text: [Themes: Humor, humor, female protagonist]
  
  > Go east
  The doorman turns up his pointy nose at the obvious square, but waves you inside anyway, muttering something about quail hunting.
  
  A smoky little hole in the wall filled with customers dressed in black and sipping coffee from tiny cups. Scratchy jazz is playing softly in the background. A low stage is along one wall.
  
  On the stage is Traudl Brandt.
  
  You can also see a telepod and a beatnik bodyguard here.
  
  > take pod
  (the telepod)
  Taken.
  
  > open the pod
  (the telepod)
  You open the telepod, revealing an enormous coffee mug.
  
  > talk to the bodyguard
  You try to strike up a casual conversation, using every single pointer you can remember from The Polite and Cheerful Girl's Guide To
  Awkward Conversations with Unsavory Strangers: Fifty Perfect
  Pointers. Unfortunately, it quickly becomes apparent that all he cares about is coffee, keeping you away from Traudl, and geopolitics, in that order.
  
  > give the mug to the bodyguard
  The beatnik eagerly takes the huge mug of coffee. "Now that's where it's at! Maybe you're not such a square after all." He guzzles down the coffee thirstily. "Like that really hit the spot, doll--I--" He looks sudden distressed. "Like, gotta beat the gravel, like, quicksville, you dig?"
  
  The desperate beatnik runs off in the direction of, like, the bathroomsville, leaving the stage unguarded.
  
  > get on the stage
  You clamber up onto the stage to the sound of a few scattered boos. Hmph! As if there was even really a show to interrupt. She's just sitting there!
  
  The Beat Barn (on the stage)
  A smoky little hole in the wall filled with customers dressed in black and sipping coffee from tiny cups. Scratchy jazz is playing softly in the background. A low stage is along one wall.
  
  Traudl Brandt is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the stage.
  
  > use the hula
  You use the hula hoop. Fun! Then it falls down around your ankles.
  
  > talk to Traudl
  [Picture number 13 here.]
  
  Traudl Brandt sits before you like a smoke-wreathed goddess.
  
  1) "Um, Miss Brandt...?"
  
  > 1
  ["Um, Miss Brandt...?"]
  
  Traudl gives you an amused half-smile. "Well, what brings you flying my way, little bird?" she asks, with just a trace of a German accent.
  
  1) "'Little bird' is building a weapon to fight the Brain Guzzlers."
  
  > 1
  ["'Little bird' is building a weapon to fight the Brain
  Guzzlers."]
  
  "Good on little bird--or maybe I should say little hawk. We need more people like you willing to stand up against the pigs and their masters and everybody else trying to keep this country ignorant."
  
  1) "No, they're literally--look, have you even been outside today--oh, close enough."
  
  > 1
  ["No, they're literally--look, have you even been outside
  today--oh, close enough."]
  
  "Well, then you're in the right place. We have a weapon here that's more powerful than any gun, more explosive than any bomb. We call it Art."
  
  1) "Actually I was more interested in that lovely robot head you're holding! Wherever did you get it?"
  
  > 1
  ["Actually I was more interested in that lovely robot head you're holding! Wherever did you get it?"]
  
  "What, this? It came crashing through the bathroom window about an hour ago. I figured the morally upright citizens of this perfect little burg were showing us their small-town hospitality in brick form again, but this one's different. Some kind of sculpture--I like it. I think I'll keep it." She laughs. "But tell you what. If I knew you'd appreciate it as much as I do, I might let you borrow it. Why not? Let's write a piece together. Awaken the poet's soul that dwells within you, and it's yours."
  
  1) "Uh--b-but I'm not really any kind of poet. Can't I just find you a helpful goat, or something?"
  2) "I'll do my best. Mother always did say my soul was my best feature!"
  
  > 2
  ["I'll do my best. Mother always did say my soul was my best feature!"]
  
  "Good girl. Now, this isn't hard. Everyone's got poetry in their heart somewhere. I'll whip up a batch of fresh words and images and all you've got to do is dig in. Capiche?"
  
  1) "Let's write some poetry!"
  
  > 1
  ["Let's write some poetry!"]
  
  "All right, let's start with something simple." Traudl clears her throat and recites. "The sky, darkness, graves, grave, glamour!"
  
