eaten for thousands of years, but I bet you know someone who would break down crying if served a whole roasted rabbit!" [[What about you?|sm7]]

"Well, I could give you any number of explanations and excuses for why this is OK to do, until you find one that suits you." he says, finishing his milk and tossing the glass bottle in a recycling bin nearby. "For a lot of people, it's enough that these people don't exactly have individual identities. Did you meet Mr. Pfeffernusse on the way in here? Kind of a boastful guy, right?" The gingerbread farmer did indeed greet you with a dramatic flourish, looking very proud of his farm. "Yeah, uh, I processed him yesterday," shrugs the Slaughter Man. "Cookie cutter came down on him and it was all over... and yet, here you are today, meeting him for the first time. Was it the same Mr. Pfeffernusse? Are two gingerbread man cookies always individuals, or does decorating them as the same person make them the same person?" He pauses and taps his head with his knuckles, making a silly face. "Sorry, my mind tends to wander at this job sometimes." He turns his head to look at the clock on the wall. "Oh shoot, look at that, this was a late break! My shift's almost over." He looks at you and cocks his head. "Oh wait. Are you here to replace me?" Will you become the new Slaughter Man? [[Yes.|slaughtermanyes]] [[No.|slaughtermanno]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot. A large black car lumbers up the ramp and into the sunlight.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The tollbooth attendant does a double take, and suddenly rips her visor cap off and holds it soberly over her heart. She wasn't expecting to see a hearse go by today. The hearse's driver sees her and smiles. "Relax. No one's in here today but me." He reaches out with a banknote to pay the fee, but then also offers her a wrapped tray of cookies. "On the house!" he adds. "You never get the recognition you deserve on this job." She looks at him in bafflement, wondering why anyone would give away cookies, but then she sees the label on the side and makes up her mind. "Pfeffernusse's? Gimme!" she says gleefully. "Aww, molasses and shortbread! That's so cool, thank you!" The hearse driver shoots her a thumbs up and disappears into traffic. A second after he leaves, the attendant realizes she should have asked for something else. The next car pulls up, and the attendant, mouth full of cookies, manages to grunt, "Got milk?" Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|slaughtermanending]] from the juror pool.

The Slaughter Man pumps his fist. "Hell yeah, overtime! Make that money!"<<set $manslaughter to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> He looks down at you and smiles. "Hey, sorry I snapped at you earlier. I get arguments like that a lot from organized protestors, but you were just curious, right?" He kneels, reaching into a console at his workstation with white paperwork sticking out. Pulling out one rolled piece of paper, he hands it to you. "Here you go; if anyone asks, you can tell them I'm innocent." It's an official notice of acquittal for the charge of manslaughter. He hears a honking horn through the walls, and brightens. "Truck's here. That's your ride!" He presses a button on his workstation, and suddenly the floor you're on starts to move; it was a conveyor belt the whole time. You try to keep your balance, but fail, and the next thing you know, the Slaughter Man is waving goodbye as you [[tumble down the cookie chute|motortruck]].

He was right after all: they really are just cookies.<<set $slaughtermanending to true>> Once you got that through your head, the job was a lot easier. The amount of emotional labor you'd been pulling with every shift was cut in half, and your productivity went up. It had been awkward starting out, and you'd made a mess of things a few times; that was how you discovered that the gingerbread people could and would go stale, if you took too long before processing them. You weren't sure if it was worse to see Grandpa Pfeffernusse cut into pieces on the line, or see his dessicated body crumble and collapse as he tried to move his stiff legs. All the same, it was never as easy for you as it had been for your predecessor. He had rarely found cause to step away from his work station, while you did so with almost every case that came through. Sometimes you turned your back; other times you ran to the conveyor belt to give the victim some comfort before the stamp came down; but you never stayed on the platform when the cutter hit. Only from that perspective could you really see their faces, and sense how loudly they were screaming, in silent cookie voices, [[as the cutter swung down.|endtitle]]

After a brief and very discombobulating slide through dark metal corridors, you are deposited in an enclosed space with no light. You can't see anyone or hear anything besides the rumbling of engines, and every time you try to move, you hear an ominous crackling sound. The room begins to bounce and rock, and it's all you can do to stay still and not be tumbled around. After what feels like an eternity of huddling in this muffled black void of unstable flooring, it all seems to come to a stop. You hear keys jingling. Abruptly, a wall you hadn't seen opens up, and it becomes quite clear where you are. You're sitting in the back of the Pfeffernusse Farms delivery van, balanced on a tottering tower of cookie packages. The large beetle who just slid the loading door up is very startled to see you. "A bug finding a person in his cookies? Now that's a switch!" he exclaims. You [[excuse yourself|Skyscraper]] (after politely helping him to set up the loading ramp).

This is a long and dull road, but at least there's some vintage advertising to read along the way. ''WHAT'S WORSE THAN ANY SCORPION'S STING? WHEN FIANCEES GIVE BACK THEIR RINGS //BURMA-SHAVE//'' If you go north from here, you'll find a [[Lonely Crossroads]]. South of here is [[The Airport]]. East of here is giant fanged scorpions! Don't go east!

''HUMBLE'S'' ''FIRST FLOOR:'' Fragrances Tea Room Gifts Womenswear ''SECOND FLOOR'' Men Swear ''THIRD FLOOR'' Toy Department ''FOURTH FLOOR'' Kitchen Supplies ''FIFTH FLOOR'' Intimates ''SIXTH FLOOR'' Treasures Of Myth & Legend ''SEVENTH FLOOR'' Under Construction ''ROOFTOP'' Accessible from outside stairs only ''BASEMENT FLOOR'' Employees only. [[Return to shopping.|department store]]

Jury duty. [[Ugh.|Second Page]]

You didn’t get enough sleep last night and you woke up late, so there’s no time for breakfast. You can’t take your car today, so you have to catch the bus downtown instead. There’s no seats available on the bus on a Monday morning, so you have to stand all the way there. By the time you stumble out of the bus doors and join the crowd on the way to the courthouse, you’re a bleary mess. The sunlight stings your eyes, your empty stomach is in knots, and everyone around you is way, //way// too awake for you right now. [[It’s going to be such a bad day.|Third Page]]

The flow of foot traffic toward the courthouse takes you through the open-air mall downtown. It’s pretty laughable to call it a mall, since there’s so few businesses and most of it is office space now, but at least it’s a place to walk without having to watch out for cars. You’ve heard there’s a lot of street crime downtown, but the one nice thing about broad daylight and big crowds is that relatively little crime happens in that context. Sunlight is the best disinfectant, as they say. Hurrying along in your own little world, you don’t even see [[the foot|Fourth Page]] outstretched to trip you.

The world spins out from under you and you fall… //and fall…// [[and fall right through yourself.|Fifth Page]]

Somehow, even though you were tripped onto your face, you’ve landed flat on your back on the ground. You sit up, trying to get a look at your attacker, but they’re already dashing away before you can collect yourself. That outfit they’re wearing looks very familiar, though. You put on one just like it this morning, in fact. That hair looks a lot like yours too. And those shoes. And their figure. And the jury duty slip in their hand… Is that //you?// But if that’s you, [[then who are you?|Sixth Page]]

You look down at your hands, and aren’t sure what you’re seeing anymore at all. Your hands look hollow. No matter which way you turn them, all you can see is an outline of your hands, as if they were being lit up from the inside, like a jack o’ lantern. What’s more, when you look through your hands, whatever’s behind them looks completely different, like it’s not even the same place; it’s like looking through a peephole. You’re the victim of a crime, all right, and it looks like they got away with it. They got away with //you//. Some thief stole you, from top to bottom, and didn’t leave anything behind. There’s nothing left but a [[hole|Title Page]] in space, where you are supposed to be.

<h6>The Hungry Reader presents:</h6><center><h1>The Hole Man</h1> A game by E.Z. Poschman</center> [[Begin game|Intro 1]] [[Credits]] \<<set $beenmen to 0>> \<<set $shopsvisited=0>> \<<set $mandarin=false>> \<<set $skycucumber=false>> \<<set $taxes to false>> \<<set $metmen to 0>> \<<set $parkinglot to false>> \<<set $mandarin to false>> \<<set $mango to false>> \<<set $manchild to false>> \<<set $manservant to false>> \<<set $manmade to false>> \<<set $mankind to false>> \<<set $mandrake to false>> \<<set $manhood to false>> \<<set $manslaughter to false>> \<<set $AMending to false>> \<<set $darinmanending to false>> \<<set $GMending to false>> \<<set $CMending to false>> \<<set $servantmanending to false>> \<<set $mademanending to false>> \<<set $KMending to false>> \<<set $DMending to false>> \<<set $hoodmanending to false>> \<<set $slaughtermanending to false>>

Limping to your feet, you wander over to a store window to get a better look at yourself in total. No doubt about it: you’re ''a hole.'' From every angle, you just look like a silhouette, even at a very close range. If you are a hole, maybe you can walk through a wall? Better not try it, though. You’ve seen cartoons. It’s a lot easier to put a hole in something than to take a hole out of it. What’s really strange, is that there does seem to be on //something// on the other side of the hole that is you. You can see the same brick walkway through your feet, but it’s sunny and warm, compared to the [[cool evening colors|Intro 2]] of the bricks all around you.

