text: > Look around
  Perfectly round and with walls of glistening ivory, this is definitely more of a chamber than a room. A huge sheet of ivory blocks the exit archway, while opposite it sits an ivory-panelled door, with a definite sense of being heavily locked about it. Through this door come the strains of atmospheric organ music you heard earlier, a little clearer, and a little more foreboding.
  
  None of this is the most striking thing about the chamber, however. The most striking thing is the fact that in the centre of the room buzz thousands of bees, all hovering stationary in a curiously-shaped cloud.
  
  > examine the door
  The huge, ivory-panelled door, is adorned with an intricate-looking lock.
  
  > unlock door
  What do you want to unlock the firstdoor with?
  
  > First
  You unlock the door and open it, trembling with trepidation. Through the door lies another ivory staircase -- a spiral staircase which winds upwards towards another chamber.
  
  You are only a little surprised to find that this chamber is almost entirely identical to the first, with the same stairs leading down and the same huge door,  but for two minor details: firstly, the atmospheric organ music is ever so slightly louder; secondly, the machine in the centre of the room is both not made of bees and clearly a time machine. The clue is in the words "Time Machine" engraved on its casing.
  
  > look at the Time Machine
  A feat of elaborate steelwork has wrought this magnificent device. There's what looks like a control booth perched in a torturous assembly of elaborate mechanics, as beautiful as they are strange. There's a red fake leather seat inside the booth, which rather spoils the image, as does the mouldy newspaper sitting on it. The chrome dials inside the booth are pretty nice, though.
  
  > look at the newspaper
  It's a rather damp and extremely boring edition of The Times from 1957. The only interesting item in it is a piece about an ongoing unsolved crime -- the theft of a priceless paracentric key from the key exhibition at the International House of Keys, loaned to the museum by the H.G Wells Reenactment Society.
  
  The one witness to the theft, a recently-engaged young security guard, said "I don't know how the bugger snuck past me -- all I know is, there was a flash of light from the exhibition room, the alarm goes off, I rushes in, and he clunks me one. Don't know what with, but it laid me out for hours -- I was lucky he didn't have a proper weapon with him."
  
  > get it
  (putting the Communist Manifesto into the sack to make room)
  Taken.
  
  > examine the dials
  (the workings)
  Terrifyingly complicated; you'd rather not touch them.
  
  > examine the seat
  It looks like it was purloined from an American 1950"s diner.
  
  > listen
  The sound of passing time.
  
  > enter Machine
  You clamber into the Time Machine and perch on the red seat.
  
  Second Chamber (in the Time Machine)
  This chamber is exactly like the one below it but for two minor details: firstly, the atmospheric organ music is ever so slightly louder; secondly, the machine in the centre of the room is both not made of bees and clearly a time machine. The clue is in the words "Time Machine" engraved on its casing.
  
  > examine Machine
  A feat of elaborate steelwork has wrought this magnificent device. There's what looks like a control booth perched in a torturous assembly of elaborate mechanics, as beautiful as they are strange. There's a red fake leather seat inside the booth, which rather spoils the image. The chrome dials inside the booth are pretty nice, though.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  a newspaper
  a first key
  a sack (open)
  a Communist Manifesto
  a qualiascope
  a useless scrap of paper
  a broken lantern
  a manual
  file of Platonic forms
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a lighter
  a Chinese key
  
  > Examine booth
  The booth contains a red fake leather seat from which some chrome dials can be reached.
  
  > examine the dials
  (the workings)
  Terrifyingly complicated; you'd rather not touch them.
  
  > touch dials
  (the workings)
  You feel nothing unexpected.
  
  > turn the dials
  (the workings)
  There is a season for that, but it's not this one.
  
  > Exit
  You get out of the Time Machine.
  
  This chamber is exactly like the one below it but for two minor details: firstly, the atmospheric organ music is ever so slightly louder; secondly, the machine in the centre of the room is both not made of bees and clearly a time machine. The clue is in the words "Time Machine" engraved on its casing.
  
  > go upwards
  Through the door lies another ivory staircase -- a spiral staircase which winds upwards towards another chamber.
  
  This chamber is exactly like the one below it but for two minor details: firstly, the atmospheric organ music is ever so slightly louder; secondly, the machine in the centre of the room is both not made of bees and clearly a time machine. The clue is in the words "Time Machine" engraved on its casing.
  