  1) "Ghosts! Pumpkins! Witches! Boo!"
  2) "My soul aches as it's devoured by a thousand mouths of sadness." 3) "The thunder's like drums, and it pounds like a hammer!"
  4) "Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts."
  
  > 3
  ["The thunder's like drums, and it pounds like a hammer!"]
  
  Traudl frowns. "Uhm, no, little bird, this is a real poem.
  Real poems don't rhyme. Understand?"
  
  1) "What next?"
  
  > 1
  ["What next?"]
  
  "Okay, let's try another prompt...
  
  Fire! Ice! Chocolate! Mother-goddess, grown fat with aeons, ripe green hills and lush valleys. It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains!"
  
  1) "I'll get my umbrella!"
  2) "Those darn aeons are so full of calories!"
  3) "Water runs in my ears and it's drowning my brains?"
  4) "Ripe apples! Sweet tangerines! Bananas...bananas that dance...something about bananas."
  
  > 2
  ["Those darn aeons are so full of calories!"]
  
  "No, it's a metaphor--ah--never mind."
  
  1) "Gee, this is fun! Give me something else."
  
  > 1
  ["Gee, this is fun! Give me something else."]
  
  "Maybe a more primal, compelling image...
  
  Womankind! We carry the world between our legs, hand-standing Atlases, twin bookends of meat and bone. Blood! War! Is there anything else? A rotting fruit. Flies. How dare we? How dare us all? Break
  free of the prison--stand in the purple light and--"
  
  Traudl sucks in an enormous lungful of air.
  
  "SCRRRREEEEEEEEEAMMM!"
  
  1) "Violet like the hatred of my mother. Shoes! Fireflies!"
  2) (scream as loud as you can)
  3) "Meat and tulips! Sand! Death is inevitable."
  
  > 2
  [(scream as loud as you can)]
  
  "That--little bird, no, you--don't have a poet's scream."
  
  1) "I'm on a roll! Give me something else".
  
  > 1
  ["I'm on a roll! Give me something else".]
  
  "All right. How about this..."
  
  This land, bleak, bountiful, once grew bloody flowers. Steaks! Hamburgers! This land, this building, slaves in chains, robbed of white gold by two-legged vampires. Liberated! The hand of Art is on the udder, and it's your hand. You are the dairy farmer now!"
  
  1) "Okay, I give up."
  2) "Death! Ponies!"
  3) "I dreamed that I was suffering for eternity in a void in my Maidenform bra."
  
  > 3
  ["I dreamed that I was suffering for eternity in a void in my Maidenform bra."]
  
  "How nice for you."
  
  1) "So...pretty good poem, right?"
  
  > 1
  ["So...pretty good poem, right?"]
  
  Traudl shakes her head. "I'm sorry, little bird. There is poetry in your soul, I know it--but you're still not letting it out. Still, you do show promise. And at least you're not trying to rhyme.
  Maybe we should try this again."
  
  1) "Let's write some poetry!"
  2) "I need to leave, uh, daddy-o."
  
  > 1
  ["Let's write some poetry!"]
  
  "All right, let's start with something simple." Traudl clears her throat and recites. "The sky, darkness, graves, grave, glamour!"
  
  1) "Ghosts! Pumpkins! Witches! Boo!"
  2) "My soul aches as it's devoured by a thousand mouths of sadness." 3) "The thunder's like drums, and it pounds like a hammer!"
  4) "Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts."
  
  > 1
  ["Ghosts! Pumpkins! Witches! Boo!"]
  
  "Hmm. Not quite what I had in mind..."
  
  1) "What next?"
  
  > 2
  ["My soul aches as it's devoured by a thousand mouths of
  sadness."]
  
  "A little much, maybe?"
  
  1) "What next?"
  
  > 1
  ["What next?"]
  
  "Okay, let's try another prompt...
  
  Fire! Ice! Chocolate! Mother-goddess, grown fat with aeons, ripe green hills and lush valleys. It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains!"
  
  1) "I'll get my umbrella!"
  2) "Those darn aeons are so full of calories!"
  3) "Water runs in my ears and it's drowning my brains?"
  4) "Ripe apples! Sweet tangerines! Bananas...bananas that dance...something about bananas."
  
  > 4
  ["Ripe apples! Sweet tangerines! Bananas...bananas that dance...something about bananas."]
  
