text: [Themes: experiments, profanity, violence]
  
  > look around
  Test Chamber, Corona Labs (on the black office chair)
  Two cameras watch the heavy desk from above with unwinking red eyes. The desk currently has nothing on it.
  
  To the west, a windowless door separates the testing room from the antechamber outside.
  
  Through the thick pane of glass, you can see the blue notebook and the curved desk in the observational room.
  
  > wave to cameras
  You wave at the security cameras.
  
  A distinct *click* sounds from the door to the antechamber.
  
  > examine the antechamber
  It's a plain aluminum door with a straight handle.
  
  > concentrate on the photo
  You wave at the security cameras.
  
  >The photograph blurs before your eyes.
  
  The extremely warped 4x5 photograph shows the image of someone, face buried in both hands, about ready to collapse across a damaged, bloodsoaked book. Cruelly tight braids bind the student's hair back so sharply that you can see the skin stretching.
  
  > look at the student
  Only the edges of the person's face can be seen, but the skin stretches like a rubber mask at the very edges.
  
  > concentrate on the photo
  The photograph blurs before your eyes.
  
  The damaged 4x5 photograph shows the image of a young man dragging his fingernails down his face. Long furrows run down his cheeks, and blood drips from those furrows onto the savaged book in front of him. His green eyes are open but unfocused, and his lips are parted in a soundless scream.
  
  > examine man
  He's definitely not the same person that you first saw in the photograph. His features are not just refined, but gaunt, and the hollow bruises under his eyes suggest he hasn't slept well for a very long time.
  
  > concentrate on photo
  The photograph blurs before your eyes.
  
  Something's happened to the photograph - there are dull yellow spots marring its surface, like it's been damaged with some kind of chemical. Past those spots, you can make out the image of a young man screaming. Hands shielded with surgical gloves restrain his arms and head as he struggles. He clutches two handfuls of torn, bloodstained pages, but one gloved hand is prying the fingers of his right hand open.
  
  > About yourself
  Even without a mirror, you know you're not looking your best. You haven't been sleeping well for a few nights now, leaving dark circles beneath your eyes, and your appetite's been off as well. Not that it's been Corona's fault - the food's been surprisingly good - but you're just not feeling so hot.
  
  > concentrate on the photograph
  The glossy 4x5 photograph shows the side view of a teenage student.
  A falling wave of shoulder-length russet hair obscures her face as she leans over an open book, leaving only the slight frown on her pale lips visible. Her left cheek is propped against the curled fingers of her left hand, and her right rests lightly against the beige wood of the desk.
  
  > go to the west
  The unlocked door opens readily under your hand.
  
  (first getting off the black office chair)
  You stand up from the office chair.
  
  Antechamber, Corona Labs
  There are no hangings on the dull off-white walls, but a fake palm tree in one corner attempts to add some cheer. In the other corner, there's a simple chair, which looks like a refugee from some grade-school classroom. There's absolutely nothing else in this spartan antechamber.
  
  A windowless door separates the antechamber from the testing room further in.
  
  A matching door, also windowless, leads from the antechamber to the hallway outside.
  
  > look at the palm
  The palm tree looks strikingly realistic, and it wasn't until you examined it closely one day that you realized it was fake. Sadly, its realism provides an unpleasantly discordant accent to the sterile room.
  
  > Go east
  Test Chamber, Corona Labs
  Two cameras watch the heavy desk from above with unwinking red eyes. The desk currently has nothing on it.
  
  To the west, a windowless door separates the testing room from the antechamber outside.
  
  The familiar black office chair sits invitingly nearby.
  
  Through the thick pane of glass, you can see the blue notebook and the curved desk in the observational room.
  
  > Go west
  Antechamber, Corona Labs
  There are no hangings on the dull off-white walls, but a fake palm tree in one corner attempts to add some cheer. In the other corner, there's a simple chair, which looks like a refugee from some grade-school classroom. There's absolutely nothing else in this spartan antechamber.
  
  A windowless door separates the antechamber from the testing room further in.
  
  A matching door, also windowless, leads from the antechamber to the hallway outside.
  
  > Go west
  You take a step toward the hall door, but your movement is arrested suddenly by a wrenching sensation. Your gorge leaps toward your throat abruptly, giving you the unsettling sensation of having been dropped a foot down. The sensation is gone quickly, but your throat remains thick with unease.
  
  > look
  Antechamber, Corona Labs
  The antechamber is nearly as spartan as the test chamber itself. The walls, painted a dull off-white, are bare of hangings. A simple chair squats in the corner like a grade-school refugee. The only decoration in the room is a straggly ficus tree, which sprawls in the opposite corner from the chair.
  
