text: > Look around
  Pavement Caf?
  The caf? spills out into the street. Steel chairs are scattered around the serving kiosk, apparently chaotically, though you suspect there's a cynical art to it. Most of the customers are buried in books, thimble-sized cups of black coffee steaming by them and handmade cigarettes rolling around the corners of their mouths. Some of them, though, are intense young couples clasping hands across their plates, boring into each other's eyes as if looking for some flaw, breaking the gaze only to toss hair or adjust a beret. Sitting in the corner, Jean-Paul Sartre surveys the caf? around him and smiles in a satisfied yet enigmatic way.
  
  The server is clattering away in the kitchen behind the kiosk, making loud sweary noises.
  
  > look at the kiosk
  It's built from the same simple-yet-elegant brushed steel as the chairs, and it stands outside a building which presumably houses the kitchen and espresso machine. There's a menu tacked on the counter.
  
  > look at the menu
  In minimalist letters it lists the available fare:
  - Fresh summer sorbet of pre-phyllorexa claret
  - Plovers" egg omelet with a side-platter of seasonal vegetables
  - Oven-roasted black swan on a bed of couscous with a thyme and
  fennel garnish
  - Eggs, soss, beans
  
  > talk to the customers
  You can't. They're too intense.
  
  > go inside
  You channel your will to power to summon a path in that direction. Sadly, nothing happens: you can't go that way.
  
  > ask Sartre for the cigarette
  Your command falls on deaf ears. Perhaps you should TALK TO them about it?
  
  > wait
  Time passes. Or at least, loiters around for a while longer.
  
  > think about Heidegger
  Martin Heidegger (1889 - 1976) was one of the founders of phenomenology, the critical philosophy which, roughly speaking, explores the holistically-located meaning and being of things, rather than the analytically-defined nature of things. Whatever that means. He helped usher in the academic divide between "Continental" and "Anglo-American" philosophy which, based on that difference, still exists today.
  
  > think about David Hume
  David Hume (1711 - 1776) was the foremost philosopher of the Scottish Enlightenment. Following fellow British philosophers Locke and Berkeley, he popularised philosophical empiricism (as opposed to the rationalism of Descartes and Spinoza), and was also influential in thought on free will and ethics. He was an important influence on the thought of Immanuel Kant, whom he "woke from his dogmatic slumber" -- Kant's work can be seen as overturning the divide between the rationalists and empiricists.
  
  > wake
  If only it were that simple.
  
  > Xyzzy
  A hollow voice says, "There are no obligatory Adventure references in this game."
  
  There is a long pause.
  
  "Oh, bugger."
  
  > think about categorical Imperative
  The Categorical Imperative is to "Act only according to that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law." It is the key principle of Kant's deontological ethics, which can't really be summed up, but if they can be, they can be summed up as follows:
  
  In order for acts to be judged on ethical grounds, they must be freely chosen. In order for an act to be freely chosen, it must be rationally chosen, as only rationality liberates us from the brute chains of natural causality. But in order for a choice to be rational, it must be universalisable -- we must be able to imagine that choice being made by everyone in the same situation, without undermining its own foundations. Thus, for example, to put it roughly, we must never steal, because is everyone stole no-one would be able to steal, so the act cannot be rationally undertaken -- it always undermines itself.
  
  That may not be entirely clear. Like much of Kant's philosophy, deontological ethics are hard to understand, and you're not sure you've remembered your studies properly. One thing sticks in your mind, though: according to Kant, there are no moral dilemmas in deontological ethics as, without having to make any calculations, the proper application of the Categorical Imperative will always determine definitively what is ethical and what is not.
  
  > enter the tavern
  You duck as you enter the smoky tavern (evidently smoking bans do not exist in thought experiments), and are greeted by an astonishing sight:
  
  A raucous rabble of eminent philosophers line the tables and bar, discussing matters squifflily with slurred syllables and questionable eloquence. You overhear Plato and Socrates quietly discussing anarchists in Victorian literature. The only one not joining in seems to be Aristotle, who is sitting glumly in the corner. You also suspect that that was John Stuart Mill you glimpsed running east through the back door, clutching his stomach.
  
  Somewhat incongruously, you spot an electronic games machine sitting against the wall next to a rather glum looking booth, being rather neglected by the roistering philosophers.
  
