text: > Go down
  If you want to jump out of the pavilion, just say so. Otherwise, there is no way down.
  
  A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
  
  > Leave
  You can't go that way.
  
  A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.
  
  > About yourself
  You pause for a moment to take stock of your physical condition. You're feeling quite fit and healthy after your week of relaxation and exercise.
  
  A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
  
  > Go north
  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. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.
  
  A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
  
  > Inventory
  You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a clam shell, a sack of peanuts, and a sieve.
  The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
  
  An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
  
  > go east
  The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.
  
  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.
  
  Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
  
  > look at the sand
  The beach stretches quite a ways north and south of you, before curving out of sight around the contours of Tybee Island.
  
  A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
  
  > go south
  The railing prevents you from walking off the pier.
  
  A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
  
  > Go east
  It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.
  
  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.
  
  The old man jerks and then begins reeling in line furiously. Apparently he's had a bite. The battle between man and nature begins! He lets out a bit of line, giving his catch some play, and then resumes reeling. The struggle continues until, at last, the line goes slack. The old man reels and reels, peering over the railing with anticipation until his catch is revealed to be... a shrimp. He glares with disgust at it for a moment before removing it from his line and tossing it over his shoulder, where it lands at your feet. He then expertly ties a new lure and recasts.
  
  > take the shrimp
  Taken.
  
  The old man draws a cigarette from his breast pocket, rolls it meditatively between thumb and forefingers, and then puts it away.
  
  > look at the fountain
  It's a waist high silver cabinet with a metal basin on top, just like all the other fountains you've ever seen.
  
  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.
  
  > eat shrimp
  You look with trepidation at the live, wriggling shrimp. Well, if it's good enough for sushi eaters... You pop the shrimp into your mouth and crunch down on it, shell, legs and all. You're struck with a brief sense of nausea that passes as quickly as it came. The shrimp's juices roll over your tongue and trickle down your throat, at the same both time sharply salty and subtly sweet. In the end, you decide it's not that bad. Not that bad at all.
  
  The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
  
  > Drink water
  The ocean water is too far away.
  
  The old man pulls back hard on his rod, pulling the line taut.
  
  The shrimp wriggles in your grasp.
  
  > turn on the fountain
  You turn the handle, but nothing happens. Perhaps the water main has been shut off for the night.
  
  The old man plays out a few lengths of line.
  
  > drop the shrimp
  You toss the shrimp to the ground.
  
  The old man pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a hearty swig.
  
  > eat the shrimp
  You're not holding the shrimp.
  
  The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
  
  > eat it
  Taken.
  
  The old man plays out a few lengths of line.
  
  The shrimp wriggles in your grasp.
  
  You look with trepidation at the live, wriggling shrimp. Well, if it's good enough for sushi eaters... You pop the shrimp into your mouth and crunch down on it, shell, legs and all. You're struck with a brief sense of nausea that passes as quickly as it came. The shrimp's juices roll over your tongue and trickle down your throat, at the same both time sharply salty and subtly sweet. In the end, you decide it's not that bad. Not that bad at all.
  
  The slight breeze carries the sound of the old man grumbling to himself.
  
  > ask man about the shrimp
  He grunts in disgust. "Danged shrimp keep catching up my line. They'll get tied up in anything given half the chance."
  
  The old man reels in a tiny fish, grunts in disgust, and tosses it back.
  
  > Go west
  The light of the setting sun stabs into your eyes as you exit the shade of the small shelter. You wait a moment for your eyes to adjust and then begin the long stroll down the pier.
  
  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.
  
  > Go west
  It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.
  
  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. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.
  
  Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
  
  > Go north
  This patch of the broad pavilion floor seems to be set aside for spectators, as there are numerous wooden benches here. They're neatly arranged in two orderly rows. What with all these benches, you half expect to see picnic tables, but there are none. The main part of the pavilion floor sprawls largely to the south. Beyond that, against the southern railing, you can see the brick faced enclosure and the tiny snack bar.
  
  An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
  
  > look at the benches
  The benches are made of weathered gray wood. Each one is about knee high and as long as you are tall. They're neatly arranged in two orderly rows.
  
  > look under the benches
  There's nothing under the benches.
  
  Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
  
  > Go west
  The railing prevents you from going that way.
  
  An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
  
  > go north
  The railing prevents you from going that way.
  
  A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
  
  > go east
  The railing prevents you from going that way.
  
  The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
  
  > look
  This patch of the broad pavilion floor seems to be set aside for spectators, as there are numerous wooden benches here. They're neatly arranged in two orderly rows. What with all these benches, you half expect to see picnic tables, but there are none. The main part of the pavilion floor sprawls largely to the south. Beyond that, against the southern railing, you can see the brick faced enclosure and the tiny snack bar.
  
  > Go south
  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. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.
  
  Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
  
  > go south
  A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
  Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
  
  An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
  
  > examine the railing
  It looks like many railings you've seen. A long wooden handrail lies at waist height. Below it at knee height lies a second rail. Both are supported by vertical braces placed every body length or so. The railing surrounds the pavilion on every side, broken only by exits to the east and west. You're currently standing near the southernmost section of rail.
  
  A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
  
  > Go north
  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. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.
  
  A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
  
  > Go west
  As you step across the brick path, you stumble lightly on the rough bricks.
  
  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.
  
  A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
  
  > go to the south-east
  You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.
  
  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.
  You see a mussel shell, lying in the sand.
  
  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.
  
  A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
  
  > take the mussel
  Taken.
  
  From somewhere among the flock you hear a raucous cry that sounds suspiciously like "Big Water!"
  
  > examine it
  It's a small shell about the size of your thumb. The outer surface is a mottled black, while the inner is lined with dark, silvery mother of pearl.
  
  A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
  
  > listen to it
  The mussel shell isn't substantial enough to make much noise.
  
  A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.