text: [Themes: Surreal, humor]
  
  > Look around
  You're standing at the start line, stripped to your underwear. You made that much of a compromise with the two Greeks. Achilles, limbering up next to you, was not so modest. You feel like your eyeballs are being dragged on strings, downwards and sideways . . . You look away, blushing furiously, and crouch down, set, the aching vision of school P.E. lessons mugging you in memory alley.
  
  When Zeno shouts the go, there's a moment of blurred confusion as you both launch off. Your mind can't manage any complicated tasks, like managing sensory apparatus, when it's pumping your arms and legs this hard. When the mess of sensations starts to coalesce, you realise that Achilles has streaked (in every sense of the word) off in front of you, and is already nearly at the finish line. Oh, well. At least you tried.
  
  Achilles loops around the flagpole and jogs back to you. Soon he's bouncing up and down at your side, jiggling in a disconcerting way. "Come on!" he says. "You're halfway there!"
  
  At this stage, you don't think your brain can possibly cope with issuing any instructions other than GIVE UP or KEEP RUNNING.
  
  > keep running
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/4 a millos to go! Keep it up!"
  
  > keep running
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/8 a millos to go! Keep it up!"
  
  > keep running
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/16 a millos to go! That's nearly there!"
  
  > keep running
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/32 a millos to go! You can do it!"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/64 a millos to go! You won't give up now, will you?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/128 a millos to go! Surely you can keep going?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/256 a millos to go! Keep it up!"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/512 a millos to go! Surely you can keep going?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/1024 a millos to go! Surely you can keep going?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/2048 a millos to go! You won't give up now, will you?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/4096 a millos to go! That's nearly there!"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/8192 a millos to go! Don't want to give up, do you?"
  
  You tumble into a heap on the ground, utterly exhausted. Achilles lets out a sympathetic groan and picks you up bodily, throwing you over his shoulder, before jogging leisurely back to Zeno at the start line.
  
  > Go east
  When you come to from your exhausted stupor, you see the two Greeks bending over you, concerned. Achilles (mercifully back in his toga) puts an amphora of wine to your lips, which you splutter away at, sitting up sharply.
  
  "A brave attempt, young adventurer!" says Zeno. "And, philosophically speaking, very interesting, yes, very interesting indeed . . ." He tails off again, and as you pick yourself up, Achilles looks at you regretfully.
  
  > go to the west
  spooky woods you see before you. All around you are brambles, bracken and blackened lightning struck trees.
  
  Turning east you can just about make out happier looking trees. All that you can see in this part of the woods is a mess of brambles.
  
  You can see a non-black raven here.
  
  > give the paint to the raven
  (first taking the tube of black paint)
  The ravenly laughs maniacly. "Black paint?" it cries, "Black paint? Who'd you take me for? What am, some sort of canvas?
  
  The non-black raven snatches the paint from your hands and hides it about its person. "Caw," it says, "I'll keep it anyhow."
  
  > Pump about Mary
  You pull the pump's handle, concentrating furiously. Mary seems awfully familiar. Better think about that. You muse for a while on what might happen if she saw something surprising -- like something coloured as it shouldn't be. That'd probably shock her into taking her goggles off in order to double-check, and who knows what'd happen if she did that.
  
  > leave
  You'll have to say which compass direction to go in.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  an Encyclopaedia of Qualia
  a sack (open)
  a qualiascope
  file of Platonic forms
  a useless scrap of paper
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a broken lantern
  a fifty pence piece
  a lighter
  a Chinese key
  
  > Go east
  The lab is filled with all manner of scientific equipment. Monitors, levers, dials and big red buttons cover the walls, while the room's desk -- pushed against the computer stacks on the back wall -- has a complicated-looking laptop-printer set-up perched somewhere in the middle, surrounded by arcane assemblies of metal and glass, which Mary is operating with feverish skill.
  
  You can see a manual here.
  
  > give Encyclopaedia
  (to Mary)
  Mary doesn't seem interested.
  
