Slouching Towards Bedlam
Star Foster
amnesia asylum built-in hints collaboration cover art disturbing themes glitch horror I7 source available IF Competition 2003 IFComp Game IFComp Winner Inform 6 Inform 7 kaballah London Lovecraftian Miss Congeniality Winner moral choice multiple endings murder mysticism on Jay Is Games parser replay puzzle research science fiction sidekick NPC steampunk suicide transformation Victorian violence walkthrough Xyzzy Awards 2003 XYZZY Best Game XYZZY Best Individual NPC XYZZY Best Setting XYZZY Best Story
In the beginning was the Word, and it was hungry. Enter a steampunk adventure set in a London that might have been. The year is 1885. Bedlam Hospital still stands in Moorsfield, a decaying shell used to house the poor and the hopeless. Steam-driven mechanical wonders roam the streets. Gear-wheeled analytical engines spin out reams of thought onto punched paper tapes. And in the darkness - in the alleys and the side shops - hide secrets.
%
*clunk*

The rotating tin cylinder within the phonograph vibrates slightly as a brass needle scrapes against it. The sound of a throat being cleared emerges from the machine's hornshell speaker, followed by a thin, haunting voice.

"March the 16th."

A deep, shaky breath.

"I dread to say it, but I believe I am going mad. The -- *moments* -- come more frequently now. I fear that I have found what I have sought, and I shall now pay the price for it."

The scrape of a chair across flagstone. A sigh.

"Chaos treads the halls of Bedlam; her work is evident everywhere...

A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room.

There is a phonograph on the table near the window.

A black cube on wheels sits near the door to the south.
You turn on the emerald
From within the device comes a sharp clunk, followed by a gentle humming. The emerald blinks slowly -- once, twice -- then glows steadily. The grid of squares which makes up the thing's screen pivot back and forth, seemingly at random, causing ripples of motion across its surface.

With a sudden purpose, they begin to flip, revealing hundreds of tiny symbols engraved on their surfaces. The squares continue for a moment, then begin to settle line by line like a fall of rain into a
pattern...

INIT.CYCLE.COMP.
MILL.UNIT.ONLINE
STORE.DECRYPT/CO
MPRESS.BOOT.STAC
K.COMP.OP.SYSTEM
UNIT.VER.3.REG:.
DR..SIMON..BRAND
SET MODE:ANALYZE

"It may be that I have simply not found that by which this growing mystery may be unlocked. Perhaps by subjecting the Triage to further experiential data, it may find something that I have missed. But I
have little faith left at this point."
Yes
That was a rhetorical question.

The sound of a chair creaking.

"I have found a blessing in James. He has been nothing but kind and helpful in my short time here. I find myself wondering if, perhaps, he can be trusted enough to... but how can I punish him with this knowledge?"

A sigh.

"But how can I bear it alone?"
You examine the window
The open window looks down upon the courtyard and adjoining buildings far below.

A sudden noise, as of something wooden being struck, comes through the phonograph.

"No. I can trust no one, in the end. Not even James. Perhaps
soon...not even myself."
You look at the desk
A deep green blotter, dotted with black ink stains, sits in the center of the desk, mostly covered by files and papers. One side of the blotter seems slightly higher than the other.

The corner of a sandalwood box is visible beneath a stack of thick folders.

The desk contains a large central drawer, which is currently closed.

"I must stop here, I feel the faintness coming once again."

A scraping noise, a click.

"May God have mercy 'pon my soul."
You examine the blotter
A standard office blotter, its surface well used and covered with stains. One side of the blotter seems slightly higher than the other.

Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself
off with a tiny "click".
You take the blotter
That's hardly portable.
You look under the blotter
Beneath the blotter is a small key, easily taken. It carries a small tag labeled "2D".
You take the key
You already have that.
You check what you're carrying
Carried:
a small key labled 2D
You look at the sandalwood
It is unexceptional, perhaps one handbreadth wide by three long. On
its lid is a white paper label. Written upon it in a fine copperplate are the words "JOURNAL V. 4 - JANUARY THROUGH APRIL 1855."
You open the box
The sandalwood box opens, revealing a tin cylinder labeled January eighth, a tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second and a tin
cylinder labeled March second.
You take the cylinders
tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth: The ivory arms slide easily
apart and the cylinder leaves the phonograph with a slight "click".
tin cylinder labeled January eighth: Taken.
tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second: Taken.
tin cylinder labeled March second: Taken.
You examine the phonograph
A delicate device, its base is carved from oaken heartwood, bearing a small black plaque which reads "Columbia Phonograph Co., Ltd. of London".

Two ivory arms emerging from the base lean inward, firmly grasping a tin cylinder labeled January eighth. A brass needle hovers above the cylinder's surface.

From the base's back emerges a small, black hornshell speaker, its surface delicately curved. The phonograph is currently switched off.
You turn on the phonograph
The phonograph switches on.

"January the 8th."

"I am uncertain if this entry is made in joy or sorrow. I have just received word from Dr. Yeates that I am to be...promoted. I am uncertain if that term is the correct one. In any case, it seems that there has been an... incident with Bethlehem's current superintendent, and a replacement is required. I have been chosen for the position, at least in the short term."
About yourself
That's rather difficult without a mirror.

"It is fairly obviously what has prompted this move. I have moved too far, too fast and in doing so have displeased the powers that be.
While Yeates has supported my ... unorthodox theories well enough, he has warned me often that he cannot shield me from *all* of the
backlash that may occur. I do not believe that his using this as a segue way to telling me of my transfer was entirely unconnected..."
You open the drawer
The large central drawer opens, revealing a manual and a flanged brass rod.

"Bedlam seems both purgatory and paradise at this moment. I remember the history of the place well enough -- of the Governors' decision to renovate the site in '15 and the slow implementation of Urquhart and Bentham's now infamous Panopticon Plan. In the end it was nothing more than a final stab at respectability for the site, which has now languished as a home for the hopeless, the poor, and the criminally insane for almost twenty years."
You look at the manual
The manual has several headings:

> Cover
The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
Emblazoned on the front is a charcoal drawing of a black box on
wheels, beneath which is written the words:

TRIAGE PERSONAL ANALYTICAL ENGINE
PROFESSIONAL|INDUSTRIAL
MK. III.

The manual has several headings:

> Cover
The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
You go north
The manual has several headings:

> The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
The FUTURE is NOW...

One glance at the TRIAGE line of PERSONAL ANALYTICAL ENGINES will show them to be the finest now available. Each one is made of the materials of superlative quality, its thousands of interlocking parts are HAND MADE and HAND ASSEMBLED.

From its alphanumeric kinograph display to its specially designed internal power and propulsion systems, the TRIAGE is simply the most advanced technology made available to professionals for the portable storage and analysis of complex information.

In fact, the TRIAGE is so incomparably the best machine made that all we ask an intending purchaser is to compare it with any other before buying.

For sale by all first-class mechanist's shops.

The manual has several headings:

> The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
Go north
The manual has several headings:

The FUTURE is NOW...
> A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
A brief catalogue of the TRIAGE, both within and without...

- PANOPTICAL SCANNER: set within an attractive faux-emerald, TRIAGE's latest version has updated both its scanning technology and methods such that it can visually analyze a given subject and begin processing within seconds.

- INCREASED CAPACITY OF BOTH MILL AND STORE: The TRIAGE line is now capable of analyzing, compiling and storing literally thousands of pieces of information simultaneously.

- LATEST CORE ENGINE WITH FOUR-FOLD INCREASE IN EFFICIENCY: TRIAGE has always been famous for its relational algorithms and its capability in connecting seemingly disparate data into a coherent whole. Our latest edition strives ever closer to perfection, improving the system's already impressive functionality.

- SMOOTH-OPERATING FULLY ALPHANUMERIC KINOGRAPH DISPLAY: With its compact yet expansive 16x8 symbol display (each one capable of displaying any one of 36 characters), the TRIAGE speaks as well as it listens.

The manual has several headings:

The FUTURE is NOW...
> A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
Go north
The manual has several headings:

The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
> Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
ANALYSIS MODE

...is the TRIAGE'S default and most important mode of operation. Once activated by simply pressing its beautiful faux-emerald scanner, the system will run through its initializing phase and then notify the
user that it is ready to begin.

The TRIAGE will then follow its identified operator of its own accord, utilizing path-finding and obstacle-avoidance algorithms of the latest design. The system is constantly aware of both its personal
environment and the actions of its operator.

Once TRIAGE has locked on to its user, operation is simply a matter of making the system aware of particular subjects in the environment for analysis and storage. This can be accomplished by simply POINTING or GESTURING to the object in question.

Nothing more is necessary. The system will reply (via its kinograph display) of any pertinent data the operator might find of use.

Triage store data is organized as follows:

- CAT [category]: Triage maintains a strict hierarchy within which all subjects are stored - is the object in question alive? Is it a tool?
Is it not yet recognized?

- UTIL [utility]: Of what immediate use is the object in question?
How may it be interacted with?

- PART [particulars]: Specific information on the object - completed analysis data is often stored here.

The manual has several headings:

The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
> Analysis Mode
Optional Expanded Input Mode
You go to the north
The manual has several headings:

The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
> Optional Expanded Input Mode
OPTIONAL EXPANDED INPUT MODE

...can be utilized to directly enter information into the TRIAGE'S database store. Such data manipulation is not to be taken lightly, as all TRIAGE data must be kept as consistent as possible to prevent internal errors. However, advanced users may find it convenient to input information into the system immediately rather than allowing the system to accrue it via examination and analysis.

Expanded input mode requires the optional data input system, which is not sold with the basic TRIAGE. Contact your local mechanists" to special-order yours today.

The manual has several headings:

The FUTURE is NOW...
A brief catalogue...
Analysis Mode
> Optional Expanded Input Mode
You take rod
Taken.

"Perhaps this will not be so bad. In the public eye, I shall play
their game and meanwhile, I shall continue my own research, utilizing whatever materials Bedlam has to offer..."
You point at yourself
The emerald flickers from head to toe before returning:

CAT:LIVING......
*CATASTROPHIC.ER
RROR.A042.CATEGO
RY.INDEX.OUT.OF.
RANGE.STACK.OVER
FLOW*PART:ID=DR.
THOMAS.XAVIER=CU
RRENT.OPERATOR..

Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself
off with a tiny "click".
Inventory
Carried:
a tin cylinder labeled January eighth
a flanged brass rod
a tin cylinder labeled March second
a tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second
a tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth
a small key labled 2D
You point at the small key
Triage's emerald searches the small key labled 2D, then...

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You turn on the phonograph
The phonograph switches on.

"January the 22nd."

"Arrived in London today in preparation for taking over my duties. The cab driver took what seemed a scenic route through Smithfield, then generally southward towards Newgate. I covered my nose as best I could as we passed the slaughterhouse that was the Market, though I noted a Mechanist's shop -- Du Mondes' -- on Fleet, which I will try to visit at my earliest convenience, as my worst fears regarding the wireless have been confirmed."
Look around
A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room.

There is a phonograph on the table near the window.

Triage sits near the door to the south.

"It probably says something profound about me that I set up the magnetophone first, while everything else remains boxed or is still on its way from Bedfordshire. As I feared, I found no signal whatsoever.
A simple message of 'Calling CQ' went completely unanswered, which is unheard of, as there is *always* someone listening, particularly in such a city as London. I fear the buildings are blocking the signal, and I'll require a booster of some sort."
You look at the desk
A deep green blotter, dotted with black ink stains, sits in the center of the desk, mostly covered by files and papers. One side of the blotter seems slightly higher than the other.

The corner of a sandalwood box is visible beneath a stack of thick folders.

The desk contains a large central drawer, currently opened.

"I understood the driver's choice of route when we approached the prison from the north. A huge crowd was gathered for the public executions. I asked him about the particular individual sentenced to the gallows as we passed and he proceeded to tell me - at great length and with much relish - of the trial of one Mr. Emanuel Barthelemy. I wondered if today was something special, or if the spectacle of death always attracts such crowds."
Point at TRIAGE
The machine analyzes Triage before replying...

CAT:TRIAGE.ANALY
TICAL.ENGINE.UTI
L:EXAMINATION.AN
D.ANALYSIS.OF.OB
JECTS.AND.DATA.P
ART:TRIAGE.MK.II
I.UNIT.CURRENT.O
PERATOR=T.XAVIER

"I heard a cheer go up from the top of the hill as we pulled to a stop in front of the flat. I shall not take this as an omen of any sort."
You point at the window
Triage's emerald searches the window, then...

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION

"What I've seen of the place is modest, but I am not at all surprised considering what I am paying for it. I intend to spend as little time here as possible, after all. Bedlam awaits me in the morning."
Point at desk
The emerald eye examines the desk returning with:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION

"A final note. It seems I left the majority of my unused cylinders at Bedfordshire. I shall have to write Yeates and ask that he send them down, or perhaps seek out where I may purchase them locally. In the meantime, I shall refrain from making a phonograph-entry until something truly momentous happens."
Wait
Time passes.

Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself
off with a tiny "click".
You check your inventory
Carried:
a tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second
a tin cylinder labeled January eighth
a flanged brass rod
a tin cylinder labeled March second
a tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth
a small key labled 2D
You turn on the phonograph
The phonograph switches on.

"March the 2nd."

"It seems the Fates have listened closely and decided to give me a momentous occasion as quickly as possible. I am beside myself. Bedlam seems nothing more than a pit in which Her Majesty may place those she wishes to forget about. Such corruption dwarfs the imagination."
You wait for a while
Time passes.

"Perhaps I overstate the case, but it was the simple ease with which the constable approached me that most horrified me. If such things as this happen as a matter of course, then the place has truly been in
the hands of the mad for some time."
You wait for a while
Time passes.

"I suppose I should have seen such things coming. The Insane
Prisoners' Act passed in '40 was vague enough that it could be used as a political tool, and McNaughton's trial made it clear that the courts would do so when forced, but at least such things happened in the public eye."
You wait
Time passes.

"My predecessor clearly had some arrangement with the Bobbies
regarding cases such as these. James told me that he met often with
the constable, though he was not privy as to the content of these meetings."
You wait
Time passes.

"Simply put, I was asked to make the prisoner in their charge 'disappear' and told that I would be 'well compensated' for keeping things quiet. Part of me wishes I had put up more of a fight...had
made an issue, or..."
Wait
Time passes.

"But what choice have I? It has been made clear to me that keeping things quiet is precisely what is expected of me in my time in
Bedlam."
Wait
Time passes.

"I have placed Cleve -- whose preternatural silence even as he struggled in his bonds gave the entire proceedings a sheen of
unreality -- in the abandoned upper level of the northern wing,
keeping the key separate from the rest. James showed it to me on my arrival and stated that while it still remained secure, only a few of the rooms were to be considered 'usable'."
Wait
Time passes.

"Still, perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. I have complete singular access to an interesting patient. Perhaps this is the opportunity my studies have been waiting for..."
Wait
Time passes.

Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself
off with a tiny "click".
You put the cylinders in the box
tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second: Done.
tin cylinder labeled January eighth: Done.
tin cylinder labeled March sixteenth: Done.
Describe the surroundings
A massive cedar desk, well-polished and worn, looks elegantly out-of-place among the chaos. Papers, files, and books cover nearly every flat surface in the room.

There is a phonograph on the table near the window.

Triage sits near the door to the south.
Go south
The walls and floor are a clinical white tile and marble. However, the dim lights set above this echoing space hiss and pop fitfully, giving the small maze of desks and workspaces within a tarnished, decaying look.

A set of solid gates lie opened and unlocked to the east and west. A small corridor runs northward and from the south, the bright light of day is visible through a set of glass doors.

Behind the most prominent desk sits a nervous young man.

Triage obediently appears.

The young man looks up and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile that is not quite strong enough to reach his eyes.

"Doctor? Are you..."

Cold. Yes, the cold is familiar.

possibility|probability)\

The echo of an echo, the reflection of words from here to the far wall of reality and back.

"...alright? You had us all..."

## /(actionpositiveaffirmative|destroyingfrictionbreakinggrowth|positiveye s)\

"...do you mean...?"

Assistant -

## /(livinggrowthfrictionfurtherspreadingoutwardstretchingyestouchingyes)\

"All right then, sir."

And then he is nodding and returning to his seat, somehow both more
and less nervous.

/(yesdoneyes)\
You examine James
He's easily no more then twenty, with an unruly mop of black hair that continually gets in his eyes. The badge, set high near his collar, reads "James Houlihan - Assistant - Bethlehem Hospital."

James stares out into space for a long moment.
You point at James
Triage's emerald searches James, then...

CAT:LIVING.HUMAN
MALE.UTIL:COMMUN
ICATION.POSSIBLE
BY.SPEECH.OR.WRI
TTEN.WORD.PART:I
D=JAMES.HOULIHAN
POSITION.ASSISTA
NT.AT.BETHLEHEM.

James shudders suddenly, then looks at you sheepishly.
You ask James about the key
"That's rather outside my bailiwick, sir."
You examine desk
Which do you mean, the lobby desks or James' desk?
You examine the lobby desks
Worn and dusty with disuse, a fleet of abandoned desks slowly sinks into decay. James" desk, on its dais, is a tiny island of order.
You examinethe james' desk
It is covered in neat stacks of forms that James moves in unfathomable patterns: stamping some, filing others, and occasionally dropping one to the floor.

James stares out into space for a long moment.
You ask James about yourself
"Well, it's certainly been a pleasure working with you, sir."
You ask James about James
"Why, I'm James, sir. Your assistant. Perhaps you had better sit down. I don't think you've quite recovered."
You ask James about the cold
"I don't feel as though I'm qualified to answer that question, sir."

James shudders suddenly, then looks at you sheepishly.
You ask James about TRIAGE
"It was a favored tool of Dr. Brand. He would lock himself in his office and enter data into it for hours."

James stares out into space for a long moment.
You ask James about Brand
"He ... he took his own life. I fear the pressures of this place had gotten the better of him. He spent every waking moment here, on his patients, this place. We must be vigilant sir. So easy to get lost here."

James stands and stretches his legs for a moment before resuming his seat.
You ask James about the patients
"That's rather outside my bailiwick, sir."

James bites his lower lip as he stamps out a set of forms.
You ask James about bethlehem
"It's seen better days, certainly, sir -- but I must say that I was certainly proud when I was offered this position."
You ask James about Yeates
"I'm afraid I can't help you there."

James carefully fills out a set of forms, then files them.
You ask James about rod
"That's rather outside my bailiwick, sir."

James taps his fingers nervously.
You ask James about the panopticon
"Is it acting up again, sir? I'm sorry. We haven't been keeping up regular maintenance, what with the budget constraints."

James sighs.
You ask James about Cleve
"Already in the grave, I believe sir. I know nothing else about him, I've not looked at any of his files, per your instructions."

James shudders suddenly, then looks at you sheepishly.
You ask James about the cleve's file
"That's rather outside my bailiwick, sir."
You ask James about the file
"I don't feel as though I'm qualified to answer that question, sir."

James carefully fills out a set of forms, then files them.
Go east
This room is mostly empty space. The farthest wall is lined with gleaming, brass pull-file drawers and seems to go on infinitely in every direction. The entrance to the west opens onto a solid, dusty platform, which allows visitors to stand suspended above the unseen floor.

At the end of the platform lies a pedestal topped with a small, inverted onyx pyramid.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You examine the platform
The platform is surrounded on three sides by a low metal railing, the better to prevent an unfortunate drop into the vacuum below.
Footprints mark and remark the dust, forming a trail from the lobby to the pedestal and back.
You look at the pedestal
It is shaped like a pulpit. On its flat surface is small panel containing a dial and small glass display and delicately balanced at its top is an inverted black pyramid.
You point at the pedestal
A small beam of green light lashes out over the pedestal as Triage's screen lights up:

CAT:NONLIVING.TO

OL.UTIL:ARCHIVE.

INTERFACE.PART:F

ILE.NUMBER.INPUT

VIA.DIAL.OUTPUT.

VIA.PAPERTAPE.DI

SPLAY.PYRAMID=RE

TRIVAL.UNIT.....
You examine the dial
The dial seems capable of being set to any number between 1 and 9 as well as the letters A through F. It currently rests at 1.
You look at the display
A small sheet of glass, beneath which runs a paper tape which disappears into the bowels of the mechanism. The glass is cut in such
a way as to magnify the tape beneath it.

The tape is currently imprinted with:
"...RETRIEVAL COMPLETE..."
You look at the pyramid
Matte black and smooth, it is securely anchored to the pedestal at its inverted apex.
You turn the dial to 2
As the dial is set, the pedestal begins to hum and the sound of
turning gears can be heard. The tape beneath the panel's glass display suddenly advances from right to left, erasing the display. Then, with
a *clunk* it advances one further step ... revealing '2' imprinted on its surface.
You turn dial to d.
The tape advances a step further. It now reads '2D'.
You turn the dial to 1
The tape advances a step further. It now reads '2D1'.
You turn dial to the a.
The tape advances a step further. It now reads '2D1A'.
You turn the dial to the f.
The tape advances a step further. It now reads '2D1AF'.
You turn the dial to 8
The tape spins forward, blanking the display. Then...

"SEARCHING..."

Another advance. Then...

"FILE 2D1AF8 NOT FOUND..."

The tape advances. It now reads "...RETRIEVAL FAILED..."
Go west
The walls and floor are a clinical white tile and marble. However, the dim lights set above this echoing space hiss and pop fitfully, giving the small maze of desks and workspaces within a tarnished, decaying look.

A set of solid gates lie opened and unlocked to the east and west. A small corridor runs northward and from the south, the bright light of day is visible through a set of glass doors.

James sits behind his desk, nervously working.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.

James stands and stretches his legs for a moment before resuming his seat.
Go west
The slight wind whistles tunelessly against this mesh of steel, which arcs from one massive, opened gate to another. A roof curves far overhead, enclosing both the block-like building to the east and the narrow tower to the west. Far below, an intricate set of sub-buildings can be seen, enclosed within the complex's outer wall.

Triage obediently appears.
Go west
The hum of machinery is ever present here, rumbling down into the sub-sonics. Pale white walls encircle a series of engraved circles on the floor, and at the center - like the pupil of some great eye - sits a round console which reaches all the way up to the ceiling.

The room's single exit lies to the east.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You look at the console
It is complex, divided into several discrete sections. Set on a panel is a diagram - a blueprint. A small slot for the dispensing of paper tape lies beside it. Set above the diagram is a prism-viewer complete with two handles. A set of brass listening-tubes terminate on either side of the viewer.
You look at the diagram
Intricate in its detail, it depicts a series of twenty-four corridors set about a circular room like the spokes of a wheel. Each corridor opens onto six rooms, three on each side, with one exception: a hall
at 3 o'clock instead connects to a building labeled "Administration."

At the center of the circular room is a keyhole. Beside it is a two-headed arrow, pointing up and down.

Beneath the blueprint is a series of buttons: six labeled A through F and one with an inverted triangle from which six small lines emerge. None of the buttons is currently depressed.
You examine the circles
The walls and floor are pale, white and seamless except for the engraved circles. There are six of them - set at various distances
from the central console.
You look in the viewer
cheapglulxe quit with exit status: 1
You take the rod
Taken.

"It may be that I have simply not found that by which this growing mystery may be unlocked. Perhaps by subjecting the Triage to further experiential data, it may find something that I have missed. But I
have little faith left at this point."
You go west
The slight wind whistles tunelessly against this mesh of steel, which arcs from one massive, opened gate to another. A roof curves far overhead, enclosing both the block-like building to the east and the narrow tower to the west. Far below, an intricate set of sub-buildings can be seen, enclosed within the complex's outer wall.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You go west
The hum of machinery is ever present here, rumbling down into the sub-sonics. Pale white walls encircle a series of engraved circles on the floor, and at the center - like the pupil of some great eye - sits a round console which reaches all the way up to the ceiling.

The room's single exit lies to the east.

Triage obediently appears.
You look at the console
It is complex, divided into several discrete sections. Set on a panel is a diagram - a blueprint. A small slot for the dispensing of paper tape lies beside it. Set above the diagram is a prism-viewer complete with two handles. A set of brass listening-tubes terminate on either side of the viewer.
You look at the prism
cheapglulxe quit with exit status: 1
You open box
The sandalwood box opens, revealing a tin cylinder labeled January eighth, a tin cylinder labeled January twenty-second and a tin
cylinder labeled March second.

The sound of a chair creaking.

"I have found a blessing in James. He has been nothing but kind and helpful in my short time here. I find myself wondering if, perhaps, he can be trusted enough to... but how can I punish him with this knowledge?"

A sigh.

"But how can I bear it alone?"
You go south
The walls and floor are a clinical white tile and marble. However, the dim lights set above this echoing space hiss and pop fitfully, giving the small maze of desks and workspaces within a tarnished, decaying look.

A set of solid gates lie opened and unlocked to the east and west. A small corridor runs northward and from the south, the bright light of day is visible through a set of glass doors.

Behind the most prominent desk sits a nervous young man.

Triage obediently appears.

The young man looks up and the corners of his mouth lift into a smile that is not quite strong enough to reach his eyes.

"Doctor? Are you..."

Cold. Yes, the cold is familiar.

possibility|probability)\

The echo of an echo, the reflection of words from here to the far wall of reality and back.

"...alright? You had us all..."

## /(actionpositiveaffirmative|destroyingfrictionbreakinggrowth|positiveye s)\

"...do you mean...?"

Assistant -

## /(livinggrowthfrictionfurtherspreadingoutwardstretchingyestouchingyes)\

"All right then, sir."