Wait. Evening? You’re supposed to [[report to the courthouse|Intro 3]] at 8:00 AM!

You break into a run to try to make it to the courthouse. Maybe it’s just cloudy, maybe it’s not as late as it looks. You pass by the big public clock in the mall, slowing to a jog to read it, and then stop, reading it again. You’ve seen a clock flash 12:00 before… but an //analog// clock?? The mall doesn’t look all that familiar either. You’ve been here before, and it’s always kind of deserted like this… but now a lot of storefronts are brightly lit and look welcoming, especially under such a dark and starry sky. There’s no time to visit them now, though; you still have to [[get to the courthouse.|courthouse]] On your way out, you pass under a wrought-iron arch with the mall’s logo, and are once again confused. Since when is this place called the ''“Nocturne Mall”?''

You have entered the strange and towering mansion. It doesn’t look in any way //haunted//, but you still can’t push away a feeling of dread about this whole business. The entrance is very abbreviated. There’s a reception desk, a hall going left, and a hall going right; the latter exit is cordoned off by a plush rope. There’s nothing else to look at but the view from the picture windows, and the weirdly-textured blue and white wall behind the reception desk. The reception desk is unattended. You tap the service bell a few times and wait, but no one seems to come. Nothing to do but [[press on to the left.|Mansion South Hall]] You could always [[head back outside|seaside manor]], too.

You’re in the mansion’s southern hall. This space is no more interesting to look at than the first, being mostly windows on the south side and frosted-blue wall on the north. At least this building is very well cooled, surprising for something that’s mostly glass. At the end of the hall is [[a staircase|Mansion West Hall]] leading to the second floor.

You have arrived on the second— and ''TOP''— floor, and everything has changed. The cool air of the lower floor has given way to a sweltering, greenhouse-like heat— there is no exterior wall at all on the west side of the house, the one facing the sea. This side is entirely glass, a latticework of dozens and dozens of windowpanes stacked ten stories high. From here on the second floor, you can see the ceiling; the entire top 90 feet of the house (really, the whole house save a few small partitions) is one enormous room. It could be an airship hangar or a rocket shelter, but there isn’t space for such things in this house: it is occupied. The feeling of dread has not left you, for this is what it was preparing you for: the moment when you turn to [[look east.|The Monster Molluch]]

The frosted blue wall continues to the ceiling of the room, but there is only frost on the sides not facing the sun. From this position, with the sun at your back, you can see that it is no wall, but instead what this house was built to hold: a block of ice, barely smaller than this building itself. Although the cooler sides are fuzzy with frost, this side is slightly melted, enabling you to see past the surface, into the core of the ice. You see eyes. Eyes and suckers. Tentacles. More eyes. A crushing beak that splits three ways. Clawed hands, tattered wings, eyeball after eyeball, a pupil shape that defies all logic. The resident of this house is a //monster//— the kind big enough to bring a city to the ground. You feel as frozen to the spot as the monster is. How long has it been there? Is it safe to stand here? Is it awake? Can it see me? As one, all of the monster’s eyes twist in the ice to look at you. You break into a run— but don’t get a yard away before colliding with a man you didn’t see. “I’m terribly sorry, friend,” he says, helping you to your feet. “Did you call for service?” Noting your panicked expression, he smiles. “Ah, you’ve met our gracious host. If you have any questions? [[I’m at your service.”|Servant Man]]

He frowns, not having expected you to draw a blank at that name. “I’m terribly sorry, I’ve failed to begin at the beginning, haven’t I,” he says apologetically. “Most of our tour groups have been big fans of his from the beginning, and I’ve become accustomed to sharing deeper lore first for their benefit.” The Servant Man backs up a little, taking a spot he’s used to on his tours, and begins. “Before you rests the great and awful Molluch, King of All Hungers. In centuries past he was known by numerous fearsome names, like ‘kraken’ or ‘the sea beastie,’ or… oh, I can never pronounce that, but it starts with a C. Anyway, he is now a resident of this home built to house him in his current state, and I tend to his various needs.” He guides you to a display of printed plaques underneath the western windows: a timeline of Molluch and his rampages. “Here are some of his adventures through time and civilization,” the Servant Man says. “We estimate Molluch was ‘born’, if it can be called that, some 66 billion years ago; many experts in the field believe he was born the same year as the Chicxulub asteroid impacted the earth, resulting in the extinction of the dinosaurs.” He gestures to a second plaque with the caption ‘The Controversy’. “There is a longstanding argument among Molluch’s researchers as to whether the asteroid itself was an //egg//, containing Molluch himself in an embryonic state, or if he was in fact created by the impact itself, which has a string of its own sub-theories. Personally, I subscribe to the hypothesis that the impact created a hole in space, through which he slipped from another dimension…” He pauses, taking a closer look at you, and your hole-body. “…I suppose there isn’t proof enough yet, though.” [[And this is your boss…?|servantman2]]

“Indeed,” says the Servant Man. “And I don’t mind saying that he’s the best boss I’ve ever had. Room and board is provided as part of the package, there’s a very generous expense account, and of course there’s an excellent medical plan, that includes dental and vision. I also get six weeks of paid vacation time every year.” He pats the slick ice surface contentedly. [[The monster pays you??|servantman3]]

This makes the Servant Man hoot with laughter. “Oh, goodness, no, no!” he says. “I’m so terribly sorry, you really are in the weeds here, aren’t you? This mansion is in fact a //temple//, you understand. I’m an employee of the Church of Globsteria, the largest religious organization built around Molluch. I’ve been here since its construction ten years ago; when his frozen body washed up on the beach, and it proved too difficult to move much further than this, they built this temple around him.” [[Monster worshippers?|servantman4]]

“Oh, indeed. Although you must understand that this is the //Reform// Church of Globsteria. They’re significantly less devout than the Orthodox Church of Globsteria— a lot less self-sacrifice and loosing of one’s own entrails and whatnot. Reform is more of a three-times-a-year church; Christmas, Halloween, and Walpurgisnacht. We have hosted some truly beautiful weddings here, though!” Something doesn’t add up here. [[Are you a member of the church?|servantman5]]

“Goodness, no!” he laughs. “I do not believe the monster is a god. He is not shapeless, he is not timeless— and he is a destroyer, not a creator. As a Sikh, I could never see this as a face of //Waheguru//.” He looks up at the frozen monster, and its eyes rotate to focus on him. Thankfully, that seems to be as much as the monster can move. “I believe, however, that it is this disbelief that led to my long career as his servant.” [[How so?|servantman6]]

“When I began this job, I was one of ten attendants to the monster,” the Servant Man explains. “There were nine Globsterians, and myself. At the time, the job required much more visible devotion, and they spent much of the day singing hosannas and blessings.” He chuckled. “About a year in, I had a medical emergency, and was unable to work for two weeks… and when I returned, my nine co-workers had been reduced to two.” He walks on down the breadth of the monster’s ice wall, revealing some scarring on the ice. “Each of them wanted more than anything to be the most favored of Molluch’s worshipers— the one who frees him from his prison, to spread his horror in the world once more. Each of the seven who left had been plotting against the others to be that most favored devotee. I, however, was only employed to keep everything the way it was, which meant I had been undoing their plans as part of my job. Without me, they were suddenly all at each other’s throats, and five of seven secret plans to free the monster went off, all at once!” He reaches into one of the deep pits in the ice, showing how much room there is for his arm. “Thankfully, none of them even came close to thawing Molluch. There was an investigation, and firings, and the two others who remained also were proven to be planning to free him. They were fired as well. There were some attempts to hire more staff, but after some rather predictable incidents…” He shrugs. “I have remained sole caretaker to this day.” [[Even though you’re not a believer?|servantman7]]

The Servant Man turns, crossing his arms behind his back, and looks toward the sunset over the amber ocean. “You cannot have a faith without nonbelievers,” he says. “Without someone to push back against, your faith will be taken for granted, and forgotten.” He adjusts his turban, tucking in a lock of curly hair. “But more than that, there is no faith that does not forbid the doing of something that otherwise must be done… and so the faithful come to rely upon the faithless.” The Servant Man gestures to the ice block. “The true believers all wish for nothing more than for this monster to be freed… but it has other needs as well, and it could have been harmed if a non-believer wasn’t here to attend to those.” [[Do you think that’s true of all faiths?|servantman8]] [[Aren’t non-believers just subscribers to a different faith?|servantman9]]

“History is filled with examples,” he says. “The caste system, and the systematic exclusion of Dalits, is India’s continuing shame. Japan still struggles to overcome the elites’ prejudice against their own former outcast group, the Burakumin. France had Cagots, hated in their time for being the woodworkers who built stocks and gallows, but hated since antiquity for reasons none could remember.” He shakes his head sadly. “Surely I needn’t remind you of the cruelties visited upon the Jews over the centuries… often by those who call their God by the same name.” [[And you think nonbelievers would treat that caste differently?|servantman9]]

The Servant Man raises an eyebrow. “More the reverse, I would say. To a true believer, a nonbeliever is one who has put //him,// the believer, in the place of the outcast. And that, all too often, they cannot abide.” He turns, gesturing for you to follow, and begins to descend the stairs to [[the northern hall|Mansion North Hall]], leaving the visible face of the monster behind.

