text: [Themes: Slice of life, Travel, nature]
  
  > Look around
  You stand in the middle of a grove of aspen, which extends in all directions. Slender white trunks reach for the sky with long thin fingers, stroking the clouds that blow in the autumn breeze. Leaves of gold rattle as the winds shift, and here and there one floats to the ground to join others that crackle underfoot when you move. A narrow path disappears east into the trees, and a camping area is visible through a small opening to the west. North is a wide meadow.
  
  > go west
  Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.
  
  Ah, yes. The campsite. Last night, when the two of you were pitching the tent, it was already dark and the wind had a bite to it that cut to the skin. It made crawling into the sleeping bag that much more pleasant. But now it's weekend! Just you and your husband as he promised over a month ago.
  
  The tent is right where you left it, of course, on a bed of leaves between a pair of the biggest trees. In the light of day, you can see a meadow to the north. A path leads east.
  
  A large bull elk and his harem sit in the shade in front of the tent.
  
  From the north, an eerie bugle rises above the wind and the rattling of the leaves in the surrounding trees. The large bull in front of you lifts his head, as if to listen, but does not move.
  
  > look at leaves
  Aspen leaves litter the ground, scattered in patterns of yellow, orange, and green that blend together like an Escher drawing. Small piles of them have collected against the trunks of the nearby trees.
  
  You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
  
  > Search tent
  You can't get close enough without disturbing the bull elk.
  
  You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
  
  > kill the elk
  As you move toward the elk, he looks directly at you, and you reconsider.
  
  You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
  
  > bugle yourself
  Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.
  
  You hear it again, a wild bugling to the north.
  
  > Bugle elk
  The bull elk turns to look directly at you. He's not sure whether to take that as a challenge or as an offer.
  
  > go to the north
  Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.
  
  You are at the west edge of a large grassy meadow. Leaves from the surrounding trees litter the ground, piled against the tall white and black boles of the aspens that used to be their owners. To the south is your campsite.
  
  You hear it again, a wild bugling to the east.
  
  > Go east
  Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.
  
  You are in the middle of a large grassy meadow, bordered by aspens and a few white spruce in all directions. Pockets of morning fog squat in the damp and cold, hovering just above the ground and hiding from the sun that melts the hazy edge where they touch.
  
  A young bull elk occupies the middle of the meadow. In a ritual performed for millennia, the beast lifts his head, antlers pointed back and neck stretched tight. A haunting bugle fills the air, first rising in pitch, then dropping quickly. A short series of grunts ends the sequence. As you approach, he pauses long enough to move off to the north.
  
  > go to the north
  Flip flop. Flip flop. Flip flop.
  
  You are at the north edge of the large and grassy meadow, bordered by aspen. Fireweed grows at the base of the trees, pink blooms withered and gone to seed.
  
  The elk, sensing your presence, moves off to the southeast.
  
  > remove the flops
  You step out of your flipflops and pick them up.
  
  You are now wearing some shorts and a shirt.
  
  You can hear an elk bugling to the southeast.
  
  > go to the south-east
  The east end of the meadow is rocky, and you make your way carefully when you move. Further east, a granite cliff blocks your way. The remnants of an old mountain trail lead northeast.
  
  Continuing his bugling, the young elk walks west.
  
  > Bugle
  Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.
  
  > go to the northeast
  You are on an old mountain trail, hewn from the rocks and trees probably 100 years ago. Highbush cranberry grows amongst the aspens, and where the trees part enough to let the sky show, fireweed fills the openings with profusion. The path turns from southwest to north.
  
  > Go up
  The cliff is too steep to climb.
  
  > Go north
  The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.
  
  On the porch is an oak rocking chair and a galvanized steel bucket.
  
  An old man stands on the front porch of the cabin, leaning on a broom and watching as you approach. He gives you a curious look, but says nothing.
  
  > Bugle man
  Off in the distance, you hear a wilder bugle in response.
  
  The man looks at you expectantly as he resumes his sweeping. His attitude isn't unfriendly, but rather curious as to who might be coming to visit in such an out-of-the-way place.
  
  > greet the man
  "Good to meet you," he says. "My name's Bob."
  
  > remove the shorts
  "Don't do that here, young lady. There's a chill in the air and you'll catch cold."
  
  Bob goes back to his sweeping, intent on finishing the job.
  