  A windowless door leads west from the antechamber to the hallway outside.
  
  A matching door, also windowless, separates the antechamber from the testing room further to the east.
  
  > examine the ficus
  (the ficus tree)
  A real, living ficus tree sprawls outward from its pot in the corner of the room. While you can't imagine how it can survive in a windowless room, it looks healthy enough. Sadly, its realism provides an unpleasantly discordant accent to the sterile room.
  
  > search the ficus
  (the ficus tree)
  The ficus tree's untrimmed branches obscure but do not conceal its staid black pot.
  
  In the ficus pot is a small piece of unlined paper.
  
  > take paper
  You reach through the shrouding branches and fish the small piece of unlined paper out of the ficus pot.
  
  > read it
  The small piece of unlined paper reads:
  
  Alice's Diary, 4/30/78
  
  He screams at night.
  Ian says that he's had these nightmares as long as he can remember, that it's fine and everything is normal. I really want to believe him, but the last few days have been different. I've seen him tossing and turning, but now he screams. Says things. His eyes are open, but he can't see or hear me.
  Are they doing something to him? I'm not supposed to ask about why he's here. I've been sort of hoping that he would tell me something, but he doesn't even like to talk about the nightmares. All I can hear are the things he says when he's asleep, strangled bits of words. "Teeth. Dark. Coming for me."
  I wish I could do something for him. Anything.
  
  > Go east
  This door was open just a moment ago, but it's closed now. You can't recall hearing it close.
  
  > unlock door
  Which do you mean, the hall door or the test chamber door?
  
  > focus on the ficus
  (the ficus tree)
  You try to concentrate on the ficus tree, but you don't sense anything out of the ordinary.
  
  > Go west
  You open the hall door.
  
  This is not the hallway you expected. The far wall is the correct distance away, and the ceiling is the correct height, but the walls are painted a dull, sterile white instead of the light blue-green that you associate with Corona Labs, and long banks of fluorescent lights cast everything into an unexpectedly harsh light. Your room should be through the metal door across the hall to the west, but in light of the other changes, it's easy to doubt that it's yours. A small brass sign identifies it as Room 320.
  
  A windowless door leads east into the testing room's antechamber.
  
  A piece of unlined paper leans face-down against the west wall, just slightly to the left of the door.
  
  > get the paper
  (the piece of unlined paper)
  You pick up the piece of unlined paper.
  
  You add the pages you are carrying together and classify them all inwardly as your notes.
  
  > read the notes
  The piece of unlined paper reads:
  
  5/12/78
  Oh god, want to write better but so sick.
  I don't know what happened.
  A psychic spike - has to be. Nauseating.
  What happened? Echoes of ... Cross. Dr. Yehuda.
  Is Theo hurt? Dead? Did he hurt Ian?
  Something has pushed Ian over the edge. I think we've all made a terrible mistake.
  I've got to get it together. Theo left a bottle of pills on his desk -- the label says "Sandepam". I'm going to carry it with me. I don't know what it does, but if I have to face Ian, I need whatever edge Theo might have found.
  I can't believe it's come to this. Something awful is about to happen. EGB
  
  > Go west
  You open the door.
  
  As you step across the threshold, you freeze at the grisly sight beyond.
  
  A broad ivory spike protrudes from the floor and pierces the ceiling, transfixing the corpse of a slender, dark-haired woman on the way.
  Her blood stands starkly red against the dull white tile and walls. The room's furnishings - a hospital bed, a bookshelf, a dresser - have been smashed into a still-recognizable pile of twisted metal and wood on the west side of the room. Thousands of pieces of shredded paper, none much larger than a fingernail, cover the floor near the wreckage and shiver in the slight breath from the broken window. The only exit is to the east.
  
  > search the shredded paper
  Looking through the confetti, you come across a single page of mostly-intact paper that doesn't seem to match the others. It's a small piece of unlined paper with a ragged edge. You fish it out of the pile of shredded paper.
  
  You add the small piece of unlined paper to your existing collection of pages.
  
  > read the notes
  The small piece of unlined paper reads:
  
  Alice's Diary, 5/12/78
  
  I just saw a man die. He was standing in a shadow and a mouth came
  out and bit him in half.
  I feel numb and awful and I'm so scared. I don't know where Ian is
  and I'm afraid that he's going to be hurt or killed. I don't know why he isn't in his room.
  I have to help him and protect him. I'll wait for him here and he'll come back, and we can be together and I'll stop the awful things from hurting him.
  Please Ian come back. I will be here waiting until you come back.
  I love you.
  
