text: to work.
  
  It seems to take forever, the numbers just don't want to work out. Finally, after scanning your work for errors a third time, you decide you've got it done as well as you'll ever get it.
  
  > examine the forms
  With the completed records in hand, you begin filling out the forms. By this point, you're so sick of numbers you find it harder and harder not to give up. As you press on, you become worried. You've got to stay awake, aware, because any mistakes at this point could be disastrous...
  
  Four hours later, you're finished. Your hands are cramped from all the writing, your mind spinning from the columns of data, but it's done. You separate the forms from the rest of papers with a sigh of relief.
  
  Suddenly you stop short. You forgot about the signatures! You frantically begin scanning the bottom of the forms, praying you won't find that they have to be signed with a witness...
  
  ...and you find that they do. What the hell are you going to do? It's Sunday! How on Earth are you going to get in touch with a notary public this late on a Sunday afternoon?
  
  > call the doctor
  The phone rings a moment and then a female voice answers the phone.
  
  "Mercy Hospital, how may I help you?"
  
  "Dr. Hughes please."
  
  "May I ask who's calling?"
  
  "Timothy Hunter."
  
  "One moment, please." You're put on hold. After a moment, the line picks up again.
  
  "Look Tim, I told you I'm very busy here. Is there something you need to ask?"
  
  > ask the doctor about the mom
  The laughter is gone from Dr. Hughes's voice.
  
  "Look Tim, we've been through this too many times. She's fine. I have more important things to deal with right now than getting that through that thick skull of yours. Goodbye."
  
  You hang up the phone.
  
  > ask Mike about the notary
  You frantically tell Mike about the signatures you need and that you have no idea how to get in touch with the notary public.
  
  "God-damnit Tim ... I'd totally forgotten. And it's Sunday, shit..."
  
  "What'r we gonna do, Mike?"
  
  Silence.
  
  "No, wait a minute! I got it! Look, I've got a friend down a City Hall, owes me a couple of favors. I bet I can get the public down in his office long enough to get the stuff signed. Listen, I'll call up the Thompsons, and my friend. I'll tell 'em to meet you down there in one hour. You got that? Anything over that and we're screwed."
  
  "Got it, Mike. Oh, and thanks again. You really saved me."
  
  "No prob, just remember you owe me one."
  
  "Sure," you say, "I'll see them down there in an hour."
  
  You hang up the phone.
  
  As suddenly as you place the receiver back in the cradle, the phone rings. You hastily lift the receiver to your ear.
  
  "Hello?"
  
  "Yes, hello, may I please speak to Mr. Timothy Hunter?"
  
  "This is he."
  
  "Mr. Hunter? I'm Doctor Feiner, an associate of Doctor Hughes?"
  
  "Yes, Doctor Feiner, what can I do for you?"
  
  "Well, Mr. Hunter, it's ... it's about your mother." A sick certainty overcomes you.
  
  "She's dying," you whisper.
  
  "Yes, Mr. Hunter, and I'm afraid she won't be lasting much longer. Not more than an hour..."
  
  "Oh God... I'll, I'll..."
  
  "Whatever you do, Mr. Hunter, please do it quickly. There's not much time."
  
  With trembling hands, you put the phone back down.
  
  > call Hospital
  The phone rings a moment and then a female voice answers the phone.
  
  "Mercy Hospital, how may I help you?"
  
  "Dr. Hughes please." There's a slight pause.
  
  "I'm terribly sorry, but Dr. Hughes is currently tending to an emergency. Would you like to leave a message?"
  
  You don't have to ask whose emergency it is. "No, thank you".
  
  You hang up the phone.
  
  > call Mike
  The phone rings for a moment, then Mike's secretary answers.
  
  "Hello, Foley Consultants, can I help you?"
  
  "Can I speak with Mr. Stevens please?"
  
  "Sure Tim, hold on a second." You hear the click of the line being switched over, then Mike picks up.
  
  "Look Timmy-boy, I'm making contacts and half-way outta the office. What do you want?"
  
  > tell Mike about the mom
  "Look, Mike, it's about my mother."
  
  "What about her, Tim?"
  
  "Well, she's ... you know she's not been well, and..."
  
  "What happened Tim? She's all right, isn't she?" You can hear the concern in Mike's voice.
  
