text: [Themes: Mystery, multiple protagonists]
  
  > look around
  I'm in a padded cell. I'm sure Forthright would say it's about time. The walls are lit harshly by a bare electric BULB, and only the small WINDOW set into the DOOR hints at a world beyond its claustrophobic confines.
  
  A bulky WINCH has been bolted incongruously to the wall.
  
  IVY is hanging upside-down from the ceiling, tied up in a straitjacket.
  
  Ivy nods awkwardly towards the WINCH. "Hey, detective. That's how they get me up and down from here."
  
  (Talking to Ivy: MORNING.)
  
  > Morning
  "I hate to be the one to tell you, but the sun hasn't even set yet."
  
  Ivy sighs. "You mean it's still yesterday? Damn it."
  
  > Window
  Just the smallest slot for a guard to spy into the room, without the inmate being afforded any kind of view back out.
  
  > Door
  The cell door is badly scratched and scuffed, but years of abuse have barely managed to bend the thick bars across its tiny WINDOW.
  
  A CLIPBOARD is crookedly affixed to the door.
  
  > Clipboard
  It's written in the barely decipherable scrawl of a medical professional. I could READ it, if you want.
  
  > read
  I suppose this horrible, spidery scrawl is one way doctors try to respect patient confidentiality. I can just about make out what the chart says.
  
  Name: Blissheart, Ivy
  Sex: F
  Ref #: 134A
  
  Incarcerated for:
  Vandalism; obscenity; blasphemy; criminal damage; disturbing the peace; conduct unbecoming of a woman.
  
  Diagnosis:
  Insufficient development of the ethical lobe.
  Hysteria.
  
  > Winch
  There's a little hook on the winch. It seems to be holding it in position. If I just carefully... Oh dear.
  
  Ivy squirms to her feet. "It's okay, I'm fine. I only landed on my head."
  
  She wriggles a little, and the straitjacket drops to the floor.
  "Ouch. Can you do me a favour and just pop my SHOULDER back in?"
  
  > Shoulder
  Ivy slips the hand of her dislocated arm into mine, and then twists around grotesquely while I pull firmly in the other direction.
  
  There's a sudden pop, and she gasps with relief. "Yeah, that's better."
  
  > Ivy
  Ivy looks rather relieved to be the right way up again. Her elfin features are no longer quite so red, and her hair has returned to a messy imitation of its usual bob.
  
  Ivy is wearing some PYJAMAS.
  
  Ivy clasps her hands behind her back and looks at me expectantly. "So are we going to LEAVE, or what?"
  
  > PYJAMAS
  A pair of simple white pyjamas. Of all forms of clothing, surely the least taxing on the mind.
  
  Ivy stretches her arms and legs.
  
  > leave
  I knock loudly on the door for the guard to let us out.
  
  Ivy shakes her head. "Now this I've got to see."
  
  "They can't squirm out of this," I say. "I've caught them in their own loophole. And once you're out of here... maybe you should just run. Flee the city."
  
  "Not likely," Ivy says. "This city's all I know. And you sold me on the idea of being a detective. Don't tell me you're chickening out now?"
  
  I brush back my hair and put on my bowler. "Never."
  
  Okay, hi. It's me now: Ivy Blissheart, a.k.a. Silhouette. How are you doing?
  
  > Fine
  Not very talkative, eh? Well, we'll just keep it to the keywords then.
  
  So this is the second time in my life I've been in a police station, and you know what? The Office of Unfathomable Crimes is a lot more comfortable than the interrogation room.
  
  But maybe not so much for Walker right this moment. Nate, I mean. He's been in the Chief Inspector's office an hour now, just on the other side of that door, getting shouted at. I feel sort of bad for him, because it's got to all be about what he did for me.
  
  Maybe if I LOOK around, I can figure out a way to help him out.
  
  > look
  I'm in the Oldchester C.I.D., specifically the Office of Unfathomable Crimes. It's quite homely, really, with sunlight streaming in through a large WINDOW and moustachioed men smiling down from PICTURE frames on the walls.
  
  A DESK fills much of the room, piled high with PAPERS and FILES, and a pneumatic TUBE snakes along one wall.
  
  Nate said I should just WAIT here and not get into trouble, but I've never been one to do what I'm told.
  
  I can hear a raised voice ranting on the other side of the door to the Chief Inspector's office.
  
  > Papers
  Official documents and memos are scattered over the desk in a disorganised fashion. They all look to be on the officious side of bureaucratic.
  
  > Tube
  So I used to work in a factory that had tubes like this for sending messages between departments. It was great fun - and those pipes didn't even have coppers on the other end of them.
  
  There's a metal BOX attached to it, and a little BASKET ready to catch the messages it spits out.
  
  > Ivy
  Oh, um, hi. I'm Ivy, although a lot of people know me - know of me, really - as Silhouette: anarcha-feminist dissident. I want you to know that if I ever messed around with any of your stuff, or made you look bad, or whatever, that it was absolutely nothing personal.
  
  But, you know, you probably had it coming.
  
  > Basket
  There's a little basket just beneath the metal BOX. It looks like it's positioned to catch anything that might come flying out of the pneumatic tube. It contains a CANISTER.
  
  > BOX
  A neat little box of tarnished filigree, attached to the pneumatic tube. Loads of BUTTONS are set into the face of the thing, a LEVER on the side, and a BASKET underneath it. Oh, and there's a small HOLE in the top of it.
  
  You know, I've always been fond of a good gadget.
  
  > Canister
  It's a cylindrical canister, taking a brief rest after rattling through the pneumatic intestines of the police station. It's open, and contains a MEMO.
  
  > Buttons
  There are loads of chunky buttons set into the front of the box. Most of them are blank, but some have neat inscriptions. There are buttons marked CHIEF, Serious CRIMES, FRAUD, and NARCOTICS. Oh, and a bit of paper has been stuck to one button with the word UNFATHOMABLE scribbled on it.
  
  The button marked 'Serious Crimes' is currently depressed.
  
  > Memo
  It's very neatly typed, on a perfectly square piece of paper.
  
  Rumours are circulating that a woman has been commissioned as a police officer. These rumours are untrue. While a woman has been employed to assist the C.I.D., she is not doing so in the capacity of either constable or detective.
  
  Frankly, the gossiping this event has sparked leads me to believe that she will feel quite at home with the lot of you.
  
  > Unfathomable
  I push the button marked 'Unfathomable'. It depresses with a firm 'click', and the button marked 'Serious Crimes' pops back up.
  
  > Crimes
  I push the button marked 'Serious Crimes'. It depresses with a firm 'click', and the button marked 'Unfathomable' pops back up.
  
  > Narcotics
  I push the button marked 'Narcotics'. It depresses with a firm 'click', and the button marked 'Serious Crimes' pops back up.
  
  > Hole
  There's a circular hole in the top of the box. This must be where messages go to get sent through the pneumatic TUBE.
  
  > Lever
  I grab the lever on the side of the box and give it a firm yank. The hole in the box emits a tremendous sucking sound until I let the lever spring back into place.