  > examine the corpse
  The woman impaled on the white spike is dressed as you imagine a nurse might have been in the seventies, with a button-down skirt that must once have been clean white. Her face, frozen in a look of wide-eyed shock, indicates asian-american heritage and youth.
  
  > look at the spike
  The gleaming, slightly curved spike broadens near the base and comes to a sharp tip just as it pierces the ceiling. It resembles nothing quite so much as a cat's fang, though one of mammoth proportions.
  
  > examine the window
  A small window looks out of the room. Some glass is still present in the windowframe in jagged shards, and you're loath to touch them. The wood frame of the window is very badly warped.
  
  > look at bookshelf
  A nearby bookshelf likely held most of the books that now lay in scraps. Its frame is mostly intact, but all of the internal shelves are smashed, rendering it useless.
  
  > go east
  Long banks of fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows along the half-familiar, half-unfamiliar hallway, which continues off to the north. The tiled floor is only a shade darker than the dull off-white walls. A strange, unpleasant odor hangs in the air and stings your nostrils. The door to Room 320 is across the hall to the west.
  
  A windowless door leads east into the testing room's antechamber.
  
  > Go north
  Cold fluorescent lights pace the ceiling from north to south and lead off east along the T intersection. To the west, a pair of metal elevator doors sits silently closed. There's a call button beside the elevator and a floor indicator above the call button.
  
  A building map is posted on the wall.
  
  > look at the map
  The legend identifies this map as "Mt. Airy Hospital - Third Floor". Three-quarters of the map is obscured with a large bloodsmear, but the lower right quadrant is mostly visible.
  
  > No
  View the lower right quadrant? (y/n) >Okay.
  
  > Y.
  View the lower right quadrant? (y/n) >
  [Picture number 3 here.]
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  > wait awhile
  The elevator call button stops glowing. Nothing else happens.
  
  > go north
  Hallway, Mt Airy Hospital
  Partway down this hall, the fluorescent lights have sputtered out, leaving the way north cloaked in darkness. A long, slow breeze flows from the south past you, reaching towards the deep shadow to the north. Before the light fails, there's a bathroom door in the dull white wall to the east and a swinging panel to the west.
  
  > go south
  Hall Intersection, Mt Airy Hospital
  Cold fluorescent lights pace the ceiling from north to south and lead off east along the T intersection. To the west, a pair of metal elevator doors sits silently closed. There's a call button beside the elevator and a floor indicator above the call button.
  
  A building map is posted on the wall.
  
  > look at floor indicator
  The twelve-character split-flap display currently reads "BASEMENT".
  
  > Go east
  You open the bathroom door.
  
  Bathroom, Mt Airy Hospital
  The single fluorescent light in the bathroom flickers rapidly like a strobe. On the other side of the room, a bloodied corpse seems to be partially buried in the toilet, folded in half. Near the toilet is a sink, above which is a mirror marred by a spiderweb crack. The light's strobe effect gives the room a surreal, filmlike quality. Behind you, to the west, a door leads back into the hallway.
  
  > examine the mirror
  You peer into the mirror. The spiderwebbing cracks divide your face into strange angles, and the strobing light gives a strange, jerky cast to your movements.
  
  > examine the corpse
  Upon closer inspection, you can see that the corpse was male, and is dressed in the scrubs of a hospital orderly or nurse. The blood strewn on his uniform seems to have come from his mouth, likely vomited out when he was folded violently in half.
  
  > Search corpse
  You peer into the mirror. The spiderwebbing cracks divide your face into strange angles, and the strobing light gives a strange, jerky cast to your movements.
  
  You try to concentrate on the cracked mirror, but you don't sense anything out of the ordinary.
  
  >The dead man's scrubs are completely contaminated with blood and more unpleasant fluids. You don't see anything worth taking on the corpse, and going through his pockets is impossible, since they're folded into the toilet.
  
  > hit the mirror
  The mirror is already badly damaged. You'd risk injury trying to break it further.
  
  > look at the sink
  A small hand-washing sink is attached to the wall near the toilet, made of white porcelain and a metal faucet and handles.
  
  > turn on the sink
  You turn the handle. The sink rattles and coughs, but no water comes out.
  
  > turn off the sink
  The faucet is already off.
  
  > examine the lights
  There's only one light here, positioned above the mirror, and its strobelike flickering makes everything jerky and strange.
  
