text: > look at your surroundings
  Curiosity Shop (Rachel Spitler)
  A mingling of comfortable scents welcomes you to the small shop -- coffee, apples, cedar, soap, peppercorn -- and below it, just a hint of something metallic you can't quite recognize. The large windows behind you cast a dappled sort of light over the rug-strewn floors, the cheerful back counter with its display case underneath, the walls crowded with goods for sale. The courtyard lies back out to the west.
  
  Jessenia might have been watching you, but just glanced away.
  
  > examine the wares
  The shelves dominating the north and south walls are all but overflowing with items, useful or delicious or at least interesting. There's no order to them as far as you can tell: spoons, jugs, bottles, sachets of spices, bolts of cloth, barrels of apples, sacks of flour and sugar, knives, ribbons, straw hats, garden trowels, brooms, mouse traps, paints, wooden boxes of tea, heaps of hand-dipped candles. You don't see a brand name anywhere. It all seems charmingly old-fashioned and homely. At first. But...
  
  As you look more closely, you start to notice peculiar things scattered among the household goods. A stack of small cast-iron cauldrons; several rolls of thick parchment as tall as your waist. Substances with confounding labels sit innocently together in a wooden rack. Above the display, a line of fearsome masks leer down on you. One shelf holds an assortment of animal skulls, paws, furs, tusks, antlers, feathers; a tiny curtain is drawn across a display of glass jars, but you catch a glimpse of lumpy red that turns your stomach. Cards are sold in packs of 79, but all of them seem to be blank. Crystals of every description stand in bunches among the household tools. It's all rather overwhelming.
  
  > ask Jessenia about the skulls
  (the bird bones)
  You engage in some small talk, but she's obviously just being polite.
  
  > ask Jessenia about the tusks
  "I have a friend who's a trapper," says Jessenia, and leaves it at that.
  
  > ask Jessenia about the glass jars
  (the dusty glass jars)
  You engage in some small talk, but she's obviously just being polite.
  
  > ask Jessenia about the trolley
  Which do you mean, the trolley pass, the trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew) or the proposed trolley system map?
  
  > Go north
  You maneuver behind the knight and enter the secret passage.
  
  Constabulary Road (Harkness Munt)
  The road phases into little more than a wide dirt track winding from the west towards the edge of town to the northeast. A paved walk wanders through an iron gate which interrupts a high stone wall looming to the north. A memorial bench sits just outside its shadow. A thickly-woven rampart of vegetation obstructs passage to the south, but you notice a narrow deer trail cutting a path through the deep woods.
  
  A barricade spans the road to the northeast, and beyond it a large shallow pit is being excavated. If you're careful, you could skirt the edges of the pit and continue along the northeast road.
  
  A man stands near the barricade. He appears to be contemplating the contents of the dig site.
  
  A grad student works fastidiously on the fossilized bones in the pit.
  
  A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Orange Line -- Constabulary Road.
  
  > wait for the brown Line
  You sit on the memorial bench, hold out your pass, and wait for the brown line. Within moments, a phantom trolley arrives. Instead of stopping and allowing you to board, it passes through you,
  and you find yourself transported to
  
  Railway Platform (Naomi Hinchen)
  The platform is open to the outdoors, but has an overhanging roof with a rusted sign hanging from it. At the back of the platform, to the south, is the entrance to the lobby. Train tracks stretch off into the distance to the east and west; on the other side of the track is a graffitied brick wall.
  
  The clock overhead gives the time as 12:10 am; beneath the clock is a schedule board listing train arrival times. On the platform itself are a wooden bench, a storage locker, and a vending machine.
  
  A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Brown Line -- Train Station.
  
  You shiver for no reason at all, as if someone has just walked over your grave.
  
  > examine the coffee
  The clouds in your cup form a Viking longboat. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > Go south
  To the north is the gigantic windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine.
  
  > go to the south
  You pass over the bridge. The ravine has become a white river, teeming with creatures: you see a fin, a gill, a plaintive upturned face, before each is swept away.
  
  It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track.
  
  A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank.
  
  A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed.
  
  (That earworm is still lodged in your head.)
  
  > wear the mask
  You're already wearing that!
  
  > lie on the altar
  You get onto the stone altar.
  