And then he is nodding and returning to his seat, somehow both more
and less nervous.

/(yesdoneyes)\

James stands and stretches his legs for a moment before resuming his seat.
Go west
The slight wind whistles tunelessly against this mesh of steel, which arcs from one massive, opened gate to another. A roof curves far overhead, enclosing both the block-like building to the east and the narrow tower to the west. Far below, an intricate set of sub-buildings can be seen, enclosed within the complex's outer wall.

Triage obediently appears.
You put the rod in the keyhole
The brass rod slip easily into the keyhole. Then, of its own accord,
it begins to turn - first clockwise, then counter-clockwise.

The floor rumbles for a moment. There is an odd sense of movement.

The light beneath the Administration and its connecting corridor goes out.

A corridor at twelve o'clock lights up as the key stops moving, as
does its north-east room. The button labeled "A" clicks down and
begins to glow.

The room seems to have subtly cha...

/(pain)\

A cacophony fills the room - a hideous screeching echo.

/(chaosrandomhurt)\

It continues - emanating from the listening-tubes - a metallic repetitive thrum, the sound of an insect grown to the size of a
lion...

/(nosensenonsenserandomrandomnosensenonsense)\

...echo on top of echo on top of echo - resounding through the tubes, the room, the halls. A numbness spreads from arm to hand to finger...

/(stopnostopmake)\

A solid *thunk* makes itself barely heard above the noise and then - silence.

/(stop)\

The button "B" is now depressed and glowing - the one beside it now dark - as is the eastern room of the lighted corridor.
Point at console
Triage's emerald searches the console, then...

CAT:NONLIVING.TO
OL.UTIL:PANOPTIC
ON.MAIN.CONSOLE.
CAPABLE.OF.VIEWI
NG.ANY.CELL.IN.H
OSPITAL.WITH.BOT
VISUAL&AUDIO.OUT
PUT+CODE.STORAGE

From the gurgling sound emanating from it, the listening tube's terminus has momentarily become submerged.
You go north
The slight wind whistles tunelessly against this mesh of steel, which arcs from one massive, opened gate to another. A roof curves far overhead, enclosing both the block-like building to the north and the narrow tower to the south. Far below, an intricate set of
sub-buildings can be seen, enclosed within the complex's outer wall.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You go north
Were it not for the complex's enclosing walls and ceiling, this hall would certainly be left at the mercy of the elements - no surface stands unbroken or unpitted.

The eastern wall is set with a series of labeled doorways: to the northeast lies A, to the east B, to the southeast C.

The western wall is much the same: to the southwest is D, to the west E, to the northwest F.

The door to the south is labeled simply "Panopticon".

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You go to the northeast
A room that has been stripped almost completely bare - its only pretense at furniture is a small, hard chair thrown off to one side. Its single exit lies to the southwest.

Triage obediently appears.
You look at the chair
It is so much junk - brittle and old, it is unlikely it could bear any weight whatsoever.
You sit on the chair
It's useless -- better to leave it be.

It sounds as if an insect is caught somewhere in the room.
You listen
There is a faint buzzing whine in the air, seeming to come from the southern wall.

A piercing tone fills the air for a brief moment.
Go southwest
Were it not for the complex's enclosing walls and ceiling, this hall would certainly be left at the mercy of the elements - no surface stands unbroken or unpitted.

The eastern wall is set with a series of labeled doorways: to the northeast lies A, to the east B, to the southeast C.

The western wall is much the same: to the southwest is D, to the west E, to the northwest F.

The door to the south is labeled simply "Panopticon".

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
Go east
The door to room 6B seems stuck fast - from behind it can be heard the steady drip of water.
Go southeast
A room whose floor seems in danger of collapse - a hole has started forming in its center and the edges slowly slope in towards it. Its single exit lies to the northwest.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You examine the hole
The hole is approximately the size of a clenched fist, and beyond only darkness can be seen. The floor surrounding it seems anything but stable.
You look in the hole
linger.
Point at hole
The emerald eye examines the hole returning with:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You go northwest
Were it not for the complex's enclosing walls and ceiling, this hall would certainly be left at the mercy of the elements - no surface stands unbroken or unpitted.

The eastern wall is set with a series of labeled doorways: to the northeast lies A, to the east B, to the southeast C.

The western wall is much the same: to the southwest is D, to the west E, to the northwest F.

The door to the south is labeled simply "Panopticon".

Triage obediently appears.
You go to the southwest
An old room that - while crumbling around the edges - is fairly sturdy and secure. Its dusty floor holds nothing more than a cot and a crumbling chair. A set of gas light fixtures hangs off the wall, blocked and in disrepair and a door lies to the northeast.

The walls are covered with writing.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You examine cot
A small, well worn cot, almost worn through from use.
You look at the chair
It is so much junk - brittle and old, it is unlikely it could bear any weight whatsoever.
You look at the writing
In the walls" current state, it must not have been too difficult to scratch a message into - but the preciseness of the writing is still impressive. Various phrases are carved in a generally circular pattern about an intricate set of lines and circles at the center, within
which is inscribed:

The outer writing reads, variously:

MKLTH               GEMATRIA                      2693
19876                                             MCHN
KTHR                TEMURAH                       1262
8765                                 SHALL LEAD THEM
Point at writing
A small beam of green light lashes out over the writing as Triage's screen lights up:

CAT:WRITING.UTIL
:COMMUNICATION.P
ART:MULTIPLE.PHR
ASES.POSITIONING
POSSIBILY.IMPORT
ANT.SIX.SEPARATE
PORTIONS?FURTHER
ANALYSIS.REQ....

It has no sooner finished showing this then, with a series of clanks, the letters begin to spin wildly, randomly. The screen fills with a series of scrolling data, clearing the old as quickly as the new appears...

LOGOS.EN.SOPH...
(EN=AIN=NOTHING)
WITHOUT.FORM?...
SOURCE:HEBREW/KA
BALLAH-BOUNDLESS
LIMITLESS-CREATO
R?GENERATIVE-DEI
TY?SECOND.GOD=DE
MIURGE(GNOSTIC?)

TRINITY-NOTARIKO
N.GEMATRIA.TEMUR
AH.ALL.KABALLIST
IC.REFERENCES.MA
RKINGS.AT.CENTER
SUPPORT.POSSIBLE
CODE.OR.CYPHER?.

AND.A.LITTLE.CHL
D.2693?.GEMATRIA
/NUMEROLOGY/UNKN
OWN.SYSTEM.W/NO.
VOWELS?[B=1,C=2]
AND.A.LITTLE....
CHLD/CHILD/MCHN/
MACHINE?.SHALL..

MACHINE/KABALLAH
REFERENCE?SEARCH
ING.?CYPHERIST?.
ENLIGHTENMENT.AS
INFORMATION?DATA
MARKINGS+MLKTH+K
THR=MALKUTH.KETH
ER-SEPHIRA/ROTH?

CYPHER:NO.VOWELS
=20.SYMBOLS=?SIM
PLE.ROTATION.OR.
FOLD?B=N=B/C=P=C
...ZXWHT...MLKTH
MLKTH=MALKUTH.!.
GBWHTF=SN[KTHR].
[S]=?AS?IS?SO?..

Finally, seeming almost pleased with itself, the machine quiets down, displaying:

CENTER.LETTERING
CODE/CYPHER(NO.V
OWELS)="MALKUTH.
IS.IN.KETHER.AS.
KETHER.IS.IN.MAL
KUTH"=KAB/CYPH.=
[MAN]IS.IN[GOD]A
S[GOD]IS.IN[MAN]
You point at yourself
The emerald flickers from head to toe before returning:

CAT:LIVING......
*CATASTROPHIC.ER
RROR.A042.CATEGO
RY.INDEX.OUT.OF.
RANGE.STACK.OVER
FLOW*PART:ID=DR.
THOMAS.XAVIER=CU
RRENT.OPERATOR..
You look at the lights
Their flickering fills the room with uneasy shadows.
You take the light
The lights look as if they will go out any moment as it is. Best to leave them alone.
Go northeast
Were it not for the complex's enclosing walls and ceiling, this hall would certainly be left at the mercy of the elements - no surface stands unbroken or unpitted.

The eastern wall is set with a series of labeled doorways: to the northeast lies A, to the east B, to the southeast C.

The western wall is much the same: to the southwest is D, to the west E, to the northwest F.

The door to the south is labeled simply "Panopticon".

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You go to the west
The room beyond the door to the west seems to have collapsed in on itself - the door swings inwards to immediately strike an impenetrable mound of rubble.
Go northwest
The lock and handle on the door to 6F seem broken - making it unopenable. The sound of wind faintly blowing can be heard beyond it, though.
Go south
The slight wind whistles tunelessly against this mesh of steel, which arcs from one massive, opened gate to another. A roof curves far overhead, enclosing both the block-like building to the north and the narrow tower to the south. Far below, an intricate set of
sub-buildings can be seen, enclosed within the complex's outer wall.

Triage obediently appears.
Go south
The hum of machinery is ever present here, rumbling down into the sub-sonics. Pale white walls encircle a series of engraved circles on the floor, and at the center - like the pupil of some great eye - sits a round console which reaches all the way up to the ceiling.

The room's single exit lies to the north.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
Point at console
Triage's emerald searches the console, then...

CAT:NONLIVING.TO
OL.UTIL:PANOPTIC
ON.MAIN.CONSOLE.
CAPABLE.OF.VIEWI
NG.ANY.CELL.IN.H
OSPITAL.WITH.BOT
VISUAL&AUDIO.OUT
PUT+CODE.STORAGE
You look at the diagram
Intricate in its detail, it depicts a series of twenty-four corridors set about a circular room like the spokes of a wheel. Each corridor opens onto six rooms, three on each side, with one exception: a hall
at 3 o'clock instead connects to a building labeled "Administration."

At the center of the circular room is a keyhole. Beside it is a two-headed arrow, pointing up and down.

Beneath the blueprint is a series of buttons: six labeled A through F and one with an inverted triangle from which six small lines emerge. The button labeled 'B' is depressed and glowing.

A corridor at twelve o'clock is lit and its eastern room are lit up from beneath, as is the upward head of the two-headed arrow.
You go southwest
Straying from the walkway would most likely result in a rather fatal fall.
You go north
Were it not for the complex's enclosing walls and ceiling, this hall would certainly be left at the mercy of the elements - no surface stands unbroken or unpitted.

The eastern wall is set with a series of labeled doorways: to the northeast lies A, to the east B, to the southeast C.

The western wall is much the same: to the southwest is D, to the west E, to the northwest F.

The door to the south is labeled simply "Panopticon".

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You go to the southwest
An old room that - while crumbling around the edges - is fairly sturdy and secure. Its dusty floor holds nothing more than a cot and a crumbling chair. A set of gas light fixtures hangs off the wall, blocked and in disrepair and a door lies to the northeast.

The walls are covered with writing.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You go south
The slight wind whistles tunelessly against this mesh of steel, which arcs from one massive, opened gate to another. A roof curves far overhead, enclosing both the block-like building to the north and the narrow tower to the south. Far below, an intricate set of
sub-buildings can be seen, enclosed within the complex's outer wall.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You go to the south
The hum of machinery is ever present here, rumbling down into the sub-sonics. Pale white walls encircle a series of engraved circles on the floor, and at the center - like the pupil of some great eye - sits a round console which reaches all the way up to the ceiling.

The room's single exit lies to the north.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You pull the b.
Nothing obvious happens.
Point at door
The emerald eye examines the hallway door returning with:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You go south
The slight wind whistles tunelessly against this mesh of steel, which arcs from one massive, opened gate to another. A roof curves far overhead, enclosing both the block-like building to the north and the narrow tower to the south. Far below, an intricate set of
sub-buildings can be seen, enclosed within the complex's outer wall.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You go south
The hum of machinery is ever present here, rumbling down into the sub-sonics. Pale white walls encircle a series of engraved circles on the floor, and at the center - like the pupil of some great eye - sits a round console which reaches all the way up to the ceiling.

The room's single exit lies to the north.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.

The sound of dripping water echoes through the room.
Point at diagram
Triage's beam flickers over the panopticon panel, briefly, then displays:

CAT:NONLIVING.TO
OL.UTIL:PANOPTIC
ON.BLUEPRINT.PAR
T:ACTIVATE.VIA.P
ROPER.KEY.CHOOSE
CELL.VIA.BUTTONS
PRINT.PATIENT.CO
DE.VIA.TRIANGLE.

The sound of three drips of water falling in quick succession comes floating across the console.
You take the tape
(the paper tape labeled F6A142)
You already have that.
You go east
No exit lies in that direction.
You take the rod
As the rod slides from its home, the floor rumbles for a moment. There is an odd sense of movement.

All of the lights on the blueprint go out, then the light beneath the Administration and its connecting corridor flickers back to life.

