text: [Themes: Surreal]
  
  > describe your surroundings
  A hospital hall running east-west. A green stripe just below the ceiling decorates the otherwise-bland walls. The hum of fluorescent lighting is barely audible.
  Slumped in a wheelchair, asleep, is an old woman.
  
  > Go west
  The hall enters from the east and bends to the southwest. A small
  door leads north and an open doorway graces the south wall.
  
  A woman passes by, dressed in blue scrubs. Where her face should be there is nothing. She is soon out of sight, hidden by a turn in the hall.
  
  > Wear coat
  As you wear the coat you feel the insulation inside crackling. The coat is very warm.
  
  Bubbles's tail hits the ground softly.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You have a white cane, a pair of gloves, a pair of sunglasses (being worn), a hall pass, and a thin coat (being worn).
  
  > go north
  The corridors of the hospital join in a T-junction. The arms of the
  T lie east and west, while the base runs south. A pair of swinging doors crowns the top of the T, to the north. Over the east corridor is a sign.
  
  Bubbles comes trotting after you.
  
  A faceless man in blue scrubs appears from further down the hall. He starts to walk past, then pulls up short next to Bubbles. He turns his head towards you, then ushers Bubbles to the south.
  
  A woman passes by, dressed in a white coat. Where her face should be there is nothing. She is soon out of sight, hidden by a turn in the hall.
  
  > follow the dog
  But Bubbles is right here!
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You have a white cane, a pair of gloves, a pair of sunglasses (being worn), a hall pass, and a thin coat (being worn).
  
  > examine the cane
  The cane is white with a red tip. Its grip is worn with use.
  
  > show the linda hall pass
  Linda grimaces. "Okay, so you can come and go as you please. Big deal." But she looks distinctly unhappy. You hear what sounds remarkably like snickering coming from Bubbles.
  
  > show the cane to Linda
  "You think I've got nothing better to do than look at that?" she asks you.
  
  > go to the north
  The corridors of the hospital join in a T-junction. The arms of the
  T lie east and west, while the base runs south. A pair of swinging doors crowns the top of the T, to the north. Over the east corridor is a sign.
  
  > take the sack
  Taken.
  
  Bubbles's tail hits the ground softly.
  
  > put it in the sack
  Okay, you're no longer wearing the thin coat.
  
  A woman passes by, dressed in a white coat. Where her face should be there is nothing. She is soon out of sight, hidden by a turn in the hall.
  
  Done.
  
  > take the chair
  How rude!
  
  > give the pass to the woman
  With a start, the old woman wakes up. "Yes? Yes?" she asks querulously.
  
  > Keep going
  She waves you off. "No, no, I don't need that," she says.
  
  > look at the stripe
  A stripe of green running just below the ceiling.
  
  > look at the sign
  The sign hangs from the ceiling to the west. It reads, "Leave Green/Enter Purple" in the appropriate colors.
  
  > take the sign
  It's too far away.
  
  > go east
  The hall jogs west to north, interrupted by several stairs to the north. A sign hangs from the ceiling to the west, delineating where the stripe of color changes from purple to green. A set of doors leads east.
  
  A group of doctors and interns appears in the hall, headed towards you. They, too, are faceless. Their heads nearly touch; they are obviously in conference, though you can hear nothing. They pass you and are gone.
  
  > Go east
  As you walk east, the hall lengthens. With each step everything blurs, vanishing into a grey mist. Your sense of balance is lost; you stumble back the way you came.
  
  Down the hall, a shapeless, faceless patient in a white gown shuffles towards you. You cannot guess the sex of wraith-like person, even when he (she?) is merely feet away. You watch the patient until you can no longer see the white gown.
  
  > go south
  The unoccupied room is an oddity in this hospital. Like other
  hospital rooms, it sports a bed and an excess of medical equipment.
  
  > Go north
  The doors will not budge for you. As you push harder, a squirt of grey smoke escapes from behind them.
  
  > go to the south
  You can't go that way.
  
  The old woman in the wheelchair rolls up to you. "You know, seeing you reminds me of when John and I went to Paris. Have you ever been to Paris?" she asks.
  
  A group of doctors and interns appears in the hall, headed towards you. They, too, are faceless. Their heads nearly touch; they are obviously in conference, though you can hear nothing. They pass you and are gone.
  
  > look at the doors
  The doors are spring-loaded so as to close automatically. In one of them is a keyhole in which a key is thrust.
  
  > unlock the doors with the key
  Unlocked.
  
  > go east
  You push past the doors, which shut behind you.
  
  world. Chairs are strewn about at random; on several there are magazines. A counter guards the hall leading north. Above it is a speaker. To the west are a set of wide double doors labeled "Deliveries." South is the hospital exit.
  Linda is here, sitting behind the counter.
  Bubbles is lying on the ground, staring at you with soulful eyes.
  
  > Go west
  You push past the doors, which shut behind you on Linda's startled exclamation.
  
