text: [Themes: Fiction]
  
  There are never enough tables for a yard sale. The people who live here clearly have set out every table they own on the driveway in front of their house. It's a mismatched array of card tables, a kitchen table, and a scarred white desk, all piled with miscellaneous junk.
  
  One item catches your eye. It's an old, dented strongbox, barely visible behind a huge box fan.
  
  [Author's Note: The Bryant Collection is an interactive anthology: a collection of 'story worlds' by Laura Bryant. They were found at a yard sale in an old strongbox.]
  
  > examine the desk
  A few card tables, a kitchen table, and a scarred white desk are set out on the driveway and piled high with junk. You'd guess these are all of the tables (and table-like devices) that could easily be moved out of the house and onto the driveway.
  
  > examine the junk
  Nothing amazing. Boxes of old audio cassettes, a Packard Bell computer, ugly lamps and dilapidated board games. The sale seems to be one born of a desire for more storage rather than more cash.
  
  > About yourself
  I suppose you're me. Gregory Weir, I mean. Mid-twenties, brown hair, thin. Probably a bit scruffy.
  
  > Examine box
  (the old dented strongbox)
  This strongbox is made of metal, and is a foot across in each dimension. It is covered in rust and dented in a few places. A tattered label on the lid reads "Laura Bryant Collection." A garish orange sticker asks for $23. Some inner feeling makes you want to possess it.
  
  > open it
  It seems to be locked.
  
  > look at the computer
  You had a Packard Bell once. Never again. They're impossible to upgrade. Besides, this one's about a decade old.
  
  > buy the box
  (the old dented strongbox)
  You pick up the strongbox. The rest of the transaction is fuzzy in your memory. Money changed hands, and you got in your car.
  Afterwards, you kicked yourself for not asking the family's name or checking the street signs on your way out of the neighborhood.
  
  "It's kind of silly, I know, making up
  little story worlds like this. But it's
  always reminded me of my Uncle Ted,
  who says Great-Grandfather Bryant used
  to do it with him. Thought you might
  find it fun."
  
  You've never been an especially tidy person, and being self-employed has done nothing to improve your habits. Still, you keep your place clean, for the most part. It's just cluttered. The clutter is worse than usual at the moment, thanks to a portion of the contents of the strongbox scattered over the surface of your table.
  
  The strongbox itself sits open under the table.
  
  On the wooden table are a pile of letters, a memo book labeled "The End of the World", a composition book labeled "Morning in the Garden", a sketchbook labeled "The Tower of Hanoi", a stapled packet labeled "Going Home Again", an envelope labeled "Undelivered Love Letter", a wrinkled sheet of paper, and a wooden toy.
  
  (For information on the origins of this collection, type ABOUT. To return to this room from within a story, type RETURN.)
  
  > look at the envelope
  This is a standard envelope stuffed with fifteen sheets of triple-folded lined paper. The pages are loose, and are covered in neat writing in blue pen. In a few places, the ink has bled where drops of moisture fell on the pages. The envelope is unaddressed and unstamped, and the words "UNDELIVERED LOVE LETTER" are writted across the front. Where the return address would be is the date "1975."
  
  (To enter this story, pick up the envelope labeled "Undelivered Love Letter".)
  
  > take it
  This is a standard envelope stuffed with fifteen sheets of triple-folded lined paper. The pages are loose, and are covered in neat writing in blue pen. In a few places, the ink has bled where drops of moisture fell on the pages. The envelope is unaddressed and unstamped, and the words "UNDELIVERED LOVE LETTER" are writted across the front. Where the return address would be is the date "1975."
  
  (Do you want to enter this story?)
  
  > Yes
  "The weird thing is that
  even though I thought it
  would never stop hurting
  at the time, now I just look
  back and miss that pain."
  
  This was supposed to be a nice visit, a respite from the loneliness of a long-distance relationship. Yesterday evening, she broke the news to you. You didn't eat at all today. Right now, she's in the bathroom, but she'll be back in time for a final goodbye. Then you'll leave on the plane, she'll stay here, and you'll never see her again.
  
  Passengers bustle through this busy airport terminal, on their way to and from their planes. You're waiting near your gate, among twenty or thirty seats. A gate agent bustles about near the gate. Large windows overlook the tarmac, where you can see your plane sitting at the end of the loading bridge. The restrooms are across the hallway, and the security checkpoint is a decent walk away.
  
  A big clock is mounted on the wall nearby.
  