  > examine the machine
  It's a brightly covered cabinet with "Karl Popper's FALSIFICATION ADVENTURE" emblazoned on it above the screen. There's a joystick, a button marked FIRE and a button marked START. You wonder what they could possibly be for.
  
  > Press start
  The game machine springs into life. You are controlling a falsification gun, moving left and right across the bottom of the screen, protecting the collective conscious from a marauding band of theories. The theories -- rendered as implausible pixelated blobs -- are advancing slowly down the screen in.
  
  Yanking the joystick to and fro, you fire off a volley of pixelated falsifiers. A pixelated bullet representing the measurement of Mercury's orbit hits the pixelated blob representing Newtonian Physics, and it explodes in a shower of pixelated sparks! Reflexes burning, you quickly dispatch the pixelated blob representing gender essentialism with pixelated bullet representing a well-aimed copy of Foucault's History of Sexuality, while a pixelated bullet representing Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle does for the pixelated blob representing General Relativity. Suddenly the machine emits a warbling siren, and a pixelated missile representing dialectical materialism appears at the top of the screen! You fire volley after volley of pixelated bullets at it, but it simply absorbs your attacks as part of its pixelated interpretive schema. At the last moment you take cover behind a pixelated wall of healthy scepticism, which is sorely damaged, but destroys the pixelated missile! As you breathe a sigh of relief, taking your eyes off the screen for a moment, a second pixelated missile representing Freudian psychodynamic theory penetrates through your pixelated defences and obliterates you entirely.
  
  You didn't even make the high score table.
  
  > look at the booth
  It's a dark and lonely corner of the tavern -- and you realise that, while you'd previously thought it was empty, there's actually a group of women sitting in it, staring melancholically into their drinks. One of them, whom you suddenly recognise to be Elizabeth Anscombe, is wearing a comic headband with two antennae on springs attached. Next to her sits Emma Goldman, glaring fiercely across the table at an equally glaring Ayn Rand, while the quartet is completed by Judith Butler, who surveys the roistering men, making small tutting noises.
  
  > kiss emma
  Some would consider that an invasion of personal space.
  
  > talk to Aristotle
  You saunter over to the corner of the room where Aristotle sits, and he glances up at you, a hopeful look passing over his bearded features. When he speaks you expect it to be all Greek to you, but in fact he sounds more like a lower-upper-middle-class English gentleman. "Good day to you," he says impeccably. "Perhaps you might be able to help me with some small trouble?"
  
  [1] Actually, no. I'm fed up with running errands for strange men.
  [2] It would be my pleasure.
  [3] Hmm, what do I get out of it?
  
  > 3
  "Well, I suppose I could see my way to parting with a rather fine first edition of the complete works of my mentor, Plato," he offers, with a tone of slight regret. "After all, if material gain is on your mind, then it is best to accompany it with the higher pleasures of the intellect."
  
  [1] Sounds lovely. I'll help you out
  [2] Actually, I think I'll pass.
  
  > 1
  "Good show, old thing," he says, smiling broadly. "Now listen carefully: to put it quite frankly, I'm buggered for a bottle."
  
  [1] Did I understand you right . . .
  [2] Surely, they serve bottles here?
  [3] I'm having no more of this sort of thing.
  
  > 1
  "What I mean is that I'm after a good quality wine. More precisely, my tastes are such that I really can't stand anything other than a bottle of pre-phylloxera claret."
  
  [1] Won't a normal claret do?
  [2] That's impossible. I'm going to leave you to your vain quest.
  
  > 1
  "No!" he states emphatically, "I won't have any of the paltry excuse for claret they serve here. It's pre-phylloxera claret or nothing."
  
  [1] Then it's going to have to be nothing . . .
  [2] Alright, then. I'll go find a bottle, shall I? There's nothing I like more than going on obscure object quests, after all.
  
  > 2
  "Capital!" he exclaims enthusiastically. "Well then, what I'm after is a bottle of the finest pre-phylloxera claret. Only the best for the old tastebuds, eh?"
  
  You stare at the old philosopher, wondering several things, most prominently of which is what phylloxera are, and whether they involve sex in any way. But Aristotle merely smiles beningly at you. "Chop chop!" he says, and you take your leave.
  
  > think about Aristotle
  Aristotle (384 BC - 322 BC) was an ancient Greek philosopher, taught by Plato. He wrote on a huge range of philosophical subjects, including disciplines like physics and biology which later grew into their own sciences. Preserved for centuries, mainly by Muslim scholars, his work later exercised so much influence over the Medieveal Christian philosophers who helped found the European tradition of thought that he simply became known as the Philosopher.
  
