text: [Themes: Steampunk, kaballah, science fiction, amnesia, transformation, Victorian, mysticism, horror, suicide, moral choice, disturbing themes]
  
  > describe your surroundings
  Despite being small and cluttered with bits and pieces of electronics, this one room flat gives the impression of being quite clean and hygienic; no dust or dirt lurk in its bright corners. The east wall holds a mirror, and is neatly lined with evenly spaced picture frames. A large table, clearly a workshop space, takes up the west wall
  beneath an arched window.
  
  A shadow stretches lazily from the window across the floor.
  
  The flat's single exit lies to the south.
  
  Triage rests obediently nearby.
  
  > examine the window
  The window sits high along the flat's eastern wall, flooded with sunshine and shadow.
  
  > look through the window
  The window is too high to manipulate.
  
  > look under the table
  Nothing of interest is to be found.
  
  > Go south
  This small, empty road lies at the base of a small hill. It is lined with thin buildings, many advertising "Flats to Let" in their windows. The one directly north contains a door labeled 2D.
  
  To the west is the massive stone edifice that is Newgate Gaol. A gallows prepared for tomorrow's public execution, towers over the street.
  
  A hansom cab sits here with a tired old horse hitched to the front and its driver waiting patiently.
  
  Triage obediently appears.
  
  > ask Reggie about the execution
  "I've never heard of that, ser."
  
  > Go west
  Set directly beside the towering stone walls of Newgate Gaol, the scaffolding's staircase rises northward, leading up to a tall, wide stage. Above, the noose sways gently in the breeze.
  
  The slow dip of the hill takes the road eastward and down to where the hansom cab waits.
  
  Triage silently rolls to a stop.
  
  > Go north
  You can't see any such thing.
  
  A short flight of stairs, but the walk up to the gallows is still a long one...
  
  A wide flat plane of solid wood, above which - at eye level - hangs
  the noose. Just below there is the thin outline of trapdoor, perhaps ten feet by eight. Directly beside the stairs, off to the left, an automaton waits, unmoving.
  
  Triage trundles patiently along beside.
  
  > point at noose
  The machine analyzes the noose before replying...
  
  CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
  STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
  PLICABLE.PART:NO
  NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
  ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
  RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
  E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
  ONAL.INFORMATION
  
  > examine the automaton
  of a man. Its heavy torso, only partially enclosed in black robes, grows right from the stage floor, the cogs and gears that serve as its organs exposed. Its massive arms grip an iron switch.
  
  A red button sits on the platform directly beside it.
  
  > Point at automaton
  The emerald eye examines the automaton returning with:
  
  CAT:UNKNOWN/UNLI
  STED.UTIL:NOT.AP
  PLICABLE.PART:NO
  NE.ITEM.IS.NOT.R
  ECOGNIZED.BY.CUR
  RENT.SYSTEM.STOR
  E.REQUIRE.ADDITI
  ONAL.INFORMATION
  
  > look at the button
  A small, red button, set into the stage floor.
  
  > wait
  Time passes.
  
  > pull switch
  You can't see any such thing.
  
  You can't see any such thing.
  
  > look at the noose
  The noose is made of new, stout rope. A closer inspection reveals a series of fine wires woven into the knot. These run up the length of the rope, over the beams, down along the back of the stage and vanish beneath the automaton.
  
  > wear the noose
  The noose slips easily enough over the head.
  
  The fit is loose at first, then with a noise from above the wires pull upward causing it to tighten. An unseen bell gongs from beneath, shaking the floorboards.
  
  With a rapid series of clicks, cogs grinding against cogs, the automaton turns its head towards the empty street. There is a hiss of static, then a recorded voice speaks:
  
  "All good people, pray heartily unto God for this poor sinner who is now going to his death, for whom the great bell tolls."
  
  More clicks, and the automaton turns to face the noose. The static sounds like steam leaking.
  
  "You that are condemned to die, repent with lamentable tears; ask
  mercy of the Lord for the salvation of your soul. You have one minute remaining of your life. You may use this time to beg forgiveness of
  God and the Good People of this Great Kingdom, or to make your peace with your maker in silence. Your minute begins now."
  
  A minute to reflect. A minute to regret. A minute to repent.
  
  Suddenly, the trap door snaps open. The landscape rises up in a rush,
  a quick jerk, and then, darkness.
  
  If there are words for this...
  
  point|metaphor)\
  
  ...they have not yet been written.
  
  /(:timeline/date/1919:wbyeates/secondcoming)\
  
  It starts simply enough. Nothing occurs for the first week. It takes that long to incubate.
  
  /(the darkness drops again; but now I know)\
  
  At the end of that time, James is quite sure he has followed in the footsteps of both Brand and Xavier, but bravely holds on. His bravery serves him poorly as within ten days time he has managed to infect all of the orderlies. Another week, and they have infected their families, their friends, and every patient in Bedlam.
  
  /(that twenty centuries of stony sleep)\
  
  Reggie doesn't notice a thing. It's business as usual - and business
  is good. A week after the incubation he has infected seemingly half of London -- his clients, his barmates, his family.
  
  /(were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,)\
  
  Alexandra manages to put two and two together fairly quickly. She and the other Cypherists band together, working day and night to rebuild their machinery, frantically searching for an answer.
  
  Alas, they barely begin to understand what Cleve had done before they are overwhelmed, and so it is to no avail.
  
  /(and what rough beast)\
  
  It spreads - subtle and strange...sudden lost memories, new forms of action and, universally, a reaching, grasping curiosity...
  
  /(its hour come round at last)\
  
  The lost begin to gather together - first in twos, then in growing crowds - to speak nonsense at one other.
  
  /(slouches towards)\
  
  The language of the angels - of Babel - fills the streets of London, and then every city in the world.
  
  /(bethlehem)\
  
  The death shroud of humanity becomes the birth caul of something ... new -
  
  /(?behtlehem?)\
  
  /(BEDLAM)\
  
  /(to be born?)\
  
  its Name.
  
  ***/(finishendcompleteconclude|periodmomentpointspacetime))\**
  *
  
  possibleprobablyonlyoneinofmany))\
  
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  >.
  
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  > Appendix B
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  > Appendix
  /(DIURNAL PERIODCYCLE +A0B67)\
  
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