  "Well, yes, but it's ... it's..."
  
  Mike sighs. "Look, Tim, I don't know what's up here, but are you trying to tell me that you're NOT going to be able to the Thompson account because of your mother?"
  
  > Yes
  Mike sighs. "Well Tim, it's your decision. Good luck, I hope she'll be ok."
  
  "Thanks Mike, and I'm sorry but ... I've got to do this."
  
  "Like I said, it's your decision, man. I'll see you later."
  
  You hang up the phone.
  
  > examine the bed
  It's hard to believe this will be the bed on which Sarah will spend all that time, dying. WAS the bed where she SPENT all that time ... this is so confusing. It's in a shambles, the sheets hidden under one of the numerous piles of clothing scattered about the room.
  
  On the bed you see your wallet.
  
  > get the wallet
  Taken.
  
  > open the wallet
  You peek inside your wallet and see some money and a small, white business card.
  
  > examine the card
  It's a business card from a local taxi agency complete with their telephone number.
  
  > call the taxi
  The phone rings several times, and then the line picks up.
  
  "Hello, BK Taxi, can I help you?"
  
  You quickly explain that you need a taxi sent around to your house as soon as possible.
  
  "Certainly sir, it'll be there as soon as possible."
  
  You hang up the phone.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  > wait
  Time passes.
  
  You notice a cab slowly making its way up the street, its driver peering at house numbers. Apparently seeing yours, the cab quickly pulls into your driveway and the driver gives the horn three quick blasts.
  
  > enter the cab
  You're sitting in the back seat of an old and dirty taxi cab. The seat springs squeak rustily beneath you, litter covers the floor and the windows are covered with grime.
  
  In the front seat, a cabbie sits waiting impatiently.
  
  "Where ya wanna go, mac?" he asks as you slip inside.
  
  > ask the cabbie about Hospital
  "You got it, mac" says the cabbie as he hits starts the meter and pulls out of the driveway...
  
  The trip seems interminable, the cabbie babbling throughout it. Talk of nothing: the weather, the ball game on television last night. You hardly hear him. All you can think about is your mother in that vile smelling white room, breathing her last. You close your eyes and hope you'll get there in time.
  
  The sunlight flickers over your closed eyelids, making a shadow-dance beneath, and you pause, lost for a moment in their flickering patterns. Let her be ok ... please, just let her be ok.
  
  The sudden stop in front of Mercy rudely breaks your reverie.
  
  "That'll be 15 bucks," says the cabbie, hitting the meter's flag.
  
  "I'm sorry," you say, handing him your last fifteen dollars, "I don't have enough for a tip."
  
  The cabbie looks at you for a moment, and then slowly smiles.
  
  "Forget it, buddy. You look like you could use a break." You profusely thank him as you open the taxi's door and rush into the building...
  
  You rush past the front desk, running for the elevators and slip between the doors just as they're closing. You frantically stab at the buttons, and then slump against the back wall. First, second, third, fourth, hurry god-damn you hurry ... please ... please ... fourth, come on ... come on you ... fifth! The doors slide back and you rush down the corridor, almost slipping on the tiles and finally come to a screeching halt at the door to your mother's room...
  
  Like a horribly cycling nightmare, you find yourself back in this white room stinking of disinfectant. How many times have you been here before, in your mind, replaying this possible scene of being here with your mother when she died? And now, it looks as if perhaps you'll get your second chance after all...
  
  Here, unmoving on the hospital bed, lies your mother.
  
  > examine the mother
  She lies still in the bed, her eyes closed. Her grey hair falls in long locks over her face and from her arm protrudes the clear line of an IV-tube, leading to a machine which stands at the bedside.
  
  For a brief, horrible moment, you think that you're too late ... she's gone. But then, you see her chest slowly lift, then lower. She's breathing ... she's alive.
  
  Her eyes flutter for a moment, then slowly open. Her pupils unfocused, she looks around the room, finally catching sight of you. She pauses, then smiles.
  "Oh Timmy..." she says. You heart catches in your throat as you hear how weak her voice is; barely a whisper, hardly stronger than a soft breeze. You must have flinched, because her brow furrows and she looks at you, concerned. "What's wrong...?"
  
