text: > go downwards
  You test the top bench yet again. It's still not as sturdy as you'd like it to be, but it'll have to do. You set to climbing down the stack of benches.
  
  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 treasure map, a broken stave, and a clam shell here.
  
  > take the stave
  Taken.
  
  A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
  
  > throw the stave onto the enclosure
  You toss the broken stave. It bounces off the enclosure and falls to the ground.
  
  An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
  
  > take the stave
  Taken.
  
  Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
  
  > put the stave on the benches
  You choose a bench at random and set the broken stave on it. (If you meant to set the broken stave on top of the stack, you can't do it without actually climbing it.)
  
  A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
  
  > climb the benches
  You'd better do something with the broken stave you're carrying first. You'll need both hands free to climb.
  
  A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
  
  > throw the stave
  You toss the broken stave to the ground.
  
  > Go west
  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 crowbar, a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a white rubber strap, and a shrimp here.
  
  > tie the strap to the stave
  You tie the white rubber strap to the broken stave.
  
  > tie the strap to yourself
  You tie the other end of the white rubber strap to your wrist, joining the broken stave to your wrist.
  
  > go east
  You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the 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.
  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 treasure map and a clam shell here.
  
  > climb the benches
  You nudge one of the benches in the tower to test for stability. The tower shivers, but remains firm. It seems to be shored up by the wall of the enclosure. Carefully, slowly, you climb to the top.
  
  You're standing on the enclosure that houses the restrooms. The cement floor spreads all around you to the north, and the snack bar lies just below you to the east. If it weren't for the pavilion's canopy, you might have a nice view of the sunset. Unfortunately, all you can see is the canopy's shadowy underside.
  
  > open hatch
  You scramble up into the rafters, grab hold of a nearby beam, and lean out over empty space. You can just about reach the maintenance hatch. Unfortunately it's quite heavy, and at this angle you have no leverage with which to open it. Disappointed, you jump back down to the enclosure roof. If only you had a long pole to push it back with.
  
  > open the hatch with the stave
  You extend the wooden stave and give the maintenance hatch a good, stiff jab. It rises up, swings on its hinges, and slams down on the roof. A shower of sand and a broad angular shaft of orange light fall into your eyes.
  
  > Go upward
  You scramble up into the rafters, grab hold of a nearby beam, and lean out over empty space. You can just reach the opening in the pavilion. Your grip is tenuous, but you manage to pull yourself up and heave yourself through the trap door.
  
  As you climb to your feet, a loose shingle rocks beneath your knee and nearly sends you falling back through the hatch.
  
  The view from the shingled canopy is quite lovely. A deeply orange sun is setting beyond your hotel, while the beach stretches like a golden ribbon to north and south. To the east, the long pier stretches out towards the sprawling blue sea. Perhaps it's your imagination, but the sunset seems curiously enhanced from up here - more so than can be accounted for by the height of the canopy.
  The maintenance hatch through which you climbed lies open against
  the canopy.
  
  > examine the sunset
  As you gaze into the distant sky, you feel an incredible sensation, as if your body were a balloon in the process of being inflated. You rise, the canopy dropping away behind you. Your mind and vision expand as you ascend high into the atmosphere, above even the towering hotels. The world contracts beneath you. It's as if you've become some huge bubble, and your entire surface acts like a lens, magnifying, intensifying. Everything seems almost surreally beautiful. The sun wavers a hair's breadth above the horizon like a fat, ripe, blood orange. Its rays speed diagonally towards you through streamers of cloud turned to pink cotton candy. The sweeping rays hazily rake the fertile wetlands that lie beyond the shore.
  Broad swathes of grassy emerald are bordered by wheat colored marshes. Green and gold are divided by snake-like ribbons of shadow and light, where twisting streams alternately capture and reflect the light. The rays fade lazily to the east, smudging the sky with shades of peach and rose and lilac and cool, steely blue. A pale moon hangs like a plump sand dollar in the milky blue eastern sky. And beyond, the stars...
  
  Suddenly, the vision recedes as quickly as it came upon you, sending you plummeting like a falling star to the earth's welcoming grace.
  You find yourself in yourself again, standing on the wood shingled canopy in the cool air of the early evening light.
  
  You stand and consider the experience for a while. You'd nearly forgotten how to appreciate the beauty of everyday life. It's enough to get you to thinking about your job again, and how it consumes so much time that you can't even enjoy common miracles such as this.
  
  You're wavering. "Maybe I'm being hasty," is what you're now thinking. Sure, a couple of fancy displays now and then make life more interesting, but is that enough reason to quit your job? And what about your employers? What'll they do without you? You're still going to need a few more convincing arguments.