  > think about Mill
  John Stuart Mill (1806 - 1873) was a British ethical and political philosopher, and a public intellectual. He was the foremost proponent of utlitarianism, and also an early and formative theoriser of the liberal social state.
  
  > Go east
  You wander through the back door into an alleyway and there amidst a pile of broken truth tables and discarded copies of the Principia Mathematica sit a sequiter of logicians, playing illegal logic games. W.V.O. Quine seems to be the ring leader.
  
  > examine Principia
  The copies of the Principia Mathematica are stacked in neat piles --they are being put to use as make-shift seats.
  
  You notice Boole slip a few extra beads into the game from his sleeve. How naughty.
  
  > think about Quine
  Willard Van Orman Quine (1908 - 2000), as well as having the coolest name in the history of philosophy, was an important logician and linguistic philosopher of the 20th century. Attacking many of the dogmas of analytic philosophy, he forged new ground in the theory of knowledge, as well as defining crucial approaches to logical problems.
  
  > examine logicians
  Playing games with coloured beads and cups amidst the truth tables sit a shifty-looking bunch of logicians. You think you notice Boole and Frege pondering over vagueness, while Kripke raises the stakes.
  
  > talk to Quine
  Quine's eyes dart to and fro in a manner most shifty. "Psst!" he whispers.
  
  [1] Yes, can I help you?
  [2] What's going on here?
  [3] I'm sorry, I really don't have the time.
  [4] Psst off.
  
  > 4
  You sense some disappointment in his eyes as he turns back to the truth tables and formulae.
  
  > 2
  Before you can get a word in Quine says, "Hey kid -- yeah you -- you lookin' to earn some prizes?"
  
  [1] Wait a second. Didn't you teach at Harvard? What's with the implausible seedy low-life routine?
  [2] Is a finite whole greater than any of its parts?
  [3] Has prog-rock had its day?
  [4] Is Derrida an obscurantist?
  [5] Um . . . yes?
  [6] No thanks, I'm good in the prizes department.
  
  > 1
  "Shh . . ." he whispers, "This is an illegal racket we got going here -- how am I supposed to talk?" Before you can answer he says, "Actually, forget that. Do you want to earn some prizes or not?"
  
  [1] Oh, okay.
  [2] Not right now.
  
  > 2
  "That's what I wanted to hear. Now listen close, here's how it works:
  
  "This is a logic game, okay -- so here's how it works: I got two beads in this cup -- you payin' attention? -- they might be both red, both blue or one of each. Under this second cup," he points to another upturned cup on the ground, "I got one bead which could be red, could be blue.
  
  "With me so far?"
  
  [1] Yes, please continue.
  [2] Could you go over that again?
  
  > 1
  "So, kid, it's your job to figure out what colour the beads are.
  
  "Now this a logic game, not a guessing game, so we got ourselves some rules. First: not all the beads are blue. Second: whatever the bead is in the second cup, there must be at least one of the same colour in the first cup. Third: no red bead can be in the same cup as a blue bead.
  
  "So what's your bet, kid? What's in the cups?"
  
  [1] Cup one: two blues. Cup two: one blue.
  [2] Cup one: two blues. Cup two: one red.
  [3] Cup one: one red, one blue. Cup two: one red.
  [4] Cup one: one red, one blue. Cup two: one blue.
  [5] Cup one: two reds. Cup two: one red.
  [6] Cup one: two reds. Cup two: one blue.
  
  > 5
  "Hey, you got it right, kid!. Now . . . what would you like? We got an invitation to a state of naturist camp, a bottle post-phylloxera claret, or some cruise tickets for the ship of Neurath."
  
  [1] I'll go for the invitation.
  [2] It's the bottle of claret for me.
  [3] Hit me with those tickets.
  
  > 2
  Quine hands you a bottle of cheap red wine. "Enjoy," he says.
  
  > examine the wine
  The label says: "Consume within three months". This doesn't bode well as far as quality is concerned.
  
  A discussion between Frege and Kripke over the proper interpretation of the Sorites paradox becomes rather heated, but G?del soon calms them down.
  
  > go west
  A raucous rabble of eminent philosophers line the tables and bar, discussing matters squifflily with slurred syllables and questionable eloquence. You overhear Plato and Socrates sensibly tackling Jungian personality types. The only one not joining in seems to be Aristotle, who is sitting glumly in the corner. In the eastern wall is the back door through which Mill threw himself earlier.
  