  Wrong! Everything, everything's wrong. You're dying and I don't know what to do, you're leaving and I don't know how to say goodbye...
  
  "Nothing, Mama." You slowly approach the bed and grasp her hand. It's cold, and her skin is almost translucent, revealing her tiny bones beneath. She's so fragile and so helpless. And she was such a vibrant woman, so full of life ... just like Sarah.
  
  Sarah. The thought makes you pause. Why? Why did this happen? They were both so wonderful, so caring. They didn't deserve this. She had so many years ahead of her, so much to live for.
  
  She smiles again. "Oh. That's good. You know I worry..." she pauses, catching her breath. "You know I worry so much about you..."
  
  You stroke her hand, biting your lip to stop from crying. "Yeah, yeah I know."
  
  She lifts her head to look up at you, and suddenly you can see a little bit of a glint in her eye, a hint at the vibrance that she was so known for. She peers at you. "Why ... why aren't you at work? Aren't you always busy at..." The rest is lost in a wheeze as she sags back into her pillow.
  
  "Don't worry, Mom. It's fine. I just thought ... I, I just wanted to visit you."
  
  She smiles. "Well, that's ok, but you've got to take..." She suddenly stops.
  
  "Mom? Mama? Can you hear me? Are you all..." Oh no please ... please ...
  
  Her jaw goes slack, then she blinks once or twice. "Oh, oh Timmy ... I think ... I think it's time..."
  
  You begin babbling, not even realizing what you're saying. "No, no please. No! No, you're fine, everything's fine, you'll be ok. Please, please! You're fine!" Hands grasp your shoulders and begin pulling you backwards, you can vaguely hear Doctor Hughes's voice telling you that there's nothing you can do, that it's her time, but you don't listen to him. You can't. You struggle forwards, trying to get closer to the bed. "Please ... please, you're all right, aren't you? Tell me you're all right!"
  
  She looks up to you serenely, seemingly unaware of your panic. "Shhh. It'll be ok, Timmy. Everything will be ok." She pauses again, then closes her eyes, and whispers "I love you Timmy..."
  
  And then she's gone. You can feel it, she's gone...the room's empty now. And then you're falling, clutching her cold form against you and crying, lost and alone.
  
  You don't know how long you've been lying there crying when the hand touches you gently on the shoulder. You look up, about to angrily berate Dr. Hughes for telling you that she was all right when she wasn't, when you see that it's not the doctor at all...
  
  "Well done, Timothy," says Morningstar. "You have changed your path, and found a way to be here for your mother when she needed you. Leave her be now, she goes to a better place." He gently helps you get to your feet.
  
  He sighs. "But this is only the first step on my path, Timothy. There are dangers which still lie ahead. But fear not. You have begun my path, and you shall not leave it until it is complete. I shall be here to guide you, as you need me."
  
  The whirling threads appear, and tear you from where you stand into their heaving embrace. They leave you, gasping, back in the Tower...
  
  > look at Tapestry
  The Ivory Tower, where you started this strange adventure, now lies in ruins. Its walls lie scorched about you, the roof rent to the open sky. The stars, in their impassive brilliance, illuminate the devastation below. Over the Tower's remains you catch glimpses of the fires below, trees smoldering in the darkness.
  
  The Tapestry seems to have survived the Tower's destruction intact.
  
  > look at Tapestry
  Despite the devastation about you, it remains unchanged, its three panels mocking reminders of your recently remembered past.
  
  > touch the first panel
  You are finished there Timothy, go elsewhere.
  
  > look at the first panel
  The first panel is a scene of your mother in the hospital, a doctor looking sadly down upon her.
  
  > touch second panel
  Suddenly the rumbling returns, and the threads throw you into their heaving embrace. After a time they leave you gasping on another strange and distant shore...
  
  The living room of your small home has changed little since your bachelor days, although Sarah's being here has altered it in some small ways. She keeps saying how the place needs more of "a woman's touch," but for all her talk, her work kept her too busy to do much, and now ... well, she can't do much at all. To the south lies your office, and to the west is the bedroom. The doorway to the north leads outside to the driveway.
  
  Off to one side, built into the wall, is a small fireplace.
  
  A strange new addition to the room is the small tapestry hanging on the eastern wall.
  