  "I don't think I know about that one..."
  
  1) "Gee, this is fun! Give me something else."
  
  > 1
  ["Gee, this is fun! Give me something else."]
  
  "Maybe a more primal, compelling image...
  
  Womankind! We carry the world between our legs, hand-standing Atlases, twin bookends of meat and bone. Blood! War! Is there anything else? A rotting fruit. Flies. How dare we? How dare us all? Break
  free of the prison--stand in the purple light and--"
  
  Traudl sucks in an enormous lungful of air.
  
  "SCRRRREEEEEEEEEAMMM!"
  
  1) "Violet like the hatred of my mother. Shoes! Fireflies!"
  2) (scream as loud as you can)
  3) "Meat and tulips! Sand! Death is inevitable."
  
  > 1
  ["Violet like the hatred of my mother. Shoes! Fireflies!"]
  
  "Imagery's a little on-the-nose, but..."
  
  1) "I'm on a roll! Give me something else".
  
  > 1
  ["I'm on a roll! Give me something else".]
  
  "All right. How about this..."
  
  This land, bleak, bountiful, once grew bloody flowers. Steaks! Hamburgers! This land, this building, slaves in chains, robbed of white gold by two-legged vampires. Liberated! The hand of Art is on the udder, and it's your hand. You are the dairy farmer now!"
  
  1) "Okay, I give up."
  2) "Death! Ponies!"
  3) "I dreamed that I was suffering for eternity in a void in my Maidenform bra."
  
  > 2
  ["Death! Ponies!"]
  
  "Sigh."
  
  1) "So...pretty good poem, right?"
  
  > 1
  ["So...pretty good poem, right?"]
  
  Traudl shakes her head. "I'm sorry, little bird. There is poetry in your soul, I know it--but you're still not letting it out. Still, you do show promise. And at least you're not trying to rhyme.
  Maybe we should try this again."
  
  1) "Let's write some poetry!"
  2) "I need to leave, uh, daddy-o."
  
  > 1
  ["Let's write some poetry!"]
  
  "All right, let's start with something simple." Traudl clears her throat and recites. "The sky, darkness, graves, grave, glamour!"
  
  1) "Ghosts! Pumpkins! Witches! Boo!"
  2) "My soul aches as it's devoured by a thousand mouths of sadness." 3) "The thunder's like drums, and it pounds like a hammer!"
  4) "Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts."
  
  > 4
  ["Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts."]
  
  "That's... hmm."
  
  1) "What next?"
  
  > 3
  ["Water runs in my ears and it's drowning my brains?"]
  
  Traudl winces. "No--no, that was another rhyme. I said don't
  rhyme! It's...unpleasing to me." She takes a nervous drag on her cigarette.
  
  1) "Gee, this is fun! Give me something else."
  
  > 1
  ["Gee, this is fun! Give me something else."]
  
  "Maybe a more primal, compelling image...
  
  Womankind! We carry the world between our legs, hand-standing Atlases, twin bookends of meat and bone. Blood! War! Is there anything else? A rotting fruit. Flies. How dare we? How dare us all? Break
  free of the prison--stand in the purple light and--"
  
  Traudl sucks in an enormous lungful of air.
  
  "SCRRRREEEEEEEEEAMMM!"
  
  1) "Violet like the hatred of my mother. Shoes! Fireflies!"
  2) (scream as loud as you can)
  3) "Meat and tulips! Sand! Death is inevitable."
  4) "Go Fighting Conifers, go, go, team?"
  
  > 3
  ["Meat and tulips! Sand! Death is inevitable."]
  
  "A little trite."
  
  1) "I'm on a roll! Give me something else".
  
  > 1
  ["I'm on a roll! Give me something else".]
  
  "All right. How about this..."
  
  This land, bleak, bountiful, once grew bloody flowers. Steaks! Hamburgers! This land, this building, slaves in chains, robbed of white gold by two-legged vampires. Liberated! The hand of Art is on the udder, and it's your hand. You are the dairy farmer now!"
  
  1) "Okay, I give up."
  2) "Death! Ponies!"
  3) "I dreamed that I was suffering for eternity in a void in my Maidenform bra."
  
  > 2
  ["Death! Ponies!"]
  
  "Sigh."
  
  1) "So...pretty good poem, right?"
  