  Somewhat incongruously, you spot an electronic games machine sitting against the wall next to a rather glum looking booth, being rather neglected by the roistering philosophers.
  
  > talk to Aristotle
  "Haven't you the bottle to give me?" he asks. "Come now, hop to it!"
  
  > give wine to Aristotle
  (the post-phylloxera claret to Aristotle)
  "You dare insult me so!" Aristotle cries, "This is post-phylloxera claret, I want pre-phylloxera claret! Now snap to it."
  
  You make to leave, and Aristotle snatches the bottle of cheap red wine from you.
  
  "I didn't say I wouldn't drink it. Still . . . get me some pre-phylloxera claret, and you'll be rewarded."
  
  > 1
  Quine hands you a scrap of paper. "Don't know what you lot see in it, but enjoy yourself," he says.
  
  > look at the paper
  Scrawled upon a scrap of paper is: "COME TO THE STATE OF NATURIST CAMP -- NASTY BRUTISH FUN FOR ALL!!!"
  
  A discussion between Frege and Kripke over the proper interpretation of the Sorites paradox becomes rather heated, but G?del soon calms them down.
  
  > think about the godel
  Kurt G?del (1906 - 1978) was an Austrian-American mathematician whose work on self-reference the limits of knowledge broke new ground in philosophy. G?del developed sound and sophisticated mathematical proofs that for any sufficiently complicated epistemological system, there would always be certain undecidable propositions -- demonstrating effectively that knowledge is inherently self-limiting. His conclusions have huge repurcussions we are still struggling with today.
  
  > talk to Kripke
  He seems too engrossed in his game to pay any attention.
  
  > think about Neurath
  The Ship of Neurath is the term used by W.V.O. Quine in his decription of an analogy by Otto Neurath for his view of the holistic nature of language and scientific verification. Quine wrote, "We are like sailors who on the open sea must reconstruct their ship but are never able to start afresh from the bottom. Where a beam is taken away a new one must at once be put therre, and for this the rest of the ship is used as support. In this way, by using the old beams and driftwood the ship can be shaped entirely anew, but only by gradual reconstruction."
  
  The point being made is that we are never able to start a new system of knowledge (and thus a system of language) from the beginning -- what we instead do is replace old known principles which we no longer agree with with new principles, insofar as those new principles can be supported by the rest of the system of knowledge. Perhaps those new principles will weaken another part of the system, which must then itself be removed and replaced. This is Quine's view of how knowledge progresses and language changes -- gradually, by replacing parts of the holistic system, rather than in huge revolutions. One of the most important aspects of this view is its characterisation of knowledge as a holistic system, rather than as a set of disconnected principles.
  
  It may or may not be complete coincidence that a strikingly similar analogy, known as the Ship of Theseus, is used for a completely different philosophical problem: that of identity. That's definitely worth thinking about.
  
  > examine the logicians
  Playing games with coloured beads and cups amidst the truth tables sit a shifty-looking bunch of logicians. You think you notice Boole and Frege investigating supervaluation, while Kripke claims the jackpot.
  
  > talk to Quine
  "You want to give it another shot?" asks Quine.
  
  [1] Does E equal M times the square of C?
  [2] Is the holy ghost the underdog of the trinity?
  [3] Does a mobius strip have only one side?
  [4] No -- I've had enough disappointment for one adventure.
  
  > 2
  "You've probably got the formulae by now," says Quine. "So I got three cups this time. One on the left, one in the middle and one on the right. There's one bead in each of them. Each bead is either red or blue. And we got us some rules again:
  
  "Rule one: no red bead can be to the left of a blue bead.
  
  "Rule two: no blue bead can be in a cup next to a cup with another blue bead.
  
  "Rule three: there is at least one blue bead and one red bead.
  
  "So, what colour beads are in what cup?
  
  [1] Left cup: red; middle cup: red; right cup: red.
  [2] Left cup: red; middle cup: red; right cup: blue.
  [3] Left cup: red; middle cup: blue; right cup: red.
  [4] Left cup: red; middle cup: blue; right cup: blue.
  [5] Left cup: blue; middle cup: blue; right cup: blue.
  [6] Left cup: blue; middle cup: blue; right cup: red.
  [7] Left cup: blue; middle cup: red; right cup: red.
  [8] Left cup: blue; middle cup: red; right cup: blue.
  