  > examine the manual
  The manual is a thick, leather-bound tome with THE RULES embossed in gold on the cover. The whole process adds up to a syntactical method for answering questions about badgers in Chinese. You can't imagine why.
  
  > Show encyclopaedia
  (to Mary)
  Mary seems to take no notice.
  
  > put the manual in the sack
  You put the manual into the sack.
  
  > Go west
  The Odditorium is filled with a crazy array of philosophical exhibits. The steward is giving the ship's hull a light dusting.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  an Encyclopaedia of Qualia
  a sack (open)
  a manual
  a qualiascope
  file of Platonic forms
  a useless scrap of paper
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a broken lantern
  a fifty pence piece
  a lighter
  a Chinese key
  
  > give the qualiascope to Nagel
  That's either not here, or carelessly undescribed by the fickle creators of this world.
  
  (first taking the qualiascope)
  Nagel doesn't seem interested.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a qualiascope
  an Encyclopaedia of Qualia
  a sack (open)
  a manual
  file of Platonic forms
  a useless scrap of paper
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a broken lantern
  a fifty pence piece
  a lighter
  a Chinese key
  
  > give the cube to the monk
  (first taking the Categorical Imperativator)
  Philosophers are not yet supermen.
  
  > go north
  You trek down the side of the first hill, sniffing the daffodils resentfully as you go, and then begin your climb up the next. That feeling of the path shifting helpfully beneath your feet continues, no matter how much you try and kick the hillside into submission. The sun smiles. You breathe a deep, almost contented sigh.
  
  And then throw yourself to the ground as an enormous screaming mare gallops madly down the side of the hill, dragging a shattered cart behind her. You pick yourself up as she thunders off into the distance, now properly content that this world continues to be completely insane, and climb on upwards.
  
  Passing a sign for "John Stuart's Livery and Corn-Processors", you reach the crest of the hill and realise just what made the horse gallop. The windmill here is aflame and billowing smoke, its sails spinning madly.You cover your face from the unbearable heat of the burning mill -- and then you hear the screams from inside.
  
  > Go north
  You cover your face from the unbearable heat of the burning mill -- and then you hear the screams from inside.
  
  > enter Mill
  Sheilding your face from the fire and smoke, and momentarily questioning your sanity as you do so, you push your way through the door into the windmill. Wooden beams are crashing down around you in arcs of flame as you search for the source of the screams. Then you see them, trapped behind some arcane grinding machinery -- a huge man dressed in robes and an archbishop's mitre, and a small woman in a French maid's uniform.
  
  You pick your way through the burning wreckage in an effort to reach them, and then you pull back in horror. Just as you realise that the man is the Archbishop of Cambray, instantly recognisable from his regular appearances in the pages of The Guardian, so too do you realise that the woman is -- your mother.
  
  Her screaming and his bellowing snap you back to the urgency of the situation. The mill is crashing round about you and you have just time to enact a daring rescue. But with mounting horror you realise that you can't possibly carry both of them at once -- indeed, you may only be able to rescue one of them. But who?
  
  > 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.
  
  > rescue the mother
  Grabbing her left leg, you drag your mother heroically from the burning mill. As soon as she is clear of the building it explodes in a melodramatic and highly implausible inferno, from which rolls, rather pitifully, the Archbishop's mitre. You watch it spin to a halt as your mother swoons on the grass.
  
  > get mitre
  You think perhaps you'd better leave it be.
  
  > talk to the mother
  Before you can say "Oedipus Complex", she smothers you with gratitude, wipes your face and departs, leaving you with a feeling of warmth and a used handkerchief.
  
  > examine handkerchief
  A handkerchief, slightly scented, slightly used.
  
  > go west
  You smell nothing unexpected.
  
  You'd rather not do any more hillwalking today --unless it's back south towards the village.
  
  > examine Mill
  You search through the ruined mill and find a bucket of pitch strangely untouched by the explosion.
  
  > take the pitch
  You already have that.
  
  > give the bucket to the raven
  The raven caws in despair. "Look, it's hopeless. I'll take the bucket of pitch as a gift but I know I'll never be able to use it to change colour. I guess I'll always be bright and cheery."
  