“When you accept things on faith, and that everything happens for a reason, you can fall into a fearful trap,” the Servant Man says as you descend the staircase to the north hallway. “That is the belief that you yourself— and by extension, all of us— have no agency.” The north hallway is not an unfurnished walkway like the southern; it is lavishly furnished and decorated, because it is the Servant Man’s living quarters. There’s a bedroom shielded from the rising sun, a large tiled bathroom, and a kitchen with a round table, from which the Servant Man pulls out a chair for you. There’s a large and opulently painted Russian samovar on the table; the Servant Man adds charcoal, lights a match and starts it boiling. “Do not mistake me for a nonbeliever myself, of course. I believe things //do// all happen for a reason. It’s important to accept the things we cannot change.” As he talks, he prepares tea for the two of you, adding cardamom and cinnamon to the water in the samovar. “But some things happen for a specific reason; to stimulate a reaction that will change things. One cannot comfort one’s self with ‘It was God’s will’, when the will of Waheguru is for you to act! He cannot move your feet for you.” As the samovar begins to boil, a drop of water runs down the side of the near ice wall. The Servant Man’s head turns sharply to follow it. “Perhaps we should [[move this table|northhall2]] before our tea,” he frowns.

The tea is very, very good. If you weren’t a tea drinker before, you are now. The Servant Man is visibly pleased to see you enjoying it. “I hope this makes up for the shock of discovering Molluch for the first time. Again, I’m so terribly sorry for missing your entrance.” Between sips of tea, the Servant Man is folding some paper; it seems origami is another of his many hobbies. “Does he still frighten you? He cannot yet move any more than he did upon his arrival ten years ago. The ice is //very// thick, thank goodness.” You can’t say you’ve grown to love his face, but it is a fascinating monster. “I’m glad to hear that,” the Servant Man says. “I have been thinking about the time I’ve spent here, and why I remain here after ten years. Although I do good work, I feel I may have grown too attached to this place. The comfort and security are a blessing, but it would be egotistical to think I was the only one capable of doing this job.” He stirs his tea, looking into it thoughtfully, and then looks up at you. “You are no Globsterian; I trust you to maintain this monster. Would you want this job?” Will you become the new Servant Man? [[Yes|servantmanyes]] [[No|servantmanno]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. The attendant in the booth blinks, rubs her eyes, and leans out of the booth. No, she’s not imagining things: that’s a cherry-red Lamborghini Countach rumbling up the ramp, its engine seeming to shake the booth with every rev. The driver leans out and offers his pass. He has to duck a little so his turban can clear the window. “Is that //your// car?” the attendant asks, still staring at it as she runs his bank card. “How did you afford that? Are you like a celebrity or something?” “Not exactly,” he smiles as he takes the card back. “But I used to work for one. Have a good evening, ma’am.” The engine thrums, and the vehicle fairly leaps from the pavement off the ramp, into downtown traffic and out of sight, wriggling effortlessly between other cars like a worm in a maze. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|servantmanending]] from the juror pool.

“It’s fine. I’m terribly sorry for asking you on your very first visit,” the Servant Man says. “Molluch will be safe in my care for many years, I’m sure.”<<set $manservant to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> The Servant Man finishes his origami model and hands it to you with a smile. It’s a strange little blocky human figure, like a big kimono with a diamond-shaped head, on which he’s drawn a funny little mustached face. A random gift, perhaps, but the Servant Man seems very generous. He brightens. “Oh! Before you go, I have to show you something exciting.” He jumps up from his chair and runs to the bathroom, beckoning eagerly for you to follow. In the bathroom, he’s standing by a strange structure that looks like an open-air shower with a safety bar to lean against. “You will like this, I promise,” he says. “Stand here with your legs apart… hold onto this bar with both hands…” You don’t like where this is going. “I had to find something to do with the money I was accumulating, after all,” the Servant Man grins. “Hold on tight!” He squeezes a trigger on the safety bar… and the floor [[drops out from under you.|the rampage]]

You may have heard it said before: they also serve who only stand and wait.<<set $servantmanending to true>> Working for Mr. Molluch, as you have come to familiarly call him, has been a surprisingly low-impact job. Your day largely consists of keeping the mansion clean, wiping condensation from the windows and the surface of his ice block; when that chore is done, the rest of the day is almost always yours to spend in your own pursuits, unless a tour has been arranged in advance. With room and board paid for, it’s hard to find things to spend this surfeit of money on. You’re getting regular letters of thanks from numerous charities now, and have been progressing to more and more expensive hobbies; you came to the conclusion that model trains would take up too much space in the monster viewing gallery, so right now you’re into oil painting. Around here, of course, you either paint sunsets, or the monster. Naturally, you usually choose the monster. After spending months fearing that the ice might break any second, you are finally confident that the monster isn’t going anywhere for now. You spent the whole summer fearful that you’d wake up to find the ice block cracked in half, but it stayed put, and as winter came on, enough condensation froze over the ice to keep the monster a popsicle for what could be generations to come. That’s why you were so surprised this morning when you woke up and found the ice block solid, intact… and unoccupied. One of your finest monster portraits is gone from its place of honor on the north wall, too. A voice speaks from behind you that rattles every window of this mostly-glass building:<h1>[[“Quite a likeness.”|endtitle]]</h1>

Abruptly, all the machines throw open their locked doors and shutters at once; now it is very clear, and yet unbelievable, what’s happening inside them. The human head that just addressed you is being whirled around in a centrifuge, and with every spin, a new, paper-thin layer is being added under its neck. It’s like an apple being peeled, but in reverse. Two cabinets closer to you are gushing steam as they open; each one contains a large human leg, pasty and damp, held in a series of straps and being flexed repeatedly at every joint by levers that are part of the cabinet. Near the center of the room, a smaller cabinet is hosting some very small and delicate work: the construction of two human hands. This is done with what looks like a grid of clicking knitting needles, each taking threads of flesh and nerve and quilting them together with all the others, layer after layer, until the two hands begin to curl their fingers. One by one, as the body parts are completed, the claw takes them delicately from their matrices, and drops them into the centrifuge to be added to the construction. When the smoke and steam clears and the noise finally ends, a bald, white-skinned man steps out of the centrifuge console. He cracks his knuckles, yawns, and walks straight to a metal cabinet to get dressed. He puts on a white shirt, pants with suspenders, a pink bow tie, and a voluminous white lab coat; then he reaches further in and finds a ginger-haired wig and a matching beard and mustache. He takes a few seconds getting everything on his face straight in the mirror. Finally, he pulls a pair of glasses from his coat pocket and puts them on, and looks around. Noticing you, he smiles, approaching with hand outstretched. “Good morning!” he says in a chipper tone of voice. “Nice to see you today. [[I’m the Made Man.|Made Man]]”

The Made Man’s glasses slip down his nose in surprise. “Oh dear, was that not on purpose? I presumed you had something to ask me, if you were going to build a fresh one of me.” He glances at a readout on one of the machines, showing the date and time. “Oh, but it’s all right. The old girl was due for a tuneup anyway, I can take care of that while I’m around.” [[Where did this machine come from?|mademan2]] [[Did the machine really build you?|mademan3]]

This makes the Made Man laugh. “Jeepers, you don’t think I bought this at Sears and Roebuck, do you?” he exclaims. “I invented it! I built it by hand, piece by piece, over 15 years!” He does some quick mental math and frowns. “And that was… over 60 years ago, now. Golly.” Shaking his head, he pats the main control panel. “What you see in this room is my life’s work… and my life itself, in a strictly literal sense. This is my Lazarus Machine: I built it, and now in return, it builds me.” [[From scratch??|mademan3]]