  You lie down, settling your body into the impression and your face into the cavity at the end. The milkweed leaf mask protects your face from the strands of orange slime that you belatedly notice fill the cavity. Is it even you doing this? It feels like the most natural action in the world.
  
  As you press your face deeper into the cavity, your vision warps. The world seems to fold and buckle: what was convex becomes concave and what was concave becomes convex.
  
  The altar wobbles and inverts, giving you the bizarre sensation of lying atop a smooth green hole that floats in midair. Deeper within the hole is a shelf of green stone with something resting (how?) on it.
  
  > examine the shelf
  On the shelf is an imaginary basalt sphere.
  
  > put the pendant in the sphere
  The imaginary sphere rotates suddenly, spinning the slot away from the broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew).
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  an imaginary basalt sphere
  a golden apple
  a book New England and the Bavarian Illuminati
  a FFFFFFFF punch card
  a 923647F1 punch card
  a C353F128 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a 0B46E931 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an AE9B711D punch card
  a 00A02209 punch card
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a blank punch card
  the Journal of Edwin Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Seven Gaunts
  a faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Isole Perdute (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Lettera Segreta
  a Prurito Notturno (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Piccoli Uomini Blu (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
  a jar of old keys (open)
  a splintery wooden key
  an ornate bronze key
  a sinister iron key
  a frosty blue key
  an intricately folded origami key
  a silver and ivory key
  a jar of screws (open but empty)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley
  (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a scrap of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling
  faintly of mildew)
  a snowglobe
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Italian magazine cutting
  De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm
  a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a note from a seesaw
  a piece of chalk
  a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a shard
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region
  
  Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a spray bottle that used to contain fungicide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Tolerating An Asinine God (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Dollmaker's Journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of stone earplugs (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a Jansport backpack (being worn and open)
  a hidden pocket (open but empty)
  a key pocket (closed)
  a book pocket (open)
  an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a side pocket (closed)
  a trash pocket (closed)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask)
  An earworm is lodged deeply in your head.
  
  > put the mask in the sphere
  The imaginary sphere rotates suddenly, spinning the slot away from the giant milkweed leaf.
  
  > Examine slot
  The slot is pinched very narrow, like a tiny, unhappy mouth. If the sphere is a piggy-bank, you shudder to imagine what dreadful, corroded coin was intended to be inserted.
  
  > examine the pendant
  It's a tarnished silver pendant, about the size of your thumb, on a leather cord. The pendant is shaped like an open hand. It's been damaged - a deep groove, like a chisel mark, cuts across the palm, nearly breaking the pendant in half.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > touch the pendant
  Except for the sharp edges of the groove, the pendant is smoothly polished. It must have been shiny when it was new.
  
  > Break pendant
  It's broken already.
  
  > Rub pendant
  You rub the broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew).
  
  > go south
  The imaginary basalt sphere vanishes with a sound like a popping soap bubble.
  
  The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station.
  
  A spectral trolley stop sign reads Gold Line -- Church.
  
  > examine the coffee
  The swirls in your cup form a Viking longboat. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > wait for the blue Line
  You lean against the church, hold out your pass, and wait for the blue line. Within moments, a ghostly trolley arrives. Instead of stopping and allowing you to board, it passes through you, and you
  find yourself transported to
  
  A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.
  
  You can see a notice board here.
  
  A phantom trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.
  
  > Go east
  This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west.
  
  On the cart is a shabby journal.
  
  A librarian stands behind a counter.
  
  > look in the sp.
  You unzip the side pocket just enough to take a peek inside. It contains an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew), a dull machete, a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew), a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew), an ornate metallic box, a book list, a cast iron spire and a library card.
  
  > examine the book list
  This is your notification that your status with the Backwater Public Library is DELINQUENT due to NON-RETURNAL.
  You are NOT PERMITTED to check out books or to access special library materials until your status is cleared.
  
  To clear your status, you must return ALL books you currently have checked out:
  
  To Have, and To Have Knots: An Illustrated Guide
  The Dollmaker's Journal
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes
  Backwater Personalities (1915-1925 edition)
  Tolerating An Asinine God
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors
  De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm
  Venator in Tenebris
  'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids
  Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque
  Reactions
  Life Beneath Nightmares
  The Conservative's Cookbook
  The Seven Gaunts
  New England and the Bavarian Illuminati
  ANCHORHEAD. A What-do-I-do-now Book Based on the Works of
  MICHAEL GENTRY
  
  The librarian sorts some books.
  