  > look at the mechanics
  If only you were studying for a bachelors of science, not art! Then you might begin to understand the complexities of the time machine. Even a degree in zoology would take you a stage closer than you are now.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  a banana
  a broken lantern
  a sack (open)
  a handkerchief
  a qualiascope
  an Encyclopaedia of Qualia
  a manual
  file of Platonic forms
  a useless scrap of paper
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a fifty pence piece
  a lighter
  a Chinese key
  
  > wait for a while
  Time passes. Or at least, loiters around for a while longer.
  
  The librarian returns and hands the tome to you wordlessly, before returning to h/er spot behind the counter.
  
  > Go west
  You already know the librarian won't let you leave while you've still got that Encyclopaedia, so you hand it back to h/er before leaving.
  
  The square seems somehow madder now the madman has left.
  
  This appears to be the academic quarter of the village, and so may in fact be a quadrangle, which is awfully exciting. You know it's the academic quarter, because the grass is covered with sprawling young people wearing brightly coloured clothes, dreadlocks, and organic deodorant. Architecturally and geographically speaking, the buildings look like they were placed there by a commitee of village planners whose equipment budget stretched only so far as a compass. Three sides of the square are complemented by a museum, research institute and a library, to the west, north and east respectively.
  
  > give the handkerchief to the woman
  (first taking the handkerchief)
  (putting the broken lantern into the sack to make room)
  The bride looks at your proferred hanky, at takes it gratefully. Casting the soaked veil aside, she blows her nose with a foghorn bellow and looks folornly at the altar.
  
  > talk to her
  After she's fully evacuated her nose into your hanky she hands it back to you. You look at it, aghast at the vast quantities of snot therein.
  
  [1] That's OK. You can keep it.
  [2] Best hold on to that. Better now?
  
  > 1
  "Thanks," she says tearfully, and proceeds to snort out an even more prolific stream.
  
  [1] You're more than welcome. Do you think it would help to talk about what's bothering you?
  [2] Not a problem. Glad to help. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on . . .
  [3] Yeah, well. Why the long face, anyway?
  
  > 1
  "No," sniffs the bride. "But I'll tell you anyway, if you're that interested."
  
  [1] Er . . . Sure!
  [2] Oh, well. I'll just leave you to it then.
  
  > 1
  She wipes her cheeks, smearing mascara and blusher, takes a deep breath, and begins:
  
  "We'd been engaged for months, and deeply in love for years before. We'd prepared for today for weeks and weeks, and it was all meant to be so -- so perfect. But I knew something was wrong. There's been something wrong with him for a few days now. Ever since he picked up a logic textbook.
  
  "He started to get this awkward look in his eyes when we talked about the wedding. He'd dodge the subject. But he never said he'd do this! Leave me standing at the altar like an unwanted pudding!
  
  "I waited for an hour. The guests all started to leave. His family scarpered and mine chased after them. Then it was just me, when his best man came and told me what had happened.
  
  "He'd realised he couldn't marry me. The book had told him. Decades of the world's most pre-eminent philosophers have said it. He was a bachelor. And all bachelors are unmarried men."
  
  The bride sighs, hiccups, and then, just as you think she's about to recover, dissolves into another bout of sobbing. You decide that now is probably the most tactful time to leave, and vow to be more original in your logic examples in future.
  
  > get the veil
  You pick up the veil and wring it out. On examining it, you realise that the fine lacework spells out a word: Ignorance. Curiouser and curiouser. Um. More curious.
  
  > examine the woman
  She's like a very damp pile of meringues, and she's getting damper by the second.
  
  > Pump about Achilles
  You pull the pump's handle, concentrating furiously. You intuit that the only way to beat Achilles would be to get a headstart, and the only way to do that would be to demonstrate that something about the race is unfair. Better have a good look at that racetrack.
  
  > look at the sand
  The sand flows down from the dunes like sugar from a spilt and split shopping bag. You bend down and let it run thorugh your fingers in a stream of pure romantic clich?. It's astonishingly fine.
  
  > show the track to Achilles
  (first taking the race track)
  Philosophers are not yet supermen.
  
  > 3
  "Oh, only a millos or so."
  