  > 7
  "Nice!" Quine pats you on the back. "Now, my friend," he says, "you got a tricky and potentially angst-ridden decision to make. Will it be a file of Platonic forms, cruise tickets for the ship of Neurath, or a straw dog?"
  
  [1] I fancy the file of forms.
  [2] The cruise tickets sound good.
  [3] You can't go wrong with a straw dog.
  
  > 1
  Quine hands you a file of forms. "Prime forms," he says. "Prime forms."
  
  > look at the forms
  This a file of administrative forms that have reached the highest level of bureaucratic perfection. In order to complete them they must be signed by the relevant officials, who will only sign the form if they are presented with the very same form already signed.
  
  A loud cheer comes from the game as Turing elegantly solves a particularly difficult problem.
  
  > go west
  A raucous rabble of eminent philosophers line the tables and bar, discussing matters squifflily with slurred syllables and questionable eloquence. You overhear Plato and Socrates childishly pondering over Da Vinci Code conspiracy theories. The only one not joining in seems to be Aristotle, who is sitting glumly in the corner. In the eastern wall is the back door through which Mill threw himself earlier.
  
  Somewhat incongruously, you spot an electronic games machine sitting against the wall next to a rather glum looking booth, being rather neglected by the roistering philosophers.
  
  > talk to Plato
  Plato beckons you closer, his breathe steeped in whisky. "I have hardly ever known a mathematician who was capable of reasoning," he confides, before staggering off, apparently forgetting who you are.
  
  > talk to Socrates
  Raising his glass up high, Socrates toasts, "Bad men live that they may eat and drink, whereas good men eat and drink that they may live." This is greeted with a hearty chorus of "I'll drink to that!"
  
  > look at the booth
  It's a dark and lonely corner of the tavern -- and you realise that, while you'd previously thought it was empty, there's actually a group of women sitting in it, staring melancholically into their drinks. One of them, whom you suddenly recognise to be Elizabeth Anscombe, is wearing a comic headband with two antennae on springs attached. Next to her sits Emma Goldman, glaring fiercely across the table at an equally glaring Ayn Rand, while the quartet is completed by Judith Butler, who surveys the roistering men, making small tutting noises.
  
  > talk to Anscombe
  The women look at you. "Hello," says Anscombe. "We were having a girls" night out." Never before has the phrase been delivered with such implacable mourning.
  
  [1] Were? What happened?
  [2] Well, you lot are glum. Why aren't you joining the fun?
  [3] Mind if I join you ladies for a drink?
  
  > 1
  Rand perks up at this point, eyes flaring. "Emma here," she says, snering, "couldn't keep her big mouth shut."
  
  "Don't you go curtailing my freedom of speech again, Ayn," spits Goldman in reply.
  
  [1] Bit of a fight, was there?
  [2] Now girls, don't go being all unbecoming.
  
  > 1
  "They have entrenched themselves within a political binary through which they define themselves by opposition to the Other," chips in Butler.
  
  "They had a punch-up," adds Anscombe.
  
  [1] Ooh, a bitch fight. Who won?
  [2] What about?
  [3] So why didn't you just leave them to it and join the rest of the party here?
  
  > 2
  "She started spouting off about the dynamism of the revolution --" starts Rand.
  
  "-- It is easier to condemn than to think," Goldman butts in.
  
  "Shut up and finish your drinks before I clunk your heads together," concludes Anscombe.
  
  [1] Why didn't you just leave them to it and join the rest of the party here?
  [2] Oh dear. I think I'll just leave now.
  
  > 1
  "They wouldn't let us join in," says Anscombe.
  
  "They wouldn't let me dance," says Goldman.
  
  "Men!" spits Butler.
  
  [1] Why wouldn't they let you join in?
  [2] Did you want to dance?
  [3] What's wrong with men?
  [4] Why are you still here?
  [5] Oh dear. I think I'll just leave now.
  
  > 3
  "The promise of the phallus," says Butler, stealing Goldman's glass and downing it, "is always disappointing."
  
  [1] Er . . . so why does that mean they wouldn't they let you join in? [2] Indeed. So did you want to dance?
  [3] Right. So why are you still here?
  [4] OK . . . I think that's my cue to leave.
  
  > 2
  "If I can't dance . . ." begins Goldman, in a rather loud voice, before being rapidly gagged by the other three women until she stops struggling.
  