  > give the Legends to the librarian
  Klonk-klonk. On the cart it goes.
  
  > give Dollmaker to the librarian
  Klonk-klonk.
  
  > Examine journal
  Which do you mean, The Dollmaker's Journal (smelling faintly
  of mildew), the shabby journal, the Journal of Edwin Cragne
  (smelling faintly of mildew), the moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew) or the tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)?
  
  > examine the tiny leather
  It's a tiny leather book. It's plain except for an unusual and quite striking design that has been embossed on the cover. Although discolored by age, the initial pages are quite legible. Unfortunately, many of the later pages have suffered heavily due to the silverfish and are covered with a patchwork of irregular, notched holes - only fragments of the once clear handwriting remain.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > examine the list
  This is your notification that your status with the Backwater Public Library is DELINQUENT due to NON-RETURNAL.
  You are NOT PERMITTED to check out books or to access special library materials until your status is cleared.
  
  To clear your status, you must return ALL books you currently have checked out:
  
  To Have, and To Have Knots: An Illustrated Guide
  Backwater Personalities (1915-1925 edition)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors
  De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque
  Reactions
  Life Beneath Nightmares
  The Conservative's Cookbook
  New England and the Bavarian Illuminati
  ANCHORHEAD. A What-do-I-do-now Book Based on the Works of
  MICHAEL GENTRY
  
  There! It changed again! Weird.
  
  > examine Edwin
  This handwritten journal appears to cover a period from September 1939 to May 1943 in the life of Edwin Cragne, a self-styled scientist and inventor. It has a maroon cover and is densely packed with a tight, neat writing and sporadic equations. Portions of it appear to have been written for Edwin Cragne's brother. Other portions appear to have been written only for himself and are in code. However, the parts that are not encoded seem to cover many of the devices in this boiler room, all of which Edwin Cragne apparently built himself. You could consult the journal about them.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  The librarian stamps something.
  
  > look up Cthulhu in Edwin
  I have located sunken R'lyeh where Cthulhu lies dreaming. It is not safe to enter there, but it may be observed using a hex code of 880A5D23.
  
  > read New England
  (first taking the book New England and the Bavarian
  Illuminati)
  ... The practical development of this pernicious system has been seen in France. It has served as an engine to subvert all her ancient institutions, civil and religious, with all the checks that served to mitigate the rigor of authority; it has hurried her headlong through a rapid succession of dreadful revolutions, which have laid waste property, made havoc among the arts, overthrown cities, desolated provinces, unpeopled regions, crimsoned her soil with blood, and deluged it in crime, poverty, and wretchedness; and all this as yet for no better purpose than to erect on the ruins of former things a despotism unlimited and uncontrolled; leaving to a deluded, an abused, a plundered, a scourged, and an oppressed people, not even the shadow of liberty to console them for a long train of substantial misfortunes, or bitter suffering...
  
  the cart.
  
  > examine the list
  This is your notification that your status with the Backwater Public Library is DELINQUENT due to NON-RETURNAL.
  You are NOT PERMITTED to check out books or to access special library materials until your status is cleared.
  
  To clear your status, you must return ALL books you currently have checked out:
  
  To Have, and To Have Knots: An Illustrated Guide
  Backwater Personalities (1915-1925 edition)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque
  Reactions
  Life Beneath Nightmares
  The Conservative's Cookbook
  ANCHORHEAD. A What-do-I-do-now Book Based on the Works of
  MICHAEL GENTRY
  
  By now, you're used to seeing the list shrink dynamically.
  
  The librarian fusses about behind the counter. You hadn't noticed before, but she doesn't ever seem to move her fingers. Her left hand is permanently in a pointing position, three fingers curled back. Her right is like a puppet's. She's probably a stroke survivor or something. You try not to stare.
  
  > go to the west
  A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.
  
  You can see a notice board here.
  
  An ethereal trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.
  
  > put the books in the bp
  faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
  
  > Close bp
  You close the book pocket.
  
  > go southwest
  Drinking Fountain (Lucian Smith)
  A public drinking fountain is placed in a nook here, nearly overgrown with ivy. You can return to the town square to the northeast.
  
  Behind the main fountain, mounted in the same pillar of brick, is a second, somewhat smaller fountain.
  