  > look at the fireplace
  You remember the innumerable winter nights you and Sarah sat curled up in front of it as you gazed into the fire. God, when was the last time you did that? It's so hard to remember a time before her being bedridden.
  
  On the mantel you notice a small snapshot in a frame.
  
  > examine snapshot
  It's a photograph of you and Sarah out on the lake. She's got her arms wrapped around your neck while the two of you grin like maniacs at the camera from the little boat you're in. You remember when it was taken. Five seconds later, the boat capsized and you and she laughed so hard about it you nearly drowned. God, it's been at least a year since last you were up there.
  
  > examine Tapestry
  The tapestry's single panel depicts a middle-aged woman in a long flowing gown. In one hand she holds a slender black rod, which she holds up to a long thread which she holds in the other.
  
  > About yourself
  From what you can tell, you're as you've always been.
  
  > go west
  Your bedroom has been one of the few areas where Sarah's influence has been at work. You felt the presence of her long after she had gone, and a few months after her death put it back the way it had been. A door to the east leads back to the den and to the south is the bathroom.
  
  Somehow, in this strange world of the past, Sarah still lives. She's lying, half asleep, in bed.
  
  Beside the bed is a small endtable.
  
  > look at Sarah
  Your slowly-returning memories do little justice to her. You'd almost forgotten how achingly beautiful she was ... is. God, this is so confusing. The illness she's battling has taken its toll, but with her resting like that, it's almost possible to believe she'll be ok.
  
  Beside her on the bed, unused, is a large pillow.
  
  > look at the pillow
  A large, white pillow. Apparently Sarah doesn't need this one.
  
  > get the pillow
  Taken.
  
  > Examine endtable
  A small endtable that used to hold Sarah's endless supply of medicines. None of them did any good, though. Some may have eased the pain she's going through, but the doctors have told you again and again there's no cure.
  
  Built into the endtable is a small drawer.
  
  > open drawer
  Sarah suddenly becomes animated.
  
  "Timothy, please ... don't do that, ok? For me? Just don't open it, ok?" She seems so worried. You nod and she relaxes.
  
  > ask Sarah about herself
  Sarah stirs as you approach. She smiles faintly.
  
  "Hi honey. I'm feeling ok, I guess. I'm just having trouble getting to sleep. It's just really hard to go on sometimes." She pauses, takes your hand and looks at you, concerned. "Are you all right?" she asks. You nod, and she smiles again.
  
  > ask her about drawer
  "Please Timothy," she begs. "Please, just humor me...?"
  
  > ask Sarah about the future
  Sarah looks at you, confused. She yawns. Poor thing, better not tax her too much.
  
  > ask Sarah about the illness
  She opens her eyes and shrugs.
  
  "It comes and goes. Some days I feel better than others, but..." she pauses. "I'm ok, I guess." She sees the concern in your eyes. "Now don't you worry about me," she says, smiling. "I'll be just fine."
  
  She closes her eyes again.
  
  > look at the bed
  Your slowly-returning memories do little justice to her. You'd almost forgotten how achingly beautiful she was ... is. God, this is so confusing. The illness she's battling has taken its toll, but with her resting like that, it's almost possible to believe she'll be ok.
  
  > kiss her
  Sarah grins and tweaks your nose. "I love you."
  
  "I love you too." you whisper back.
  
  > Go south
  This small bathroom lies to the south of your bedroom. Ever since Sarah fell ill, it's been a storehouse of false hopes. Every miracle the doctors said might have helped, every drug that might have eased her pain has been kept here. And each and every one did nothing.
  
  Over the sink is a small, mirrored medicine cabinet.
  
  > look at the cabinet
  As you approach the cabinet, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. God, is that really you? You haven't slept well in weeks and your pale, haggard reflection looks like a stranger to you.
  
  The cabinet has a hinged door which is closed.
  
  > open the cabinet
  You open the medicine cabinet, revealing a small bottle of pills.
  
  > look at the pills
  The majority of Sarah's supply of drugs is gone. The doctors have pretty much given up by this point, as nothing they've tried has been of any use. All that remains is this solitary bottle of pills Sarah uses to help her sleep.
  
  > give the pills to Sarah
  Sarah looks at the pills. "That's a good idea, honey, but could you get me a glass of water too?"
  