  [1] Thanks, sisters. So why wouldn't they let you join in?
  [2] Phew. So why are you still here?
  [3] Oh dear. I think I'll just leave now.
  
  > 1
  "We were excluded from the discourse," says Butler. All four women nod in rare agreement, Anscombe's pink antennae bobbing folornly up and down.
  
  [1] Too true, sisters. So why are you still here?
  [2] Ooh, sorry. Well, good luck; I'm off.
  
  > 1
  "Why ask useless questions?" asks Rand. "How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky? Who is John Galt?"
  
  [1] OK . . . I think that's my cue to leave.
  
  > 1
  "And take your binary with you!" cries Butler drunkenly as you take your leave.
  
  > look at the antennae
  The kind of thing you'd expect people to wear onto a hen-night.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  file of Platonic forms
  the invitation to the state of naturist camp
  a fifty pence piece
  a lighter
  a Burden of Proof
  a sack (open)
  a manual
  a Chinese key
  
  > talk to Anscombe
  You approach the women, but Butler's critical gaze warns you off.
  
  > talk to Quine
  "Want to pit your wits against my beads again?
  
  [1] Is Plato's Republic an elitist handbook?
  [2] Does Nietzsche rhyme with preacher?
  [3] Is Darth Vader Lukes father?
  [4] Actually, I'm all prized out.
  
  > 1
  "Yes indeedy," he replies keenly. "This time I got four cups arranged in a line. Same shtick: cups either contain a red bead or a blue bead. But this time one of the cups has two beads. You gots to guess which one. Rules are:
  
  "Rule one: the cup with two beads is immediately to the left of a cup containing a red bead.
  
  "Rule two: no cup containing one blue bead is immediately adjacent to a cup containing one blue bead.
  
  "Rule three: there is only one red bead.
  
  [1] The leftmost cup.
  [2] The cup left of centre.
  [3] The cup right of centre.
  [4] The rightmost cup.
  
  > 2
  "Amazing! Unfortunately, I only  got one prize left -- the cruise tickets for the Ship of Neurath."
  
  > examine the tickets
  These tickets appear to have already been used!
  
  > talk to Quine
  "Sorry, kid," Quine says, with a modicum of sincerity. "I'm fresh out of prizes."
  
  > tell Quine about categorical Imperative
  Just TALK TO them.
  
  > go to the west
  A raucous rabble of eminent philosophers line the tables and bar, discussing matters squifflily with slurred syllables and questionable eloquence. You overhear Plato and Socrates drunkenly investigating several meanings of the word Kafkaesque. The only one not joining in seems to be Aristotle, who is sitting glumly in the corner. In the eastern wall is the back door through which Mill threw himself earlier.
  
  Somewhat incongruously, you spot an electronic games machine sitting against the wall next to a rather glum looking booth, being rather neglected by the roistering philosophers.
  
  > go outside
  A church, a theatre, a tavern, a barbershop, a pavement caf? -- their various changing forms clutter around, entrances facing out onto what seems (most of the time) to be an ordinary village street. Passers-by duck in and out of the buildings, stop by the water pump, or carry on to a square to the north. No-one, you notice, takes the road south -- or heads along the routes east towards the storybook hills or west into the fairytale woods.
  
  > examine server
  You could pop your head into the kitchen and admire her from behind as she cooks, but you rather fear what would happen if she spotted you.
  
  > Go west
  You channel your will to power to summon a path in that direction. Sadly, nothing happens: you can't go that way.
  
  > go the barbershop
  Inside, the barbershop is clean, and smells pleasantly of cloves and soap. As you enter, the barber turns to you, brandishing magnificent moustachios, and beams. "Have a seat!" he cries, "Have a seat! I shall be with you in two snips of a flea's whiskers!"
  
  You sit down on a wooden bench, somewhat overcome, and look around you. A small stand by the bench has complimentary phials of dye. The walls are covered with pictures of extraordinarily-coiffured models of all ages and genders, while the floor in places is ankledeep in hair. The room itself is spacious, and the barber is snipping away happily at his client -- who, you suddenly realise, is stunningly, shiningly bald.
  
  > examine the client
  Baldier than a coot and an egg combines, he sits solemnly staring at himself in the mirror.
  
  > get the hair
  Mmm, silky. But you'd feel a bit weird carrying around people's hair.
  
  > examine the dye
  Which do you mean, the phial of black dye, the phial of red dye or the phial of white dye?
  