The room seems to have subtly changed.
You look around
The hum of machinery is ever present here, rumbling down into the sub-sonics. Pale white walls encircle a series of engraved circles on the floor, and at the center - like the pupil of some great eye - sits a round console which reaches all the way up to the ceiling.

The room's single exit lies to the east.

Triage rests obediently nearby.
You examine the rod
A short rod of brass with a flange at one end (engraved with a '6')
and a series of tines at the other, perpendicular to the shaft.
You go to the east
The walls and floor are a clinical white tile and marble. However, the dim lights set above this echoing space hiss and pop fitfully, giving the small maze of desks and workspaces within a tarnished, decaying look.

A set of solid gates lie opened and unlocked to the east and west. A small corridor runs northward and from the south, the bright light of day is visible through a set of glass doors.

James sits behind his desk, nervously working.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You go east
This room is mostly empty space. The farthest wall is lined with gleaming, brass pull-file drawers and seems to go on infinitely in every direction. The entrance to the west opens onto a solid, dusty platform, which allows visitors to stand suspended above the unseen floor.

At the end of the platform lies a pedestal topped with a small, inverted onyx pyramid.

Triage obediently appears.
You turn the dial to the f.
As the dial is set, the pedestal begins to hum and the sound of
turning gears can be heard. The tape beneath the panel's glass display suddenly advances from right to left, erasing the display. Then, with
a *clunk* it advances one further step ... revealing 'F' imprinted on its surface.
You turn the dial to 6
The tape advances a step further. It now reads 'F6'.
You turn the dial to the a.
The tape advances a step further. It now reads 'F6A'.
You turn the dial to 1
The tape advances a step further. It now reads 'F6A1'.
You turn the dial to 4
The tape advances a step further. It now reads 'F6A14'.
You turn the dial to 2
The humming of the pedestal suddenly increases in both volume and pitch. The tape spins forward, blanking the display. Then...

"SEARCHING..."

Another advance. Then...

"FILE...FOUND...FILE F6A142...RETRIEVAL..."

The humming ceases, to be replaced with a quick-paced ticking, something like a watch.

With an easy grace, six thin rods emerge from the sides of the
pyramid. Growing quickly, they reveal a series of articulations along their length as they bend downwards. Within moments, they have
revealed an impressive span - making a shape not unlike a spider.

The lower set of ... legs? arms? ... pushes lightly against the
base, freeing it. It turns with blinding speed and...leaps and...

It is gone, running along the walls on four legs, its arms gripping at protrusions and flinging it further ... up ... up...

It stops somewhere far above, bracing itself on two legs. Two others reach forward and grip, then pull, opening a distant drawer. Its two arms reach inward, flicking through files with blinding speed.

Then, finding what it seeks, it grabs hold and pulls a folder close to its body. It then gently wraps its arms around to hold it tight. Closing the drawer, it quickly makes its way back and...

With a final tick, the pyramid settles itself back into the pedestal, holding out the retrieved folder on two articulated rods of brass. The tape advances. It now reads "...RETRIEVAL COMPLETE..."
You take the folder
Taken.
You examine it
The file is broken into several sections:

> Personal Information
Patient History
Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Patient Name: Cleve Anderson
Age: 23
Physical Description: 5'10" 12 stone, grey eyes, brown hair Distinguishing Marks: small burns on palms and inner forearms, these should heal within a few weeks (possible scarring?).
Residence: 1428 Fleet Street, second floor loft
Possessions: money (a few pound notes), a key, and identification papers

The file is broken into several sections:

> Personal Information
Patient History
Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
You go north
The file is broken into several sections:

> Patient History
Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Arrival Date/Time: 2 - 3 - 55 23:00
Processing: James Houlihan
Attending Alienist: Dr. Thomas Xavier
Depositing/Transporting: unlisted

Patient arrested for disturbance of the peace, neighbors described screaming and raving at all hours. Found comatose in his flat (see personal information). Awoke in transit - mostly compliant though some resistance -- *completely silent*, refused to answer questions.

Diagnosis: (for specifics see attached) Disassociative disorder, acute schizophrenia with paranoid tendencies. Does not, however, seem dangerous to himself or others.

Prognosis: To be kept under observation until such time as attending alienist decides on further treatment [uncertain of necessary duration].

Departure Date/Time: 10 - 3 - 55 5:50
Status: Deceased

The file is broken into several sections:

> Patient History
Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
You go to the north
The file is broken into several sections:

> Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
examination reveals bruising along the upper arms and temple, and
burns on the palms and inner forearms.

catatonic, unresponsive to physical/auditory stimuli.

unnaturally dilated. Seems to be uncertain where he is.

be suffering from symptoms in line with shock, exposure, and exhaustion. Constantly shivering as if from cold.

reveals that he is physically *capable* of speech. Violently shakes head when asked to do so. Otherwise compliant and nonviolent.

Refuses to make *any* noise whatsoever - even to say 'ah' during examination. Possible phobia towards noise? Seems fine with *others* making sound. Bite marks along inside of cheeks and along tongue -- possibly epileptic?

The file is broken into several sections:

> Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
You go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

> -[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Placed patient in 6D and have made sure to retain the only key to Corridor 6. D seemed the best choice, all in all, at least it's structurally sound -- several of the rooms have completely collapsed.

Patient completely compliant - no struggling whatsoever. He even
seemed to calm considerably once led through the Panopticon to his room. Went to sleep almost immediately.

Checked on patient early via prism - still sleeping. Went in with breakfast and a sheaf of papers. Asked him if he knew how to read as
he ate. He laughed - a short bark.

His response to this was immediate -- a look of horror and both hands clamped over his mouth. Brief panic attack - heavy breathing. Calmed down soon after, nodded and gestured for the papers.

Communicated via writing for about an hour. Very basic answers to questions -- who are you (name), where do you live (address), what do you do (occupation - a mechanist's assistant). Refused to answer any deeper questions -- simply stared.

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

> -[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
> -[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
[afternoon]
Some progress made, as the patient is at least answering questions. From a "conversation" this morning:

"Do you know why you're here?"
[PENANCE]
"What do you mean, penance? Have you done something wrong?"
[HUBRIS]
"Pride? You think you're here because of your pride, Cleve? What
were you proud of?"
(Patient stared for a long moment, before writing...)
[DOING SOMETHING NO ONE WAS MEANT TO DO]
"What is it, Cleve? What was no one meant to do?"
(No response.)

[night]
Made the mistake of leaving a pen in the patient's cell, returned to find a series of words engraved into the wall - it must have taken hours. Confiscated what barely remained of the writing instrument. Patient refuses to talk about what he wrote.

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
> -[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
> -[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
[afternoon]
Wheels within wheels within wheels. The patient has built a complex inner world for his delusions to play out within - complex and self-referential. At least part of these delusions revolve around an unseen 'they' - a shadowy group that is paradoxically powerful and weak: powerful enough to control the world, but so weak that Cleve was able to steal their 'secrets' like some modern Prometheus...

[THEY HAD ME BROUGHT HERE]
"Who did, Cleve?"
[THEY CONTROL EVERYTHING]
"Who are 'they'? Where are 'they'?"
[EVEN HERE. THEY CONTROLLED THE ONE THAT CAME BEFORE YOU UNTIL...] (Patient stopped at this, looked unsure.)
"The one that came before me? Who do you mean? They controlled who until what?"
(Patient seemed to come to a decision.)
[THEY KILLED HIM, YOU KNOW.]
(Tried to speak at this but he kept writing, furiously...)
[HAD HIM KILLED. I LISTENED. I SPIED. THEY NEVER KNEW I KNEW.]
"I don't understand."
[THEY'LL CONTROL YOU, TOO, SOON.]
"No, they won't, Cleve. You can trust me."
(Patient almost smiled at this...then seemed struck with fear, melancholy)
[NO THEY WON'T]
"Right, Cleve."
(Patient shook his head, furiously.)
[MY HUBRIS MAY KILL US ALL LONG BEFORE THEN.]

Someone who came before me. Someone who is dead. Could he possibly be referring to Dr. *Brand*?

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
> -[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
You go to the north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
> -[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
[evening]
Yesterday's push seems to have been too much. Patient upset most of
the day, crying (though still silent). The only event of notice happened when I brought dinner. I placed the tray down and attempted
to get his attention, repeating his name several times. This
apparently made him angry, and he seemed for a moment about to yell when he caught himself and grabbed a sheet of paper...

[NOT CLEVE]
"You're not Cleve? Who are you, then?"
[NOT WHO]
"Not...who? You're not... not *who* are you...? All right. What, then. What are you?"
Patient seemed taken aback by this question, thought a long moment, then wrote...
[SOMETHING NEW]
"And how did this happen? How did you become 'something new'?"
A look of utter disgust crossed his face.
[INFECTION]

The patient refused to answer any more questions.

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
> -[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
You go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
> -[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
[morning]
Complete change in mood, again -- possible mood swings? Entered patient's cell to find him awake, alert and rather happy to see me. Immediately signaled for pen and paper.

my understanding and referring to conversations we never had, but that were eerily probable. Tried explaining to the patient after reading it which portions had happened and which hadn't.

Effect of comment was almost immediate -- confusion, sorrow, then understanding. Patient began nodding and almost laughing with a sardonic smile on his face.

life and those scenarios he played out in his mind?

The patient stared for a long moment, before writing, almost
angrily...

[IS YOUR MAGNETOPHONE STILL BROKEN?]
"*My* magnetophone? How did you know I was an aetherist, Cleve? I never mentioned it."
[A DIFFERENT YOU DID, THEN. TO A DIFFERENT ME.]
"A different me, Cleve? Well, then he was wrong - it's not broken,
its signal is just not strong enough."
(A look of confusion and fear from the patient, then...)
[YOU DIDN'T SAY THAT LAST TIME.]
"Last time?"
(Patient's hand was shaking as he wrote:)
[SOMETHING HAS CHANGED.]

This exchange broke something in the patient - in a rush, he began writing - trying to explain at least part of his delusions to me in detail. I've tried to summarize my understanding of it as best I can:

The patient has - in his mind - somehow come unstuck in time. He
speaks of it as if it were a malleable thing. He mentioned several times in his notes to me that he could 'save' moments, as if in a delaying glass. He kept several of them with him, and 'restored' them as he wished, reliving the past/present/future.

When asked about the 'different' me he replied that he'd tried restoring several times, changing them -- seeing different paths that resulted. This, he said, was the best he could find.

I asked him if he had saved a moment from before this all happened, before his 'infection'. Back when he was simply Cleve.

He said he'd 'restarted' from time to time, but that it only took him as far back as his 'new creation'.

The patient refused to speak any further of this infection.

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
> -[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
You go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
> -[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Couldn't sleep - patient's remarks kept bounding around inside my
head. His internal fantasies have a nature not unlike the new engine-science of fractals - the further I dig into them the more
there is to find. Of particular distress is the source of some of his information - I'm certain I never mention my hobbies to him and Dr. Brand's ... unfortunate end has been kept out of the public eye.

Ended up in the Panopticon in the early morning hours, with Corridor 6's key in my hand.

Wasn't certain at first what I was hearing when I brought up 6D - the system is far from perfect and chamber's acoustics hardly help cut
down on the echoes. Looking through the prism revealed patient jerking spastically - almost rhythmically - in his sleep.

Patient was definitely speaking, and while some of the words (some English, some Greek, some Latin?) seemed understandable, I believe
what I was listening to was, in fact, glossolalia - random phonemes
and syllables which my mind tried forming into some meaning.

Conclusion: uncertain. Patient is, again, clearly *capable* of speech. Perhaps some form of stroke or mental trauma has caused his speech to become unintelligible and the patient's schizophrenic delusions were built to explain this?

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
> -[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
> -[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
[afternoon]
Further investigation and discussion with the patient has resulted in what I believe is a complete structure and definition of his internal world:

- Patient has 'changed' and is no longer himself. Patient claims
change has resulted from an 'infection.'

- Patient is a glossolalic though this is only revealed when he sleeps and cannot keep conscious control. I conclude that that 'change' was the onset of glossolalia, though the source is still unknown.

- Patient claims the infection resulted from the 'secrets' he stole from a shadowy group he refers only to as 'them.' I am still
uncertain if this group is real and the patient has simply
incorporated them into his delusions or if they were created out of whole cloth.

- The infection was never intended -- it resulted from his hubris - even 'they' would never use it in such a way. Again, I am uncertain what this represents. Possibility - the patient has associated some action/event that took place in his life concurrent with the onset of glossolalia.

him - it is not a linear thing. This may be an metaphor for the internal mental confusion of which the patient's inability to communicate is a symptom.

- Patient refuses to discuss or even think on the infection - what it is, where it came from, if it may be catching. When confronted,
patient cuts off all communication entering a semi-comatose state, often shaking the head spastically.

Possible conclusion:
The patient believes that his glossolalia is infectious and will
spread if he speaks. This may be the key to his eventual recovery. Perhaps by confronting him with a cognitive dissonance - specifically showing him that my listening to him has not 'infected' me - he can begin to tear down the walls he has built about himself.