  > About you
  You're a young man who's just finished a relationship that lasted years. It was supposed to last forever.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a carry-on bag (closed)
  a boarding pass
  
  > look at the pass
  This printed slip of paper marks you as a ticket-holder, qualified to travel on this flight.
  
  X emerges from the restroom and heads this way. She sits down beside you. "Hi. How are you doing?" she asks with a pensive look on her face. Her voice has the faintest of Russian accents.
  
  > Examine X
  X has long, blonde hair that reaches her waist when unbound. Right now, it's tied back in a bun. She's wearing a long, burgundy coat with a white scarf tucked into the collar. She has a thin frame and a heart-shaped face, with greenish-gray eyes and a nose that's just a bit prominent. She's beautiful.
  
  > talk to X
  (To talk to X, try to ASK X ABOUT something, TELL X ABOUT something, or just say YES or NO.)
  
  > ask the X about herself
  "How are you doing?" you ask hesitantly.
  
  She takes several seconds to answer. "I'm hurting," she says. "I hate seeing you this way. But I didn't... I didn't want to continue the way we were."
  
  > ask the X about us
  "So... what are we now?" you ask, with pain in your voice.
  
  X smiles softly. "You're still important to me. I'd like to be friendly. To keep in touch."
  
  > Yes
  That was a rhetorical question.
  
  > ask the X about the friends
  You can't summon up the effort to ask about that.
  
  X lifts her hand to her face and smooths her right eyebrow. It's a cute habit of hers. "Baby..." she begins, then sighs. "It won't hurt forever. There are lots of women out there who'll fall into your arms." But none of them will be her.
  
  > ask her about the flight
  (X about that)
  "Do you think you'll ever come to visit me?" you ask.
  
  She thinks for a long moment. "Maybe," she says. "If I have the time and the money."
  
  > ask the X about the future
  You heard her already. You'll "keep in touch." It's not enough.
  
  > kiss her
  (X)
  You lean toward X for a last kiss. She leans toward you, but turns her head slightly so that you kiss the corner of her mouth. She looks into your eyes sadly, then looks down.
  
  X nervously picks under her thumbnail with a nail of the opposite hand. "You really should eat something," she says in a worried tone. "It's been almost a day since you've had any food."
  
  > examine the plane
  Yours is a large, gleaming thing in white and gray. It can take you to another state more quickly than anything else. Almost.
  
  > eat
  What do you want to eat?
  
  > ask her about the food
  (X about that)
  "Do you want to get food for yourself?" you ask. "I don't mind. I'm not hungry."
  
  X shakes her head. "I'll get something when you're gone," she says.
  
  > ask her about someone else
  (X about that)
  You can't summon up the effort to ask about that.
  
  > ask her about the money
  (X about that)
  "How's the job going?" you ask.
  
  She sighs, and stretches. "It's a diner," she explains. "It's always busy and exhausting."
  
  > read the pass
  This printed slip of paper marks you as a ticket-holder, qualified to travel on this flight.
  
  > ask her about the headaches
  (X about that)
  You can't summon up the effort to ask about that.
  
  The gate agent speaks over the intercom. "Attention, all passengers of Flight 160 to Indianapolis," she says in a bored tone. "We will now begin boarding for all seats. Please have your boarding pass ready."
  A line of passengers forms in front of the gate.
  
  X looks at you with concern. "Are you all right?" she asks. "Say something."
  
  > hug her
  You lean over and hug X tightly. She awkwardly rubs your back with a hand until you release her.
  
  > No
  That was a rhetorical question.
  
  > say we'LL always have the paris
  (to X)
  (To talk to X, try to ASK X ABOUT something, TELL X ABOUT something, or just say YES or NO.)
  
  X clears her throat awkwardly and scratches her nose.
  
  > Board plane
  You get into line at the gate. X moves to stand beside you, on the outside of the rope barrier.
  
  Your turn to board the plane arrives. You hand your boarding pass to the gate agent, and step into the loading bridge. With one last glance over your shoulder, you see X watching you with a sad expression on her face. You turn and head for the plane.
  
  You've never been an especially tidy person, and being self-employed has done nothing to improve your habits. Still, you keep your place clean, for the most part. It's just cluttered. The clutter is worse than usual at the moment, thanks to a portion of the contents of the strongbox scattered over the surface of your table.
  
  The strongbox itself sits open under the table.
  