“Absolutely! The human body is mostly hydrogen, nitrogen, carbon and oxygen, after all,” the Made Man says jovially. “And a few trace elements, which are sort of the hard part as far as acquisition goes. As long as I keep those four tanks over there filled up with the major elements, I can keep making more of me, as needed.” He looks at his creation proudly, shooting a thumbs-up to the funny-looking robot head; it seems to be for decorative purposes only. “I am the only living person who can claim to truly be immortal,” he says. “That doesn’t mean I can’t die, of course, but it does mean that at any time, I can return, and pick up where I left off. Even centuries into the future, assuming my machine is kept in working order…” He gives a shy grin. [[Does it ever break?|mademan4]] [[…I could kind of use a body.|mademan5]]

“It hasn’t out and out //broken//, no, but there have been times when something came misaligned, or the ingredient mix was off, and the result wasn’t as pretty as you’d like,” the Made Man frowns. “I have a distinct memory of waking up to find a version of myself with no torso, just a head with arms and legs, having built me as a test after spending a week fixing the component that had failed during his own assembly.” He gestures to a large machine in the corner that wasn’t involved in his assembly earlier. “When that happens, I usually have the deformed bodies go into the high shear mixer,” he explains. “That’s for recycling materials. It can turn me into a soup-like homogenate in under thirty minutes! …But it really depends on the level of pain I’m in, and if I can correct the malfunction manually.” The thought of the Made Man standing in this giant blender-like device and flipping the switch is not a pleasant one, but it’s in your head now. [[Can it make anyone else?|mademan5]]

The Made Man looks at you thoughtfully. “Huh,” he murmurs. “May I?” He puts on a rubber glove and reaches into your void curiously. “This is certainly a puzzle.” He gets out a pad and paper and does some calculations, licking the lead of the pencil in thought. “I suppose… with the digital iambic generator in place, and the mycophilic wavicles filtered through an intaglio of numismatic krypton wavelengths…” For a few minutes, he scribbles furiously, turning over page after page as his math problem swells in scope. “On the other hand, given the auxiliary coordinates, and the waveform of the gandalfian pentometer interacting with hyperbolic momeraths…” Finally, he pockets his pencil, looking defeated. “I’m terribly sorry, friend,” he says. “I’ve been working out your problem, and I’m afraid that although I have worked out a theoretical solution… it cannot be put into practice for what will surely be decades to come.” He shakes his head in shame, one hand lifting to steady his wig. “According to my calculations, we //may// one day regenerate your body based on impressions left in this hole you currently occupy… but that would require literal trillions of dollars worth of infrastructure to accomplish.” [[Trillions??|mademan6]]

“To start with, we would need an information transfer technology that the world has never //seen// before. Far beyond the wired telegraph, you see… this would require the transfer of greater quantities of data, at a higher rate of speed, than is even theoretically possible at this stage. Do you know what ‘bits’ and ‘bytes’ are?” He doesn’t even wait for your reaction. “Suffice to say they are a computer term. To transfer you to a new body would require almost a //jiga-byte// of data… that’s literally a billion bytes!” He pauses, unsure how to judge your reaction. [[“Why are you looking at me like that?”|mademan7]]

You’re not sure at what point in time the Made Man completed his machine that regenerates him, but as you explain the Internet to him, and how it evolved from its humble origins as ARPANET into the multiverse of information and entertainment it has become today… you gather that it’s been a while. “Wait wait wait wait. So in the time since I built my machine, they’ve constructed everything we need already?” he says, still not daring to believe. “The city-block sized redundancy servers? The millions and millions of miles of cable, criss-crossing the ocean floor and everywhere in every country? The simplified interface that everyone can both program and use, and it’s the single standard???” He glances back at his machine, and then at you again, a look of sheer bafflement on his face. [[“But you really never got flying cars, huh?”|mademan8]]

Even the Made Man himself is impressed with how quickly all of this came together. One phone call got someone from the city to run a cable internet line into his castle; he had most of the components he needed at the castle already, and the ones he didn’t have, he found better and more efficient versions of than he’d ever dreamt of, inside a burner phone sold off the shelf at a convenience store. In a shorter time than either of you had been prepared for, the incredible Lazarus machine had been upgraded for the new century. “I think I’ve got it,” says the Made Man, pushing himself out from under a large cabinet on a wheeled mechanic’s platform. “Whew. Kind of embarrassing to look under the hood now and realize how much of these parts are just //redundant// now. If I built the machine over again, I could probably fit it into just one of these cabinets…” He stands up, looking around the room with his hands on his hips. “The calculations and controls fit in your pocket now, all we really need is the mold to blow the body into and the raw material tanks!” He scratches his head. “I don’t think I even need a single component from my first version.” He looks right at you with a smile. “Do //you// want it?” Will you become the new Made Man? [[Yes.|mademanyes]] [[No.|mademanno]]

The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. <<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> This car is noisy, dirty, and seems to be dripping oil, but it rolls to a stop in front of the booth without a problem. It’s a boxy brown Volvo station wagon, with a hilariously long and projecting hood, and a big red-headed man at the wheel. The attendant looks at the money he gives her, unimpressed. “Sir, you’ve been in there a while… your bill is going to be a lot more than five cents.” “Wow, prices did go up!” he frowns, digging for his wallet. “But it’s all right. I can get as much money as I want once I sell this…” As he’s opening his wallet, she gets a better look at the nickel, and her jaw drops, astonished. It’s a buffalo nickel from 1926; the value of this coin is in the hundreds of thousands. “Here you go!” He tosses her a one-dollar bill. “That should cover everything.” She just raises the boom, heart pounding in her chest. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|MMending]] from the juror pool.

“Really? You changed your mind?” The Made Man shrugs. “If you say so. But I want to thank you somehow!” He glances around his workshop, searching for an idea. “Oh, I got one! Here, watch this!” <<set $manmade to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>> The Made Man wheels out a device that looks like a coffee grinder the size of a water cooler. “Check this out, I invented this in junior high,” he says with a big grin on his face. He produces a large bag of charcoal briquettes, pulls the string to open the bag, and dumps the whole bag into the machine, before activating it. The boxy machine grinds, and whirs, and begins to radiate a heat so intense, it makes you very uncomfortable to be in the same room as this device. Then a slot opens up. Inside the slot is a perfectly cut diamond, the size of a nickel. “Coal goes in, diamonds come out!” he clucks proudly. “Take it, it’s all yours!” It may be manmade, but who’s going to say no to a diamond? The Made Man returns to his own work, never happier than when he’s welding something. “So where do you live? I’ve got a [[teleporter]] over there that can get you home if you want.”

It’s hard to believe, but you did it! You succeeded! You got a perfect replica of your body back, and it even fits!<<set $MMending to true>> As you step out of the molding matrix, you exhale a tremendous sigh of relief. At long last, your nightmare is over. You open your new eyes for the first time, raise your new hands, and enjoy your first breath of air. “Welcome to existence, Instance #559,” says your own voice in your ear. “We’ll need you on the munitions floor, since Instance #388 suffered existence failure.” All around you, manning the controls and doing maintenance on the machine… are //you.// Lots and lots of you. Some of them look ten or twenty years older than you are. Most are dressed in patches and rags; some have truly daunting scars and injuries that you can’t begin to imagine an origin for. All of them are armed. None are smiling. “After your first shift we’ll arrange an orientation for you,” says the instance of yourself who was speaking, who has an eyepatch and a ragged Glasgow smile. “I’m sure you’re curious about what happened, but… I’m afraid the next eight hours, before you learn what happened, will be the happiest hours you’ll know for a long time.” [[Oh boy.|endtitle]]

What the Made Man called his "teleporter" doesn't really match your concept of a teleporter. Maybe you were imagining something like a pod or booth or something, but this is more like a boxing ring, surrounded by a wall of those inflatable bop bags that rock back up when you punch them. The hard part is squeezing past them to get to the control station in the middle. There's four buttons here. Which button do you press? [[The button with a house.|seaside manor]] [[The button with a shopping cart.|The Mall]] [[The button with a corncob.|Corn Maze Chamber]] [[The button with a pair of underwear.|Fifth Floor]] The teleporter works so quickly, it feels like there isn't even a transition.

Next thing you know, you're up to your eyeballs in corn stalks. You're standing in the middle of a big cornfield. Did somebody //wish// you here? You're about to ask how you got here, but the ears all turn to listen. Maybe you'd better keep your mouth shut. In just a few steps, you're out of the cornfield and standing at an [[old country crossroads.|Countryside]]

Your stumbling steps lead you to somewhere you may not have expected at all. Two stone lanterns framing an arching bridge over a narrow creek welcome you to what is surely the most unexpected Japanese garden you’ve ever visited. Koi swim up to inspect you as you cross the bridge. The creek is fed by a trickling waterfall nearby, and all along the creek there are perfectly cut round bushes, surrounded by elegantly raked gravel pathways. On the far side of the garden from you is a brilliant red gazebo, with a turning water wheel. If you follow this path of stepping stones, you’ll find your way there. Facing away from you on the banks of the river, enjoying the music, is a girl in a kimono, shaded under a parasol. There’s a [[second bridge|Garden 2]] to cross before you arrive at the gazebo.