  > Go south
  This small bathroom lies to the south of your bedroom. Ever since Sarah fell ill, it's been a storehouse of false hopes. Every miracle the doctors said might have helped, every drug that might have eased her pain has been kept here. And each and every one did nothing.
  
  Over the sink is a small, mirrored medicine cabinet.
  
  > examine the glass
  A small, empty drinking glass.
  
  > look at sink
  An ordinary sink with an ordinary tap. The tap is currently off.
  
  On the edge of the sink is a small drinking glass.
  
  > get the glass
  Taken.
  
  > turn on the tap
  Water begins flowing from the tap into the sink.
  
  > fill the glass
  You carefully fill the glass with water and then shut off the tap.
  
  > turn off tap
  The tap's already off.
  
  > go to the north
  Your bedroom has been one of the few areas where Sarah's influence has been at work. You felt the presence of her long after she had gone, and a few months after her death put it back the way it had been. A door to the east leads back to the den and to the south is the bathroom.
  
  Somehow, in this strange world of the past, Sarah still lives. She's lying, half asleep, in bed.
  
  Beside the bed is a small endtable.
  
  > give the glass to Sarah
  Sarah looks up at you and smiles.
  
  "Aww ... how sweet, my knight in shining armor come to take me to dreamland?" You help her up and she swallows the pills with a sip of water. She takes hold of your hand. You see her lower lip trembling slightly. "Thank you Timmy," she whispers, "for everything."
  
  She lies back down and closes her eyes, but she still has trouble falling asleep. God, you wish she could sleep forever, away from the sickness and the pain.
  
  > open the drawer
  Sarah becomes severely agitated this time.
  
  "Please, please ... don't ... please." You can't understand what about the drawer has gotten her so worked up. To keep her calm, you agree not to.
  
  > give pills to Sarah
  You already gave Sarah the pills.
  
  > Go east
  The living room of your small home has changed little since your bachelor days, although Sarah's being here has altered it in some small ways. She keeps saying how the place needs more of "a woman's touch," but for all her talk, her work kept her too busy to do much, and now ... well, she can't do much at all. To the south lies your office, and to the west is the bedroom. The doorway to the north leads outside to the driveway.
  
  Off to one side, built into the wall, is a small fireplace.
  
  A strange new addition to the room is the small tapestry hanging on the eastern wall.
  
  > Go south
  You've had a place to do work for years, but only recently have you used it enough to actually call it an office. Even at that, it's not much of one, with your desk as the only furniture. The door to the north leads into the living room.
  
  The remainder of your work papers lie on your desk, next to the telephone.
  
  Built into your desk is a small desk drawer.
  
  > open the drawer
  You open the desk drawer, revealing an address book.
  
  > examine the address book
  You just recently got this address book and for the most part, it's empty. There are a few numbers of family and friends, and a few work numbers. The most important one you notice as you scan through the book is Sarah's doctor, Dr. Albero at Mercy Hospital.
  
  > call Albero
  The phone rings a moment and then a female voice answers the phone.
  
  "Mercy Hospital, how may I help you?"
  
  "Dr. Albero please."
  
  "May I ask who's calling?"
  
  "Timothy Hunter."
  
  "One moment, please." You're put on hold. After a moment, the line picks up again.
  
  "Yes Tim? How can I help you?"
  
  > ask Albero about Sarah
  "No change in her condition? I'm not surprised, Tim. We've been through this before and I've told you again and again: there's nothing we can do for her now."
  
  > ask Albero about the cancer
  "Look Tim, I've very busy here. Is there something you wanted?"
  
  > No
  That was a rhetorical question.
  
  Dr. Albero's voice turns angry. "I know you're under a lot of stress here, Tim, but this is inexcusable." He hangs up.
  
  You hang up the phone.
  
  > examine papers
  These papers are the remainder for you work for this week. You've been working on a couple of different cases for the firm, mostly taking care of backlog paperwork. Mind-numbing stuff to be sure, but at least it's the kind you can do at home. The last case left is for, of all places, Mercy Hospital.
  