  Sobbing slightly, the raven pulls back the brambles before flying off.
  
  > examine the brambles
  The brambles are pulled back, allowing you to pass through them to the cave beyond."
  
  > go west
  You push your way through the brambles and gingerly descend into the dark cave beyond.
  
  The darkness envelops everything. It is the darkness of ignorance. Or possibly just an ordinary sort of darkness, but in any case, you won't be able to do anything until you bring some sort of light source here.
  
  > Light lighter
  This dangerous act would achieve little.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a handkerchief
  a qualiascope
  an Encyclopaedia of Qualia
  a sack (open)
  a manual
  file of Platonic forms
  a useless scrap of paper
  a Categorical Imperativator
  a broken lantern
  a fifty pence piece
  a lighter
  a Chinese key
  
  > take the lantern
  (putting the Encyclopaedia of Qualia 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.
  
  > go to the east
  spooky woods you see before you. All around you are brambles, bracken and blackened lightning struck trees.
  
  Turning east you can just about make out happier looking trees. All that you can see in this part of the woods is a mess of brambles.
  
  > take the lantern
  (putting the qualiascope into the sack to make room)
  Taken.
  
  > look at lantern
  The glass part of the lantern is broken, so that the feeblest of winds would soon extinguish the fire within.
  
  > look at lighter
  That's either not here, or carelessly undescribed by the fickle creators of this world.
  
  It a bit old and creaky, but it gives a serviceable spark.
  
  > fix the lantern
  What do you want to fix the broken lantern to?
  
  > go west
  You push your way through the brambles and gingerly descend into the dark cave beyond.
  
  The darkness envelops everything. It is the darkness of ignorance. Or possibly just an ordinary sort of darkness, but in any case, you won't be able to do anything until you bring some sort of light source here.
  
  > go to the east
  spooky woods you see before you. All around you are brambles, bracken and blackened lightning struck trees.
  
  Turning east you can just about make out happier looking trees. All that you can see in this part of the woods is a mess of brambles.
  
  > talk to the scarecrow
  He's hardly in any state for idle chit-chat.
  
  > Go west
  You're on the beach, where Zeno has set up a race track between the dunes and the sea. Achilles is also here -- sans Tortoise.
  
  The road lies back to the east.
  
  > examine the dunes
  These are the dunes between the beach and the road; they act as a buffer for the sea breeze. A few small birds flit between them skittishly.
  
  > look at the birds
  You walk towards the little birds, curious.
  
  As you approach the dune, the little bird you followed here -- a tiny white and grey little thing with a black collar, like a vicar in negative -- flits off out of sight. You soon realise its business here: this is where it has made its nest.
  
  The beach lies southwest of here.
  
  > examine the nest
  A rough and ready little home built out of seaside debris. In it cluster a handful of tiny speckled eggs.
  
  > get the eggs
  (putting the handkerchief into the sack to make room)
  Feeling truly barbaric, you scoop up the eggs in your hand and walk as fast as you can back to the beach to avoid looking the little bird in the eye.
  
  You're on the beach, where Zeno has set up a race track between the dunes and the sea. Achilles is also here -- sans Tortoise.
  
  The road lies back to the east, while the dune where you found the nest is northeast of here.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  some eggs
  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
  
  > examine Imperativator
  It's a lead cube. That would seem to be it, though it feels rather heavier than it should.
  
  > go west
  You're on the beach, where Zeno has set up a race track between the dunes and the sea. Achilles is also here -- sans Tortoise.
  
  The road lies back to the east, while the dune where you found the nest is northeast of here.
  
  > Go west
  You'd only get wet.
  
  > Go northeast
  As you approach the dune, the little bird you followed here -- a tiny white and grey little thing with a black collar, like a vicar in negative -- flits off out of sight. You soon realise its business here: this is where it has made its nest.
  
  The beach lies southwest of here.
  
  > look at nest
  A rough and ready little home built out of seaside debris.
  
  > eat
  What do you want to eat?
  
