text: [Themes: college, true story, drug abuse, multiple protagonists]
  
  > go downward
  You've spent more than enough time down in Cealdhame, and your face is rubbed raw. Are you sure you want to go back?
  
  > Yes
  Then you descend again into that frost-ringed realm...
  
  In eternal Winter's grasp rests icy Cealdhame, where was raised snow-heavy Byringsburh, throne of Care��, bearer of the Pallid Crown. Long has Care�� reigned in peace; long have his enemies waited to rise up in war against him.
  
  > Go southwest
  Stendrard was slain by high marshal Crongfer�� for want of Nipsende's breast-coffin; here his corpse-grave of death-cold alp-stone lay snow-locked these four thousand years.
  
  > Go southwest
  The fellswan Hisc builds her nest on Geord����l; not pleasant is that beach of Cealdhame! From Geord����l flies Hisc in search of children and
  weaklings; these she bears in her tooth-beak through cold air-breezes to Geord����l, and chews and swallows, and vomits up to feed her fellcygnets.
  
  > Go southwest
  In that direction lies the dark sea, and beyond that lie lands utterly unknown. Are you sure you want to keep going?
  
  > go to the east
  The fortress Cynebrand is Hebryn's home, fastness of stone, where wedding was made twixt she and Nagol the sea-sailor, murderer of Mundr��d. On Hebryn's arm rests Hlutorbeg, famed silver-ring, by stone-elves wrought. She who wears that bracelet fears no poison, nor snake-sting, nor spider-bite, nor cranhwal-tongue.
  
  > get the bracelet
  Gladly does Princess Hebryn bestow upon you the beloved bracelet Hlutorbeg, and wishes you well in your future endeavors.
  
  > Go upwards
  Do you wish to leave Cealdhame?
  
  > Yes
  Then away you fly!
  
  You are floating above the the icy realm of Cealdhame. Other lands lie north and east of here.
  
  > Wear bracelet
  You slip the heavy silver bracelet over your arm. Let's hope this works.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  Hlutorbeg (being worn)
  a tarnished key
  
  > examine Hlutorbeg
  Stone-elves forged this silver bracelet for Princess Hebryn, and with grim stone-runes inscribed it. It's said that whoever wears Hlutorbeg can resist any poison.
  
  > go east
  What do you think you're doing? Don't you know what will happen if you disobey my commands?
  
  My coils wind tight around you. I sink my fangs into your neck. My venom fills your veins. You will not live to regret this mistake,
  Hina. No one will learn from your insolence. Your pathetic story ends here.
  
  Why are you still alive?
  
  The bracelet Hlutorbeg?! It can't be! Where���How could you���
  
  Oh, forget it. I know when I'm beat. Just get out of here.
  
  A few feeble fluorescent lamps illuminate this stretch of the tunnel. Further east and west, the lights are out, and the hallway stretches into darkness.
  
  Lane's unconscious body is stretched out on the dingy tiled floor.
  
  "This is your fault," she says.
  
  > examine Lane
  Her eyes are closed, her hair is half-fallen in front of her face. The way her arms and legs are arranged doesn't look very comfortable.
  
  > talk to Lane
  You lean down to talk to Lane. Her eyes are still closed.
  
  1: "Are you okay?"
  2: "I'm so sorry."
  3: "I'll be right back."
  
  > 3
  "I'll be right back to help you. I just have to���"
  
  Lane's body digs her fingers into your leg. "You'll stay right here, Hina. I think I'm owed some explanations."
  
  You wince. "Fine, fine. What do you want me to say?"
  
  "For starters, why didn't you call an ambulance as soon as I fainted?"
  
  1: I thought I could handle everything myself.
  2: I thought Lane was just dehydrated.
  3: It was my responsibility.
  
  > 2
  "I thought you were just dehydrated. I couldn't have known that Nathalie spiked the water bottles."
  
  "Couldn't you? Did you not notice everyone acting goofy?"
  
  "I did! Just..." Sigh. "Not until it was too late. At the moment when you fainted, at least, I thought all your symptoms were consistent
  with dehydration."
  
  "Well, maybe what we're learning here is that being pre-med
  doesn't make you a diagnostic expert."
  
  You bristle, but you don't want to push Lane's body any further: "I guess not."
  