  > get the bucket
  "Go ahead and borrow that old bucket, if you think you need it," Bob says to you. "Folks gotta help each other, you know."
  
  > kick bucket
  Bob may be a doctor, but his name isn't Kevorkian.
  
  Bob pauses to examine a crack in the flooring of the porch. "I'll have to fix that," he says.
  
  > look up the highbush cranberry in the book
  Latin name: Viburnum edule
  
  A member of the honeysuckle family, the highbush cranberry grows in the montane and lower subalpine habitats and prefers open areas in damp woods. The bush grows to a height of 3 to 4 feet, and in the fall, the leaves turn a brilliant red. It blooms in clusters of white star-shaped flowers, and the fruits are small red berries with a single flat seed in each.
  
  > remove the shorts
  You remove your shorts.
  
  You are now wearing only a shirt.
  
  > eat the highbush cranberry
  (first taking the highbush cranberry)
  The highbush cranberries are not important.
  
  > go north
  The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.
  
  On the porch is an oak rocking chair.
  
  Bob looks up from his sweeping and nods as you approach, giving you a surprised look. "You ought to get dressed, my dear," he says to you in a kindly way. "There's a chill in the air, and you'll likely catch cold."
  
  Bob stops to grab a leaf that is stuck in a crack. He throws it aside and continues sweeping.
  
  > wear the bucket
  You can't wear that!
  
  Bob bends to pick a rock out from between two of the planks. "Always tracking in rocks," he says.
  
  > ask Bob about Bob
  "I was a country doctor, an obstetrician," he says to you. "Sally and I couldn't have children, but I made my living from helping other people have theirs. Didn't make much. So many of the people couldn't pay. But those little babies, I think of every one of them as my own. Some of them would come back and I'd deliver their child. Kind of like watching your own grow up. Did that for 32 years. Now I just work my garden. Try not to think too much about the past."
  
  > wear the shorts
  You put on the shorts.
  
  Bob moves the broom to sweep the left side of the porch.
  
  > ask Bob about Sally
  "Sally. Now there was a woman. We were highschool sweethearts, married for 43 years. Then, we found out she was sick, and three months later, she was gone. Breast cancer. Died of breast cancer four years ago. I'm a doctor and I should have known." He looks at you and shakes a sad head. "I saw all the signs, and I didn't even recognize them. Guess I just couldn't believe it could happen to us. Of all people, I should have known."
  
  > ask Bob for mammogram
  Bob just looks at you and shrugs. "If you see that around, just help yourself," he mutters.
  
  > ask Bob about spring
  "That hot spring's back in one of the canyons, not far from here. Make sure you don't miss it. It's quite a treat."
  
  > read the note
  You take the note from your pocket and read it again:
  
  My Love:
  
  For five years now we have shared so many times together and made so many memories. All the places we've gone, the things we've seen, the friends we've met along the way.
  
  This is a favorite place of mine, I hope it will be for you. And I have a small birthday surprise in store. Meet me this evening in the hot spring. I'll find you there.
  
  Bob swats at a mosquito. "Darned bugs," he mutters. "No way to get away from them.".
  
  > ask Bob about the canyon
  "The canyon is just down the way, made of granite and steep as can be."
  
  > Brent
  "Nice fella, met him this morning."
  
  > Xyzzy
  You feel an indescribable sense of deja vu, and the world seems to turn inside out.
  
  This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance. A hollow voice beckons to you from that direction.
  
  > go to the west
  You move west, into the inky blackness, the darkness so thick, you can almost feel it. The air prickles with the energy of the past. When the feeling subsides, you find yourself back where you began...
  
  The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.
  
  On the porch is an oak rocking chair.
  
  You can see Bob here, sweeping his porch.
  
  He sweeps a bit more, all the while looking at you. "I wonder why they don't seem to bother you. I've got my own private cloud of bugs, and you just sit there pretty as can be." He shrugs his shoulders, and swats at another one.
  
  > go east
  Newly dug, this immense auditorium is almost pristine. Hundreds of rows of plush velvet seats surround the main stage in a graceful 'U'. Wide aisles allow easy passage, and converge into a shallow orchestra pit. There is a brightly-lit doorway to the west, over which hangs the helpful sign, "Exit."
  
  On the stage you can see a podium.
  