  On the wooden table are a pile of letters, a memo book labeled "The End of the World", a composition book labeled "Morning in the Garden", a sketchbook labeled "The Tower of Hanoi", a stapled packet labeled "Going Home Again", an envelope labeled "Undelivered Love Letter", a wrinkled sheet of paper, and a wooden toy.
  
  > take the envelope
  This is a standard envelope stuffed with fifteen sheets of triple-folded lined paper. The pages are loose, and are covered in neat writing in blue pen. In a few places, the ink has bled where drops of moisture fell on the pages. The envelope is unaddressed and unstamped, and the words "UNDELIVERED LOVE LETTER" are writted across the front. Where the return address would be is the date "1975."
  
  (Do you want to enter this story?)
  
  > Yes
  "The weird thing is that
  even though I thought it
  would never stop hurting
  at the time, now I just look
  back and miss that pain."
  
  This was supposed to be a nice visit, a respite from the loneliness of a long-distance relationship. Yesterday evening, she broke the news to you. You didn't eat at all today. Right now, she's in the bathroom, but she'll be back in time for a final goodbye. Then you'll leave on the plane, she'll stay here, and you'll never see her again.
  
  Passengers bustle through this busy airport terminal, on their way to and from their planes. You're waiting near your gate, among twenty or thirty seats. A gate agent bustles about near the gate. Large windows overlook the tarmac, where you can see your plane sitting at the end of the loading bridge. The restrooms are across the hallway, and the security checkpoint is a decent walk away.
  
  A big clock is mounted on the wall nearby.
  
  > look at the clock
  According to the clock, it's 5:41 pm.
  
  > ask the agent about the food
  She's really quite busy. You'd rather not bother her.
  
  X emerges from the restroom and heads this way. She sits down beside you. "Hi. How are you doing?" she asks with a pensive look on her face. Her voice has the faintest of Russian accents.
  
  > tell X about yourself
  You tell her how sad you're feeling, and she sighs sadly. "Poor sweetheart," she says. "I'm sorry that things had to turn out this way."
  
  > tell X about plane
  "The flight will be leaving soon," you say. "We might not see each other again."
  
  X adjusts her scarf. "I hope we do, someday," she replies.
  
  > kill X
  Several times since last evening you've wanted to hit her, but it was out of impotent frustration, not any real rage. You love her too much to hurt her.
  
  > open the bag
  You open the carry-on bag.
  
  X nervously picks under her thumbnail with a nail of the opposite hand. "You really should eat something," she says in a worried tone. "It's been almost a day since you've had any food."
  
  > look in bag
  There's assorted essentials and reading materials inside.
  
  > Close bag
  You close the carry-on bag.
  
  > eat the pass
  That's plainly inedible.
  
  X clears her throat awkwardly and scratches her nose.
  
  > ask X about the women
  You can't summon up the effort to ask about that.
  
  X looks at you with concern. "Are you all right?" she asks. "Say something."
  
  > tell X about the sadness
  You've already made your feelings clear.
  
  > ask X about job
  "How's the job going?" you ask.
  
  She sighs, and stretches. "It's a diner," she explains. "It's always busy and exhausting."
  
  > ask her about us
  (X about that)
  "So... what are we now?" you ask, with pain in your voice.
  
  X smiles softly. "You're still important to me. I'd like to be friendly. To keep in touch."
  
  > ask her about boyfriend
  (X about that)
  You can't summon up the effort to ask about that.
  
  > ask her about her
  (X about that)
  You can't summon up the effort to ask about that.
  
  The gate agent speaks over the intercom. "Attention, all passengers of Flight 160 to Indianapolis," she says in a bored tone. "We will now begin boarding for all seats. Please have your boarding pass ready."
  A line of passengers forms in front of the gate.
  
  X lifts her hand to her face and smooths her right eyebrow. It's a cute habit of hers. "Baby..." she begins, then sighs. "It won't hurt forever. There are lots of women out there who'll fall into your arms." But none of them will be her.
  
  > enter the restroom
  You don't have to go right now.
  
  X looks at you searchingly. She opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it again.
  
  > ask X about the family
  You can't summon up the effort to ask about that.
  
  The last of the passengers filters through the gate, and the gate agent looks around to see if there are any potential passengers left.
  
  > open the bag
  You open the carry-on bag.
  
  > look in the bag
  There's assorted essentials and reading materials inside.
  
  The gate agent calls out to you. "Sir?" she asks. "All the other passengers are inside. If this is your flight, please board now." As much as you'd like to stay behind, you know that's not possible. You hand your boarding pass to the gate agent, and step into the loading bridge. With one last glance over your shoulder, you see X watching you with a sad expression on her face. You turn and head for the plane.
  