  > talk to the server
  You'd rather not disturb her when she's having so much trouble in the kitchen. Not unless you've got an extra-special present for her or something.
  
  > give the eggs to the server
  You head nervously into the kitchen, where you find the server struggling with a frying pan. Hearing you enter, she spins around, brandishing the pan. "You can bloody well forget about those sausages!" she screams at you.
  
  "That's OK," you say. "I've got a wonderful surprise for you!
  
  Putting down the pan, she lights a cigarette on the stove, puffs sulkily on it, and says, "Oh yeah? What?"
  
  You brandish your plovers" eggs at her with a "ta-da!" and suddenly all her winsomeness returns. "Darling!" she says, hugging you. "Just what I always wanted!" She rummages in a cupboard and brings out a bottle. She thrusts it at you and says, "Now sod off and leave me alone."
  
  > look at the bottle
  It appears to be a rather fine claret. Brushing some dust from it, you spot the vintage. Goodness, this is pre-phyllorexa claret! How extraordinary!
  
  > enter the tavern
  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 nonsensically picking apart Monkey Island. 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.
  
  > give the bottle
  Whom do you want to give the a bottle of pre-phyllorexa claret to?
  
  > Aristotle
  "Splendid! Aristotle cries. "You actually managed it! For a moment there I thought I might have to compromise and drink the shoe polish they serve here."
  
  He pulls out a book from the recesses of his raiments and hands it to you. "A token of my appreciation -- I do hope you enjoy it. Just keep it away from this lot or they'll scribble footnotes all over it," he says, waving at the drunken philosophers, before turning his attention to the bottle with a satisfied gleam in his eyes.
  
  > Examine book
  The manual is a thick, leather-bound tome with THE RULES embossed in gold on the cover. The whole process adds up to a syntactical method for answering questions about badgers in Chinese. You can't imagine why.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  Plato's Complete Works
  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
  
  > Examine works
  The Complete Works of Plato -- unabridged and unmolested.
  
  > give Works to the librarian
  "I thought you might have a use for a clean copy," you say, offering the book.
  
  You think for a moment a smile might have crossed the librarian's face. "Thanks," s/he says, if somewhat grudgingly. "Have a banana."
  
  To your surprise s/he does actually produce the fruit from underneath the desk and hands it to you, somewhat abashedly.
  
  > examine the banana
  Yellow and bent, like a politician.
  
  > talk to Achilles
  Achilles blushes when you address him directly, and drags his foot in the sand. "You should talk to Mister Zeno," he says.
  
  [1] Ah, Zeno? Hello?
  
  > 1
  "What? Oh! Oh, it's you. Fancy another race then, do you?"
  
  [1] Nah, thanks, I'd only get thrashed again.
  [2] I haven't a chance unless you give me a head start!
  [3] Yeah, I think I could give it another shot.
  
  > 2
  "Oh no, I'm afraid that would foul all the calculations. We'd only need one of those to compensate for some flaw or other in the race track -- and just look at it! Aren't those lanes perfect? Can you manage without?"
  
  [1] Hmm . . . nah, I'll pass this time.
  [2] Well, alright, I'll still give it another go.
  
  > give up
  You tumble into a heap on the ground, utterly exhausted. Achilles lets out a sympathetic groan and picks you up bodily, throwing you over his shoulder, before jogging leisurely back to Zeno at the start line.
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/64 a millos to go! Keep it up!"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/128 a millos to go! That's nearly there!"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/256 a millos to go! Don't want to give up, do you?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/512 a millos to go! Don't want to give up, do you?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/1024 a millos to go! You won't give up now, will you?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/2048 a millos to go! Surely you can keep going?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/4096 a millos to go! Surely you can keep going?"
  
  > Again
  You plummet onwards down the track, Achilles keeping pace beside you.
  
  "Only 1/8192 a millos to go! You can do it!"
  
  You tumble into a heap on the ground, utterly exhausted. Achilles lets
  
  > eat the banana
  out a sympathetic groan and picks you up bodily, throwing you over his shoulder, before jogging leisurely back to Zeno at the start line.
  