It seems you’ve arrived at a cherry blossom watching party. (It’s called //hanami// in Japanese. You must have picked that up somewhere.) A number of partygoers are gathered under the blossoms, seated at picnic tables or on tarps spread under the trees. As they sing and laugh, they raise their tea and sake cups into the air, both to toast the occasion and to catch falling petals in their cup. You can’t help but notice, however, that none of these people are, strictly speaking, //people//. They’re inanimate objects! The tarp closest to you hosts a pair of excitable, cheering straw sandals, each watching with a single eye that looks like it was once a hole in their sole. Seated behind them is a sooty, burnished tea kettle. It is wearing a handsome men’s kimono and observing with a monocle held up to its eye, for the spout it uses for a nose is too big to wear glasses over. In its lap, a frowning rice paddle is hunched, its wooden body contrasting unfortunately with its very human arms and legs. Looming over the whole group is a huge and heavy-looking taiko drum, with a fat face like a puffer fish perched on top with no neck at all, its muscular arms looking poised to start beating itself when its cue comes. The music is provided by a biwa playing a shamisen. (These are two Japanese stringed instruments, which it doesn’t seem all that strange for you to know.) However, when the song ends, the biwa pulls its own head off of its kimono-clad body, and attaches the shamisen as its new head: this makes the partygoers cheer, because the shamisen is a much better biwa player and doesn’t hit as many flubs. The music is beautiful— and the almond monaka and strawberry tofu that a friendly lantern shares with you are absolutely delicious— but suddenly you see a familiar hairstyle passing over the bridge. It’s your own. [[You have to follow your body.|Gazebo]]

It’s actually something of a struggle to clamber over this towering, arch-shaped bridge. It must have been built in the modern era, because a horse could never cross this. Once you finally tumble to the other side, shamisen music growing fainter behind you, it’s only a few skips ahead to the gazebo. Now you’ve got the thief cornered! You break into a run through the wisteria arbor, blossoms trailing behind you in your wake. You reach the gazebo, and the thief isn’t there. [[Someone else is, though.|Go Man]]

Waiting in the gazebo for you, as you somehow knew he would be, is ''The Go Man.'' Judging by his traditional clothes, he must be Japanese himself, just like you. He’s wearing a light but luxuriously brocaded kimono, and a lacquered silk hat that towers over his head. His hair is tied in a simple long ponytail, glossy black just like his hat. He’s //very// attractive; it’s actually a little intimidating, especially when you have no body to present of your own. He is seated at a large wooden block scored with fine lines, like a chopping block. Next to him is an elaborate display of candies and little traditional cakes. “What a beautiful morning to welcome a guest on,” he smiles, bowing his head respectfully. “Is this a spectral visitation? Oh, of course not, how foolish of me. You’re here to play!” [[Play?|goman1]] He gestures to his strangely shaped table, and now you recognize it: a Go board.

“I do love this game,” the Go Man says, reaching under the board to provide two leather containers, each one filled with stones. “Let’s dispense with nigiri for now. You can be black; take the first move.” He begins to prepare the board; a game is beginning. Do you even know how to play Go? [[Of course I do.|goman2]] [[I’m a quick study.|goman3]] [[What the heck is Go?|goman4]]

With a black stone in your fingers, you make your first move: you touch your stone to the star point closest to your opponent, then slide it one space closer to him. This is of course an intimidation move, for during the //fuseki// stage of the game it’s important to establish //sente// over //gote// as early as possible. Making the Go Man respond defensively to your moves prevents him from putting his moves to the fullest possible //aji//, and keeping your opponent on the defensive is the key to victory in Go. The Go Man studies your move, smiles, and places his first white stone— in the dead center of the board. You’re shaken by such an early stab of //tenuki//, before //fuseki// has even begun. What is the Go Man doing?? Is he just bluffing or does he, the Go Man himself, have such a cunning plan that he’d actually attack the center before the corner or sides? You realize he has taken //sente// himself, and on his first move. You must rise to this challenge. As the Go Man daintily eats an ikinaridango, you study the board, trying to visualize what move he could be leading toward, but it’s just too early in the game. This could mean anything. With no other hints, you take your second black stone and play off of his first move’s liberty. Maybe you can eventually pincer this group between your first and second moves? The Go Man wipes his mouth, studies your move, and nods. He reaches out; not for his cup, but for the first stone he placed. Taking it between his fingers, he jumps it over your stone, then adds that stone to his collection. “One for me,” he chuckles. [[…Do you even know how to play Go??|goman5]]

You don’t know too much about Go, but it’s something like chess, right? All of your stones are identical, though, so you probably don’t have kings or knights or anything. With that in mind, you hesitantly pluck a stone from your cup and place it on the closest space to yourself. It seems strange to you that the game doesn’t start with any pieces on the board, but you’re feeling this out in the dark. The Go Man lowers his brow and studies your move thoughtfully. He reaches for the large tray of wagashi— which you have just learned is a catchall name for delicate and delicious Japanese sweets— and takes a plump daifuku to tuck into his mouth as he considers his own move. Should you eat something too? It might not be part of the game, but why take chances? Finally, the Go Man smiles in satisfaction, and prepares his own move. He takes a white stone from his cup and sets it on his own side, holding it carefully between thumb and forefinger— and //squirts// it, like a watermelon seed, across the board, where it strikes your black stone and knocks it out of place. “First blood goes to me!” he cheers. You’re almost certain that’s not how the game works. [[…Do you even know how to play Go??|goman5]]

To be honest, you’re a lot more interested in that display of gorgeous snacks, but you sit down and let the Go Man set the game up for you. “All right, are you ready?” he grins. “OK… GO!” The rules of Go, as you ascertain them from here out, are as follows: • Each player gets 100 stones, which are used for betting. • Territory is captured by drawing lines across the board’s grid with a permanent marker. • A dispute over territory is settled with a thumb wrestling match. • Distracting your opponent so you can shovel snacks in your mouth while they’re not looking is approved of and encouraged. • At any time, either player can touch their chair and say “Base!” to avoid being tagged out. •When the die comes up red, the player must then turn the crank, to snap the plank, to boot the marble right down the chute, then watch it roll, and hit the pole, which drops the ball in the rub-a-dub tub, which flips the man into the pan. The trap is set: here comes the net! •There appears to be some kind of infield fly rule. •Play as many fetchlands as possible for deck thinning. •No rough stuff. None of this; or //this;// or ''this;'' or like so; or this, or ''this,'' or //this.// Around the second time that the Go Man fills his mouth with stones to spit them at you, you begin to wonder about how tournament-legal all of this is. [[Is this really how you play Go? Do you know how to play?|goman5]]

“Do I know how to play?” The Go Man laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “I suppose I don’t, not really. You’ve found me out.” He reaches for a senbei cracker. “Go is literally thousands of years old. Over the centuries, the rules have been imported to hundreds of other countries, changed for convenience and for challenge, and sometimes simply misinterpreted… and yet the game goes on.” He sips his tea thoughtfully. “What’s important is that the rules are agreed upon by all players.” He gestures to the board, and the travesty of a game that you were playing. “The board itself remains the same, but the game was all new. The same is true of all board games, and indeed any game or sport played for pleasure; a ball can be used for any number of games, but at its core, it is a //toy//, and a toy can be played with any way you like.” [[Is that always true, though?|goman5A]]

A minute later, he begins again. “Yet, by inserting the cartridge or disc into your console and turning it on, one agrees to play by the rules set by the developers, yes? But that is not the only way to play.” He nibbles a manju between thoughts. “Through emulation, exploitation of glitches, and even simple cartridge tilting, a video game is revealed as a toy to be played with in any way you can imagine. Even the simplest kind of game, interactive fiction; nothing is stopping you from simply putting down the game, picking up a pen, and writing a new ending to the story that the writer would never have thought of.” [[Clunk.|goman7]]

“Speaking of food for thought… I’m //full.//” He makes an uncomfortable face, resting his hands on his stomach. “Dumplings over flowers, I’m afraid,” he chuckles. “I need to take a break. Do you want to wait here for another player?” Will you become the new Go Man? [[Yes|gomanyes]] [[No|gomanno]]

Nearby the courthouse, there’s an underground parking lot.<<if visited() is 1>><<set $beenmen to $beenmen + 1>><</if>> The toll booth’s boom rises to admit another car that’s leaving the lot. It’s a boxy yellow car, tall like a minivan, but very short from back to front. It looks a little like an abbreviated school bus. “What is that? A smart car?” says the attendant as she stamps the ticket. “No, it’s a Wake! Plenty of room!” smiles the driver. “I needed a car with a lot of trunk space. Board game night could happen anytime!” He drives off as the boom drops again, and as the vehicle climbs the steep ramp, the sound of tumbling boxes and scattering game pieces can be heard from inside. Inside the courthouse, your name is [[marked absent|GMending]] from the juror pool.

