text: > Look around
  A beautiful Yorkshire garden, full of mouth-watering fruits such as parsnips, marrows and broccoli. This is more a vegetable garden than anything else, but the border beds have been liberally scattered with a variety of hardy perennials. To the east you can see a small unthreatening farmer's cottage.
  
  Towering black cumulonimbus clouds pour forth vast quantities of tiny, hard hailstones onto Skebdale.
  
  A garden fork has been rammed disrespectfully into a steaming compost heap in one corner of the garden.
  
  The storm continues to batter unrelenting upon Skebdale.
  
  The farmer shouts "Get out of my garden or tha'll get what thee deserve!"
  
  > get the fork
  Taken.
  
  The storm continues to batter unrelenting upon Skebdale.
  
  "I'll count to four!" he shouts.
  
  > take fork
  You already have that.
  
  The storm continues to batter unrelenting upon Skebdale.
  
  "One..."
  
  > Go east
  You can't get inside the house.
  
  The storm continues to batter unrelenting upon Skebdale.
  
  "Two..."
  
  > go north
  A winding country road threads its way between old stone cottages and barns. Daffodils and snowdrops spring from the grass verges, adding a dash of colour to the grey walls and roofs. To your north, the sign of 'The Green Calf' rocks violently in the gale, beckoning locals and tourists alike to pop in for a drink. There is a small garden to the south of the road which is attached, unsurprisingly, to a small house.
  
  Towering black cumulonimbus clouds pour forth vast quantities of tiny, hard hailstones onto Skebdale.
  
  An open wooden gate leads into a farmyard to the north-east.
  
  The chickens are scattered across the road, sounding out every last nook and cranny for nourishment. You had better get them back into the farmyard before they're run over by a bus full of ramblers.
  
  Your car, a battered blue Volvo estate, is slewed across the grass verge, two wheels in the ditch.
  
  The storm continues to batter unrelenting upon Skebdale.
  
  > look in the car
  The inside of your own car is familiar to you already.
  
  The storm continues to batter unrelenting upon Skebdale.
  A bus sweeps down the dale like a steel monster, carrying a consignment of little old ladies towards the Vale of York. The chickens are helpless before the harbinger of death. All that remains are a few brown feathers, slowly drifting to earth...
  
  Suddenly the flying squad is upon you. Unmarked cars screech to a halt at your feet, amphibious vehicles roll up, dripping slime, from the mere, sending ducks flapping into the air, and Apache helicopters swoop down from the Pike, missiles trained on your slightest movement. You are arrested, tried, found guilty of leaving a gate wrongfully open and locked up in Broadmoor for an indefinite period of time decided by some fascist Tory minister in the Home Office. In short, you are well out of it.
  
  This is the job that all men in white coats dream of...a potential epidemic. The details were sparse but menacing - mysterious, unexplained deaths in the isolated Dales village of Skebdale. The authorities had no choice but to send you, their most experienced environmental health agent, to check things out. Unfortunately it looks more like a job for Bond than for Herriot...
  
  Type 'help' for...er...help.
  Type 'quotes on/off' to toggle box quotations, in case they obscure text.
  
  Standard interpreter 1.0
  
  A winding country road threads its way between old stone cottages and barns. Daffodils and snowdrops spring from the grass verges, adding a dash of colour to the grey walls and roofs. To your north, the sign of 'The Green Calf' swings in the sunshine, beckoning locals and tourists alike to pop in for a drink. There is a small garden to the south of the road which is attached, unsurprisingly, to a small house.
  
  A short gravel track leads up to a wooden gate to your north-east.
  
  Your car, a battered blue Volvo estate, is slewed across the grass verge, two wheels in the ditch.
  
  > look in car
  The inside of your own car is familiar to you already.
  
  > open the boot
  It seems to be locked.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a faxed note
  a remote control (which is closed)
  
  > examine remote
  A beautifully styled black handset with an invitingly red button in the middle. A small panel on the back allows you to change the battery.
  
  > open panel
  You open the remote control, revealing a burnt-out battery.
  
  > take the battery
  Taken.
  
  > look at the battery
  A small, round, lithium watch-battery, charred almost out of recognition and presumably run-down.
  
  > go north
  This single-roomed inn is dominated by a long bar, topped with perfectly polished wood. The shelves behind the bar are stacked to breaking point with sparkling glasses and inviting bottles. A single beer pump protrudes forlornly from the bar at one end, but it is, unfortunately, un-manned, so you will have to cope without a drink. A well-oiled wooden door leads south-east into the street.
  
  Old Tom, Old Dick, and Old Harry sit around the beer pump, whispering conspiratorially.
  
  > Examine tom
  A hunched old man in a tweed jacket and flat cap, smoking his pipe and supping his pint.
  