  You've never been an especially tidy person, and being self-employed has done nothing to improve your habits. Still, you keep your place clean, for the most part. It's just cluttered. The clutter is worse than usual at the moment, thanks to a portion of the contents of the strongbox scattered over the surface of your table.
  
  The strongbox itself sits open under the table.
  
  On the wooden table are a pile of letters, a memo book labeled "The End of the World", a composition book labeled "Morning in the Garden", a sketchbook labeled "The Tower of Hanoi", a stapled packet labeled "Going Home Again", an envelope labeled "Undelivered Love Letter", a wrinkled sheet of paper, and a wooden toy.
  
  > Attack pass
  Violence isn't the answer to this one.
  
  The last of the passengers filters through the gate, and the gate agent looks around to see if there are any potential passengers left.
  
  > give the pass to X
  She can't come with you. There's only one ticket.
  
  X looks at you searchingly. She opens her mouth as if to say something, then closes it again.
  
  > drop the pass
  No, you'll need that to board the plane.
  
  The gate agent calls out to you. "Sir?" she asks. "All the other passengers are inside. If this is your flight, please board now." As much as you'd like to stay behind, you know that's not possible. You hand your boarding pass to the gate agent, and step into the loading bridge. With one last glance over your shoulder, you see X watching you with a sad expression on her face. You turn and head for the plane.
  
  > Attack X
  You've never been an especially tidy person, and being self-employed has done nothing to improve your habits. Still, you keep your place clean, for the most part. It's just cluttered. The clutter is worse than usual at the moment, thanks to a portion of the contents of the strongbox scattered over the surface of your table.
  
  The strongbox itself sits open under the table.
  
  On the wooden table are a pile of letters, a memo book labeled "The End of the World", a composition book labeled "Morning in the Garden", a sketchbook labeled "The Tower of Hanoi", a stapled packet labeled "Going Home Again", an envelope labeled "Undelivered Love Letter", a wrinkled sheet of paper, and a wooden toy.
  
  > look at the toy
  This is a toy made out of a wooden block with three wooden posts sticking out of the top. Painted wooden disks of various sizes and colors fit onto the posts. At the moment, the left post has a tiny purple disk, a small blue disk, a medium-small green disk, a medium-large yellow disk, a large orange disk, and a huge red disk (from top to bottom) on it, the middle post has nothing on it, and the right post has nothing on it.
  
  > Wrinkled
  This is a wrinkled sheet of paper that was at the back of the strongbox. It appears to be the last page of one of Ms. Bryant's story-worlds, but you've yet to find the rest of it. It's possible that you never will. The sheet reads:
  
  "will never clarify its cryptic prophecies.
  
  "Instead of dismantling the fast food intercom, say 'It would be a waste of time to take that apart. You'd only be half done before the police arrived.'
  
  "You can return each day, and the speaker will tell a new prophecy. After asking the restaurant employees about the prophecies, have them say that they have no idea what you're talking about. They only remember taking your order and giving you a price.
  
  "The restaurant goes out of business in five days from now. When the restaurant goes out of business, replace the intercom with a broken stump. The broken stump has description 'All that remains where the intercom and menu board once stood is a twisted stump of metal with a few wires poking out. There's no indication of the source of the strange mist that seemed to surround the menu board.'
  
  "The End."
  
  > examine Garden
  This is a thin notebook with a marbled black-and-white pattern on the cover. Only the first handful of pages are full of writing. The work is done in black pen, with numerous mistakes scribbled out and many doodles in the margins. The rest of the book is blank. On the label on the front of the book is the title "MORNING IN THE GARDEN," written in heavily-scribbled black ball-point. On the upper right corner of the first page is the date "1974."
  
  (To enter this story, pick up the composition book labeled "Morning in the Garden".)
  
  > take the MORNING in the GARDEN
  This is a thin notebook with a marbled black-and-white pattern on the cover. Only the first handful of pages are full of writing. The work is done in black pen, with numerous mistakes scribbled out and many doodles in the margins. The rest of the book is blank. On the label on the front of the book is the title "MORNING IN THE GARDEN," written in heavily-scribbled black ball-point. On the upper right corner of the first page is the date "1974."
  
  (Do you want to enter this story?)
  
  > Yes
  "When it comes to any temptation,
  the guilt afterward is never as bad
  as the longing beforehand."
  