  You seem to have arrived just in time. Eileen Mullin straightens her little black dress and walks over to the podium. Pausing, she clears her throat to get everyone's attention.
  
  > examine eileen
  "Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"
  
  "Welcome to the second annual XYZZY awards," she says. The crowd cheers. Baby cries! Slowly, the noise abates. After the usual preliminaries, she continues. "I will present the first award, the winner of the Best Use of Medium."
  
  > sit
  "Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"
  
  Eileen opens the envelope, and exclaims, "The Tempest ... Graham Nelson!!!!" The crowd goes wild. Someone calls for his acceptance speech in iambic pentameter.
  
  > wait for a while
  Soon, Eileen speaks again. "Here to present the award for best individual PC is the Adventurer! Take it away!" With a few quick steps to the stage, Nameless Adventurer takes the podium. Away.
  
  > Wait
  Returning from backstage, he/she clears his/her throat. Ripping open the envelope, he/she exclaims, "Tracy Valencia from Interstate Zero!"
  
  > wait
  The crowd erupts in applause and shouts. Clearly, the audience is pleased. Someone snickers about nudity.
  
  > Inventory
  "Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"
  
  Eileen exclaims, "Here to present the award for Best Individual NPC is last year's winner: the devil from Small World!" The devil, only a little taller than you, pops out of a volcano and walks to the stage. He's got a wand in one hand and a scrap of parchment in the other. "Thank you all. No, don't boo, really," he says.
  
  > Wait
  Waving his wand, there is a flash of light and a few red words appear midair. They erupt in a shower of sparks, only to fade a moment later. Before they go, you are able to read "She's Got a Thing for a Spring --> Bob." A loud voice from the back of the room calls out "Way cool nature photo dude!"
  
  > wait for a while
  Bob walks quickly to the stage, his stride long and sure. A hammer hangs from his belt. A short discussion with the devil ensues, something about signing a contract. Then, with more strength than you would have imagined, Bob wrests the trophy away and returns to his seat. "She's got a thing for a squid!" comes from the right side of the auditorium.
  
  > Wait
  Nameless Adventurer returns to the stage. "Here to introduce the award for Best Individual Puzzle is a puzzle you all know and love... Here it is! The west pillar from So Far!"
  
  > Wait
  The west pillar leans and creaks as it makes its way to the stage. Rocking back and forth in excitement, it opens an envelope and pulls out a tax form. Recovering quickly, it opens a different envelope. "The winner is... Da da da da! The language puzzle in The Edifice!" A chant of "LPLPLPLPLPLPLPLPLP" rises from the crowd.
  
  > examine the pillar
  "Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"
  
  Eileen exclaims, "And now, presenting the award for Best NPCs, we have last year's winner... Evan, from Kissing the Buddha's Feet!!" Evan makes his way to the stage.
  
  > wait
  Evan begins by giving an impromptu talk on how to beat the various Comp97 games. His speech lasts exactly one minute, then he says, "And the winner is...The Frenetic Five vs. Sturm und Drang by Neil deMause!" From off to your left comes "Yay for the famous five!" Then, someone claps twice and Neil begins to beep.
  
  > Wait
  Ragged boy smiles pleasantly at everyone, opens an envelope, and pulls out a brush to draw a small picture of an edifice. Thumbs attack Lucian from every direction, all of them up.
  
  > Wait
  Eileen exclaims, "Here to present the award for Best Setting is least, oops, last year's winner... the devil from Small World!" Once again, the devil makes his evil way to the stage.
  
  > wait
  The devil takes the nominees list and tries to get everyone to sign it. "And the winner is, A Bear's Night Out by David Dyte!" "Let's hear it for the bear!" comes from behind you. Someone screams.
  
  > Xyzzy
  "Shhhhhh!" someone says from a seat nearby. "These are the XYZZY awards!"
  
  Eileen exclaims, "And now to present the award for Best Story, I give you once more... the Nameless Adventurer!!!"
  
  > Wait
  Nameless Adventurer walks to the stage and thanks Eileen. "And the winner is... Babel, by Ian Finley!" "Babool! Babelfish! Babel! Babel! Babel!" come the cries. Someone in front of you emotes. "Ian Finley, a man whose initials spell IF!"
  
  > wait
  Eileen exclaims, "And now, presenting the award for Best Writing, we have a rep from last year's winning game... Tato from So Far!!!" Someone yells, "Mr. Tato Head!"
  
