text: > Go downwards
  You continue your drop down the face of the slope. The temperature drops severely as you pass through a thermocline, and the mounting pressure makes your ears ache. You pinch your nose shut with thumb and forefinger, and exhale gently to clear the pressure.
  
  Underwater, (drifting)
  The slope just keeps on descending. The amount of sunlight that reaches you has diminished quite a bit and the water has become quite cold. Below you all is dark, but for a small glint of light hinting through the darkness.
  A busted lobster trap lies half buried in the mud of the steep
  slope.
  
  The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
  
  > tie the rope to trap
  You try to tie the length of rope to the busted trap, but find it difficult to summon enough coordination while bobbing in the currents.
  
  The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
  
  > pull the trap
  Pulling the busted trap doesn't have any effect.
  
  A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.
  
  Your lungs are on fire and blue blood pounds in your veins, setting off waves of panic. You can control yourself no longer! Instinct takes over and sends you kicking and clawing your way to the surface. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. You sputter and gasp, inhaling deeply of the fresh salty air. After a few moments, the fire in your lungs subsides and calm is restored to your pounding veins.
  
  > look at the trap
  It's a rough box made of wooden slats and chicken wire. There's a gaping hole in one face, where something has punched through the wire and splintered the surrounding slats. Apparently, it's a busted up lobster trap. Needless to say, the trap is empty.
  
  The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
  
  > Keep going
  You try to tie the length of rope to the busted trap, but find it difficult to summon enough coordination while bobbing in the currents.
  
  Your lungs are on fire and blue blood pounds in your veins, setting off waves of panic. You can control yourself no longer! Instinct takes over and sends you kicking and clawing your way to the surface. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. You sputter and gasp, inhaling deeply of the fresh salty air. After a few moments, the fire in your lungs subsides and calm is restored to your pounding veins.
  
  > Go southwest
  You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.
  
  Damp Sand, South of Pier
  To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
  
  > Go west
  Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.
  
  Dry Sand, South of Pier
  The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
  Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
  A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.
  
  Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.
  
  Something brushes your shoulder. You pivot, instinctively, just in time to see a gull sweep past your head.
  
  > go northwest
  You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.
  
  The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
  A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
  You see a sieve, a loose brick, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a broken stave, a crowbar, a white rubber strap, and a shrimp here.
  The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.
  
  > drop the rope
  You toss the length of rope to the ground.
  
  > Inventory
  You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a scuba mask (being worn).
  The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
  
  > take the brick
  You rock the brick back and forth and manage to get your fingers under it. Oof! It's heavy! It takes both hands to carry it, and the muscles in your lower back protest as you straighten up. You'd better decide where you want to go now, because you won't be able to carry it for too long.
  
  > go to the east
  Brick in hands, you stagger up the concrete ramp. It's a good thing the ramp was there, as you doubt you could have carried the brick up all those stairs.
  
  You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
  There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
  stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
  You see a clam shell here.
  
  A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
  
  Your arms and shoulders feel a bit sore from carrying the weight of the brick.
  
  > go east
  You stagger out of the shady pavilion and onto the long pier. The weight of the brick makes the lengthy pier look even longer than usual.
  
  The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.
  
  A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
  
  You let the brick hang lower, and it relieves the soreness in your arms a bit, but your lower back strains as it's forced to pick up the slack.
  
  > go to the east
  You stagger into the shade of the small shelter, brick still in hands.
  
  The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.
  
  An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.
  
  Your hands are starting to cramp from clutching the brick, and your lower back is in agony, forcing you to bend over almost double.
  
  The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
  
  > jump
  Not while you're carrying that brick.
  
  Finally, you can carry the brick no more. It bangs to the ground with a loud, scraping thud that you feel in the soles of your feet, and narrowly misses your toes. Relieved of the brick's weight, you quickly straighten up. All your aching body parts cry out in relief. You flex your hands to loosen them up, then plant them at your sides and bend backwards until you feel your spine crack. Ahh!
  
  The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
  
  > take the brick
  You rock the brick back and forth and manage to get your fingers under it. Oof! It's heavy! It takes both hands to carry it, and the muscles in your lower back protest as you straighten up. You'd better decide where you want to go now, because you won't be able to carry it for too long.
  
  The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
  
  > Dive
  You try to dig a hole to China, but don't get very far.
  
  Your arms and shoulders feel a bit sore from carrying the weight of the brick.
  
  A small child bobbles into the area and tries to sneak up behind the old man, only to break out laughing. The old man jerks in surprise and throws the child a long, harsh glare.