text: > Go downwards
  The visible exits are east and west.
  
  > go west
  The bridge rail stops here and the brush takes over. It's pretty thick, but I know there's a path north that goes down to the river. I could find my way there shitfaced... who am I kidding, I always found my way there 'faced.
  
  Further west is Cost Cutters.
  
  Across the road the guy from the city is in his little go-cart clearing the snow off the sidewalk. He gives me a chin nod and I do the same. Don't know him but it's the Mustache Brotherhood.
  
  They motor on those things. Next time I look up he's gone.
  
  > examine the brush
  A brambly overgrown mess.
  
  > go to the north
  Shit's so overgrown that for a second I'm like, maybe I have to be wasted to find the Pit, maybe it's got some kind of magical... But then I find it.
  
  Everything's got a wet blanket of snow on it but I can make out the log we usually sat on, the little hole where we'd burn shit, and feel the crinkle of an empty under my Kodiak.
  
  It's been a couple years since I came out here -- fuck, must have been two years ago, 'cause Ricky left for school that fall. We were celebrating my first Cutters pay cheque with our friend Jack Daniels and we ran into the cart in the dark and we decided to push it over the bridge into the river.
  
  I was like, it'll be awesome, it'll be my get-out-of-jail free card. Like if it's a great day I can always say I saw one of our carts in the river. My ace in the hole.
  
  Ricky was like, your ass has a hole? Why you telling me that? Faaaaag.
  
  The river's louder than the cars down here, just to the east.
  
  > take empty
  I came out here to AVOID cleaning, dude.
  
  > examine empty
  It's an Export. Dunno if I can go back to Ex after drinking Fin du Monde... but I probably can.
  
  > take log
  Naw. It's basically log-shaped mud now.
  
  > go east
  Yeah. Wow. That is one serious fucking river. I'm getting wet just standing near it. The wheels of the cart are just visible a good piece to the east. The water would be nearly up to my waist if I was dumb enough to enter it.
  
  The bottom of the bridge is high above, festooned with graffiti.
  
  > examine graffiti
  The graffiti is nothing special, though the taggers must have had to hang over the edge to do their thing.
  
  They're lucky they weren't doing it the night we threw the cart over the rail.
  
  > examine the cart
  It's well out of reach, in the river to the east.
  
  > Swim
  I'm no expert, but... don't you need to be in a bunch of water for that?
  
  > enter the water
  Seriously? I'm no pussy, but... seems dangerous.
  
  > Continue
  Alright, voice-in-my-head. If anything happens, it's your fault.
  
  I wade into the river.
  
  Holy fuck is it cold. Goes from bad to worse. Boots: soaked. Jeans: soaked.
  
  The shopping cart is submerged in the river here, a lot rustier and grottier than when I saw it last.
  
  > remove the jeans
  Hey, I put together this ensemble for a reason, dude.
  
  > take the cart
  It's stuck there pretty good, but I manage to flip it over. A bunch of other crap that was trapped comes up too, and floats to the surface: six pack rings, something that looks like a clump of hair, and a fish.
  
  Pretty gross.
  
  I can't feel my nads any more, but I've got the stupid cart.
  
  > go to the west
  I start to pull the cart out of the river, but it pushes all the crap my way too. The fish kind of flips over and it's much worse on the other side -- it's got a huge hole eaten in it, and I can see into its stomach. And I'm pretty sure what's in the fish is another fish that it's eaten.
  
  I can't take my eyes away. I tell myself that it would make an amazingly brutal tat or even an album cover but I also feel like I'm gonna hurl. And then I see the little fish, the one inside, open its eye.
  
  I sort of stumble back away from the cart but at this point my legs are so numb that the cart is the only thing that's holding me up.
  
  So I fall.
  
  It's a slow, fat-assed falling, and I'm kind of pissed at myself and finding it kind of hilarious at the same time, thinking about how I'll tell Mom about it when my head hits the rock.
  
  *** YOU HAVE DIED ***
  
  And yet, somehow, the game continues.
  
  > About yourself
  There is no action here. Only waiting.
  
  > wait for a while
  Time passes.
  
  The void is definitely taking on a porcelain texture.
  
  I am looking down on a toilet.
  
  I don't feel like myself. In fact, I'm sure my forearms weren't as... dark as that, last time I looked. Or as skinny.
  
  > About yourself
  There's a toilet here. The exit's to the southeast.
  
  I catch a glimpse of something moving in the toilet water.
  