  > wait
  Tato bows grandly. "Attend you all! For on this paper scroll, is the winner, Sunset Over Savannah, by Ivan Cockrum!" "I-VAN COCK-RUM! (CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAP)," the crowd intones in unison.
  
  > wait for a while
  Eileen says, "And now, presenting today's final award, we have a rep from last year's winning game... Aessa from So Far!!!"
  
  > Wait
  There is a long pause. Liza clears her throat. Loudly. The crowd is anxious. Nothing happens. Finally, Zarf, looking characteristically smug, says "Look. I'll do it. She can apologize to me later."
  
  > wait for a while
  Zarf takes the stage. "The winner, for Best Game of 1997, is..."
  
  > Wait
  Zarf waits until the tension is almost unbearable.
  
  > Wait
  "Innnnterstate Zeeeeero, by Adam Cadre!!!!!!" Baby cries! Zarf dances around the stage, albeit for someone else's game. The din increases, "ADAMADAMADMADMADMADMADMADMA!" The noise is deafening.
  
  > Wait
  The crowd, rowdy beyond belief, rushes out of the auditorium to the west, carrying the winners as they go. When the clamor dies, you realize you stand alone.
  
  > remove the pants
  The ceremony is over. Nothing else seems to matter here.
  
  > Go west
  Shuffling past the now empty seats, you make your way to the exit.
  
  This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance.
  
  A small scrap of paper lies here, apparently dropped by one of the revellers a few minutes ago.
  
  > look at it
  Taken.
  Scribbled in someone's half-legible handwriting is the following note:
  
  "Feb 5, 1998
  IFMud
  
  Transcript (Edit and publish):
  
  ..."
  
  The rest of the writing is a mad mass of rapidly written descriptions and quotes, apparently of the ceremony you just witnessed.
  
  > go west
  Shuffling past the now empty seats, you make your way to the exit.
  
  This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance.
  
  > Xyzzy
  Nothing happens.
  
  > Plugh
  This is a long east-west hallway, dark and featureless. Smooth black walls line the way, disappearing into the inky stillness to the west. East, a small rectangle of light hovers in the distance.
  
  Fortunately, you studied well in the old days. Once again, you find yourself in the...
  
  The years have not been kind to this remnant of the past, although the obviously recent repairs hide the worst of the scars. An old-fashioned log cabin occupies an opening in the woods, door swung open onto the wide front porch. The single window looks out onto the clearing, alert and watchful, with a country plaid curtain that flutters in the breeze. A trail leaves to the south and continues around the cabin to the north.
  
  On the porch is an oak rocking chair.
  
  You can see Bob here, sweeping his porch.
  
  He sweeps a bit more, all the while looking at you. "I wonder why they don't seem to bother you. I've got my own private cloud of bugs, and you just sit there pretty as can be." He shrugs his shoulders, and swats at another one.
  
  > sit in the chair
  You get onto the oak rocking chair.
  
  Overhead, you can see the early-morning sun as it rises a bit higher.
  
  Finished with his sweeping, Bob takes his broom and disappears into the cabin. "Be right back," he calls through the door.
  
  > Rock
  What do you want to rock?
  
  > Sing
  You sing a few bars of "I Love to Hate Men." Even if you don't really mean it, that song always lifts your spirits.
  
  Bob comes out of the cabin and sits down beside the oak rocker. In his hand is a sheet of sandpaper.
  
  > ask Bob about the canyon
  "The canyon is just down the way, made of granite and steep as can be."
  
  Bob sands on the left leg of the chair. Being a rocker, it moves a bit as he moves, and he wedges his foot under the runner to hold it still. He looks up at you with a smile. "Would you go out to the shed and get me one of the old bricks so I can keep this chair from rocking?" he asks. "I sure would appreciate it."
  
  > Sandpaper
  "This?" he looks at you. "It's just a sheet of 100 grit sandpaper."
  
  > count grit
  "Sounds familiar. Hmmm. Sorry."
  
  > Shed
  You can't see any such thing.
  
  What do you want to shed?
  
  > ask Bob about the shed
  "That old shed has all my good stuff in it," he smiles.
  
  > Shirt
  Bob takes a quick moment to read your shirt, then smiles. "I kinda like your attitude, actually," he says.
  
  > Flipflops
  "Those look comfortable."