  [1] Hmm . . . nah, I'll pass this time.
  [2] Phew! Well, I'll still give it another go.
  [3] And had you realised that one lane is just a little bit shorter than the other?
  
  > 3
  Zeno's eyes widen, and he glances round at the steeply curving track. "Curses!" he says "Quite true! That throws all my my calculations out, and renders, I'm terribly sorry, all races completely invalid."
  
  [1] You could just give me -- I mean, the person on the outside lane -- a bit of a head start.
  [2] Well, I'm not racing again, I'm afraid.
  
  > 1
  "Why, you're absolutely right! Magnificent! Well, what are you waiting for? Line up, you two!"
  
  > Run run run
  At this stage, you don't think your brain can possibly cope with issuing any instructions other than GIVE UP or KEEP RUNNING.
  
  With a gleam in your eye, you quickly take your position on the outside lane, just 50 podes ahead of Achilles. When Zeno shouts the go, you pump your legs away without bothering to look behind you.
  
  When you've reached about halfway down the track, you hear a curse to Zeus close behind you. Achilles has made a good deal of headway, but something seems to be holding him back. Every time he reaches where you've just been, you've managed to make a little further hard progress down towards the flag. For each bound he takes, you manage another bound -- a smaller, humbler bound -- a little further forward. And while you're flagging more than him, and he manages to catch up a little further on each bound, he never quite makes it to you.
  
  Now it's just a matter of endurance. You set your head towards the flag and keep forging on. It gets closer and closer, with Achilles coming up just behind you, a gnat's crotchet away -- and you reach the flag! Throwing yourself over the finish line, you grab onto the pole and sink to the ground, exhausted. Achilles throws himself down beside you, and you both gaze up at the fluttering red flag, with that peculiar hole in the centre, waiting for something like breath to return to your lungs.
  
  > run
  When you finally make it back to Zeno, he is applauding wildly. "Magnificent! Magnificent!" Even the deject Achilles is overwhelmed as Zeno thrusts the glass trophy into your arms and grabs him by the hand. "Now see here, Achilles," he says, drawing complicated equations in the sand as Achilles looks on, rapt.
  
  > examine trophy
  It's a finely-engraved glass cup with a big bowl.
  
  > give the lantern to the steward
  (first taking the broken lantern)
  (putting the Communist Manifesto into the sack to make room)
  You've got your hands a bit full. You're going to have to find a sack or something if you want to carry any more.
  
  > attach the trophy to the lantern
  It would be even better with some PVA glue, three yoghurt pots and an egg carton but even with just your will-to-create, a broken lantern and a priceless glass trophy you are able to fasten together a servicible lantern.
  
  > examine the lantern
  The trophy's glass bowl shields the lantern's wick splendidly. Now you just need to light the damn thing.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  a modified lantern
  a veil
  a sack (open)
  a Communist Manifesto
  a qualiascope
  a manual
  file of Platonic forms
  a useless scrap of paper
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a fifty pence piece
  a lighter
  a Chinese key
  
  > take lighter
  (putting the veil into the sack to make room)
  Taken.
  
  > Light lantern with lighter
  The lantern lights! You jump around gleefully for a few moments, before recovering your sobriety.
  
  > go west
  You push your way through the brambles and gingerly descend into the dark cave beyond.
  
  The lantern's dim glow casts shadows across the walls of the cavern, which, oddly, seems not so much collossal as contrived. Raising the lantern, you read an etching over the eastern entrance to the cave: "Property of Plato." Casting it around, you notice a gap in the walls of the cavern that leads down further into the cave system.
  
  Bizarrely, chained down in the centre of the cave are a group of wasted-looking humans. They make no reaction to your stumbling entrance, save to stare intently at the shadows you are casting on the wall. Feeling a little sheepish, you make a bunny shadow-picture for them, it being the only one you can remember. They fail to smile.
  
  > look at the people
  The denizens sit with their legs and necks chained so they cannot turn their heads from the shadowy forms in front of them. Their ears are covered in thick earmuffs and on their faces lie expressions devoid of all curiosity.
  
  > show Manifesto to the people
  (first taking the Communist Manifesto)
  (putting the lighter into the sack to make room)
  The denizens of Plato's Cave seems to take no notice.
  
  > give Manifesto to people
  It would be terribly cruel to incite them to cast off the shackles of their oppression when they're sitting impotent in locked chains.
  