  > look at the toilet
  For a second, I see what looks like a tiny fish tail and then it disappears.
  
  > About you
  Uh, my name's Ranni. Sikh family. Almost old enough to drive.
  
  > Inventory
  I am carrying:
  black work slacks (being worn)
  an apron (being worn)
  a kirpan (being worn)
  a Cost Cutters golf shirt (being worn)
  
  > look at kirpan
  It's my ceremonial dagger. I'm a Sikh, OK? It's my religion.
  
  > examine the apron
  It was clean at the beginning of the shift. Not so much now.
  
  > Go outside
  Fortunately for the shoppers, and unfortunately for us who have to clean up after them, Cost Cutters has a public washroom.
  
  I've managed to avoid cleaning duty up 'til now by going on cart duty -- which had the added bonus of getting me away from that psycho Patrick -- but today the slobby old guy (Graham, I think his name is) pulled one over on our manager Lisa and now here I am.
  
  There is a pair of sinks, a long mirror above them and three battered stalls to the northwest, north and northeast. The exit's south of here.
  
  > look at the shirt
  One of those ones with the logo embroidered on it. Lisa has her name embroidered on it too, but I don't know if she got that when she became manager or if she did it herself because she's really into her job.
  
  > examine the mirror
  I check myself out in the chipped and scratched mirror. Even with the cheesy work shirt, my new haircut looks sharp: I got some lines buzzed on my sides. I thought the b-boys at my school might hassle me for biting their style but nothing yet.
  
  > go north
  This toilet is dingy. The exit's to the south.
  
  > look at the toilet
  It looks cleaner -- oh god, there's a floater. I avert my eyes and flush.
  
  People are animals.
  
  > Clean toilet
  I adjust my kirpan so that it doesn't poke me.
  
  Thinking about the car I'm gonna get the day I turn 16, I start scrubbing. My dad would hate to know I was doing this -- he just wouldn't say "untouchable" because we're all supposed to be equal, but he'd be thinking it. Then he'd probably start in on the turban thing again... he doesn't know how hard it is to get a job, any job.
  
  > look at the toilet
  Thank god, it went down in one flush.
  
  > look at the toilet
  A clean and empty bowl.
  
  > Go northeast
  This toilet has a crack in it. The exit's to the southwest.
  
  > look at the toilet
  Oh wait, that's not a crack. It's a... streak.
  
  > Clean toilet
  Picturing myself cleaning my car-to-be on a summer day -- specifically the one I saw for super cheap on Craigslist today -- I manage to wipe the streaks off.
  
  Done. Finally, I can get out of here.
  
  I get up, but before I can leave I hear someone come in.
  
  "So Lisa sent me to help you, brown noser..."
  
  That racist shithead Patrick must be right outside the stall from the sound of it.
  
  "I tol' her that you dirty pakis like scrubbing up shit, but she didn't care. Mmm-mmm. I think she's got a bit of sand nigger fever."
  
  I hear the adjoining stall door shut. "Better check out this toilet," I can hear Patrick heading into one of the stalls.
  
  > listen
  I hear nothing unexpected.
  
  "Ohhhh man," Patrick crows from the stall, followed by a juicy braaaaap.
  
  > Go south
  The only visible exit is southwest (to cost cutters bathroom).
  
  > go to the southwest
  Patrick kicks the stall door open, buckling up. The bastard doesn't even flush.
  
  "Left ya a present, brown noser," he says. He imitates the intercom: "Clean up in stall 3."
  
  I'm not inclined to get mad. I've lost my temper twice, maybe three times in my life. But then the smell hits me like a slap. I look at his horrible, scarred face and his idiotic grin as he waits for me to react, and I'm amazed that I'm keeping it together.
  
  Something causes his eyes to flick down to my waist, and then his smile vanishes. I look down and realize that after I finished cleaning I hadn't returned my kirpan to its usual position, so it's making my apron poke out a bit.
  
  "What's that," he says, not really asking. I've got to show him or hide it.
  
  > hide kirpan
  As I turn around to adjust it, I hear Patrick gagging in disgust.
  
  "Is that a boner?"
  
  I turn around to explain, but he's already at the doorway on his way out.
  
  "The sound of me shitting gave you a boner? You're--" And then he's gone.
  
  It's weird. It wasn't true, but just the fact that he thought that makes me ashamed in the pit of my stomach.
  
  > Clean toilet
  It's already clean.
  
  > look at the toilet
  Thank god, it went down in one flush.
  
  > look at the toilet
  The crack/streak is gone, and it's clean.
  