  "All right, next question: Why on earth did you trust Nathalie to be the hydration officer?"
  
  1: She deserved a second chance.
  2: I didn't think she would retaliate like this.
  3: I was desperate.
  
  > 2
  "There's no way I could have predicted she would dose everybody!"
  
  "But you knew she was angry at you. You knew she was an unstable nutjob."
  
  "No I didn't! I don't go through life assuming the worst of people."
  
  "Well, maybe you should!"
  
  You squint at Lane's unconscious body. "Hold on. Do you represent a part of my personality that's... terrible?"
  
  "I'm asking the questions here. Why did you tell Alec to erase
  Xavier's artwork?"
  
  1: "What does that have to do with anything?"
  2: "Because you fainted!"
  3: "Because of the boobs!"
  
  > 1
  "What does that have to do with anything? That didn't happen until after you fainted!"
  
  "It speaks to your fitness as a sidewalk chalk event organizer."
  
  "I don't have to justify myself to you. Xavier's drawing was totally inappropriate for an Honors-sponsored event, not to mention inappropriate for public sidewalks in general. It was my call to make, and I did exactly what a good sidewalk chalk event organizer would
  do."
  
  "Okay, well, you just did."
  
  "Just did what?"
  
  "You just justified yourself to me."
  
  Ugh. "Fine. Do you have any other questions?"
  
  Lane's face scowls. "No. You're free to go."
  
  You stand up and wipe the dust from the floor off your butt.
  
  > Go east
  Everything is sand. Sand dunes roll over the planet, shimmering in impossible heat. Yellow sand crusts over your sweaty skin. Sand is in your teeth. Sand is in your eyes. You want to scream.
  
  A gleaming pillar of brass juts out of the sand.
  
  > examine the pillar
  The pipe is polished brass. At the top of it is a spigot. On top of
  the spigot is an empty slot.
  
  > put the key in slot
  You raise the key over its slot.
  
  Something slams into your back, and you fall on your face in the sand.
  
  "No, no, not yet," a voice bellows. Nathalie. "We still have some psychic baggage to unpack. We can't move forward as human beings if
  you get all sobered up."
  
  You roll onto your side to spit up a mouthful of sand. Nathalie chuckles, and the world shakes.
  
  > talk to Nathalie
  You twist your body and try to face her. You open your mouth. Nathalie smiles patiently.
  
  "���do you want?" you eventually manage.
  
  "Hina. I want you to grow as a person. I want you to understand how unbearable you are, how miserable you make everybody because of your pathological need to be in control."
  
  "I'm not���" You can't finish the thought.
  
  "Oh, you will be," she says, "once you've finished broadening your perspective. Do you need another bottle of water?"
  
  You shake your head.
  
  > talk to Nathalie
  "Let me..." you gasp.
  
  "Let you what?"
  
  "I need to... The key."
  
  "Oh! I get what you mean." Nathalie nods. "Yeah, I can't let you do that. You're on the precipice of self-actualization! You just have to power through until you understand what a pathetic little jerk you've been."
  
  > hit Nathalie
  You can't even stand���and Nathalie is ninety feet tall. How are you going to hurt her from down in the sand?
  
  > throw the sand in the eyes
  You grab a handful of sand.
  
  Your arms are like jelly. You don't have the strength. A futile moan
  is all you can muster.
  
  Nathalie leans down to look at you. "What did you just say? Are you breaking through your preconceptions? Are you having a eureka moment?" She brings her face close to yours, searching for signs of a breakthrough. Now she's close enough. You throw the sand into her
  eyes.
  
  Nathalie shrieks and falls backward, clawing at her face.
  
  Eventually her screams become a series of expletives that do not bear detailed transcription.
  
  > put the key in the slot
  You wrap your fingers around the spigot and pull yourself up. Your
  arms are so weak. Your mouth is so dry.
  
  It takes both hands to get the key into its slot on top of the spigot.
  
  You turn the key.
  
  Water spurts out of the spigot���clear, pure water, flowing into the sand, splashing all over your hands and your arms and your clothes.
  
  > Drink water
  your mouth. It's not cold, but it's not as hot as everything else.
  
  It tastes amazing.
  
  When you can't drink any more, you fall back into the sand. The desert has shrunk. And there's a shed here that wasn't there before.
  