  You can also see a well-dressed ghost (smelling faintly of mildew) here.
  
  > examine Ghost
  (the Ghost Libation Legend)
  The Lonesome Keen Serves One
  
  Ingredients: 1 part cold gin 2 parts warm apple cider 1 pinch cinnamon 8 grains salt
  
  Instructions: "It alls means something, thids drink. My great-grandfather... a Cragne! Keening Ken Cragne! Through from the... to the top. Is he here now? Is he dead? (laughs) And we remember wha (unintelligible) Kenneth Cragne! It all meanses something... listen to me... listen... Two parts cider, yeah? Because two days outta three, ol" Ken Cragne put cider in his flask! Calm days, they say. My dad said thad. Calm Ken days... Calm. But I wasn't alive then I don't (unintelligible.) But still I remember the gin days, you know? I shouldn't remember 'em right? Because that's crazy, right? (laughs) Why do I remember Ken Bastard Cragnes cold gin days, huh? Thas weird, right? My grandpa's the only kid of nine to like... Hold on okay. Lemme EXPLAIN the DRINK. The pinch of cinn- of cinnda- the punch a cibadon... cinnamon. That's Ken's lonely work! Train conductor, and actually the only one in my family to do that particular occupation. Big money becauss he smuggled cinner... cinn... he smuggled lots of things actually. They'd all be dead by now anyways, right? (unintelligible) What were we talking about? Oh! Oh god! EIGHT GRAINS OF SALT! EXACT! PRECISE OR HE DOES THE THING OKAY? Eight kids eight grains eight bloody brains. I would sing thadt. Perfect or Ken... Ken is here right now, right? Don't tell him I said- he just dead but he's here... He usedta beat up my mom and dad... after they died! I don't know knowww whyyy. We Cragne's got space in our blood. Space times. Very dignified, do you hear me? Very dignified! That's the name. That's hell. LISTEN TO (unintelligible) dig... we got.. we... please...
  
  > examinwell-dressed Ghost
  A well-dressed and glowering African-American man, impatient with a sense of purpose.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  Seeing the smaller fountain, the well-dressed man scowls, and a sledgehammer suddenly materializes in his hands. He stalks towards it, frost blossoming from the ground at each step. Standing in front of it, he hefts the sledgehammer high into the air, bringing it down with great force--only to see it harmlessly pass through the fountain's bowl, without even a whisper of wind. He glares at the fountain, then turns and sees you watching him. He considers for a moment, then seems to come to a decision. He tosses the sledgehammer to you, and you catch it one-handed.
  
  > hit the smaller Fountain with the sledgehammer
  With a shout, you attack the "colored" fountain with the sledgehammer. Memories bubble up inside you with each strike. BAM. Standing at the counter for an hour, while everyone but you is served. BAM. The constant, constant looks of surprise when people walk in and
  see someone like you working in a place like that. BAM. Being at least interrogated by the police if not outright arrested any time an unsolved crime takes place in town. BAM. Your friends--your friends--voting to install BAM this BAM damn BAM fountain. BAM.
  BAM. BAM. The last of the fountain finally disintegrates beneath your blows, and fatigue overtakes you. You slump against the fountain, breathing heavily, and the sledgehammer slips from your grasp and fades from view.
  
  The well-dressed man comes up and puts a cold hand on your shoulder. His mouth doesn't move, but you hear a faint, accented voice, speaking inside your head. "Thank you. That was... satisfying. It's not enough. But it was still satisfying." The man's shoulders straighten as if a weight was lifted off of them, and you hear a sigh. "I... might be able to help. I'll try, at least." The man begins fading from view, as the spot on your shoulder where he's touching you gets colder and colder. You gasp with pain and clutch the spot just as the man fades entirely. Slowly, your shoulder begins to warm up again, but a spot on your collarbone remains cold to the touch.
  
  You follow the sensation of cold down your arm to your hand, which now appears to be holding a pair of reading glasses.
  
  > examine the reading glasses
  A pair of round, thick-rimmed glasses with the Backwater library insignia on each eyepiece.
  
  > wear them
  (Disclaimer: Wearing these reading glasses may slightly decrease the difficulty involved in searching for library books. Adventurers who are concerned with maintaining hint purity are advised to use their best judgment.)
  
  You put on the pair of reading glasses.
  
  > examine the coffee
  The swirls in your cup form a skateboard. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.