text: [Themes: Science Fiction, gender-neutral protagonist]
  
  > Look around
  Four thick square columns near the corners. Your LED makes elongated shadows dance out behind each one as you move. The central space is empty. Maybe once there were seats or pews, but if so they've rotted entirely away. It may be ancient, but this tiny building has nice proportions. The architect was human, no doubt, but probably had robotic assistance. The exit is south.
  
  Near the north wall is a huge oblong block of stone with a smooth top.
  
  On the block of stone is an ancient idol.
  
  > go south
  Not much light at all, just a few knife-edges of shuttered candle gleam coming from the hodge-podge of alleys and houses. You are appalled that people could possibly be allowed to live down here.
  
  Though you don't see any residents at the moment, the buildings are not perfectly quiet. Little noises of creaking wood. Whispers, too, perhaps.
  
  Decayed alleys run in many directions, but you should probably stick to traveling east, back towards the culvert, or north, where a sturdier structure of stone stands amongst the ramshackle dwellings.
  
  > go to the east
  This was probably a culvert once. Muddy, dim. Just breathing the air here is like kissing a grave. The bowed ceiling, which curves down to become the walls, is riddled with fissures, from which protrude dead black roots.
  
  The old culvert runs east and west, and a ragged chimney leads up into the relatively clean air of the crypt.
  
  > Go east
  Unhealthy stems grow lush here. They have woven themselves into a pliable mesh between floor and ceiling. The roots are sunk into a putrid matrix of muck and shattered bones.
  
  Your LED's light gleams in pale splinters off the stems. The growth is crushed down in paths heading east, west, and south.
  
  > Examine box
  In the cardboard box are a plexiglass key, a clarinet, and a bowling ball.
  
  > buy the key
  You take the the plexiglass key from the box, handing a dollar bill over to the hermit in exchange.
  
  > Up
  The rotten brick floor has partially collapsed, allowing access to a level below the crypt. You can climb down, or you can skirt the hole and go north. The hallway also runs southeast.
  
  > open the cabinet
  (first unlocking the plexiglass cabinet)
  (with the plexiglass key)
  Unlocked.
  
  Oops. The plexiglass key must have been pretty fragile. It snaps into two pieces as you unlock the cabinet.
  
  You open the plexiglass cabinet.
  
  > look at what you're carrying with you
  You are carrying:
  a broken key
  a tube of glue
  a tarnished silver plate
  a paper envelope (open but empty)
  a pair of wirecutters
  an emergency tool kit (open but empty)
  three relics:
  a holy fuse
  a holy wire
  an LED eye (providing light)
  
  > glue key
  (with the tube of glue)
  You squeeze out a bit of glue and repair the broken plexiglass key.
  
  > get the chips
  red music chip: The plexiglass coffin isn't open.
  white music chip: The plexiglass coffin isn't open.
  
  > Open coffin
  (first unlocking the plexiglass coffin)
  (with the plexiglass key)
  Unlocked.
  
  You open the plexiglass coffin.
  
  > get the chips
  red music chip: Taken. (That's a holy relic; be careful with it.) white music chip: Taken. (That's a holy relic; be careful with it.)
  
  > look at the red chip
  A small, round music chip taken from the body of Saint 71. Written on the side in minuscule type are the word "The DOSology."
  
  > Go northwest
  A rutted ground of rotted bricks. The ceiling is low, lumpy with whitish nitre. The walls are very close and crooked, but not by any mysterious robot design. They're just ancient--and were shoddy to begin with. Brick passageways lead southeast and northwest.
  
  You can see a plexiglass cabinet (in which is a mangled saint (empty)) here.
  
  > go northwest
  The rotten brick floor has partially collapsed, allowing access to a level below the crypt. You can climb down, or you can skirt the hole and go north. The hallway also runs southeast.
  
  > Down
  This was probably a culvert once. Muddy, dim. Just breathing the air here is like kissing a grave. The bowed ceiling, which curves down to become the walls, is riddled with fissures, from which protrude dead black roots.
  
  The old culvert runs east and west, and a ragged chimney leads up into the relatively clean air of the crypt.
  
  > talk to the hermit
  The hermit makes a strange gesture with his right hand: a fist with the fronts of his curled fingers displayed.
  
  > talk to the hermit
  The hermit makes a strange gesture with his right hand: fingers together, little finger extended.
  
  > Examine box
  In the cardboard box are a clarinet and a bowling ball.
  
  > talk to the hermit
  The hermit makes a strange gesture with his right hand: index finger pointing up, thumb pointing sideways.
  
  > Continue
  The hermit makes a strange gesture with his right hand: thumb over ring and little fingers, index and middle fingers pointed up, slightly crossed.
  
  > Continue
  The hermit makes a strange gesture with his right hand: little finger and thumb sticking out to the sides, other fingers close to the palm.
  