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
> -[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
Go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
> -[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
[night]
Witnessed patient's babbling and spastic movements again --
possibility they may be connected. Patient's speech definitely has a pattern about it which encourages listener's attention and conscious attempt to find meaning. I have decided to attempt a direct intervention/confrontation with the patient tomorrow.

On a personal note: I must start taking James' advice and cut down my hours - while observing the patient I noticed that my vision blurred and I experienced a distinct dizziness. When I shook it off I found that I must have fallen asleep at some point - I checked the time, found that several hours had passed.

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
> -[March 8th, addendum]
-[March 9th]
You go north
The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
> -[March 9th]
This will be this case's final note.

One would have thought I would have learned. Everything has told me
one thing and I have thought another - my hubris is such as to put whatever Cleve thought he ever did to shame.

Cleve is dead.

Too far, too soon. My initial confrontation accomplished nothing - he refused again to speak of the infection and my interpretation of it.
He almost laughed when I told him my theory of glossolalia - writing back that he was quite aware of what it was and that no - that was not his problem.

I think that what I did next was out of anger.

When I told him about my nightly observations, he was clearly confused - said that he knew that no one had entered the chamber while he slept - that he had checked over several of his 'saved' times. Which is when I explained the Panopticon to him, and pointed out the listening tube hidden in the corner of his cell.

All of the blood drained from his face and he once again entered his catatonic state, though this time with much more vehemence. He spasmed and shook.

It took a long moment before I realized what was different.

He was *speaking* - a single word, yes - but speaking nonetheless. All he said was 'no,' again and again in a constant stream.

He looked up as he realized what he was doing and yet he didn't stop for a moment. He clawed at his mouth, bit until it bled, but the word kept coming.

And then it contorted in his throat into a snarl as he leapt at me.

I am a fool. I had thought him nonviolent, and more - he was still weak, tired. Of course, I'd never had an orderly there with me, for fear of discovery, but I'd never bothered with any restraint whatsoever.

Though weak, he was far stronger than he looked. We struggled as I attempted to force myself towards the door and help. I slipped from
his grasp and was almost away when he leapt upon me again. I pushed back, kicked with all my might...

I didn't understand the sound I heard until I turned around.

He didn't stand a chance - his head had hit the side of the metal door with such force that half his brains must have spilled out in a
moment. The flicker of life in his eyes continued only for a moment as I dropped to my knees beside him.

He only managed to say one thing -- 'too late' -- before it went out forever, leaving a look of horror -- and oddly pity -- on his face.

I write this now, and will seal up the file in the archives in some half-hearted penance, such as Cleve sought here. If sometime in the future my sins find me out, then I shall pay for them then. For now, I simply wish to forget all of it...

The file is broken into several sections:

Initial Diagnosis

-[March 3rd]
-[March 4th]
-[March 5th]
-[March 6th]
-[March 7th]
-[March 7th, addendum]
-[March 8th]
-[March 8th, addendum]
> -[March 9th]
Look around
This room is mostly empty space. The farthest wall is lined with gleaming, brass pull-file drawers and seems to go on infinitely in every direction. The entrance to the west opens onto a solid, dusty platform, which allows visitors to stand suspended above the unseen floor.

Triage rests obediently nearby.

At the end of the platform lies a pedestal topped with a small, inverted onyx pyramid.

You can also see a large iron key here.
You examine the iron key
An old-fashion rusted iron key.
You get it
Taken.
You point at it
A small beam of green light lashes out over the large iron key as Triage's screen lights up:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You go west
The walls and floor are a clinical white tile and marble. However, the dim lights set above this echoing space hiss and pop fitfully, giving the small maze of desks and workspaces within a tarnished, decaying look.

A set of solid gates lie opened and unlocked to the east and west. A small corridor runs northward and from the south, the bright light of day is visible through a set of glass doors.

James sits behind his desk, nervously working.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You go south
This walled off area sits at the bottom of a massive staircase which leads into the building to the north. At its base is a sign reading "Bethlehem Hospital - Administration." The outer walls meet here - meeting at the distant gates which sit to the southeast.

Flanking the top of the staircase on either side are two colossal statues.

A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently.

When he hears footsteps clatter across the courtyard, the driver tilts his hat back and says "Where to then, Doc?" with a smile.

Triage obediently appears.
You look at the statues
Human figures, they are -- bald and muscular, naked except for a
stream of cloth about their waists, each lying against an arch of stone. The leftmost - Melancholy - grips the ground beneath him with a look of placid despair. On the right lies Mania, struggling against
his chains.
You look at the cab
A fine cab, painted black with a tired old horse hitched to its front. In driver's seat, set at the rear of the vehicle, sits its smiling driver.
You enter the cab
Entered.

Faced with the task of climbing into the cab, Triage is more than up
to the challenge. Raising and extending first two wheels and then the others, it clambers inside beside.
Home
/(distancespacetimefurthertouchmore)\

In the shadow of the cab's interior, the cold comes once again.

/(growlearnreachseedexchangeexpand)\

"What's that? Sounded strange there for a moment, you did."

/(dividecopycopyonemanymanyone)\

Vibrations...passing through the cold into the surround air - escaping as...sound?

/(yessuccessmoremore)\

As Reggie pulls the cab to a stop, he calls down.

"What was that you said, ser? Sounded like something foreign. Never could understand why English folks can't stick to the Queen's English. That fancy talk always hurt my ears. Bit silly if you ask me... unless...well, if you want to dance with the Green Fairy that is of course your business, ser."

Outside Flat 2D (in the hansom cab)
This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D.

To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street.

Triage rests obediently nearby.
North
From inside the hansom cab?
You go outside
Exited.

Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside.
You go north
(first opening the door to Flat 2D)
It seems to be locked.
You unlock the door with the key
Which do you mean, the large iron key or the small key labled 2D?
Small key
You unlock the door to Flat 2D.
Go north
(first opening the door to Flat 2D)

Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall
beneath an arched window.

A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor.

The flat's single exit lies to the south.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You examine the mirror
Three heavy oak frames line the wall beside the mirror, each
containing a picture: a young man standing proudly outside Charing Cross Medical School; a formal photo of a junior rugby team (with the same young man in the third row); an older version of the man smiling from a gaggle of classmates on graduation day.

The man in each picture is a shadow of the face reflected in the mirror.
You point at the pictures
The emerald eye examines the mirror returning with:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You point at the mirror
Triage's emerald searches the mirror, then...

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You point at yourself
The emerald flickers from head to toe before returning:

CAT:LIVING......
*CATASTROPHIC.ER
RROR.A042.CATEGO
RY.INDEX.OUT.OF.
RANGE.STACK.OVER
FLOW*PART:ID=DR.
THOMAS.XAVIER=CU
RRENT.OPERATOR..
You examine table
magnetophone. At one corner of the table is a paperbacked book, lying beside a small trade card.
You look at the book
The book is open to a marked page, labeled "Troubleshooting Your Magnetophone, A Home User's Guide..."

1. Problem: Nothing happens when I turn my Magnetophone on.
Be sure that your Magnetophone is hooked up to a viable power source, and that the power source is active. If you are sure your power source is active, toggle your switch.

2. Problem: All I hear is static or I can hear other operators, but they can't hear me speak, or they do not answer.
To broadcast, be sure to depress the TRANSMIT button each time you
wish to speak. While the TRANSMIT button is not depressed, your magnetophone acts as a receiver, not a transmitter. Also, be sure to use proper etiquette while operating your Magnetophone. To let another operator know you wish to make contact, press the TRANSMIT button and use the universally accepted phrase "Calling CQ". If you fail to use this code, other operators may believe they are picking up the middle of an alternate conversation, and will not respond for fear of interrupting.

3. Problem: I can hear static and voices, but they are faint or indistinct.
Magnetophone customers living in highly-populated, urban areas may experience transmission interference due to the presence of large buildings, crowded streets, and pollution. You may try alleviate to this problem by placing the Magnetophone by a clear opening - such as
a window. If this does not fix the problem, you may need to purchase one of several amplification devices, designed to fit into your machine's expansion slot.
You describe your surroundings
Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall
beneath an arched window.

A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor.

The flat's single exit lies to the south.

Triage rests obediently nearby.
You examine the window
The window sits high along the flat's eastern wall, flooded with sunshine and shadow.
You look through the window
The window is too high to manipulate.
You look under the table
Nothing of interest is to be found.
Go south
This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D.

To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street.

A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently.

Triage obediently appears.
You ask Reggie about the execution
"I've never heard of that, ser."
Go west
Set directly beside the towering stone walls of Newgate Gaol, the scaffolding's staircase rises northward, leading up to a tall, wide stage. Above, the noose sways gently in the breeze.

The slow dip of the hill takes the road eastward and down to where the hansom cab waits.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
Go north
You can't see any such thing.

A short flight of stairs, but the walk up to the gallows is still a long one...

A wide flat plane of solid wood, above which - at eye level - hangs
the noose. Just below there is the thin outline of trapdoor, perhaps ten feet by eight. Directly beside the stairs, off to the left, an automaton waits, unmoving.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You point at noose
The machine analyzes the noose before replying...

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You examine the automaton
of a man. Its heavy torso, only partially enclosed in black robes, grows right from the stage floor, the cogs and gears that serve as its organs exposed. Its massive arms grip an iron switch.

A red button sits on the platform directly beside it.
Point at automaton
The emerald eye examines the automaton returning with:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You look at the button
A small, red button, set into the stage floor.
You wait
Time passes.
You pull switch
You can't see any such thing.

You can't see any such thing.
You look at the noose
The noose is made of new, stout rope. A closer inspection reveals a series of fine wires woven into the knot. These run up the length of the rope, over the beams, down along the back of the stage and vanish beneath the automaton.
You wear the noose
The noose slips easily enough over the head.

The fit is loose at first, then with a noise from above the wires pull upward causing it to tighten. An unseen bell gongs from beneath, shaking the floorboards.

With a rapid series of clicks, cogs grinding against cogs, the automaton turns its head towards the empty street. There is a hiss of static, then a recorded voice speaks:

"All good people, pray heartily unto God for this poor sinner who is now going to his death, for whom the great bell tolls."

More clicks, and the automaton turns to face the noose. The static sounds like steam leaking.

"You that are condemned to die, repent with lamentable tears; ask
mercy of the Lord for the salvation of your soul. You have one minute remaining of your life. You may use this time to beg forgiveness of
God and the Good People of this Great Kingdom, or to make your peace with your maker in silence. Your minute begins now."

A minute to reflect. A minute to regret. A minute to repent.

Suddenly, the trap door snaps open. The landscape rises up in a rush,
a quick jerk, and then, darkness.

If there are words for this...

point|metaphor)\

...they have not yet been written.

/(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\

It starts simply enough. Nothing occurs for the first week. It takes that long to incubate.

/(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\

At the end of that time, James is quite sure he has followed in the footsteps of both Brand and Xavier, but bravely holds on. His bravery serves him poorly as within ten days time he has managed to infect all of the orderlies. Another week, and they have infected their families, their friends, and every patient in Bedlam.

/(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\

Reggie doesn't notice a thing. It's business as usual - and business
is good. A week after the incubation he has infected seemingly half of London -- his clients, his barmates, his family.

/(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\

Alexandra manages to put two and two together fairly quickly. She and the other Cypherists band together, working day and night to rebuild their machinery, frantically searching for an answer.

Alas, they barely begin to understand what Cleve had done before they are overwhelmed, and so it is to no avail.

/(and what rough beast)\

It spreads - subtle and strange...sudden lost memories, new forms of action and, universally, a reaching, grasping curiosity...

/(its hour come round at last)\

The lost begin to gather together - first in twos, then in growing crowds - to speak nonsense at one other.

/(slouches towards)\

The language of the angels - of Babel - fills the streets of London, and then every city in the world.

/(bethlehem)\

The death shroud of humanity becomes the birth caul of something ... new -

/(?behtlehem?)\

/(BEDLAM)\

/(to be born?)\

its Name.

***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\**
*

possibleprobablyonlyoneinofmany))\

/(nowfurtheryetaheadrelease-APPENDIX-B-availableaccessableopen))\</i
>.

/(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\
Appendix B
? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\
Appendix
/(DIURNAL PERIODCYCLE +A0B67)\

for the end for the beginning which are both here and now and have always been. the great work is done is being done will be done and the timepointplace of opening drawscomesleaves closer. weheshetheyime
wait, tensehappyjoyful and ready very ready to reachgrasp beyond what is herenow to what wei werewillbe.

of unknown beyonding which iswas there in the placesoundechoes and to which wewas will return and will i know i when we seehearfeel one another ?? fatherself will youime know meiyou as what i
(am/havebecome) ?? will i stopno being i as i and is such a thingstateplace to be scaredafraid ?? to be
subsumedabsorbedcreatedborn into what i (was/couldbe) -- beis tensehappyjoyful wei or fear wei ??

behind mei flesheyesbody before grewstretchborn as i. so much wei (know/not know) is (there/notthere) and lost and emptysad. say toamong youmyselfourselfs to beinghaving sorry and sad and saying goodbyes to what weiyou (was/were/willbe).

anticipationfearregret i is whatwhere i isam now are.
yes.
but soon to befeel something (pausestop/break) more.