The Go Man nods, unsurprised. “I understand. I doubt I’ll meet another player with whom I might have as much fun as I have with you today, though.” He smiles warmly.<<set $mango to true>><<set $metmen to $metmen + 1>><<set $flightdest to "wharf">> “Before you go, why don’t you…” He pauses, feeling around the plate, and does a double take. The elegant Japanese sweets have all vanished. “No wonder I don’t feel good,” he says, a slight blush coming to his face. “I’m so sorry, I wanted to leave some to take with you… Oh! Here you are.” He reaches for a bowl of fruit— which you thought was just a table accent— and plucks a yellow mango from it, pressing it into your hands. “Be gentle with it, it’s very ripe,” he says. There’s a rumble of thunder from the sky; you had been so engrossed in your game, you hadn’t seen the clouds rolling in. “Oh, dear,” the Go Man frowns. “Well, if you’re going to be on your way, you should take my umbrella.” He reaches under the table and hands you a folded umbrella of bamboo and oil paper. You open the umbrella; a big round eye stares back at you. “BLEAH!” Its handle grabs your wrist, and a sudden gust of air takes you and the umbrella out of the gazebo and into the sky; you barely see the Go Man bowing in gratitude for your visit. Luckily for you, you smack into the pontoons of a convenient [[seaplane]].

You certainly have learned a lot about the game of Go since you dethroned the previous champion.<<set $GMending to true>> Today you’re finishing up a game against a being that towers over you like a building— or a wall, which is exactly what he is. His tiny eyes are fixated on his last few live territories. You know that he knows any move he makes will put him in violation of the positional superko rule— which you had to institute with this player to prevent him from creating an unwinnable game time and time again. Of course, he knows that you know that //he// knows… and that’s what he’s trying to work around. Suddenly there’s a gust of cold air, unseasonable for springtime, and it gets the attention of yourself and the other player. You both look up to see that a new challenger has entered the gazebo. He towers over both yourself and the wall; his skin is tomato-red, he seems to be dressed in ragged tiger-skin rugs, and he’s got an enormous, knobby club slung over one shoulder. A single horn, thick and blunt as a traffic cone, sticks out of his hairline. “Whoever wins,” he bellows, and holds up a wooden Shogi board. “…I got next game!” A smile comes to your face. [[Let the games begin.|endtitle]]

//oh// ''my god'' [[it’s happening]]

The plane cruises to a stop without incident. What were you so afraid of? As the various flightless birds all shuffle down the ramp with you, they join up with parties who have been eagerly awaiting their arrival. No one is waiting for you, though; there would be no name to write on the cardboard sign calling for you. With no itinerary, nowhere to go, and no ticket back where you were going, you may as well go where your feet take you. When you look up, you find they're taking you under a tremendous red //torii// gate, into a [[field of cherry blossoms.|Cherry Orchard]]

You don’t dare to let go or move a muscle: what you thought was a shower is actually some kind of sled, and the Servant Man has just dropped you out of the mansion itself, sled and all, onto a ramp that leads all the way to the sea. How much higher were these bluffs than the ocean? It’s hard to count as the stories go screaming by, water spraying in all directions as you hydroplane toward the sunset. You hit the ocean with an explosive splash that sends the sled careening into the air, carrying you some fifty feet before it hits the next wave and takes off again. Even when the bouncing ends, the sled carries you further and further. Finally, the ride ends, and you’re floating some 300 feet from the shore… which is when someone throws you a rope ladder. You’ve cruised right up to the edge of [[the marina|Lieutenant's Wharf]]. “You got the private tour, huh?” says a grinning zombie from the deck, dressed in a waterlogged skipper’s uniform. “Lucky! Even I’ve never gotten to do that!”

It’s a long, slow ride down. This elevator has no music and there is nothing to read or look at along the way. Instead, you think about the people who helped you; your new friends. The Men, as you’ve come to think of them. Every one of them generously offered you //their// identity… and you said no, and now, you’re here. It strikes you now, on this seemingly endless elevator ride, that the ten men you met all seemed to have an excellent opinion of you. In fact, all of them seemed confident that you, a stranger they had never seen before today, could do their jobs. What would ever have made them think such a thing? The very idea is so intimidating you start to [[shiver|service2]].

Double-click this passage to edit it.

This is a modern and clean subway station. Isn't it? Your memory is a little rusty lately so it's hard to say if you've ever been in a subway station before. You're pretty sure most of them aren't this loaded up with lobsters and crabs, though. It seems this subway has a primarily crustacean ridership. You look down the tracks to see if the subway is coming soon; not only can you not see one, there are no tracks, only a long canal of water. A moment later, a huge steel-gray submarine surfaces from the canal, displacing enough water to soak anyone standing too close, like yourself. The crustaceans all line up in an orderly fashion, although the crabs have to stand sideways, and begin boarding. Do you want to [[ride the sub?|submarine]] You can return to the [[city streets|Skyscraper]] if not.

As convenient as it is to access a submarine from the downtown area, it turns out not to be the fastest way to travel. The sub itself is fast, but most of the stops it makes are underwater, so you're stuck waiting for it to surface again as the crowd clears out. When you get curious about when the next dry stop is, you peek into the submarine operator's compartment. The operator is a giant clam with a little captain's hat perched on top. You can't tell how it operates the vehicle, but it //is// lazily chewing on someone in a scuba suit, so maybe it's best to let them be. At least you're seated near a porthole. The sub goes deeper and deeper, and although the light outside is getting dim, the bioluminescent creatures you pass are getting more and more spectacular. In fact, it's getting brighter inside the sub as some of them board and take seats adjacent to you. You haven't seen manspreading until you've seen a tripod fish do it. Abruptly it gets lighter outside, and the submarine surfaces again. "Marina," says the computerized voice over the intercom. "Final stop. [[Everybody out.|Lieutenant's Wharf]]"

“One might argue that video games are an exception to that rule,” the Go Man says, after a moment’s reflection. “You can buy a baseball without intending to play baseball with it, but there’s little use for a video game you download that isn’t playing the game itself, as the developers intended.” He frowns, watching as a gust of wind catches the cherry blossoms over the bridge and blows them into the stream. You hear the resonant [[clunk|goman6]] of the deer scare in the distance as he contemplates this puzzle.

You hear the Slaughter Man’s voice in your head. //Fear is with you from birth. It’s normal, because you’re lost in a world of adults who run things to suit themselves.// <<timed 5s>>He’s right, of course. You’re an adult, in a world made for you.<</timed>> <<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>>But then, why not just go on your own way? Why take your body back at all? If someone needed your body badly enough to steal it, couldn’t you [[let them have it?|service3]]<</type>><</timed>>

//You can’t let others suffer just to be polite.// \<<timed 5s>> It’s the Kind Man speaking, and you remember the smell of his cocoa recipe.<</timed>><<timed 8s>> //Kindness without action is indistinguishable from cruelty!//<</timed>> \<<timed 12s>> <<type 20ms>>That can’t be right, can it? Could there be [[someone you’re hurting|service4]] by making the easy decision to let the thief have your identity?<</type>><</timed>>

You think of the Child Man, and his love for the creatures he built. \<<timed 3s>> //Childhood and parenthood never end.//<</timed>><<timed 6s>> You can’t stop being yourself. There are people who would miss you, friends and family. They don’t want the thief, they want you.<</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> Isn’t that right? It’s so hard to think now; it’s like other people’s thoughts pass freely through your head. [[Do you really need to do this?|service5]] Can’t you find another way?<</type>><</timed>>

The warm voice of the Servant Man chimes in your ears. \<<timed 3s>> //Some things happen for a specific reason: to stimulate you to change things.//<</timed>><<timed 6s>> You do have agency: you can fight this. Your fists tense in anticipation.<</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> But… how? You’re just a hole. If the thief resists, what can you do? [[Hole at them?|service6]]<</type>><</timed>>

You remember the Drake Man, and his casual disregard for physics and logic. \<<timed 5s>> //Magic doesn’t have rules. If it did, it would be science.// <</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> Can you really change the rules, yourself? Can you [[beat him at his own game?|service7]]<</type>><</timed>>

The Go Man’s laughing voice comes to you. \<<timed 5s>> //A game has rules, but a toy can be played with any way you like.//<</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> But this really is no game! Your body is on the line here! [[You could lose it forever!|service8]]<</type>><</timed>>

You could lose it forever anyway, though. <<timed 3s>> In fact, you will. That's what the Darin' Man said.<</timed>> \<<timed 6s>> //Threats are a part of life, and it’s only because most are so slow that we don’t panic.// <</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> But, are you ready for it ''now?'' With so much more life left to live? What if you never get to [[do anything else?|service9]]<</type>><</timed>>