  > Continue
  The hermit makes a strange gesture with his right hand: index finger and thumb pinched together, other fingers raised loosely.
  
  > go to the west
  W. W.
  
  This was probably a culvert once. Muddy, dim. Just breathing the air here is like kissing a grave. The bowed ceiling, which curves down to become the walls, is riddled with fissures, from which protrude dead black roots.
  
  The old culvert runs east and west, and a ragged chimney leads up into the relatively clean air of the crypt.
  
  Not much light at all, just a few knife-edges of shuttered candle gleam coming from the hodge-podge of alleys and houses. You are appalled that people could possibly be allowed to live down here.
  
  Though you don't see any residents at the moment, the buildings are not perfectly quiet. Little noises of creaking wood. Whispers, too, perhaps.
  
  Decayed alleys run in many directions, but you should probably stick to traveling east, back towards the culvert, or north, where a sturdier structure of stone stands amongst the ramshackle dwellings.
  
  You would probably get lost and die of starvation back there. Or at the very least die with a knife in your gut or crushed under a splintery deadfall. There is a path to the east, however, and a single safe-looking building, to the north.
  
  > show the idol to the hermit
  The hermit is unimpressed.
  
  > put the idol in the box
  You put the ancient idol into the cardboard box.
  
  > get dollar
  That seems to belong to the hermit.
  
  > Go upwards
  Unhealthy stems grow lush here. They have woven themselves into a pliable mesh between floor and ceiling. The roots are sunk into a putrid matrix of muck and shattered bones.
  
  Your LED's light gleams in pale splinters off the stems. The growth is crushed down in paths heading east, west, and south.
  
  This was probably a culvert once. Muddy, dim. Just breathing the air here is like kissing a grave. The bowed ceiling, which curves down to become the walls, is riddled with fissures, from which protrude dead black roots.
  
  The old culvert runs east and west, and a ragged chimney leads up into the relatively clean air of the crypt.
  
  The rotten brick floor has partially collapsed, allowing access to a level below the crypt. You can climb down, or you can skirt the hole and go north. The hallway also runs southeast.
  
  > put the key in the box
  The plexiglass key drops into the box.
  
  The hermit shrugs and hands you back your dollar bill.
  
  > get the clarinet
  You take the the clarinet from the box, handing a dollar bill over to the hermit in exchange.
  
  > put the chips into the clarinet
  white music chip: Done.
  red music chip: There is no more room in the round hole.
  
  > examine the clarinet
  A poorly-maintained electro-clarinet. Along the side of the instrument are a square fuse slot (containing a dead fuse) and round hole for a music chip (containing a white music chip).
  
  > put the fuse into the clarinet
  (the holy fuse into the clarinet)
  There is no more room in the square slot.
  
  > get the dead fuse
  You already have that.
  
  > put the holy fuse in the clarinet
  You put the holy fuse into the square slot.
  
  > play the clarinet
  You play "Ave Machina" on the clarinet.
  
  > examine the smock
  It inhabits the uncanny valley between garment and bodily growth.
  
  > Go upwards
  Unhealthy stems grow lush here. They have woven themselves into a pliable mesh between floor and ceiling. The roots are sunk into a putrid matrix of muck and shattered bones.
  
  Your LED's light gleams in pale splinters off the stems. The growth is crushed down in paths heading east, west, and south.
  
  This was probably a culvert once. Muddy, dim. Just breathing the air here is like kissing a grave. The bowed ceiling, which curves down to become the walls, is riddled with fissures, from which protrude dead black roots.
  
  The old culvert runs east and west, and a ragged chimney leads up into the relatively clean air of the crypt.
  
  The rotten brick floor has partially collapsed, allowing access to a level below the crypt. You can climb down, or you can skirt the hole and go north. The hallway also runs southeast.
  
  > Go north
  Brick steps lead up around a vertical square air channel.
  
  A hallway runs south under a brick arch, back towards the crypt.
  
  Your heart is thundering with anticipation. Any moment now you'll be in the presence of Pope Fortran.
  
  > Up
  You climb up towards the glare and roar of the Mathedral. Your legs are shaky.
  
  A V-shaped metal hallway. The bright walls and floor are covered with rubber wheel marks. The chapel is south; to the north, the hallway branches into a maelstrom of variously-purposed robot roads, paths, cyber-catwalks, and transport chutes. A hatch leads down into a lower level.
  
  You can feel a vibration in the substance of the world to the south: the chapel must be running some heavy-duty prayer engines.
  
  > Go south
  One step towards the chapel, and a stigmata forms, a drop of blood welling at your nostril.
  
  The hum of those prayer engines: they have been cranked up to a awe-inspiring degree.
  
  Get any closer to those prayer engines without wearing a prayer helmet and your brain will be, ah, nothing but stigmata.