  > examine the budget
  You flip through the project papers and find the budget proposal for the experimental research project. Looking at it, everything seems to be in order, but then something odd catches your eye. The funding request is exceedingly large, but then again, that's expected for so important a project. The oddity comes out in the net results. There's a huge difference between what they're spending on equipment and the like and what's being given to the good doctor for costs. Checking further, you find that he in fact has cut out a good portion of the subjects for the test, no reason given. And yet the money for those subjects is still figured in the budget. Where the hell did the money go?
  
  > ask Albero about the budget
  Dr. Albero remains silent as you point out the differences in his project's budget and doesn't answer when you ask about what happened to the money for the additional subjects. Without warning, he begins shouting at you.
  
  "Bastard," he hisses. "What the hell is this?! I'm handling the project as I see fit. Who the hell are you to question what I'm doing with the funding?! Who told you to do this, tell me!"
  
  You don't answer.
  
  "Damn you! Why are you doing this?! What the hell do you want?"
  
  > ask Albero about Sarah
  Dr. Albero is silent for a moment.
  
  "What the hell does Sarah have to do with the project's budget?" he asks.
  
  > ask Albero about the treatment
  "So it's to be blackmail, is it? You want Sarah on that list. God-damnit, I never expected this of you, Tim." He pauses, thinking. "Fine!" he says, "I'll pull something off. Bring her down here to sign the release forms and she'll be in. And in return, you tell no one about what you know, agreed?"
  
  "Agreed, and no placebos."
  
  "Fine, fine, but I warn you Tim, no doublecrossing, or you'll regret it. Accidents have a way of happening in experiments like this." He hangs up.
  
  You hang up the phone.
  
  > tell Sarah about the treatment
  Sarah sits up as you approach. She sees how excited you are.
  
  "What is it, Tim?" Excitedly, you tell her about the program at Mercy Hospital and how Dr. Albero has agreed to let her on the subject list as one of the ones who will really receive the treatment. You omit how you got him to agree to this.
  
  Sarah's reaction surprises you. Rather than being happy, she seems sad.
  
  "Really? A possible cure. I never thought of that." She shakes her head. "No, Timmy, I don't think I could go through that. Not another false hope. You said yourself it's experimental, they don't even know how it would affect me." She seems to reach a decision. "No Timmy, thank you, but it's too late for me."
  
  You sigh. You wish there was some way you could convince her that life was worth living.
  
  > show the photo to Sarah
  "Oh Timmy. We had so much fun up there, didn't we? 'The Sweet Audrina.'" She laughs. God, we we almost drowned, didn't we?" You laugh with her for a moment, then you both fall silent. She takes your hand. "We had some pretty good times, didn't we? Tell me a story, Timmy." she says, "tell me about the lake.
  
  > tell Sarah about the lake
  You tell Sarah the story, embellishing what really happened. That always made her laugh, the way you used to exaggerate everything until it became bigger than life. She smiles, remembering.
  
  "Oh, we had so much fun, didn't we?" She yawns, then pats your hand. "I think I've had enough excitement for one day, I'm going to take a nap, ok?" You nod, and tuck her in as her breathing becomes slow and regular.
  
  > open the drawer
  You promised Sarah you wouldn't. Why is she so upset by what's in there?
  
  > call the Doctor
  Dr. Albero's already agreed to let Sarah in the program. Better leave him be.
  
  > look at what you're carrying with you
  You are carrying:
  a snapshot
  an address book
  a small drinking glass
  a small bottle of pills
  a large pillow
  
  > open the drawer
  It's already open.
  
  > go west
  Your bedroom has been one of the few areas where Sarah's influence has been at work. You felt the presence of her long after she had gone, and a few months after her death put it back the way it had been. A door to the east leads back to the den and to the south is the bathroom.
  
  Sarah lies sleeping on the bed.
  
  Beside the bed is a small endtable.
  
  > look at the bed
  The pills you gave her have finally set in and she's sleeping peacefully. If only she could be like that always.
  
  > lie on the bed
  You don't want to disturb Sarah. Anyway, you're not tired and you have far too much to do.
  
  > Kiss sarah
  You gently kiss her on her forehead.
  
  > wake sarah
  Sarah stirs in her sleep and opens her eyes.
  
  "What is it Timmy?" she asks.
  
  > ask Sarah about the program
  "I know Tim, you told me about it."
  
  Sarah looks at you a mom