  > go northwest
  There's a toilet here. The exit's to the southeast. What a shitsplosion. God, Patrick is a diseased animal.
  
  > clean it
  Patrick has been downright artistic. He's managed to get shit on every part of the toilet except for the water.
  
  He's sharpied a swastika on the stall wall but he's gotten it backwards. Which, ironically, makes it a Hindu symbol.
  
  I imagine running him over in my new car again and again until the job is finished.
  
  > look at the toilet
  A clean and empty bowl.
  
  > go to the southeast
  I step out of the stall to see Patrick standing there silently.
  
  He has a look on his face like I've never seen before. He's not going to... apologize, is he?
  
  Behind him Lisa, the manager shows up. She looks reluctant to step into the washroom -- probably because it's the Men's.
  
  "Ranni, is it true you made a lewd gesture towards Patrick?"
  
  Oh, crap.
  
  "I'll have to refer to the chapter on sexual harassment in the training manual--" She looks downright hurt by the situation.
  
  I notice Patrick move suddenly. There is a gun in his hand.
  
  "Fucking sick fuck," he says, right before he shoots me.
  
  > examine Patrick
  I try, but a coughed-up blood bubble is the best I can do.
  
  I can't move.
  
  I think I'm on the floor. I must have fallen. I can feel water pooling against my face from somewhere. Or is that water?
  
  Patrick leans over me, his face a wasteland of acne. "What, getting shot doesn't give you a hard-on too?"
  
  Lisa is screaming, screaming. Patrick's head whips her way. I hear a pop and the screaming stops.
  
  I close my eyes.
  
  *** YOU HAVE DIED ***
  
  And yet...
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  > Inventory
  There is no action here. Only waiting.
  
  I open my eyes.
  
  I'm looking down on a river. I immediately think: Styx. I mean, I knew I was gonna miss out on the virgins not being Islam but how'd I end up in white-person hell? And where would I get money for the boatman? I remembered something about coins from my English class...
  
  They put 'em on your eyes, I hear a familiar voice say. But that's not the River Styx, as brutally awesome as that would be.
  
  But a few seconds later I hear the cars behind me, and I realize the voice is right. It's just the...
  
  I walk over this bridge every day to get to Cost Cutters, to the west, but I just recently noticed that it crossed a river. To the east is my neighbourhood.
  
  There's a neat little train of shopping carts on the sidewalk here.
  
  > About yourself
  Uh, my name's Ranni. Sikh family. Almost old enough to drive.
  
  There's something weird here.
  
  Then it occurs to me: no snow.
  
  It snowed last night.
  
  No, it snowed tomorrow night, another voice in my head says. A woman's voice, this time.
  
  > examine the carts
  The shopping carts are pushed into the backs of each other to form a train 3 carts long.
  
  > examine River
  It's funny I've passed over this a million times going to school and work without stopping to look at it, but I guess I usually have my music on.
  
  Graham makes an impatient noise but Lisa shushes him.
  
  > look at Graham
  He's got a mustache, and always seems to be going out for a smoke instead of working.
  
  > examine Lisa
  She's pretty, but she's way older than me. Seventeen at least.
  
  > ask Lisa about the carts
  We're prohibited from giving you advice, Lisa says as if she's reading from a Cost Cutters manual.
  
  > Go east
  I wander around the neighbourhood laneways and find a cart wedged between two houses.
  
  I return to the bridge with it.
  
  > go to the east
  I run into a friend's mom and ask her if she's seen any carts, and she sheepishly gives up one from her garage. "Otherwise I always get one with a stuck wheel," she explains.
  
  I trundle it over to the other carts on the bridge.
  
  > go to the east
  Some kids are using one on its side as a street hockey net. They claim it's theirs until I point to the Cost Cutters logo.
  
  I add it to the cart train on the bridge.
  
  > go to the east
  I've cleared out the neighbourhood. Maybe that's all there is?
  
  One more, Lisa's voice echoes in my head. Just not in the neighbourhood.
  
  > Go west
  Once I saw a pretty bad accident here. It put me off cycling forever.
  
  Further west is the Cost Cutters building, the bridge is back east. The way north is barred by pretty dense brush.
  
  > go west
  Call me weird, but I'm not anxious to go back to the place I died. Might as well get the job done first.
  
  > go east
  I walk over this bridge every day to get to Cost Cutters, to the west, but I just recently noticed that it crossed a river. To the east is my neighbourhood.
  