  When you come to from your exhausted stupor, you see the two Greeks bending over you, concerned. Achilles (mercifully back in his toga) puts an amphora of wine to your lips, which you splutter away at, sitting up sharply.
  
  "A brave attempt, young adventurer!" says Zeno. "And, philosophically speaking, very interesting, yes, very interesting indeed . . ." He tails off again, and as you pick yourself up, Achilles looks at you regretfully.
  
  > eat the banana
  (first taking the banana)
  You're not particularly hungry.
  
  > examine the bench
  Solidly wooden, and relatively unvandalised. Somebody wants to inform you that Friedrich hearts Lou, though.
  
  > examine the dye
  Which do you mean, the phial of red dye or the phial of white dye?
  
  > examine hair
  Ah hair. Hair hair hair. Long, beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen . . .
  
  > take the red dye
  The barber winks at you, "One per customer. If you change your mind put one back on the stand and take another.
  
  > put the banana in the red dye
  This sort of dye involves powder and ammonia and would be a big hassle to use on a banana. Surely there's a simpler way.
  
  > put the banana in the inkwell
  You dip one end into the inkwell, and then the other end. It's messy, but the result is a rather handsome blue banana.
  
  > go west
  You're still waiting for that book.
  
  > examine the banana
  Bent and blue, like a police officer.
  
  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 banana to Mary
  You flourish the blue banana in Mary's direction. She squints at it, seeming a little confused. "There's something very odd about that banana," she says. "I think it's blue. You'd better not eat it," she counsels, motherly.
  
  "No," you say. "It's a perfectly ordinary yellow banana. Why don't you take those goggles off and check?"
  
  "Well, if you're sure, dear, then I suppose I'd better," says Mary, fiddling with the strap. "I must have made a mistake in my calculations somewhere."
  
  Struggling with them a little, she pulls the goggles from her head. Blinking, her jaw drops wide open, and she looks about herself in wonderment. "Colours!" she whispers weakly, her knees buckling. "After all this time . . . I never knew . . ." She lets out a small, satisfied sound -- and faints on the spot.
  
  > talk to Mary
  Though as startled by you as ever, Mary greets you warmly. "Oh, hello again, dear! Did you think of something else?"
  
  [1] Sorry, no. Still stuck. I'll leave you to it
  
  > give the banana
  (to Mary)
  You flourish the blue banana in Mary's direction. She squints at it, seeming a little confused. "There's something very odd about that banana," she says. "I think it's blue. You'd better not eat it," she counsels, motherly.
  
  "No," you say. "It's a perfectly ordinary yellow banana. Why don't you take those goggles off and check?"
  
  "Well, if you're sure, dear, then I suppose I'd better," says Mary, fiddling with the strap. "I must have made a mistake in my calculations somewhere."
  
  Struggling with them a little, she pulls the goggles from her head. Blinking, her jaw drops wide open, and she looks about herself in wonderment. "Colours!" she whispers weakly, her knees buckling. "After all this time . . . I never knew . . ." She lets out a small, satisfied sound -- and faints on the spot.
  
  > look at Mary
  Mary is lying prone on the floor, unconscious, with with a peculiar smile playing about her lips.
  
  > look
  The lab is filled with all manner of scientific equipment. Monitors, levers, dials and big red buttons cover the walls, while the room's desk -- pushed against the computer stacks on the back wall -- has a complicated-looking laptop-printer set-up perched somewhere in the middle, surrounded by arcane assemblies of metal and glass.
  
  Poor Mary is lying collapsed on the floor, though she seems not unhappy about it..
  
  > wake mary
  That seems unnecessary.
  
  > get the laptop
  Looking askance at the prone Mary, you regretfully snatch her laptop.
  
  > examine the laptop
  It's a swanky computer with a built-in printer. Nice.
  
  > use the laptop
  You've no time to muck about with computers. You're passing this on to someone who needs it as quickly as possible, before electronic entertainment serves as a distraction from the task at hand. You hate it when people play games instead of doing important things.
  