  No, you tell yourself, the shed was always here. The desert isn't even a desert: It's just a pit of sand, where Nathalie, a normal-sized person, is rubbing her eyes and crying a little. Finally, you're beginning to think clearly.
  
  > Yes
  I was hoping you'd say that! Appendix
  
  Thunder rumbles, far away.
  
  The place is kind of a mess. There's not enough space on the desk, so
  a bunch of documents are taped to the walls. The whiteboard easel is
  an inherently awkward object and manages to take up a lot of space.
  The rolling chair is shoved into a corner: There isn't really room to walk around in here while someone is sitting at the desk. Narrow passages lead northwest and southwest.
  
  Rain taps steadily on the window.
  
  > examine the easel
  It's a flimsy collapsible easel. (It doesn't belong in the building;
  it was a gift from a high school teacher who got frustrated with its flimsiness.) On the easel is a whiteboard.
  
  > examine the whiteboard
  There are a bunch of illegible notes and weird schematics on this whiteboard; almost everything has been crossed out (why not erased?)
  to indicate that it's been taken care of. But here are some recognizable names: 0. THE CAVE, I. THE DELUGE, II. THE BEAST, III.
  THE FORTRESS, IV. THE EYES���Hey, that's not right.
  
  > examine the documents
  Which do you mean, the desk, the sheaf of legal documents, or the
  wall?
  
  > examine legal
  There are a few different drafts of the same document here. On top is the final version:
  
  recollections of the individuals involved. By continuing, you concede that I, the editor, bear no responsibility for the felicitous representation of any objective fact associated with this narrative; furthermore, you swear or affirm that you will not issue to the editor or publicly report any corrections or recriminations concerning this narrative's accuracy���Geographical, historical, medical, meteorological, or otherwise.
  
  Oh right, this is that thing you agreed to earlier. What a helpful reminder for you!
  
  > look at the wall
  Numerous pieces of paper have been taped to the wall (with painter's tape, so as not to arouse the ire of the building's custodial staff). Some of it might bear a closer look.
  
  On the wall are a class photo, an angry letter, and an orchestra poster.
  
  > examine the class photo
  Here we have a picture of a bunch of very happy children, each one holding a papier-m��ch�� puppet in the shape of a different animal. The craftsmanship of these puppets is about what you'd expect from third-graders. The teacher's puppet is a little more polished, and has an arm that she can manipulate with a rod.
  
  Written on the back:
  
  9/19/2019
  
  soon be starring in a computer game! I told them they'd have to wait until they were a little older to play it. Then they started babbling about what kinds of horribly violent video games their parents let
  them play, and I had to tell them it was a game you have to read, with no graphics. That cooled them down somewhat (sorry).
  
  I found your recent proposal very intriguing. Unfortunately it's
  too late in the semester to organize anything like that. Remind me
  next year. But before then, FINISH "A ROPE OF CHALK."
  
  The "i" is dotted with a heart���sarcastically. Please don't get the wrong idea.
  
  > examine the angry letter
  Mr. Veeder,
  
  I have taken time to evaluate your story "Aesthetics of
  Impermanence: A Rope of Chalk" as you requested. After careful consideration, I've concluded that I cannot lend my expertise to your work in any capacity until drastic changes are made. The depiction of episcophacetin-induced hallucination in your story, as a "fun," fairytale-like dream world, is grossly irresponsible and misleading. The "medical accuracy" with which you are so concerned is secondary to your social responsibility in representing the effects of episcophacetin abuse: A responsibility that you have thus far ignored. Following is a list of story elements that must be revised before I
  can move forward as your consultant.
  
  There were a couple more sheets attached to this, but I don't know where they went.
  
  > Examine poster
  This is a poster for the Scottish Chamber Orchestra: All the musicians are holding their instruments and smiling on some huge staircase somewhere in Edinburgh. In front is the conductor, with the biggest smile of all.
  
  I guess it's hard to see why I would have this: The woman in the back with the bassoon is Jessica Marinakis. And actually, her smile might
  be the biggest.
  
  > examine Jessica
  This is a poster for the Scottish Chamber Orchestra: All the musicians are holding their instruments and smiling on some huge staircase somewhere in Edinburgh. In front is the conductor, with the second-biggest smile of all. The woman in the back with the bassoon is Jessica Marinakis.