  There's a neat little train of shopping carts on the sidewalk here.
  
  > examine River
  It's funny I've passed over this a million times going to school and work without stopping to look at it, but I guess I usually have my music on.
  
  Graham makes an impatient noise but Lisa shushes him.
  
  > GRAHAM, ,LOOK AT RIVER
  I feel my eyes focus on a section of river -- is that a glint of steel?
  
  There's a cart down there! How the heck did it...?
  
  Doesn't matter how, interrupts Graham. That's our ace in the hole. We just have to play it earlier in the game.
  
  > LISA, ,EXAMINE RIVER
  Lisa peers through my eyes...
  
  It's just a grey blur to me. I can't really see that far -- my eyes aren't the best.
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > examine the cart
  Which do I mean, the faroff shopping cart or the shopping cart train?
  
  > Go north
  I gotta get down to the river if I'm going to get that cart, so I push through the brush. Pretty quickly I find a trail that leads to...
  
  The trail continues east to the river, and I can return back to civilization to the south.
  
  There's a bunch of empty beer cans and a pit for a fire.
  
  > look at the cans
  Maybe some hoboes might have lived here.
  
  Nerd! Graham hisses for some reason. I ignore him.
  
  > take log
  Naw. It's basically log-shaped mud now.
  
  > GRAHAM, ,EXAMINE PIT
  Graham peers through my eyes...
  
  Ah, the firepit that gave the Pit its name. Some McDonald's bags, newspapers, a lighter and a can of hairspray and, foomp! You had yerself some instant ambiance.
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > LISA, ,EXAMINE PIT
  Lisa peers through my eyes...
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > LISA, ,LOOK AT EMPTY
  Lisa peers through my eyes...
  
  A bunch of trash. People have no respect for nature.
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > take empty
  It smells rank, even from here.
  
  > GRAHAM, ,LOOK AT EMPTY
  Graham peers through my eyes...
  
  It's an Export. Dunno if I can go back to Ex after drinking Fin du Monde... but I probably can.
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > GRAHAM, ,EXAMINE LOG
  Graham peers through my eyes...
  
  It beat sitting on the ground, but not by much.
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > Go east
  It's more impressive up close, just to the east, but it ain't no Ganges.
  
  Graham chimes in: Dude, it's reeeeally cold --
  
  Colder than being dead forever, Graham? Lisa snaps.
  
  Just brace yourself.
  
  > GRAHAM, ,EXAMINE RIVER
  Graham peers through my eyes...
  
  It winds through the ravine, kind of a charcoal grey with all the runoff.
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > LISA, ,EXAMINE RIVER
  Lisa peers through my eyes...
  
  It's just a grey blur to me. I can't really see that far -- my eyes aren't the best.
  
  ...my eyes are my own again.
  
  > look at the bridge
  The graffiti on the bridge is just tags, pretty boring compared to some of the burners I've seen in Scarborough.
  
  > go east
  Graham was not lying. It's painfully cold.
  
  Land awaits to the west.
  
  You can see a rusty shopping cart here.
  
  > take the cart
  I yank it up from the river bed and manage to flip it over. A dead fish and some other debris floats up.
  
  OK, I almost forgot, the fish --
  
  The fish flips over, and it's rotted through. There's a smaller fish inside, partially digested.
  
  Graham makes a retching sound. Did he just vomit inside my head?
  
  He wouldn't last long in my mom's kitchen.
  
  > examine the fish
  Just a dead fish, the only weird part being that I can see the other fish inside it. Newsflash: fish eat fish.
  
  > Go west
  I drag the cart to the side of the river, taking care to leave the debris behind.
  
  It's more impressive up close, just to the east, but it ain't no Ganges. The path winds west from here.
  
  > go to the west
  I trundle the cart up to...
  
  The trail continues east to the river, and I can return back to civilization to the south.
  
  There's a bunch of empty beer cans and a pit for a fire.
  
  > go to the south
  It takes about ten minutes to wrestle the cart to the road.
  
  Once I saw a pretty bad accident here. It put me off cycling forever.
  
  Further west is the Cost Cutters building, the bridge is back east. The way north is barred by pretty dense brush.
  
  > Go east
  Ca-chunk! With some effort, I add the rusty cart for a total of 7.
  
  Whoohoo! Lisa says. That's the lot.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  > look at what you're carrying with you
  There is no action here. Only waiting.
  
  > wait for a while
  The void starts to glow with a familiar unrelenting light -- a fluorescent light -- and I realize I'm in...