text: [Themes: Science Fiction, transformation]
  
  > Go downward
  You leap into the dark and land, an instant later, in a waist-deep hole.
  
  You are waist-high in a hole in the floor, in the middle of a
  corridor of mangled metal walls. It's filled with the mangled rubble of robot parts, all a lurid orange.
  
  > go to the south
  The only exit is up.
  
  > examine the hole
  You are waist-high in a hole in the floor, in the middle of a corridor of mangled metal walls. It's filled with the mangled rubble of robot parts, all a lurid orange.
  
  > Go up
  You scramble out of the hole.
  
  This was the eastern quadrant of the dome, but something has fallen away and it is now a mangle of sheets of metal, intersecting skew-like. About halfway along, the roof is so low to the floor as to admit a mere few centimeters of space between. Wiring hangs from the neon light, but only the first segment is still lit. The loose panel is propped against the wall, revealing a promising, deep hole into the bowels of the dome.
  
  > Go west
  The corridor curves southeast to southwest, smooth metal walls low
  and merging over your head. Portholes splatter the north side like bullet-holes. A neon striplight runs the length of the corridor, light leaking round the bends until it is cut on the west side by a robot-hatch, and on the east by an airlock door, which is open.
  
  To the south is the door back to the mortuary, a black glass panel by its side.
  
  Through the door appears Victoria.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes...
  
  The robot opens the hatch and rumbles through.
  
  > Go south
  The door is closed and locked.
  
  > put arm in recess
  The hatch opens; you dart through.
  
  The western side of the dome, and an area not designed for human personnel. Robot hatches stand secure at the north and southern ends, the latter a little dented, perhaps in the same explosion that damaged the east side. Portholes peer out in the dark, their ring broken by a passage to the west, opposite an open archway to the east.
  
  > go to the east
  This appears to be the hub of the Hansome's world. Along one wall
  runs a large computer bank, over which soft lights play in colours tailored for electric eyes. The far corner of the room contains a large glass cylinder that disappears through the ceiling; it is open at the bottom, where a coffin waits. The centre of the floor is taken up by a circular hatch marked "Waste Disposal". The juxtaposition is quite unpleasant, and if too much so, you could leave back west.
  
  > examine the coffin
  The coffin is a smart black number of regular height. It is unmarked, open, and waiting with a depressing certitude.
  
  From the corridor, you hear the sound of the robot hatch opening and closing.
  
  > look at the computer
  The computer has one main screen, a circular recess to serve as a monodigital keyboard, and a flat black palm scanner. However, your gaze is taken by one larger switch, marked with beautiful portent: PERSONAL DETONATION DISPENSEMENT.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You have a robot arm.
  
  > examine Switch
  That switch should dole out swifter death than cyanide.
  
  > switch Switch
  It's already open.
  
  I don't know how to switch the switch.
  
  From the corridor, you hear the sound of the robot hatch opening and closing.
  
  > look in the coffin
  The coffin is empty.
  
  > examine the cylinder
  It's glass, and stretches upwards. During a funeral, the base seals, it fills with water and coffins are flushed out to be found and buried on land. You'd seen it before on the designs for this place, but never realised they'd been so heartless as to actually build the thing.
  
  > get in the coffin
  You made that mistake when you joined AtlantisLab. You're not doing it again.
  
  > enter the cylinder
  The coffin is in the way.
  
  > move the coffin
  You can't move the coffin.
  
  The familiar swish-snap sound of the robot hatch gets your attention.
  
  > pull Switch
  You tug the switch. It sticks halfway, and a message appears on the screen: DISPENSEMENT SET. PROCEED VIA PERSONAL SETTING.
  
  > examine the hatch
  Ah, the eco-friendly waste system. A hatch, with a short tunnel, another hatch, and then the sea. Waste goes into through one door and is ejected into the water. Simple, effective, and self-cleaning. The waste disposal hatch is closed, and there is no immediately obvious control to change that.
  
  > examine computer
  The computer has one main screen, a circular recess to serve as a monodigital keyboard, and a flat black palm scanner. The switch for the PDD is stuck half-way down. The screen is flashing something about setting a PERSONAL.
  
  > touch the scanner
  Of course, it probably won't be happy with your print. But you put your palm on the glass anyway.
  
  The computer heaves and splats. You barely notice a squat oblong fire out from its base, because of a searing pain that shoots across your palm. You pull back your hand, to find you have been branded!
  
  > look at the palm
  Your palm contains a brand. Beneath it is inscribed "Press for detonation."
  
  From the corridor outside you hear the swish-snap of the robot hatch.
  
  > Press brand
  Your finger hovers over the contact. Eyes to palm, eyes to bomb. You can't help feeling it's a slightly extreme way to go. But you press the button anyway.
  
  "!ERROR - PERSONAL WITHIN BLAST RADIUS!" screams a siren from just above your wrist.
  
  > enter the coffin
  You made that mistake when you joined AtlantisLab. You're not doing it again.
  
  > examine brand
  The brand is a small black button - a tattoo just left of your lifeline. Beneath it is inscribed "Press for detonation."
  
  > look at the computer
  The computer has one main screen, a circular recess to serve as a monodigital keyboard, and a flat black palm scanner, slightly stained with your blood. The switch for the PDD is stuck half-way down. The screen is blank.
  
  From the corridor outside you hear the swish-snap of the robot hatch.
  
  > examine the blood
  The computer has one main screen, a circular recess to serve as a monodigital keyboard, and a flat black palm scanner, slightly stained with your blood. The switch for the PDD is stuck half-way down. The screen is blank.
  
  You didn't think Dr. Kurner had any left.