  > Go west
  Hallway, Mt Airy Hospital
  Partway down this hall, the fluorescent lights have sputtered out, leaving the way north cloaked in darkness. There's a long, slow rush of bad-smelling air coming from that direction. Before the light fails, there's a bathroom door in the dull white wall to the east and a swinging panel to the west.
  
  > examine the panel
  Upon closer examination, the swinging panel appears to be a laundry chute. Pushing open the chute, you take a look down. There's enough light to see, strangely but unmistakably, rows of oversized shark's teeth set into the sides of the chute partway down its length. Going this way seems like a particularly bad idea.
  
  There's also a white object visible in the shadows of the laundry chute. It looks as if something white fell partway down and got caught on the protruding teeth.
  
  > Go north
  You start north into the darkness, moving cautiously. The halitosis smell gets increasingly strong as you proceed.
  
  A gleam alerts you to halt in the darkness. As your vision adjusts to the low light, you see a row of long, sharp, curving shapes projecting both from the floor and the ceiling. Careful examination convinces you that the hallway has grown a mouthful of fangs. Proceeding north seems like an incredibly bad idea.
  
  You back away until you have returned to the relative safety of the lit hallway by the bathroom door.
  
  > Go east
  Hall Intersection, Mt Airy Hospital
  Cold fluorescent lights pace the ceiling from north to south and lead off east along the T intersection. To the west, a pair of metal elevator doors sits silently closed. There's a call button beside the elevator and a floor indicator above the call button.
  
  A building map is posted on the wall.
  
  Side Hall, Mt Airy Hospital
  The off-white walls and dull, stain-resistant tiles of this hallway match those of the main hall to the west. Windowless doors marked with small brass signs branch off to the north and south.
  
  > go east
  Side Hall End, Mt Airy Hospital
  Plain, windowless doors labelled neatly with small brass signs lead off to the north and south. At the east end of the hallway, a large, lurid orange biohazard symbol marks a door of a different design.
  This door is a sliding door instead of a regular door, and it has a small, wire-reinforced window.
  
  There's a keycard reader beside the sliding door.
  
  > go to the south
  You open the door to room 323.
  
  The glimmer of glass greets your eye as you enter this shadowed room. Running through the layout of the facility in your mind, you realize that you're now standing in the observational room, though the furnishings have changed from your memory. For instance, the gutted corpse is definitely new.
  
  Observational Room, Mt Airy Hospital
  A broad pane of one-way glass separates this room from the testing chamber beyond. The lights are off in this room, cloaking everything in shadow, but you can still see enough to navigate past the rectangular table, the chairs, and the filing cabinet tucked into one corner. Your view of the observational room is somewhat blocked by the gutted corpse sprawled across the table.
  
  A door to your north leads back to the hallway.
  
  Through the thick pane of glass, you can see a gaunt young man huddled in the far corner of the test chamber.
  
  > look at the man
  (the gaunt young man)
  A gaunt young man huddles on an office chair in the far corner of the room, clothed only in a pair of navy sweatpants. He is slumped forward in a hunch, the outline of his spine standing sharply against the skin of his emaciated back. His face is obscured by a mass of messy, tangled brown hair.
  
  You feel drawn to the young man. The feeling vibrates between empathy and sympathy. You can all-too-easily imagine the slight chill of the air against his bare back, the way his elbows dig into his knees, and the slight ache of his spine from the unnatural posture. You can imagine how he sits, alone, listening to the emptiness which is not empty enough - the emptiness that is filled with too many thoughts, fears, dreams. He shifts position slightly and raises a hand to his hidden face. You feel the way he drags his fingernails down his forehead - not breaking the skin, not quite, but toying with the idea. Flirting with the idea of blindness, as his nails trail over his closed eyelid, or disfigurement, as they trail over his cheek.
  
  He has the answers you seek. The knowledge thumps home like a bullet thumping into flesh - not hurting, not yet - only a solid impact like nothing else in the world.
  
  You shake yourself out of the bizarre reverie to see the young man hunched and still. You're not sure whether he ever moved at all.
  
  > concentrate on the young man
  You focus your thoughts on the young man huddled in the corner of the test chamber. For a moment, nothing happens.
  
  Then, suddenly, you think you see the young man's head snap up, but your vision immediately bursts with a nausea-inducing green light that blots everything else out. You are overcome with dizziness. Images of death, terror and madness fill your brain, swelling it, pressing against your skull. Reaching out to destroy everything around you, you are a whirlwind of insane destructive force. You see images of teeth, mouths, throats, closing in to devour you, and you fight against them with everything you are....
  