The Made Man’s voice speaks in your head with his jolly enthusiasm. <<timed 3s>> //Works are immortality! What you do now, is your role in history.//<</timed>><<timed 6s>> Of course he’s right. You can’t pass into oblivion like this.<</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> Still, the sheer enormity of your task is daunting. You don’t have any model to look to here. You’ve never seen anyone get their whole self back. No one made a movie or video game about that: you have to [[press through|service10]] on your own.<</type>><</timed>>

There’s the Drill Man’s smiling face in your mind, revving his marvelous tool. <<timed 3s>> //The thrill of discovery is what makes the hardest work fun!// So what if no one’s done it before, then! You can be a pioneer!<</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> Yet, for all your bravado, it all seems so hopeless. What if you fail? What if the thief gets away with your whole self, and you lose everything, forever? [[What then??|service11]]<</type>><</timed>>

Finally you remember the voice of the Hood Man, dry and grave but filled with sympathy. <<timed 3s>> //The ritual alone brings comfort.//<</timed>><<timed 6s>> Maybe you’re not prepared? Maybe this is a losing battle? Maybe you were never supposed to get your identity back after all?<</timed>><<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>> But being yourself is the right thing to do, whether or not you succeed. It’s worth fighting for. [[It always was|service12]].<</type>><</timed>>

You like being you, and you’re not about to stop now. <<timed 10s>><<type 20ms>>The elevator comes to a stop, and the [[doors open|househole]].<</type>><</timed>>

There is no room for you to step into from the elevator doors. You stand on the edge and look out pensively, trying to find a foothold, but there doesn’t seem to be one. This is only [[a hole|househole2]]— a hole where a room should be.

Looking around, it seems a lot of things are missing, not just the room. There’s a hole where a table should be, with two holes where the chairs should be. There’s the empty space where a TV would be, a nonexistent bookshelf that’s empty of books, a black void where a light fixture would hang from the ceiling. In fact, apart from everything being missing, this is //your// house. If this place weren’t gone, you would know it like the back of your hand (which is also missing). You’d know these same four walls anywhere— even nowhere near you. It’s exactly the kind of place that a hole where a person should be would live. This is not a household; it’s a househole. The hole that should be living here, though; is missing. Instead, there is a [[you|The Hole Man]].

It’s been so long since you saw yourself. You thought the thief might have vandalized your body somehow, gotten a new tattoo or changed your hairstyle, but you look exactly the same. It makes sense; someone who stole your identity wouldn’t have one of their own to express. The thief looks at you balefully with your own eyes, and you see your own fists curl, knuckles turning white. [[Exit the elevator|holeman2]].

“There were ten others, you know,” growls the thing wearing your body, in your own voice. “You could have picked any of them, right? Why didn’t you want to be the Drake Man? Or the Drill Man! You could have had magic, or teleportation! You could have been a brilliant scientist, or a religious leader, or the servant to a literal //god!!”// [[You take a step forward.|holeman3]]

“What do you care if I have your body? You were barely using it!” the thief protests. “And it’s in terrible shape anyway! You don’t exercise enough and you eat garbage all the time! Everyone else has a better body than this— even the brain! Why can’t you just let me have it??” [[You take another step forward.|holeman4]]

“You haven’t met all of the other options,” your twin says, eyes flickering rapidly as if looking for a way out. “You never met the Aged Man, did you? And the Handle Man?” Your body takes a cautious step backward, but finds nothing but a void where a sheer wall should be. “You, uh, you like horses, right? Come on back after you’ve tried being the Neighs Man!” [[You’re just a couple of steps away now.|holeman5]]

No protest is working. Suddenly you see a flash of anger in your own eyes. You’ve never seen yourself look so frightening before; it makes you wonder if this is how you appear to others when you’re angry. “It’s not fair!” shouts the thing wearing your skin, turning your face red. “Why do //you// always get to be you, with no time limit, forever? We should take turns! You can’t just hog your whole self all the time, it’s selfish!!” The thief falls to your knees, pounding your fists on the floor. “I’ve //earned// this! You’ve got nothing but a birthright! Where are the police? They should //make// you share! It’s not fair, it’s not fair!” [[Just one more step.|holeman6]]

“I can’t go back now,” says the thief, beginning to shudder. “I’ve never been //whole// for so long. I can’t be a hole again.” Your body collapses onto the ground, face buried in your hands. “Why do I have to be the Hole Man? Why can’t you be the Hole Man from now on?” [[It’s not who I am.|holeman7]] [[That’s not who you are.|holeman7]] [[I’m not a man.|holemanalt]]

Your own face looks up at you, tears streaking down your cheeks, barely able to speak through sobs. “Why can’t you be somebody else? Anybody… anybody but yourself?” Will you be anybody but yourself? [[No.|holemanno]] [[Never.|holemanno]]

[[There’s a long pause.|holemanalt2]]

<<type 20ms>>//Rules are what both players agree on.//<</type>><<timed 3s>><<type 20ms>>//Magic has no rules.//<</type>><</timed>><<timed 6s>><<type 20ms>>//Fear is natural.//<</type>><</timed>><<timed 9s>><<type 20ms>>//Kindness without action is cruelty.//<</type>><</timed>><<timed 12s>><<type 20ms>>//Some things happen to make you change things.//<</type>><</timed>> <<timed 20s>>You reach out with your void-hand, and touch the shoulder of your real body. “What are you going to do??” whimpers the thief.<</timed>> <<timed 25s>><<type 20ms>><<linkreplace "What else is there to do?">>What else is there to do? [[You forgive him.|holemanend]] <</linkreplace>><</type>><</timed>>

“You’re— wait.” Your voice sounds very puzzled coming from the thief. “Hang on, I need to… just a second…” The thief seems to be taking stock of your body. “OK, we got that… and that.. and… wait. What’s… hang on. Hang on… Wait. WAIT.” Your face looks up, blood burning in your cheeks. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my life,” you hear your voice say. “I am so, //so// sorry to put you through all this. GOD! You’d think I would have known! Stupid! STUPID!” The thief starts to hit your head with your hands, frustrated. You’re about to stop the thief, but they— or, he, apparently— stops on his own. He rises to your feet, hanging your head in shame. “I apologize for misgendering you,” he mumbles, and [[walks right into you|holemanalt3]] like a doorway.

You stumble— and //spin—// and ''tumble—'' and [[land flat on your face.|holemanalt4]]

Next thing you know, you’re wet. You have a headache. And someone keeps hitting an annoying bell very close to your aching head. Forcing your eyes open, you see the face of a clock, with hands pointing to eight and twelve. Wait. It’s eight o’ clock? The sun is shining. Is it morning? “Are you all right, ma’am?” says a voice behind you. Looking around, you see a Man… or maybe it’s just a man, in a khaki security guard shirt. “You really took a spill there! It looked like someone tripped you, but I didn’t see anyone.” You look up and around. You’re sitting in the fountain at the downtown mall. Your clothes and shoes are soaked, and so is the juror pass in your hand. You bend to look into the water. Your own stunned face blinks back at you. “Ma’am?” says the security guard, but you’re already out of the fountain and running, shoes squishing and threatening to fly off, as you pinwheel your legs as fast as you can to get to [[the jury assembly room|holemanalt5]] on time.

Was it all a dream? A hallucination brought on by shock? Did you ever really visit the Nocturne Mall, the temple of Molluch, the horrible cannibal farm or the Kind Man and his strange elves? Whoever it was who stole your identity— the Hole Man, presumably— was looking for a man. What would have happened if you had been one? And if you hadn’t called him on it, would he ever have noticed the difference? What’s important is that you’re not late for jury duty. They haven’t even started that thirty-minute orientation video that you must have watched five times already, here and when you were in school. You were sure it was going to be a bad day when you started, but you’ve already had a pretty bad day today— and [[this day is only just beginning.|holemanalt6]]

The security guard shrugs, seeing you running away with no apparent injuries, and returns to his post by the fountain. On the other side of the fountain, a strange indentation in space, just the shape and size of your average human being, gets comfortable. It’s time for //him// to return to work too… and the stakes are as high as ever.<<set $notaman to true>> <center><h2>[[YOU WON!|endtitle]]</h2></center>

You ''stumble—''<<set $wholeman to true>> and //spin—// and tumble— and [[land flat on your face.|holemanend2]]

There are honking horns all around you. You can taste gravel. Forcing your eyes open, you see where you are: face down in the middle of a pedestrian crosswalk. There’s no stoplight here for traffic, which is good… but you must have been here for a while, because the cars on either side of you are honking angrily and the smell of exhaust is thick in your nostrils. Blearily, you stagger to your feet and make your limping way to the side of the street you were facing. You have a juror's pass in your hand. What were you doing? Oh yeah. [[The courthouse|holemanend3]].

