text: > look around
  Under the Bridge (Tenth)
  The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river.
  
  > look at the keypad
  A fairly standard telephone keypad. The buttons, once silver, and now more of a muted, nicotine-stained gray, include the first nine digits, in rows of three, followed by a final row containing the star, zero, and pound keys:
  1 2 3
  4 5 6
  7 8 9
  * 0 #
  
  Twelve silver keys - Wasn't that an Elizabethan-era occult thing? Something to do with John Dee, Enochian angels, and other nonsense...
  
  > look at the slot
  Set into a slightly rounded recess in the phone's faceplate is a thin slot, about the height of a quarter, labeled "5-10-25" and "US COINS ONLY".
  
  > look at the graffiti
  There's no obvious place to start reading; Every inch of the panels are inlaid with high school scrimshaw, but your eyes are initially drawn to a cartoon dagger (or acorn? green pepper?) and the inscription "I don't ever wanna feel, like I did that day..."
  
  > continue
  You've already lost track of where you started, and find yourself looking at the phrase "Black Number ONE", surrounded by tiny skulls and... hearts?
  
  > continue
  Adrift on a sea of outsider folk art, you briefly lock eyes with "LISA LOEB IS A HACK", and a careless scribble you'd politely describe as "genitals".
  
  > continue
  Your eyes struggle to find purchase on the maze of scribbles, briefly settling on "For a good time CALL 911"... Sheesh. it doesn't really work as a prank, or a joke..
  
  > Continue
  Maybe scrimshaw was the wrong metaphor... It's more like the phone went to prison and got all inked up with jailhouse tattoos, such as the letters "AC", an angry looking lightning bolt, and "DC".
  
  > Continue
  It's like a message board for bored teens; You'd almost say "a fire hydrant for stray dogs", but that seems cruel, even given "PEARL JAM", followed by "Jeremy!" (crossed out), "Black?" (also struck out), and finally, "EVENFLOW" (underlined repeatedly for emphasis).
  
  > look at the receiver
  An old, battered black plastic handset, connected to the phone by a segmented metal cable that reminds you of a rat's tail. It is hanging from a metal lever, the unfortunately named "cradle", like an unpleasant piece of meat on a hook.
  
  > examine the phone
  (the the payphone)
  The payphone has been vandalized exhaustively over the years; The shelter is covered in graffiti, while the phone itself has been scratched, stained, spraypainted, and used as an ashtray, among other things. While there is a grievous wound where a large piece of the phone was torn out, there is still a coin slot in the upper right, a keypad in the center, next to the receiver, and a coin return in the lower right; Probably about as much of a phone as necessary to place a call.
  
  > dial 911
  The phone hisses and sputters with static, and then, as if from a great distance, a faint voice growls "Please zzZRrt
  twenty-fiiIEERrve cents before continuUURRRRrroo
  dial your numMMRRrrrrzzzCHRRt."
  
  > put quarter in the slot
  The phone swallows the coin, jingling in satisfaction. Deep inside, something rattles into place, and the receiver begins to hiss softly with static.
  
  > dial 911
  There is an odd squawk of static on the line, followed by a few seconds of quiet hissing, before a distorted male voice begins to crackle through the speaker. It's... hard to make out, with gaps of silence and bursts of static, but you're fairly certain it's telling you that Emergency Services are not currently available on this exchange, and to try your call again shortly... Or that "the throne of heaven sits empty?" Something like that.
  
  > hang up
  (the phone receiver)
  You put the phone back where you found it, and hope it stays there.
  
  Something grinds and clatters grudgingly inside the phone, followed by a muffled clink from the coin return.
  
  > examine the coffee
  The clouds in your cup form a sharknado. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance.
  
  > continue
  The clouds in your cup form a chimera. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance.
  
  > put the coin in the slot
  The coin disappears into the slot, and down some tiny stairs, by the sound of it. Something stirs down in the guts of the mechanism, and the receiver begins to make a rushing sound like labored breathing.
  
  > call Peter
  The receiver is still sleeping on the cradle; You'll have to pick it up.
  
  > call Peter
  The phone's keypad only has numbers (and * and #, but who even uses those?)
  
  > Press pound
  Try dialing the entire number you want instead.
  
  > look at the library card
  A battered beige rectangle with rounded corners, printed with the library insignia, and bearing the words:
  
  is entitled to borrow books from
  BACKWATER PUBLIC LIBRARY
  Backwater, Vermont
  and is responsible for all books taken on this card
  Expires APRIL 1998
  No 19078
  
  A little metal dealy clips through the cardboard, with a mirror-reversed version of the ID number stamped into it.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  a phone receiver
  an employee ID card
  a shard of shattered carapace
  a soggy tome
  a long hooked pole
  a grimy rock
  a dead battery
  a moldy, waterlogged journal
  a small, rectangular battery
  an antique locket (being worn and closed)
  The Dollmaker's Journal
  a repaired page
  a trolley schedule
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes
  a pamphlet of home listings
  a Jansport backpack (being worn and open)
  a hidden pocket (open but empty)
  a key pocket (open but empty)
  a book pocket (open)
  a postcard of Big Ben
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three
  a side pocket (open but empty)
  a trash pocket (open but empty)
  a backpack features guide
  a book list
  a library card
  Peter's jacket
  a faint chill (haunting you)
  a cast iron spire
  a waterproof flashlight
  a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask)
  a pull-string doll
  a glass jar containing an insect
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a familiar gold wristwatch
  a brass winding key
  
  > call 911
  There is an odd squawk of static on the line, followed by a few seconds of quiet hissing, before a distorted male voice begins to crackle through the speaker. It's... hard to make out, with gaps of silence and bursts of static, but you're fairly certain it's telling you that Emergency Services are not currently available on this exchange, and to try your call again shortly... Or that "the throne of heaven sits empty?" Something like that.
  
  > hang up
  (the phone receiver)
  You hang up the receiver, wishing you could just hang up on this phone, as a whole.
  
  There is a solemn clunk from the heart of the phone, and something clatters to (an upsettingly crunchy) stop inside the coin return.