  > give the laptop to Marx
  You place the laptop on Marx's desk with a triumphant thunk. The old man looks up at you. "Liebling!" he cries, breathless. "Not just a typewriter, but a word processor capable of printing multiple copies! This will not be forgotten after the revolution! In the meantime, please take this precious copy Manifesto," he says, pressing the typed manuscript into your hands, "and may it guide you to your unchaining!" With these words he turns back to his work and begins typing furiously.
  
  > examine Manifesto
  You flip to the back page. "You have nothing to lose but your chains"? Fiery stuff; enough to rouse anyone from their dogmatic slumber.
  
  > go to the east
  This is simply a square, book-lined room equipped with a borrowing counter, behind which stands a bored-looking librarian, and a few old desks. At one of these Karl Marx sits, typing furiously.
  
  > examine monk
  From his bald head down to his plain sandals via his saffron robe, the Buddhist monk is a walking Zen clich?.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a Communist Manifesto
  a broken lantern
  a sack (open)
  a handkerchief
  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
  
  > give qualiascope to monk
  (first taking the qualiascope)
  (putting the broken lantern into the sack to make room)
  The Buddhist monk doesn't seem interested.
  
  > Light paper
  This dangerous act would achieve little.
  
  > examine the hedgerows
  You can't tell from here, but it looks like the road turns into a small path that in turn vanishes into some peculariarly cut hedges. Curiouser and curiouser.
  
  > Go south
  Striking out south towards the castle, you soon realise what it is that lurks so strangely at the base of the crag. As the rock looms over you like ten tonne weight over a hapless clown, the road becomes a pebbly path leading into what is clearly an enormous maze.
  
  You're standing at the entrance to a vast maze built of hedges that tower six feet above you. The path seems extravagantly narrow, as if the designer wanted to prepare the unwary adventurer from the outside. Above the entrance is a painted wooden sign. It looks important.
  
  > go south
  You step tentatively into the maze, looking askance at the lump of lead. Approaching a moral dilemma, it starts whirring wildly, and glowing cracks in the cube appear. It begins to unfold into an astonishingly complex device -- an array of dishes and balances, with an arrow mounted on top. With little else to do you follow the arrow past the dilemma. And then past the next -- and the next. Moral dilemmas seem not to be dilemmas at all before its power, and soon you emerge from the maze, breathless, at the foot of the crag that looms over this land.
  
  A winding path leads up the side of the crag, and you follow it, huffing and puffing, until you reach the top. Here, looming dangerously atop the already looming crag, sits a gigantic loom. No, a gigantic castle -- you were confused for a minute there. Behind you, this crazy world stretches out below. You take a deep breath. You feel, somehow, that you are near your goal -- whatever that may be..
  
  You are in a paved courtyard before the castle. Here, true to form, an ivory tower towers above you, the result of a billion poaching expeditions or more. Similarly true, a guard guards the broad stairs leading up to the tower.
  
  Below you is the vertiginous path down the side of the crag -- and below that stretches the world. The strangest thing of all, however, is the faint and ominous organ music on the periphery of your hearing.
  
  > Up
  You step up to the steps, whistling. The guard, clanking in her armour, steps resolutely in front of you.
  
  "No!" she says, pre-empting the merry greeting you had planned. "I shan't let you past. For I know that I am a guard and that guards guard, and thus I will guard this tower from you.
  
  > talk to the guard
  You step up to the steps, whistling. The guard, clanking in her armour, steps resolutely in front of you.
  
  "Go away," says the guard. "If I'm assured anything, it's that I'm assured of things and one thing I'm assured of is that I don't want you to pass. This I'm sure of."
  
  > give the handkerchief to guard
  (first taking the handkerchief)
  (putting the Communist Manifesto into the sack to make room)
  The guard doesn't seem interested.
  
  > examine the guard
  The guard is decked out from head to foot in an oversized suit of armour, and is carrying an nasty-looking sword. The only part of the guard you can see are a pair of sparkling blue eyes glowing with righteous clarity.