  The hall jogs west to north, interrupted by several stairs to the north. A sign hangs from the ceiling to the west, delineating where the stripe of color changes from purple to green. A set of doors leads east.
  
  > Go east
  The corridors of the hospital join in a T-junction. The arms of the
  T lie east and west, while the base runs south. A pair of swinging doors crowns the top of the T, to the north. Over the east corridor is a sign.
  
  Down the hall, a shapeless, faceless patient in a white gown shuffles towards you. You cannot guess the sex of wraith-like person, even when he (she?) is merely feet away. You watch the patient until you can no longer see the white gown.
  
  > examine man
  The shape underneath the covers is barely recognizable as a man. Tubes snake around and through his body; what skin he still owns he wears poorly. The rise and fall of his chest are uneven.
  
  > ask the woman about the man
  The woman says, "Oh, dear, I really can't help you with that."
  
  The old woman begins humming to herself. She rolls to the north.
  
  > Go north
  An east-west hall with an orange strip coloring the wall just below
  the ceiling. There is an open door in the south wall.
  Seated in a wheelchair is an old woman.
  
  > look at the woman
  The woman is ancient, her waxy skin draped loosely about her.
  
  A doctor, notable for his unmissing face, walks by the door. He is back in seconds, striding into the room. Leaning over the old woman, he shakes her. "I'm Doctor John; can you hear me? Ma'am?" Her lack of response prompts him to lean out into the hall and shout: "Woman down, unresponsive; crash cart to Orange 7." He returns to the woman, placing two fingers to her throat and a palm to her forehead. He tilts her head back, extending her neck, and huffs twice into her mouth. He then motions. "You." He nods at the woman's chest. "Begin compressions."
  
  > begin compressions
  You link fingers, one hand on top of the other, and watch as your hands drift to a dimly-remembered position. Then you are pumping as hard as you can, the woman's sternum creaking beneath your weight.
  
  > Again
  You are already performing CPR on the woman.
  
  You have slipped into a once-familiar rhythm: five compressions, then the doctor breathes, then five compressions.
  
  > look at the woman
  The woman is ancient, her waxy skin draped loosely about her.
  
  A gang of white-garbed doctors, all of whom lack faces, pour into the room. Several of them slide away from the door, revealing the gurney and crash cart they have brought with them.
  
  Dr. John nods at them and their cargo. He waves you away from the old woman and motions the others closer. "On my mark: one, two, three," and they have lifted the woman up and onto the gurney.
  
  > examine john
  His face is scrunched in concentration, his thin glasses dangling from his ears.
  
  Dr. John nods at the ECG readout. "She's in VFib." He snatches up the defibrillator paddles and says to you, "Charge to 200."
  
  > look at the defibrillator
  You always found it ironic that shocking someone violently, normally a prescription for stopping the heart, is the only way known to restart the heart. Its dial, marked from 200 J to 400 J, currently points at 320.
  
  > set the dial to 200
  The dial clicks as you turn it to 200.
  
  "Clear!" A push of buttons; the woman's body arcs and recollapses.
  Dr. John rubs the paddles together, smearing paste, while he glances at the ECG. "Give me 260."
  
  > set the dial to 200
  The dial is already set to 200.
  
  > set the dial to 260
  The dial clicks as you turn it to 260.
  
  Again Dr. John says, "Clear!" Again the woman's body leaps into the air. Dr. John takes another look at the ECG, saying, "Give me 360."
  
  > set the dial to 360
  The dial clicks as you turn it to 360.
  
  The woman's body jumps once more as Dr. John discharges his paddles. When he looks at the ECG this time, his brow furrows. "PEA," he mutters. "Intubate; give me a 1 mg epinephrine push." He resumes breathing for the woman while one of his faceless helpers performs chest compressions.
  
  > give the epinephrine to Doctor
  Which doctor do you mean, Doctor John, or the faceless doctors?
  
  > examine the cart
  The crash cart appears only when someone is in great distress. It contains plenty of medication, an ECG machine, a syringe, and a defibrillator.
  
  Dr. John notices you during a pause between breaths. "Thanks," he says. "We have it under control." Breath. "You can go." Then his attention is focussed on the woman. "Pulse back, breathing again. 60 mg lidocaine." Two of the faceless doctors usher you, not unkindly, through the door. As you leave, the door closes behind you, snicking shut.
  
  Two doors, a closed one on the north wall and one on the south,
  flank this east-west hall. A sign hangs from the ceiling to the west.
  
  > take the wheelchair
  You try to lift it, but find it improbably heavy.
  
  Dr. John notices you during a pause between breaths. "Thanks," he says. "We have it under control." Breath. "You can go." Then his attention is focussed on the woman. "Pulse back, breathing again. 60 mg lidocaine." Two of the faceless doctors usher you, not unkindly, through the door. As you leave, the door closes behind you, snicking shut.
  
  Two doors, a closed one on the north wall and one on the south,
  flank this east-west hall. A sign hangs from the ceiling to the west.