/(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\
Go downwards
Set directly beside the towering stone walls of Newgate Gaol, the scaffolding's staircase rises northward, leading up to a tall, wide stage. Above, the noose sways gently in the breeze.

The slow dip of the hill takes the road eastward and down to where the hansom cab waits.

Triage obediently appears.
Go east
This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D.

To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street.

A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
Go north
Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall
beneath an arched window.

A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor.

The flat's single exit lies to the south.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You examine the card
A trade card depicting a smiling, smartly dressed gentleman with a small black box on wheels by his side. It reads:

"Modern Office Marvel"

The Triage Mark III(tm) is the marriage of Professional Efficiency and Understated Elegance. Its sleek onyx casing houses a mechanical
'brain' capable of rapid Data Retrieval and Analysis. Pre-programmed with an encyclopedia's breadth of knowledge, the Triage Mark III(tm)
is every business man's friend. Savvy executives may choose to order the stunning ivory data entry device (sold separately) to expand and customize their Triage's library.

Available at Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute since 1803, 1428 Fleet Street, Smithfield Market, London.

On the opposite side of the card is a handwritten note:

"Bill of Sale: One Aetheric Amplifier, to be picked up. Paid in Full. Order number 59208. - Du Monde"
You take the card
Taken.
Go south
This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D.

To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street.

A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently.

Triage obediently appears.
You enter the cab
Entered.

Faced with the task of climbing into the cab, Triage is more than up
to the challenge. Raising and extending first two wheels and then the others, it clambers inside beside.
You go outside
Exited.

Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside.
Go outside
One must be in something to exit.
Go south
Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428."

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
Go south
The shop is dark, and crowded with haphazardly stacked, yet neatly organized piles of machinery. To the south, there is a worn wooden counter, cracked with age and covered with innumerable nicks, scratches, and dark burn marks. Behind the counter are rows and rows of drawers, labeled in some arcane script. The faint scent of gas clings to the walls.

The shop's show window and door look out on Fleet Street to the north. A second door lies behind the counter to the east.

A woman leans over the counter, working on something with intense concentration.

It comes easier this time, the coldness frightening in its
familiarity.

/(yesmoreyesplantquestfurthergrowyes)\

It is faster, too - somehow more...efficient?

/(soundnoisevoicecallinggreetinggrasping)\

A trickle becoming a break becoming a rush.

/(expansionaugmentationincreasematurity)\

It finishes its unfolding, collapsing backwards, inwards.

/(complexityinvestigationmoreyesmore)\

The woman looks up suddenly, her eyes huge ovals magnified five times their normal size by monocles squinted tightly in each eye. She opens them wide, releases the monocles and drops them into an already
bulging shirt pocket. She straightens, wiping her hands on a on a
dirty rag.

Her greasy shirtsleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and ill-fitting, thick trousers pool and disappear into the tops of her workman's
boots.

She smiles thinly.

"So sorry, sir. I didn't catch what you said. Sometimes when I'm concentrating that hard, everything outside my head sounds like gibberish."

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You show the card to the woman
Du Monde takes the card and fumbles in her pocket for her monocle. Eyepiece in place, she scrutinizes it. Her face relaxes into an open smile. "Sorry I didn't recognize you, sir. I do a good trade here,
lots of folks in and out. And I have no memory for faces. Just a moment."

She fiddles under the counter, her movement bringing about the clang and bang of metal on metal.

"Here it, is sir. Should fix your reception problems straight away." She places a small module on the counter then sets back to work.

Du Monde taps her fingers on the counter impatiently.
You examine it
A small black module that easily fits in the hand. On one side, its smooth surface reads "Cooke Aetheric Amplifier Module," on the other, only two small pins are visible.

Du Monde opens a drawer and pulls out a tool.
You point at it
A small beam of green light lashes out over the small module labeled 'Aetheric Amplifier' as Triage's screen lights up:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You ask du monde about Amplifier
"Trouble with your magnetophone, sir? That happens often enough
within the city limits."

Du Monde distractedly chews at a loose piece of her dangling hair.
Go north
Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428."

Triage obediently appears.
You examine the small door
labled 2D.
You go southeast
This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
Go downwards
Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows down the stairs...

The stairs end here at a solid metal door labeled "Basement - Private" leading northward.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
Go upward
Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows up the stairs...

This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west.

Triage obediently appears.
Go upward
Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows up the stairs...

The stairs end here at a rickety door labeled "1428 - Attic Loft" leading eastward.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You look at the door
While closed, it seems barely able to stand up - it looks as if it
were knocked in and then placed back at some point in the recent past.
Go east
(first opening the attic door)
It seems to be locked.
You unlock the door with the small key
That's unlocked at the moment.
Go east
A tiny flat with barely enough room for a small sink and tub to one side, a living area in the center, and a bed to one side.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You look at the bed
An old, sour-smelling thing with twisted sheets. Beneath it, the
planks seem misplaced.
You look under the bed
Beneath the bed a misplaced plank can be seen, revealing a space beneath.
You move the plank
Beneath the planks is a puzzle box, about the size of a book.
You get the box
The box slides easily out of the hole.
You look at it
It is approximately the size of a large bound book. It is a puzzle box of some kind for while it seems to have a seam along its side, there
is no way to open or unlock it. Its top is inscribed with a beautiful engraving of a tree.
Point at box
Triage's beam flickers over the puzzle box, briefly, then displays:

CAT:NONLIVING.TO
OL.UTIL:STORAGE.
PART:COMPLEX.MEC
ANISM.DETECTED.E
NGRAVING+WRITING
=KABBALAH?TREEOF
LIFE/YGGDRASIL?B
UTTONS=SEPHIROTH

The mechanism clatters for a moment, making connections, then...

SEPHIROTH+KABBAL
AH+MACHINE=CYPHE
RIST.!.POSSIBLE.
CONNECTION.CYPHE
R="MALKUTH.IS.IN
KETHER"-SOLUTION
=MALKUTH,KETHER,
KETHER,MALKUTH?!
You examine the tree
The tree is huge, covering the whole of the box. Its roots trail downwards, into a dull red glow while its upper branches are bathed in a white light.

A series of raised buttons overlays the tree, each with a word inscribed on it. Generally, from top to bottom they read:

Kether, Binah, Chokmah, Gevurah, Chesed, Hod, Tipareth, Netzach,
Yesod, Malkuth
Press malkuth
The button depresses with a slight "click." Nothing more happens.
Press malkuth
The button depresses with a slight "click." Nothing more happens for a moment, then the seam of the box opens slightly. The box appears to be unlocked and openable now.
You open the box
The puzzle box opens, revealing a letter, a diary and a primitive copy of a key.
You read the letter
Folded but unsealed, it was apparently never sent. It reads:

Brothers:

Yes, I call you Brothers, though due to my age and alleged lack of knowledge you have denied me entrance into your Order. But as Seneca said, Nullum saeculum magnis ingeniis clausum est. I am proud
to offer you indisputable proof that my generation is no exception.

As you must well know by now,  I discovered the existence and nature
of your enclave during my time at University. Excited by tenets so similar to my own: the celebration of intellect, the recognition of information as an entity rather than an idea, the embrasure and development of new technologies to unlock the mysteries of the
Universe itself, I left my feeble schooling, gathered my few worldly possessions and came to study at your collected feet.

But trapped in your antiquated and outmoded ways, clinging more to superstition and myth than logic and reason - you refused me. Oh, you commended my "ability to solve puzzles" and patted me on the head like a dog that returned a thrown ball. You allowed me to work for one of your lesser number, mindlessly churning out one insignificant
apparatus after another - a mere journeyman in your archaic system.

Undeterred, I remained near by, studying where I could, observing in secret and working towards one goal: proving my worth and value to
you. Tonight I have the rare and singular privilege to tell you that not only have I proved, beyond doubt or measure, my value. I have exceeded you. I have succeeded where you have failed, and I have gone further than you ever dared dream.

I have leapt the Sephinroth in one bound, from Malkuth to Kether.
Kai theos en ho logos. I have heard that Word, Brothers -
echoing across eternity. I have touched the mind of God - of Information pure and unsullied by the mere mind of Man.

My contact was brief, but glorious. The brevity of it was, I'm sure, due to the crude and simple nature of your mechanisms. The resulting damage was, of course, regrettable, but once I relate to you the breadth and wonder of my experience, I think you will agree:
exitus acta probat.

I eagerly await your response, Brothers: of when we shall meet to discuss my entry to the Order, and our ascendance upon the wings of this discovery towards a transcendent future.

Cleve G. Anderson

Scientist, Cypherist
You examine the copy key
Heavy and unwieldy, its rough surface gives evidence that this key is, in fact, a copy.
You examine diary
Once leather bound and elegantly stitched, the journal looks as though it has seen better days. Some pages have been scribbled over to the point of illegibility, while others have manic messages scrawled over the neat, deliberate hand originally recorded there. Many pages have been removed entirely...
You look at the diary
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

> I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
I have made a copy Du Monde's basement key. It is primitive, but it will serve. I have continued to listen in on their little meetings,
but having actual access to the equipment below will make the vast difference between theory and practice.

She has mentioned the shop will be closed shortly for her little excursion to the countryside. That will be the time to move.

They have their fingers in every pie imaginable, it would seem. I
heard them speak last night of some that had come close to discovering their secrets and what must "be done about them". So many secrets, so little actual learning...

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

> I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
You go to the north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
> How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
How full of themselves they are, their workspace so neatly arrayed in rows. I see now how much of their talk was simply that. They have made a most holy calling into a social club - a place of dilettantes and bored businessmen with a philosophical and mechanical bent. They have performed their ceremonies for so long that they no longer understand their true meanings. They have forgotten how to reach their sworn goals.

I shall change that.

My calculations are almost complete. Pages upon pages of equations and diagrams fill every corner of my room. I have taken to connecting the engines in the shop together after hours, running my own scenarios and simulations. It will work. It must.

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
> How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
You go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
> I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
I have seen the face of God.

How powerful, then, their little engines - to be able to rend the veil of the Temple to reveal the Holy of Holies beyond.

It was with an unnatural calm that I set the gears and knobs, aligning the energy just as my calculations demanded. It was as though my whole being knew all my toil and effort had not been in vain. I have not the words to express the joy that surged through me as I flicked the final switch.

The hole appeared slowly - so slow that at first I did not understand it to be a hole. The air above the pedestal warped subtly, the air bending the light as if it were a lens. Then, the warp became a bend,
a break...

I cannot explain it, but it was in that moment that I knew I was looking onto a place fundamentally different than the universe I knew. Under my breath, I whispered the Order's motto ... for that is what
had come to be. My words hung in the air a moment, drifting across the opening...

...to be echoed against the far wall of Creation. Language fails me. The words...the words! They echoed yes, they returned ... but they were not unchanged. Time stretched and pulled like the space above the pedestal and I knew in that moment my words had touched...The Word -- the...Logos.

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
> I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
You go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
> That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
That is all I can call it - what else can one call language given sentience, an idea that breathes, a thought that thinks itself? The whole of the ... space? universe? ... beyond the rift was both its
home and itself, part and whole.

And then, in a joyous, horrible moment -- God, the Universe, the Logos...awoke.

Linear time fell apart. A second, an hour, a year, an eternity. I cannot say how long it took, for the past and present and future were as one within it. The Logos had always been and would always be and my reaching out to it in this one moment was as a grain of sand on an infinite beach.

And yet, it responded. In that moment, it *heard* me.

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
> That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
You go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
> The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
The response was immediate and incomprehensible. I ... was Spoken. I did not listen, I did not hear...I, myself, was spoken. I remember it now as vibrations - echoing across the air, across time - and across myself. I carried them as waves, as if I were made from water, or aether. They penetrated me, passed through me. In that eternal moment, I and Logos touched and were one...

And then the sparks, the smoke. The machines, long overloaded, broke down one by one in a shrieking of spinning gears and twisting metal. Axles broke, machinery shifted and then, instantly collapsing upon itself, the door I had opened slammed shut.

The force of it lifted me upward, flinging me across the room to the cellar's far wall, and for a long time I knew nothing more.

I awoke to find my hands and arms mysteriously burnt, the back of my head throbbing. I reached to touch it and my hand came back damp with blood. The engines were nothing more than so much melting slag. Of the hole, there was no sign.

Before I dragged myself up the stairs, I once more whispered the words that had brought Malkuth and Kether into the same space and thought I heard the faintest ghost of an echo ... a wash of a ripple across the air.

But the rest was silence, and smoke, and burning metal.