  > examine Harry
  A hunched old man in a tweed jacket and almost flat cap, smoking his pint and supping his pipe.
  
  > ask Harry about the beer
  "It's Sikstons' lad. 'Cheap, Cheerful, and Best Served Chilled.' If tha' want a pint, go and tek one, as the barman's not around."
  
  > ask Harry about the cows
  "You'll have to ask Tom about that, lad."
  
  > ask Tom about the cows
  There is a sudden flash of lightning and a distant rumble of thunder, warning of impending gloom.
  "Aye lad, I can tell thee something about cows."
  
  > ask Tom about the cows
  "They can be big or small, depending which ones tha' look at," Tom explains excitedly.
  
  > ask Tom about the cows
  "And they're black an' white," says Dick, adding, by way of explanation, "and sometimes brown."
  
  > ask Tom about cows
  "Aye lad, I can tell thee something about cows."
  
  > ask Dick about the cows
  "You'll have to ask Tom about that, lad."
  "They can be big or small, depending which ones tha' look at," Tom explains excitedly.
  
  > ask Dick about Sheep
  "I've no idea what tha' mean, lad."
  "And they're black an' white," says Dick, adding, by way of explanation, "and sometimes brown."
  
  > ask Tom about the devil
  "Now then, you'd have to be asking Old Harry about that, wouldn't you?" chuckles Tom.
  
  > ask Harry about devil
  "There's more to things to say about him than there are men in this pub," advises Old Harry sagely.
  
  > ask Harry about the devil
  "But remember lad, as this is the only advice I'll give thee." He summons himself for the revelation."Although it may sound clich?d," he whispers, "Old Nick can never change the colour of his eyes, even if he's staring thee in the face."
  
  > ask Tom about the bse
  "You'll have to ask Dick about that, lad."
  "Only a fool would mess with him," he continues, "and don't I just know it."
  
  > ask Dick about the bse
  "Oh aye, I know what tha' mean, lad."
  "But remember lad, as this is the only advice I'll give thee." He summons himself for the revelation."Although it may sound clich?d," he whispers, "Old Nick can never change the colour of his eyes, even if he's staring thee in the face."
  
  > ask Dick about the bse
  "You mean destruction of nerve cells by rogue prion proteins leading to gradual deterioration of the brain and nervous system," says Dick quickly.
  
  > ask Dick about the bse
  "Was that what tha' wanted to know, lad? Them scientists call it Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, but we call it Old 'arry's Game. I tell thee lad, its the devil behind them there mad cows an' I don't mean Jacques Santer."
  
  > ask Dick about the bse
  The wind picks up and the sky darkens as black rain-clouds appear on the western horizon.
  "Oh aye, I know what tha' mean, lad."
  
  > wait awhile
  Time passes.
  "You mean destruction of nerve cells by rogue prion proteins leading to gradual deterioration of the brain and nervous system," says Dick quickly.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  "Was that what tha' wanted to know, lad? Them scientists call it Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, but we call it Old 'arry's Game. I tell thee lad, its the devil behind them there mad cows an' I don't mean Jacques Santer."
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  > leave
  You'll have to say which compass direction to go in.
  
  > Go southeast
  A short gravel track leads up to a wooden gate to your north-east.
  
  Your car, a battered blue Volvo estate, is slewed across the grass verge, two wheels in the ditch.
  
  > open gate
  You open the wooden gate.
  
  > climb the gate
  You hop over the closed gate...
  
  This wide rectangle of concrete is littered with the chaotic fallout of everyday dairy farming. And its brown! The stark windows of the farmhouse stare accusingly down into the yard from the north, and, to the east, the roof of the main barn is outlined against the rising sun.
  
  The farm gate to the south-west is safely shut.
  
  A crumpled leaflet, presumably discarded by a passing tourist, blows back and forth in the gentle summer breeze.
  
  A group of clucking chickens peck their way around the farmyard, desperately searching for grain.
  
  > examine the chickens
  A group of ordinary farmyard chickens, including the obligatory cockerel with show-off red comb.
  
  Black cumulonimbus clouds tower over Skebdale to the north-west.
  
  > examine the clouds
  They're big, black, and horrible.
  
  > Go east
  Most of the space in the east end of the farms high stone barn is taken up by a huge haystack of rectangular bales, each of which is held together with tough, plastic twine. Around the double doors rusty farm equipment, almost inevitably infected with a potent range of bacteria, microbes, protozoa and agriculture ministers, lies derelict and unused.
  
  A red and white tractor is parked next to the haystack.
  
  > look at the tractor
  The tractor was presumably new once (most things were), but its paint has started to peel off, with bubbles of rust forming all over the bodywork. The makers mark on the side reads simply 'Case International'.
  
  > climb the tractor
  You climb up the tractor onto its roof.
  
  A shadow falls over Skebdale as the clouds sweep in...