  > remove the chains
  (first taking the chains)
  Philosophers are not yet supermen.
  
  > Unlock chains
  What do you want to unlock the chains with?
  
  > examine the chains
  The chains link every one of the denizens, locking them tightly in place. They come together into one giant padlock.
  
  > examine the padlock
  This padlock looks like it eats other locks for breakfast.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a Communist Manifesto
  a lit lantern (providing light)
  a sack (open)
  a lighter
  a veil
  a qualiascope
  a manual
  file of Platonic forms
  a useless scrap of paper
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a fifty pence piece
  a Chinese key
  
  > talk to the people
  You saunter up to one of the denizens and tap one of them on the shoulder.
  
  [1] Hello?
  [2] (leave)
  
  > 1
  "What?" says the denizen, "you'll have to speak up!"
  
  [1] Hello?
  [2] I said, "HELLO!"
  [3] Oh, never mind. . .
  
  > 2
  "Hello," replies the denizen. You resolve to speak a little louder from now on.
  
  [1] Love the earmuffs. They really complement the shackles.
  [2] Nice cave -- I like what you've done with the place.
  [3] What's the shadow play you're watching?
  
  > 1
  Two of the denizens give a look that would usually accompany a cursory glance around in less cervical-rotational-inhibited examiners. One says, "What earmuffs?"
  
  [1] The ones your wearing.
  [2] Ah, my mistake: I must be mistaking a mass case of advanced ear-hair growth with earmuffs.
  
  > 1
  "I don't know what you're talking about," three of them say in unison. Given the differing inflection, they may not all have been replying to the same remark.
  
  [1] So . . . quite the cave system you've got here.
  [2] Cute manacles. Are they one-cuff-chains-all, or do they come in different sizes?
  [3] Are those shadows playing the Importance of Being Earnest on the wall over there, or is it Deformed Rabbit?
  
  > 2
  "I see no such thing!" replies one of the cave dwellers. "Nothing chains us here," rejoinders another.
  
  [1] How do explain the fact that you can't move?
  [2] Clearly the entire back catalogue of a bondage shop has been wasted on you if you don't even realise it's there.
  
  > 1
  "Oh, alright," admits one of them, "maybe we're a little chained up. It's not as if there's anything more inteesting to see behind us."
  
  [1] Other than the world of real forms as opposed to the shadow world you see before you?
  [2] What about colours and three dimensional objects?
  [3] There are many wondrous things out there -- like talking scarecrows, burning windmills and friendly barbers.
  
  > 1
  The denizens of the cave don't seem to heed your word, dismissing such things as metaphysical illusions.
  
  [1] How do feel about sitting in a dank little cave?
  [2] Do you spend all your time watching shadows, or is it only when adventurers come by with sources of light?
  
  > 2
  "What shadows?" asks a denizen to your left, her eyes affixed on the shadow play on the wall.
  
  [1] The ones you're watching -- shapes caused by objects partially blocking a source of light.
  [2] What else do you call the display you're watching?
  
  > 1
  "What we're watching," explains one of the denezins, "is the world go by. This is reality."
  
  [1] This isn't reality, it's the semblance of reality.
  [2] You're glued to an illusion.
  
  > 1
  The denizens don't seem to listen, preferring simply to continue to stare at the shadows on the wall.
  
  [1] So. . . nice cave system you've got here.
  
  > 1
  "What cave?" three of them chant from somewhere around the back row. The one you were addressing continues to stare ahead.
  
  [1] This cave. You know, the one you're sitting in.
  [2] My mistake, your cold damp dark cavernous environ isn't a cave. It's a foreshortened underground tunnel.
  
  > 1
  The denizen that you were originally addressing expresses his disbelief in mutters.
  
  > talk to the people
  There's nothing else worthwhile to say to the denizens. They're still chained to the cave floor, watching the shadow play.
  
  > unlock the padlock with the key
  (first taking the Chinese key)
  (putting the Communist Manifesto into the sack to make room)
  That doesn't seem to fit the lock.
  
  > unlock padlock with Manifesto
  (first taking the Communist Manifesto)
  (putting the Chinese key into the sack to make room)
  That doesn't seem to fit the lock.
  
  > eat the padlock
  (first taking the padlock)
  Philosophers are not yet supermen.