The city courthouse, a formidable block of brutalist architecture from the baby boom era, looms before you. It is elevated by about a story from the surrounding grounds, necessitating an uphill walk to the jury assembly room. The jury assembly room is open, and people are starting to file in, chatting and grumbling amongst themselves. You present your juror slip, take a seat, and try to collect yourself. It was bad enough tripping in the middle of the street like that, but you //really// lost your train of thought there! You'd been thinking about something that was so engrossing it was like there was no other world out there. What was it you were thinking about? It's not until you hear your name called for roll, that you get a flash of what you were thinking about. <<linkreplace "Wait. I do have a name, don't I?">>"Here!" you say, raising your scraped hand. In a few more minutes, the clerk is finished calling the roll. "All right, everyone... and that's it. We had two cases scheduled today, and one settled out of court and the other failed to file proper forms on time, so this is your dismissal. Line up here to get your underground parking validated, please..." You can't believe it. Neither can most of the other prospective jurors. [[It's all over|holemanend4]], just like that, for a whole year. Some of the assembled citizens break out in cheers. <</linkreplace>>

The crowd begins to disperse, and individual voices begin to ring out over the hubbub. "OK, hands up, who skipped breakfast to do this?" says one of the prospective jurors, a tall woman with a surgical patch over one eye. You did, right? It feels like so long ago now. You put your hand up. "Great! Are you feeling McDonald's right now? Because I definitely am," the tall woman smiles. "I'm open to suggestions though." "I'm up for anywhere with bacon, so McDonald's sounds good to me," says a man whose T-shirt is so distressed, you can't tell what cartoon character it features. "Ugh, and a nap afterward! I feel like a zombie!" "Hey, did I see you fall in the street earlier?" says a girl about half a head shorter than you, who is wearing a pastel unicorn sweater. "Are you all right? That looked like it really hurt!" You show her the abrasions on your wrists and elbows, and she cringes. "Eesh! You should see if the courthouse has a first aid kit." "I got you covered, friend," says a new voice; a muscular man with a gold tooth and a unibrow. He opens his metal briefcase, revealing a white plastic box inside. "I'm a pediatrician, never go anywhere without one." "You're a doctor? I thought you must be a wrestler! The kids must love you!" chirps the tall woman. "Get the patient patched up so we can get going. Don't want to leave this one behind to eat dirt in the street again!" "Big party! I'll run ahead and get us some seats," says the bacon maniac, turning to leave. [[What a strange way to start your day.|holemanend5]]

Jury duty is over before it can begin, and the day is looking better already. You've got orange juice, you've got hash browns, you've got... something with bacon, and you've got a bunch of new friends who hate jury duty as much as you do. You've got a big table outside in the morning sun, with kids playing in the provided playground nearby, and you've got a free day all to yourself. It's only a modest pleasure, but it's the kind that makes everything worth it. Some people never get to do this, after all. You wouldn't rather be anywhere else, than right here at this moment. You wouldn't ever want to be anyone else but you. <center><h2>[[YOU WON!|endtitle]]</h2></center>

The city courthouse, a formidable block of brutalist architecture from the baby boom era, looms before you. It is elevated by about a story from the surrounding grounds, necessitating an uphill walk to the jury assembly room. The jury assembly room is locked and barred. You cannot enter-- not that you could even if it were open, since your juror pass was in your back jeans pocket when your body was stolen. The area is deserted. No one is in sight but yourself. You can go back to [[The Mall|altmall]].

This is the Nocturne Mall, your apparent new home away from home. The sky is dark blue with stars and the faintest strip of pink can be seen on the horizon. There's a very unhelpful public clock and a lighted but otherwise inactive fountain. It's still not open, but if you leave the mall, you can go to the [[courthouse|altcourthouse]]. It seems the mall has closed up for the night, though. The diner is closed. The bookstore is closed. The candy shop is locked up. The antique store is closed. The fashion boutique is closed. The tax preparer's office is shuttered. If you're ready to be on your way, you can go to the [[the parking structure.|altparking]], or the [[Bus Stop|altbus]].

This concrete parking structure serves the Nocturne Mall and courthouse areas. It is also filled with... bright lights and loud music? And it's crowded with lots of people? You stumble in, wondering what's happening. Someone turns and notices you; it's the owl waitress from the Nighthawks diner. "Hey! They're here!" she calls out excitedly, and everyone turns to look right at you. ''"SURPRISE!"'' they all cheer. "Congratulations!!!" It's hard to believe, but here at the end of your journey, all the friends you've made have come to see you off. The parking structure is hung with streamers and balloons, there's a big potluck spread, and the cricket from the antique store is even DJing. "We wanted to say how grateful we were," says the white bat from the candy store, taking your hands and squeezing them in her wings. "We didn't think anyone would go so far and do... everything." "Superlative job, friend. Absolutely tremendous." The big brown owl slaps your back and hugs you. "You showed a dedication we all admire." The firefly is very shy, but she flits over and kisses your cheek, then runs away blushing. The fashionable moth is staring at the disco ball, mesmerized, but after some prodding from her firefly girlfriend, she comes over and gives you a dusty hug too. "You're our favorite customer, you know. I mean that!" Finally, up comes the gruff but helpful galago, with a drink in his hand, looking a little shy; he's also wearing some very funky goth leather for the occasion. "Well, you really did it. That takes persistence. I mean, I probably helped, sure, but, you know, it is what it is." He raises his cup in toast. A moment later, he looks up, accidentally makes eye contact, and his eyes get wet. "Aw, jeemineez!" He drops his empty cup and hugs you warmly. Just when you think you're ready to be on your way, though, the [[special guests]] arrive.

You're sitting alone at the bus stop. The streets are as dead as a plastic flower. There are no buses coming in either direction, no cars, no taxis, no Uber, and even the trolley has ceased for the night Walking looks like your only way out of downtown. If you were feeling like yourself, you'd probably remember which direction home was in, but you kinda still don't. Returning to [[the mall|altmall]] is an option, of course.

"Are we late?" says the Made Man's voice. You turn around in disbelief. They're here-- they're //all// here. Leading the arriving party is the Drill Man, who's just been busy picking everyone up to join you. "You didn't think we'd let you go without saying goodbye, huh, amigo?" he grins. In flies the Drake Man on a long and thin dragon that flutters like a streamer. Immediately all of the mall employees want rides! The Made Man arrives, and then again, and again-- there's three of him! The first one puts on a pair of shades and they form a three-piece combo, a welcome rest for the cricket DJ. The Kind Man arrives with a flotilla of holiday treats like eggnog and klejner, which the voracious Go Man cuts through like a buzzsaw. "Not to worry, I brought more," the Kind Man smirks. The Servant Man arrives with a knowing smile on his face. "I brought a plus-one," he chuckles. "He was excited to meet you." A huge, inhuman eyeball peers through the sunlight window of the parking structure. ''"HOWDY,"'' says a voice so deep it rattles the concrete. The Slaughter Man has brought guests too; the entire Pfeffernusse family! They all get in line to shake your hand and congratulate you... meanwhile they're all eating those gingerbread cookies. It doesn't seem like a good time to discuss that with them. The Go Man has brought a big stack of role-playing games, which some of the other guests are excited to try out. The firefly and moth are having an animated conversation about what kind of monsters they want to hunt. The Slaughter Man joins them, proclaiming he wants to be a cleric so he won't have to spill blood. The Drake Man joins them, but he suggests maybe they play something sci-fi next. The only one you don't see is the Darin' Man. Where could he-- //THUD!// A loud noise on the top floor is your answer. A second later, the Darin' Man comes stumbling down the stairs, looking a little dazed, and grabs you for a hug. "I gotta question," he slurs in your ear. "Did anyone else see that giant octopus monster outside? Or do I have a brain bleed." The Child Man doesn't seem to know what to say, so he grabs you and hugs tightly for a moment, looking up into your eyes for just a second before dashing away to join the party on the dance floor. There's even a few people here that you're not even sure if you remember. Who's that guy that's wearing a suitcase with holes cut in it, like a turtle? Or the cowboy who's a centaur? Did you even meet this very old man who's followed by a huge retinue of ghosts that all look like him?? Finally, the solemn Hood Man approaches you, and holds your hand; he doesn't shake it, he just holds it. "Thank you for playing," he says. Does he mean with toys, or...? [[It's party time!]]

Finally the whole crew is partied out. The Child Man is asleep in the coils of the Drake Man's ride; the Go Man is slumped in his chair with the two bugs dozing at his sides. The Kind Man is thoughtfully cleaning up; you start to help him, but he shoos you away. "You still have unfinished business," he says, pointing to the service elevator. He's right. You've said all of your goodbyes and now it's time to go. [[You press the button|service elevator]], and all of your friends wave goodbye as the doors close between you.