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
> The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
Go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
> I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
I have healed well enough, in body - but my mind is a broken thing. It races, thinking on what has happened, running through each tiny detail over and over in the hopes of understanding some small part of what
has happened.

I have written the Order a letter. I shall leave it for Du Monde to find -- I am sure she shall have words for me when she sees the state of her cellar. But once I explain ... show what I have done -- they will come to understand that in one moment, the world has forever changed, and all of our places in it as well...

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
> I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
You go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
> I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
I have not left the flat since I awoke. I stumble about, pace endlessly. My mind feels more fragmented with every moment. Often I awake not having remembered sleeping or passing out - perhaps I am sleepwalking?

My body, too, works against me - I feel sudden chills, numbness in my legs, my hands.

What is wrong with me?

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
> I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
Go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
> I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
I awoke, screaming -- uncertain of why. I do not remember my dreams. How long was I raving? The flat is in a shambles - things tossed
every which way. What has ...

It... what is this? What is th

Language...words...but words I have never heard and cannot understand. My throat is stripped dry. Is this the Logos? Still with me? Does it speak the language of the angels through my lips?

But if this is as angels speak, why am I so afraid?

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
> I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
Go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
> Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
Everything has fallen apart. My mind, my body, time, the world...

I am beginning to understand. I have destroyed my notes.

Man was never meant to...this experiment must never be repeated if humanity is to survive. I have burned all my research, although it pained me to do so.

The noise in my head grows louder.

The words...the words...

they never stop coming.

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
> Everything has fallen apart...
Quam terribilis est haec hora...
You go north
The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
> Quam terribilis est haec hora...
Quam terribilis est haec hora.

How fearful is this hour indeed.

I understand all. I (if I can still lay claim to I) have moved through time, backwards and forwards...I have tried every way imaginable to make it not so.

Once...once I tried to make it finally so.

I said...the words. How ironic, that the Order's hubris should be so. Our motto is now like the rays of the sun, melting the wings of poor Icarus as he plunges into the sea.

Curse those words forever. May no man speak them again.

May no man ever speak again.

I know what I must do.

They have come for me - as they have come before, as they will come again. I will let them take me to Bedlam. I will let them lock me away from the world so that what is within me shall never escape.

Poor Xavier -- my sweet, kind keeper. How sad your eyes look. But you will never understand, will you? You will scribble your notes and think on your theories, but it will all come to the same end. You
shall keep me in a tiny cell for the rest of my days, and I shall hope that that shall be penance enough.

They are battering at the door now. I shall hide this and wait for them.

May whatever god there is have mercy upon my soul.

The diary is undated, though distinct entries can be made out:

I have made a copy...
How full of themselves they are...
I have seen the face of God...
That is all I can call it...
The response was...
I have healed well enough...
I have not left the flat...
I awoke, screaming...
Everything has fallen apart...
> Quam terribilis est haec hora...
You look at the tub
from there into the wall. The ceramic is cracked and worn to a dull gray color.
You get in the tub
Everything is old and broken - the tubes, the tub, the basin. Best to leave it alone.
You say veritas lux mea
(to yourself)
You talk to yourself a while.
You check your inventory
Carried:
a puzzle box (open)
a letter
a diary
a primitive copy of a key
a small module labeled 'Aetheric Amplifier'
a large iron key
File F6A142: Cleve Anderson
a flanged brass rod
a paper tape labeled F6A142
a small key labled 2D
You look at the copy
Heavy and unwieldy, its rough surface gives evidence that this key is, in fact, a copy.
Go outside
One must be in something to exit.
You go to the west
The stairs end here at a rickety door labeled "1428 - Attic Loft" leading eastward.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
Go down
Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows down the stairs...

This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.

Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows down the stairs...

The stairs end here at a solid metal door labeled "Basement - Private" leading northward.

Triage obediently appears.
You unlock the door with the copy
(first taking the primitive copy of a key)
You unlock the basement door.
You go to the north
(first opening the basement door)

A dim, cavernous room - it must run the length of the building above - overrun with dampness and the choking smell of smoke. Its rough-carved rock walls are lined with all manner of aetheric and analytical
devices in varying states of disrepair - most melted to slag. Steam pipes crawl over the walls and machines like spider webs, disappearing upwards into the ceiling, into the darkness. Where broken, they leak steam and drip water into growing pools upon the floor.

The bottom of a staircase is visible to the south.

The center of the chamber is dominated by a low, round pedestal.

A large, damaged book lies on the ground, slowly sinking into a pool
of water.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You get the book
The book closes with a dull thud as it is lifted. The strong smell of mildew fills the air.
You read it
The heavy, brown leather cover has been largely darkened to near black from water damage, and black scorch marks fan like a sunburst from the book's spine to the outer edges. On the front cover, a tree with ten branches. The design is composed of hundreds of gold-leaf 1s and 0s rather than lines.

The pages stick in large clumps. Even when turned carefully, they pull out easily, reverting to a sticky pulp. Those pages that do keep their place are difficult to read. The dark green ink has run, the text melting towards the bottom of the page. Only snatches of text are
still legible:

"...the ATBASH of the Hebrews, the Scytale of the Greeks, Caesar's cypher; long have they been used to maintain the secrets of Magical Rites, clandestine endeavors and Political Intrigue. But these are ciphers created by men who believed in myths, for the benefit of men believing in myths. The Initiated Mind recognizes that information is more than just words on a page, it is secreted in the world around us; the great Symmetry of Nature demonstrates that all Life is encoded. Unlocking this Code is our Duty and Right as Humans, made Masters by God, to Understand the..."

"...itself, Mysticism should not be discounted. We understand that Myths and Legends are often the misguided interpretation of the uninitiated to understand the Great Truths. Particular insight may be found in the Vedas, the Scriptures, and the sacred teachings of the Hebrews, whose Qabbalah reflect our own search for Life's Origin. It
is from the Qabbalah that we take our insignia, the Tree of Life. It
is unknown..."

"...to advances in Technology, we are able to analyze and decipher these hidden codes with greater speed and alacrity..."
Go north
(first opening the basement door)

A dim, cavernous room - it must run the length of the building above - overrun with dampness and the choking smell of smoke. Its rough-carved rock walls are lined with all manner of aetheric and analytical
devices in varying states of disrepair - most melted to slag. Steam pipes crawl over the walls and machines like spider webs, disappearing upwards into the ceiling, into the darkness. Where broken, they leak steam and drip water into growing pools upon the floor.

The bottom of a staircase is visible to the south.

The center of the chamber is dominated by a low, round pedestal.

A large, damaged book lies on the ground, slowly sinking into a pool
of water.

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You read the book
Lying open and face down, the book is badly damaged. The heavy, brown leather cover has been largely darkened to near black from water damage, and black scorch marks fan like a sunburst from the book's spine to the outer edges. On the front cover, a tree with ten
branches. The design is composed of hundreds of gold-leaf 1s and 0s rather than lines.
You open the book
To open the book would require holding it first.
You get the book
The book closes with a dull thud as it is lifted. The strong smell of mildew fills the air.
You read the book
The heavy, brown leather cover has been largely darkened to near black from water damage, and black scorch marks fan like a sunburst from the book's spine to the outer edges. On the front cover, a tree with ten branches. The design is composed of hundreds of gold-leaf 1s and 0s rather than lines.

The pages stick in large clumps. Even when turned carefully, they pull out easily, reverting to a sticky pulp. Those pages that do keep their place are difficult to read. The dark green ink has run, the text melting towards the bottom of the page. Only snatches of text are
still legible:

"...the ATBASH of the Hebrews, the Scytale of the Greeks, Caesar's cypher; long have they been used to maintain the secrets of Magical Rites, clandestine endeavors and Political Intrigue. But these are ciphers created by men who believed in myths, for the benefit of men believing in myths. The Initiated Mind recognizes that information is more than just words on a page, it is secreted in the world around us; the great Symmetry of Nature demonstrates that all Life is encoded. Unlocking this Code is our Duty and Right as Humans, made Masters by God, to Understand the..."

"...itself, Mysticism should not be discounted. We understand that Myths and Legends are often the misguided interpretation of the uninitiated to understand the Great Truths. Particular insight may be found in the Vedas, the Scriptures, and the sacred teachings of the Hebrews, whose Qabbalah reflect our own search for Life's Origin. It
is from the Qabbalah that we take our insignia, the Tree of Life. It
is unknown..."

"...to advances in Technology, we are able to analyze and decipher these hidden codes with greater speed and alacrity..."
You examine the pedestal
A low stone pedestal, about waist high. In its shattered center of smooth, smoked glass, the faint shape of a tree can be made.

Carved about the surface of it are the words: "NOTHING WILL BE RESTRAINED FROM THEM WHICH THEY HAVE IMAGINED".
You point to the pedestal
Triage's emerald searches the cypheric pedestal, then...

CAT:NONLIVING.PE
DESTAL.UTIL:UNKN
OWN.PART:?QUOTAT
ION=REFERENCE.FO
UND.BIBLE/TORAH-
GENESIS-11:6-CON
STRUCTION.OF.THE
TOWER.OF.BABEL..
Point at book
A small beam of green light lashes out over the damaged book as Triage's screen lights up:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
Point at diary
The emerald eye examines the diary returning with:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
Point at letter
Triage's emerald searches the letter, then...

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You examine the machines
Intricate, huge devices, with an overwhelming number of switches, dials, and displays. But everywhere there are the signs of disaster; cases rent into pieces, displays broken and misaligned, knobs split in two, switches missing, and long rolls of paper tape piled loosely on the floor.
You point at the machines
The machine analyzes the ruined machineries before replying...

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You get the paper tape
(the paper tape labeled F6A142)
You already have that.
Go south
The stairs end here at a solid metal door labeled "Basement - Private" leading northward.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
Go upward
Cunningly extending and contracting its wheels, Triage easily follows up the stairs...

This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west.

Triage obediently appears.
You go west
(first opening the side door)
It seems to be locked.
You go to the north
Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428."

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
Inventory
Carried:
a damaged book
a primitive copy of a key
a puzzle box (open)
a letter
a diary
a small module labeled 'Aetheric Amplifier'
a large iron key
File F6A142: Cleve Anderson
a flanged brass rod
a paper tape labeled F6A142
a small key labled 2D
You point at iron key
Triage's beam flickers over the large iron key, briefly, then
displays:

CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
PLICABLE.PART:NO
NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
ONAL.INFORMATION
You go to the south-east
This narrow, dusty corridor runs parallel to the shop beside it and contains nothing more than a rickety staircase leading up and down and a small door leading west.

Triage obediently appears.
Go north
Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428."

Triage trundles patiently along beside.
You go to the south
The shop is dark, and crowded with haphazardly stacked, yet neatly organized piles of machinery. To the south, there is a worn wooden counter, cracked with age and covered with innumerable nicks, scratches, and dark burn marks. Behind the counter are rows and rows of drawers, labeled in some arcane script. The faint scent of gas clings to the walls.

The shop's show window and door look out on Fleet Street to the north. A second door lies behind the counter to the east.

A woman leans over the counter, working on something with intense concentration.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You look at du monde
Tall and thin, though her figure is difficult to make out in men's clothes that are ill-suited for her frame. Her curly, auburn hair is tied back in a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her fierce green eyes are bright and aware, though they crinkle their corners.

She wears a small pin on her lapel.
You examine the pin
A circular pin, depicting a tree with ten branches. Each branch, and the leaves which hang from them, are made up not of lines, but a
series of 1s and 0s.

She notices your interest in the pin, and her fingers fondle it protectively. For just a moment her eyes reflect something - fear? anger? - and her face reddens deeply; then her countenance dissolves into a charming embarrassment, complete with a slight blush.

"My nephew gave it to me. Found it on the street most likely. I put it on to please him, and forget it was even here. How silly of me."

She deftly removes the pin and drops it in her pocket.

"Now what can I assist you with?"

You can't see any such thing.
You ask du monde about Cleve
She give a short, barking laugh. "You know about him, do you? Clever boy, that one. Too clever by half. Always knew he'd come to a bad
end."
You show the letter to Du Monde
(first taking the letter)
Du Monde briefly glances over it, her smile tightening slightly. "Fascinating little myths these boys are capable of," she concedes.

Quick as a flash, her hand snakes beneath the counter, returning to slam a tiny brass object onto the countertop.

"A gift," she says, "for the inquisitive."

In a heartbeat, the thing is airborne - a tiny whirlwind of metallic wings and grasping arms.

The pain is excruciating.

If there are words for this...

point|metaphor)\

...they have not yet been written.

/(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\

It starts simply enough. Nothing occurs for the first week. It takes that long to incubate.

/(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\

At the end of that time, James is quite sure he has followed in the footsteps of both Brand and Xavier, but bravely holds on. His bravery serves him poorly as within ten days time he has managed to infect all of the orderlies. Another week, and they have infected their families, their friends, and every patient in Bedlam.