  > 1
  ["So...pretty good poem, right?"]
  
  Traudl shakes her head. "I'm sorry, little bird. There is poetry in your soul, I know it--but you're still not letting it out. Still, you do show promise. And at least you're not trying to rhyme.
  Maybe we should try this again."
  
  1) "Let's write some poetry!"
  2) "I need to leave, uh, daddy-o."
  
  > 1
  ["Let's write some poetry!"]
  
  "All right, let's start with something simple." Traudl clears her throat and recites. "The sky, darkness, graves, grave, glamour!"
  
  1) "Ghosts! Pumpkins! Witches! Boo!"
  2) "My soul aches as it's devoured by a thousand mouths of sadness." 3) "The thunder's like drums, and it pounds like a hammer!"
  4) "Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts."
  
  > 2
  ["My soul aches as it's devoured by a thousand mouths of
  sadness."]
  
  "A little much, maybe?"
  
  1) "What next?"
  
  > 1
  ["What next?"]
  
  "Okay, let's try another prompt...
  
  Fire! Ice! Chocolate! Mother-goddess, grown fat with aeons, ripe green hills and lush valleys. It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains! It rains!"
  
  1) "I'll get my umbrella!"
  2) "Those darn aeons are so full of calories!"
  3) "Ripe apples! Sweet tangerines! Bananas...bananas that dance...something about bananas."
  
  > 4
  ["Go Fighting Conifers, go, go, team?"]
  
  A few members of the audience titter. "No--no--this thing you're doing, where the words end with the same sound?," Traudl hisses. "That's rhyming."
  
  She runs an unsteady hand through her hair. "You're embarrassing yourself and you're embarrassing me!"
  
  1) "I'm on a roll! Give me something else".
  
  > 1
  ["I'm on a roll! Give me something else".]
  
  "All right. How about this..."
  
  This land, bleak, bountiful, once grew bloody flowers. Steaks! Hamburgers! This land, this building, slaves in chains, robbed of white gold by two-legged vampires. Liberated! The hand of Art is on the udder, and it's your hand. You are the dairy farmer now!"
  
  1) "What a coincidence, you recite like a cow!"
  2) "Okay, I give up."
  3) "Death! Ponies!"
  4) "I dreamed that I was suffering for eternity in a void in my Maidenform bra."
  
  > 4
  ["I dreamed that I was suffering for eternity in a void in my Maidenform bra."]
  
  "How nice for you."
  
  1) "So...pretty good poem, right?"
  
  > 2
  ["I need to leave, uh, daddy-o."]
  
  "You can leave me, Little Bird, but you can't leave you."
  
  The Beat Barn (on the stage)
  A smoky little hole in the wall filled with customers dressed in black and sipping coffee from tiny cups. Scratchy jazz is playing softly in the background. A low stage is along one wall.
  
  Traudl Brandt is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the stage.
  
  > take the head
  Traudl looks like she's holding onto it pretty tightly.
  
  > talk to Traudl
  [Picture number 13 here.]
  
  Traudl Brandt sits before you like a smoke-wreathed goddess.
  
  1) "Er, it's me again!"
  
  > 1
  ["Er, it's me again!"]
  
  "So, the little bird returns."
  
  1) "Let's write some poetry!"
  2) "I need to leave, uh, daddy-o."
  
  > 1
  ["What a coincidence, you recite like a cow!"]
  
  Several members of the audience are laughing now. Traudl's sallow complexion is growing increasingly flushed. "Enough!" she cries. "Enough, enough, enough! Obviously, you don't have the soul of a poet at all. You have the soul of--of--"
  
  She sputters out an unflattering-sounding German word and stalks off. After two circuits of the room, several cigarettes and a torrent of Teutonic muttering, she seems to realize that she's accidentally left her little wooden fiefdom to you and hurries back to the stage. "Here--you wanted this, right? I will give you this if you never try to recite poetry on my stage again."
  
  She hands you the Head of the Wife of Tomorrow, and the precious computer within. Another victory for the hoi polloi!
  
  The Beat Barn (on the stage)
  A smoky little hole in the wall filled with customers dressed in black and sipping coffee from tiny cups. Scratchy jazz is playing softly in the background. A low stage is along one wall.
  
  Traudl Brandt is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the stage.