  > talk to the client
  You make to talk to the bald man, but the barber spins round and shushes in your ear, "Ssh, signor! Don' you know who this is?"
  
  [1] No, who?
  [2] The captain of the Starship Enterprise?
  
  > 2
  "The present King of France!" he hisses lispily. Or possibly lisps hissily.
  
  [1] Oh, my! I am sorry.
  [2] Well, I'm a republican, so I couldn't care less.
  [3] Wait . . . wasn't there, you know, some sort of revolution in France?
  
  > 3
  He splutters wildly. "Jus' don" you let him hear you say that! Or-a mention that Russell character, either. You're-a new in town, I can tell."
  
  [1] Yes. What is this place?
  [2] No, you just don't recognise me with this haircut.
  
  > 1
  "Oh, jus' a humble little village in the middle of nowhere. But I know all about you, my friend!" he says
  
  [1] What, how?
  [2] I might have guessed. But can't you tell me something interesting about this place?
  [3] Oh, really. Well, you won't mind if I just sod off then.
  
  > 1
  "Jus' some gossip down the village water pump," he explains. "Which is always worth a visit if you need some advice, by the way."
  
  [1] I'll bear that in mind. But can't you tell me something interesting about this place?
  [2] Hmm, thanks. I might just go there now then.
  
  > 1
  "There's-a nothing to tell! But what would you like to know?"
  
  [1] Why did I just wake up in this bizarre fantasy world?
  [2] Why does no-one seem to leave by the village road?
  [3] What's that enormous castle, south of here?
  [4] Actually, I think I'll just leave.
  
  > 1
  The barber looks at you slyly. "That's-a for me not to know and you to find out," he says, winking. "But it's-a probably been caused by the hyperreal causality of narrative metaphor propelling you through a tear in the fabric of the space-time continuum, caused either by a ladder in the tights of time or the overconsumption of psychoactive substances. Anything else-a you want to know?"
  
  [1] Why does no-one seem to leave by the village road?
  [2] What's that enormous castle, south of here?
  [3] Actually, I think I'll just leave.
  
  > 2
  The barber's arms shoot out in front of him (narrowly avoiding snipping the king's ear off) and he intones, "I do not know any thing about the castle."
  
  There's a moment of potent silence as the king looks pointedly at the scissors, and the barber resumes his snipping, muttering under his breath. You can barely make it out, but it sounds like a dire warning, and something about . . . a thing? A thing in itself? Enigmatic in the extreme
  
  [1] OK . . . I think it's time for me to go now.
  
  > 1
  The barber looks terrified for a moment. "South? Whadda we want to go south for?" he blusters, before composing himself. "Ask-a me about something else."
  
  [1] What's that enormous castle, south of here?
  [2] Actually, I think I'll just leave.
  
  > 1
  The barber hums loudly at your departure.
  
  > take all the dye
  phial of black dye: (putting the Chinese key 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.
  phial of red dye: (putting the Burden of Proof 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.
  phial of white dye: (putting the lighter 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.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  an informative leaflet
  cruise tickets for the Ship of Neurath
  file of Platonic forms
  the invitation to the state of naturist camp
  a fifty pence piece
  a sack (open)
  a lighter
  a Burden of Proof
  a Chinese key
  a manual
  
  > drop Burden
  (first taking the Burden of Proof from the sack)
  (putting the fifty pence piece 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.
  
  > put all in the sack
  informative leaflet: You put the informative leaflet into the sack. cruise tickets for the Ship of Neurath: You put the cruise tickets for the Ship of Neurath into the sack.
  file of Platonic forms: You put the file of Platonic forms into the sack.
  invitation to the state of naturist camp: You put the invitation to the state of naturist camp into the sack.
  
  > take all
  That's a bit greedy. Try taking specific things.
  
  > take all the dye
  phial of black dye: Taken.
  phial of red dye: The barber winks at you, "One per customer. If you change your mind put one back on the stand and take another.
  phial of white dye: The barber winks at you, "One per customer. If you change your mind put one back on the stand and take another.
  
  > think about Russell
  Bertrand Russell (1872 - 1970) was for much of the 20th century one of Britain's most prominent public intellectuals, made in 1950 a Nobel Laureate in Literature. He was hugely important in mathematics and logic, was a populariser of philosopher, and was a prominent agnostic and pacifist. He is also notable for being the discoverer and early teacher of Ludwig Wittgenstein.