  God. He does this every day. One would think that sooner or later he'd take no for an answer. But that's not the kind of guy he is, you suppose.
  
  You're beside the biggest tree. Its branches stretch miles overhead, and its roots are like the trunks of saplings. The ground here is soft and green with grass and moss. At the edges of this clearing, plants grow thick. They're all blossoming and fruiting at once, filling the air with perfume. A wide path leads out of the clearing and back to the rest of the garden.
  
  Hanging low from a branch of the tree is a large fruit.
  
  The Serpent walks into the clearing.
  
  > About yourself
  You're Woman, and you look a lot like your boyfriend Man except with some bits made bigger or turned inside-out.
  
  The leaves of the tree above rustle in a stray breeze.
  
  > examine the tree
  This is the biggest tree in the garden, and you've been told in no uncertain terms not to ever, under any circumstance, eat the fruit from it, or you'll die. It's not really that much of a temptation, really. When you have a choice between any kind of fruit or vegetable you could imagine, having one be forbidden isn't at all draconian. Besides, the only edible thing growing on it is a single melon the size of your head.
  
  "Hello, Woman," the Serpent says, stretching his legs and scratching his neck with one claw. "Are you having a nice morning?"
  
  > Yes
  "Ah, wonderful," the Serpent replies. "I've just returned from bathing in the Pishon. The gold dust in the water always sticks to my scales. Does it look good on me?"
  
  > examine Serpent
  He's a strange creature. Your boyfriend says he's called a "serpent," but that always sounded more like someone who calculates income tax, or will do so once it's invented. He's got green scales tinged with gold and muscular legs that end in sharp claws. He's really the craftiest of all animals. At least, he was crafty the first twenty times you spoke to him. Now you've pretty well caught on.
  
  > Yes
  "Oh, you're too kind," the Serpent says with what seems to be a genuine smile. "It's so nice, these times we share together. I really do consider you a friend, you know, Woman. Do you feel the same?"
  
  > climb the tree
  You could climb for years and never get to the top.
  
  > touch Serpent
  Keep your hands to yourself!
  
  The Serpent lets out an awkward laugh. "Oh, sorry, you don't have to answer that," he says hurriedly. "Anyway, I can tell you've been feeling bored lately. Isn't that right?"
  
  You smell a bit of smoke from the morning campfire.
  
  > No
  "Oh, right," the Serpent chuckles. "Looking forward to your nightly game of Leaves-and-Sticks with Man, are you?" He rolls his eyes and smiles. "I don't suppose you're feeling hungry. Are you?"
  
  > No
  Of course you're not. You just had grapefruit, fried potatoes, and honeyed oats for breakfast. But when you say no, he just chuckles skeptically. "Come on, Woman. We both know you'll have to try the fruit sooner or later. You have a curious nature, isn't that right?"
  
  > No
  "No?" the Serpent asks with mock bafflement. "This from the woman who once tried to open a snail's shell to see what was inside. And we both know how that went." Poorly, as you remember all too well. "Here's the way I see it. The Gardener, he's pretty powerful, right? More powerful than you or I or even Man?"
  
  A butterfly flits out into the clearing, then quickly retreats back into the foliage.
  
  > Yes
  "Right," the Serpent begins. "He's the most powerful, so he's the one in charge. Not out of some moral superiority, but out of his natural abilities. He chose to make us inferior. Does that seem right to you?"
  
  The wind picks up for a moment, and you smell the soft smell of the grass on the breeze.
  
  > eat Serpent
  (first taking the Serpent)
  I don't suppose the Serpent would care for that.
  
  "Afraid to answer, lest a lightning bolt fall from the sky?" the Serpent asks venomously. "The only way the Gardener rules over us is through threat of punishment. Do you think he'd be so high and mighty if there were others with the same power he has?"
  
  > Yes
  "Nonsense," the Serpent hisses. "If you had the same powers as the Gardener, he couldn't control you." He points a claw at you. "That's why he forbids you from eating this fruit. You won't die; he only says that because he knows that eating it will open your eyes and make you like him. Powerful and wise. Isn't wisdom worth having, even if it means disobeying him?"
  
  > wait
  Time passes.
  
  > leave
  As you walk away, you hear the Serpent's voice calling after you. "Farewell, Woman! It's your loss!" You hear a quiet laugh, and then he adds, "See you tomorrow!"
  
  And he's right: you will see him tomorrow. Your conversations with the Serpent are the most interesting parts of your life here in the garden. But right now it's time for another boring day.