text: [Themes: Humor, violence, duck, office, surreal]
  
  It's another nice, sunny day outside. The bird are singing, the
  flowers are beaming, and all is well.
  
  Well, that's what you assume, since in actual fact you're inside a brand new office on the sixth floor of the Weiner Corporation's newest skyscraper. At any rate, the job pays well, and your day usually
  passes by without any notable incidents to marr its pleasing monotony.
  
  But something is different today. Cold sweat glistens on your brow.
  You know all too well what this means.
  
  Somewhere...somehow... a duck is watching you.
  
  Office (on the office chair)
  One entire wall (the north one, as it happens) is nothing else but a great pane of glass, through which you can see the cityscape that lies outside. The office itself is sparsely furnished: it is equipped with merely a desk, a fax machine, a telephone and a cow. To the south is
  an open door.
  
  A long wire extends across the room, originating from the fax machine.
  
  [Author's Note: Office life could be easy, if there weren't a duck staring at you.]
  
  > About yourself
  You've never really looked at yourself in a mirror. In fact, you tend to avoid mirrors like the plague, to such an extent that you're not sure what you really look like.
  
  You're sure of it. There's a duck watching you right now.
  
  > look at the cow
  It's leaning against the wall, legs crossed, smoking a cigarette. What is it doing here? You have not the slightest idea, and you're not really interested in finding out. What you really want to find... is that DUCK!
  
  You wipe off a bead of sweat. Why did it have to be here? Why did it have to be now? Why? WHY?
  
  > ask the cow about the duck
  You could just try to engage in casual conversation. One way of doing this is by typing TALK TO NPC into the command prompt. (Oh, crap,
  I just broke the fourth wall. Who's going to pay for that, I
  wonder?)
  You loosen your tie with one hand, and glance around fearfully.
  
  > look
  Office (on the office chair)
  One entire wall (the north one, as it happens) is nothing else but a great pane of glass, through which you can see the cityscape that lies outside. The office itself is sparsely furnished: it is equipped with merely a desk, a fax machine, a telephone and a cow. To the south is
  an open door.
  
  A long wire extends across the room, originating from the fax machine.
  
  You have no choice. You have to find that duck, track it down, hound it, chase it to the ends of the earth if necessary. Thus is the price you must pay for peace of mind.
  
  > talk to the cow
  You cough. The cow coughs. For a moment, silence hangs heavy upon both of you.
  
  "So. Ahem."
  
  "You wanted to ask me something, boss?" the cow says finally, chewing on its cigarette in a typically bovine manner.
  
  1) "Do you see that duck?"
  2) "What are you doing here?"
  
  > 2
  ["What are you doing here?"]
  
  "Don't you remember, boss?" the cow says, slapping you on the back
  with one hoof. "We're corporate spies working for ACME. This is an undercover operation, okay? I see what's wrong with you: you've been trying to use the "How to Brainwash Yourself Easily" book again. If you've got amnesia, we gotta exfiltrate ourselves pronto and
  burn the evidence. Have you got amnesia, boss?"
  
  1) "I haven't got amnesia, you idiot!"
  2) "I can't remember anything! What is my REAL identity?"
  
  > 1
  ["I haven't got amnesia, you idiot!"]
  
  "Phoooey," the cow sighs with relief, tugging at its cigarette compulsively. "You had me worried there for a second." And upon these words, it begins to stare intensively at the wall, as though waiting for ninja chipmunks to leap out without warning.
  
  Office (on the office chair)
  One entire wall (the north one, as it happens) is nothing else but a great pane of glass, through which you can see the cityscape that lies outside. The office itself is sparsely furnished: it is equipped with merely a desk, a fax machine, a telephone and a cow. To the south is
  an open door.
  
  A long wire extends across the room, originating from the fax machine.
  
  You can feel the duck's beady dark eyes boring into the back of your skull.
  
  > look at the wire
  It's too thick to cut with scissors, sadly enough.
  
  Though the duck is not in the room, still you feel its baleful glare, unwavering, unblinking.
  
  > examine the pane
  It's made of glass.
  
  You bang your head against the furniture, heart bowed down beneath a seething cloud of paranoia.
  
  > examine the fax
  It's a great, heavy monster of bureaucratic hell. With its aid, you could fax a dinosaur to Hawaii, that's telling you how sophisticated
  it is. It's powered by a very, very long electric wire which crosses the floor and disappears out into the corridor to the south. Oh, and it's also blatantly simple to use: all that is necessary is to put something in it, and then dial any number between 0 and 10. The fax machine has been customized specifically for faxing things to a very specific destination.
  
  You must do something about that duck. There is no other way.
  
  > examine the desk
  It's an IKEA desk, somewhat disfigured by coffee rings (from all the times you left your hot mug of coffee on the desk for far too much time). And certainly it would be nice to have more than just the one drawer for tidying away your stuff. But it's perfectly adequate for
  the kind of work you do for the Weiner Corporation -- namely, sorting through piles of mail. Such as the huge heap now standing before you.
  
  Something must be done.
  
  > examine the cityscape
  New Dork City stretches out before you in its full glory. But what interests you most of all is the building opposite the one you're currently in: the ACME Corporation's newest skycraper.
  
  All this stress and paranoia proves far too much for you. With a wordless cry you throw yourself out the window!
  
  Actually, you do not throw yourself out of the window, you merely bounce off it with a muffled "PANG", and then stagger out into the corridor, nursing your blossoming bruise.
  
  The corridor heads off to the east and west, and you can always choose to re-enter your office to the north, via an open door upon which your name and job have been inscribed in a decidedly shoddy fashion. There is a faint aroma in the air, but that is not important.
  
  A long wire snakes its way out from your office, and heads down the corridor to the east.
  
  > look at the door
  Upon it are the following (badly-inked) words: M. POND --
  MAILROOM
  
  > go north
  One entire wall (the north one, as it happens) is nothing else but a great pane of glass, through which you can see the cityscape that lies outside. The office itself is sparsely furnished: it is equipped with merely a desk, a fax machine, a telephone and a cow. To the south is
  an open door.
  
  The office chair stands upon its wobbly wheels, sighing slightly.
  
  A long wire extends across the room, originating from the fax machine.
  
  > Sort mail
  You find a letter from none other than "Mr. Coffee Machine"! How odd.
  A quick glance indicates that he is appealing to the powers that be
  for the right to have his own office chair.
  
  > open the drawer
  You pull open the drawer, and find only a lonely-looking pair of scissors. You decide after some deliberation to take this with you
  (you never know when it might come in handy...)
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are carrying:
  a pair of scissors
  a shirt (being worn)
  a tie (being worn)
  
  > examine the chair
  It's a sturdy thing, with sturdy wheels that are always well oiled
  (you suspect that the office elves do all that work when no one is looking.)
  
  handy at some point in the immediate future.
  
  > get the mail
  That's hardly portable.
  
  > take off the shirt
  You take off the shirt.
  
  > examine the tie
  Suitably unfashionable.