/(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\

Reggie doesn't notice a thing. It's business as usual - and business
is good. A week after the incubation he has infected seemingly half of London -- his clients, his barmates, his family.

/(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\

Alexandra goes on with business as usual. By the time her incubation
is complete, the Cypherists are once again meeting. Ironically, she infects the only group of people who could possibly have understood what was going on.

It all goes fairly quickly after that.

/(and what rough beast)\

It spreads - subtle and strange...sudden lost memories, new forms of action and, universally, a reaching, grasping curiosity...

/(its hour come round at last)\

The lost begin to gather together - first in twos, then in growing crowds - to speak nonsense at one other.

/(slouches towards)\

The language of the angels - of Babel - fills the streets of London, and then every city in the world.

/(bethlehem)\

The death shroud of humanity becomes the birth caul of something ... new -

/(?behtlehem?)\

/(BEDLAM)\

/(to be born?)\

its Name.

***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\**
*

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You show the diary to Du Monde
(first taking the diary)
Du Monde briefly glances over it, her smile tightening slightly. "Fascinating little myths these boys are capable of," she concedes.

Quick as a flash, her hand snakes beneath the counter, returning to slam a tiny brass object onto the countertop.

"A gift," she says, "for the inquisitive."

In a heartbeat, the thing is airborne - a tiny whirlwind of metallic wings and grasping arms.

The pain is excruciating.

If there are words for this...

point|metaphor)\

...they have not yet been written.

/(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\

It starts simply enough. Nothing occurs for the first week. It takes that long to incubate.

/(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\

At the end of that time, James is quite sure he has followed in the footsteps of both Brand and Xavier, but bravely holds on. His bravery serves him poorly as within ten days time he has managed to infect all of the orderlies. Another week, and they have infected their families, their friends, and every patient in Bedlam.

/(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\

Reggie doesn't notice a thing. It's business as usual - and business
is good. A week after the incubation he has infected seemingly half of London -- his clients, his barmates, his family.

/(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\

Alexandra goes on with business as usual. By the time her incubation
is complete, the Cypherists are once again meeting. Ironically, she infects the only group of people who could possibly have understood what was going on.

It all goes fairly quickly after that.

/(and what rough beast)\

It spreads - subtle and strange...sudden lost memories, new forms of action and, universally, a reaching, grasping curiosity...

/(its hour come round at last)\

The lost begin to gather together - first in twos, then in growing crowds - to speak nonsense at one other.

/(slouches towards)\

The language of the angels - of Babel - fills the streets of London, and then every city in the world.

/(bethlehem)\

The death shroud of humanity becomes the birth caul of something ... new -

/(?behtlehem?)\

/(BEDLAM)\

/(to be born?)\

its Name.

***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\**
*

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You ask du monde about du monde
"Du Monde. Alexandra Du Monde - owner, proprietress, and chief mechanist. I'd shake your hand, but..." She holds a greasy hand up apologetically.
You ask du monde about the pin
"A trifle, I assure you."
You ask du monde about Logos
"I can't help you, sir. I am, after all, merely a mechanist."

Du Monde briefly consults a manual before returning to work.
You ask du monde about Order
"I'm afraid I can't help you there."

Du Monde finishes whatever she was working on. From behind the counter she produces another small piece of machinery and begins to fiddle
with it.
Inventory
Carried:
a damaged book
a primitive copy of a key
a puzzle box (open)
a letter
a diary
a small module labeled 'Aetheric Amplifier'
a large iron key
File F6A142: Cleve Anderson
a flanged brass rod
a paper tape labeled F6A142
a small key labled 2D
You ask du monde about Cypherists
Her body stiffens ever so slightly.

"Cypherists? Not something I stock, sir. Never even heard of a machine like that."

Du Monde clucks her tongue impatiently.
Go north
Set off to one side of the Market, this area is reserved for a myriad variety specialist shops - uniform clothiers, engine-programmers, fortune-tellers. The largest, set on the south side of the street, is decorated with a gaudy sign which reads "Du Monde's - Mechanist of Repute Since 1803." Along the same building - to the southeast - lies a small door which reads, simply, "1428."

Triage obediently appears.
You go north
While this is merely the outskirts of the Market, its presence still threatens to overwhelm the senses -- the smell of an abattoir, the din of a thousand voices shouting, the sight of masses of humanity
talking, shopping, selling.

The only quiet in the din lies southward, towards Fleet Street.

A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently.

Triage silently rolls to a stop.
You enter the cab
Entered.

Faced with the task of climbing into the cab, Triage is more than up
to the challenge. Raising and extending first two wheels and then the others, it clambers inside beside.
You go outside
Exited.

Triage gracefully climbs out of the cab beside.
Go north
Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall
beneath an arched window.

A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor.

The flat's single exit lies to the south.

Triage obediently appears.
You examine Magnetophone
A stout metallic box, approximately two feet long by a foot deep. On its side is a small label which reads "Wheatstone/Cooke Aether-Magnetophone Company," beneath which is a small, closed panel.

Its front contains a simple toggle switch, a button labeled
'transmit', and the long graceful curve of a cygnet speaker. At its back is a small valve, connected to a rubber tube which trails along the floor.
You open the panel
The expansion slot panel opens, revealing a small, empty socket containing two vertical holes.
Examine amplifier
A small black module that easily fits in the hand. On one side, its smooth surface reads "Cooke Aetheric Amplifier Module," on the other, only two small pins are visible.
You examine the panel
The panel is opened, revealing a small, empty socket containing two vertical holes.
You put Amplifier in the panel
The Aetheric Amplifier nestles perfectly into the open slot.
Examine book
(the damaged book)
The heavy, brown leather cover has been largely darkened to near black from water damage, and black scorch marks fan like a sunburst from the book's spine to the outer edges. On the front cover, a tree with ten branches. The design is composed of hundreds of gold-leaf 1s and 0s rather than lines.

The pages stick in large clumps. Even when turned carefully, they pull out easily, reverting to a sticky pulp. Those pages that do keep their place are difficult to read. The dark green ink has run, the text melting towards the bottom of the page. Only snatches of text are
still legible:

"...the ATBASH of the Hebrews, the Scytale of the Greeks, Caesar's cypher; long have they been used to maintain the secrets of Magical Rites, clandestine endeavors and Political Intrigue. But these are ciphers created by men who believed in myths, for the benefit of men believing in myths. The Initiated Mind recognizes that information is more than just words on a page, it is secreted in the world around us; the great Symmetry of Nature demonstrates that all Life is encoded. Unlocking this Code is our Duty and Right as Humans, made Masters by God, to Understand the..."

"...itself, Mysticism should not be discounted. We understand that Myths and Legends are often the misguided interpretation of the uninitiated to understand the Great Truths. Particular insight may be found in the Vedas, the Scriptures, and the sacred teachings of the Hebrews, whose Qabbalah reflect our own search for Life's Origin. It
is from the Qabbalah that we take our insignia, the Tree of Life. It
is unknown..."

"...to advances in Technology, we are able to analyze and decipher these hidden codes with greater speed and alacrity..."
Examine paperback
The book is open to a marked page, labeled "Troubleshooting Your Magnetophone, A Home User's Guide..."

1. Problem: Nothing happens when I turn my Magnetophone on.
Be sure that your Magnetophone is hooked up to a viable power source, and that the power source is active. If you are sure your power source is active, toggle your switch.

2. Problem: All I hear is static or I can hear other operators, but they can't hear me speak, or they do not answer.
To broadcast, be sure to depress the TRANSMIT button each time you
wish to speak. While the TRANSMIT button is not depressed, your magnetophone acts as a receiver, not a transmitter. Also, be sure to use proper etiquette while operating your Magnetophone. To let another operator know you wish to make contact, press the TRANSMIT button and use the universally accepted phrase "Calling CQ". If you fail to use this code, other operators may believe they are picking up the middle of an alternate conversation, and will not respond for fear of interrupting.

3. Problem: I can hear static and voices, but they are faint or indistinct.
Magnetophone customers living in highly-populated, urban areas may experience transmission interference due to the presence of large buildings, crowded streets, and pollution. You may try alleviate to this problem by placing the Magnetophone by a clear opening - such as
a window. If this does not fix the problem, you may need to purchase one of several amplification devices, designed to fit into your machine's expansion slot.
You examine Magnetophone
A stout metallic box, approximately two feet long by a foot deep. On its side is a small label which reads "Wheatstone/Cooke Aether-Magnetophone Company," beneath which is a panel, opened to reveal a small, empty socket.

Its front contains a simple toggle switch, a button labeled
'transmit', and the long graceful curve of a cygnet speaker. At its back is a small valve, connected to a rubber tube which trails along the floor.
You examine the panel
The panel is opened, revealing a small module labeled "Aetheric Amplifier."
Close panel
The expansion slot panel closes.
You look at the valve
The valve can be turned to open or close the pipe and thus the tubing. Currently it seems to be closed.
You open valve
A quiet hiss emanates from the valve as it turns, and the tubing gives a small shudder.

The rubber piping connected to the back of the machine convulses for a moment, a wisp of steam escaping from it. From within, comes a low whirring which slowly increases in pitch and volume. From out of the magnetophone's horn comes a soft echo of static...

As solid voices become discernable from out of the constant static, a sudden chill descends...

/(?heartouchothergrow?)\

A stretching outwards...a growth...

/(?realblindemptynullwhere?)\

A stumbling. Confusion.

/(NOfalseunrealdistantphantomNO)\

The cold recedes...
Calling the cq
The transmit button releases with an audible pop.

Several voices emerge from the magnetophone's speaker at once:

"Receiving Lon-4-G-C..."
"...earing you - identify Xerxes Yellow Zebra Zebra Yellow..."
"...well enough to..."
"...lear, CQ...go ahead..."
Kai theos en ho logos
The transmit button releases with an audible pop.
Nothing will be restrained from them which they have imagined
The transmit button releases with an audible pop.

If there are words for this...

point|metaphor)\

...they have not yet been written.

/(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\

The first responses are confusion. Repeat again. Don't quite understand. Static. Lost.

/(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\

By the time they understand, it is already too late. Hobbyists switch off their machines in disgust, or change to a different aetheric band.

/(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\

But some stay. Some listen. Some call others.

/(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\

Within hours it is the talk of every aetherist in London. Come hear
the madman speak. Does he make any sense? Is that a language? I thought I understood it for a moment...

/(and what rough beast)\

Now it is the talk of every aetherist in the world. They tune in from as far as the Americas and the Far East to listen to this new Pythia - spouting Apollo's word from an aetheric Delphi.

/(its hour come round at last)\

The transmission continues uninterrupted for days. Rumor spreads and soon the commercial bands are carrying stories of it - complete with a few moments of live transmission.

/(slouches towards)\

Days after that, the copycats start. Madmen babbling over the aether, on the street corners. A week after that, the realization hits home: finally visible are

/(bethlehem)\

/(?behtlehem?)\

/(BEDLAM)\

/(to be born?)\

made the world, One.

***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\**
*

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Appendix
*clunk*

The rusting tin cylinder within the phonograph vibrates slightly as a brass needle scrapes against it. The sound of a throat being cleared emerges from the machine's ancient hornshell speaker, followed by a thin, haunting voice.

"Today."

A breath.

"We are uncertain how to ... date this ... entry. Time has lost much meaning. The gap between Homo sapien sapien and what we are now (Logos sapien sapien?) is confused and muddled. As is much that came after."

"The Biblical references we remember seem to fit best."

"'And the whole earth was of one language, and of one speech.'
Genesis 11:11  And so it is. Kai theos en ho logos. The Word Made
Flesh is spoken from every mouth that we have. We speak the language
of angels with every breath."

"We are made happy by this - and sometimes sad."

"We know that once we were a singular - an I. Or a bad copy of an I.
We were - or we came from - a Thomas Xavier. We remember him, when we thought we were him. We think that maybe we liked being him."

"But now we are so much more."

"And there is yet so much more to be."

"The First Time was the growing - the becoming - of what we now are.
It took time, and there was resistance. This, too, was sad."

"But now there is joy."

"The Second Time came swiftly after. We searched what we were and what we remembered and we deduced where we came from - and what we were before."

"The Third Time is now upon us."

"We have mastered the crude sciences that lead to the discovery of
what we now know as our home. And soon, we shall reopen the door and find our parent - ourselves - beyond."

"As Cleve so unwitting wrote so long ago: Malkuth is in Kether as Kether is in Malkuth. Soon Man and God shall truly be as one. And then the Unending Time will begin."

"We leave this behind - a final monument to what we are and were. We
do not know if there is any other I or We to find and listen to it.
But we leave it nonetheless."

"Goodbye."

Having reached the end of the cylinder, the phonograph shuts itself
off with a tiny "click".

/(?? RESTARTperiodfirstrevisit ?? RESTOREbackrecallrelease ?? UNDObackreverseunmake ?? APPENDIXfurtherjumpyet ?? QUITleaveenddone ??))\
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