  You fall back into yourself with an involuntary scream. Your skin is covered in cold sweat. After a few moments, your heart rate and breathing return to normal, though it takes some time before you stop shaking. You have been Ian McMoneagle, and his mind is a hell.
  
  The gaunt young man still sits, huddled into himself, immobile.
  You're still not sure whether he ever moved at all.
  
  > look at Ian
  A gaunt young man huddles on an office chair in the far corner of the room, clothed only in a pair of navy sweatpants. He is slumped forward in a hunch, the outline of his spine standing sharply against the skin of his emaciated back. His face is obscured by a mass of messy, tangled brown hair.
  
  > look at the corpse
  A broad rip across the man's shirt and stomach reveal the shredded ruin of his abdominal cavity. The remains of the ruined organs and flesh within have jagged edges that you cannot help but equate to small toothmarks. There's a sheet of paper pinned under the corpse's shoulder.
  
  > take the paper
  (the bloodstained sheet of paper)
  You push the corpse sideways, releasing the bloodstained sheet of paper from beneath its shoulder so that you can pick it up.
  
  The table is small, and the blood on the table is still fairly slick. Unbalanced, the corpse suddenly starts to slide off the edge, and you fail to arrest its movement in time. With a startlingly loud thump, the corpse hits the ground.
  
  You add the bloodstained sheet of paper to your existing collection of pages.
  
  > read the notes
  The bloodstained sheet of paper reads:
  
  Raymond Pearce, M.D.
  Assistant Director, Mt. Airy Hospital
  April 16, 1978
  
  I am upset with the Director.
  While I am well aware that our hospital is under-funded and that we should take sources of revenue wherever we can find them, renting out our space to private companies performing procedures that we cannot oversee makes me feel rather like a hotel manager. Moreover, I have enough duties to see to without having to carry out the blind and deaf duty of being the Corona Corporation's liaison. Couldn't we have one of our administrators do that? A secretary, perhaps? My medical expertise certainly does not come into play, as I am not allowed to see the experimentation, nor interview the patient. If he is indeed a patient.
  The lead researcher is friendly enough, but I've not been able to
  get a private word with him since the corporate auditor showed up. I swear, he looks more like a Secret Service agent than a medical professional, and he seems to be everywhere.
  I only want to know what's going on. And barring that, I'd frankly rather not have anything to do with the Corona Corporation. This is not what I signed on for.
  
  > examine the cabinet
  It's a fairly small filing cabinet, squatting at about waist height. There seems to be some kind of strange liquid leaking down to the floor from the edges of each drawer.
  
  > open cabinet
  Opening the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet, you are instantly greeted with a foul biological scent, like stomach acid. The inside of the drawer is completely empty, but covered with some kind of slime. You open the top drawer as well, only to see (and smell) the same results.
  
  > get the slime
  It's too awkward to pick anything up while you're carrying the gutted corpse around.
  
  > get slime
  You heave the gutted corpse off your shoulder and lower it carefully to the ground. Then, you untuck your notes from your armpit with minimal damage done.
  
  You consider scraping some of the stuff off to carry it with you, but the idea of having it under your fingernails is a dreadful one.
  
  > go north
  Side Hall End, Mt Airy Hospital
  Plain, windowless doors labelled neatly with small brass signs lead off to the north and south. At the east end of the hallway, a large, lurid orange biohazard symbol marks a door of a different design.
  This door is a sliding door instead of a regular door, and it has a small, wire-reinforced window.
  
  There's a keycard reader beside the sliding door.
  
  > Go west
  Side Hall, Mt Airy Hospital
  The off-white walls and dull, stain-resistant tiles of this hallway match those of the main hall to the west. Windowless doors marked with small brass signs branch off to the north and south.
  
  > Go west
  Hall Intersection, Mt Airy Hospital
  Cold fluorescent lights pace the ceiling from north to south and lead off east along the T intersection. To the west, a pair of metal elevator doors sits silently closed. There's a call button beside the elevator and a floor indicator above the call button.
  
  A building map is posted on the wall.
  
  > Go north
  Hallway, Mt Airy Hospital
  Partway down this hall, the fluorescent lights have sputtered out, leaving the way north cloaked in darkness. A long, slow breeze flows from the south past you, reaching towards the deep shadow to the north. Before the light fails, there's a bathroom door in the dull white wall to the east and a laundry chute to the west.
  
  > Y.
  If you put the gutted corpse in there, it's a good bet you'll never see it again. Are you sure you want to do this? (y/n) >You heave the gutted corpse feetfirst into the laundry chute. It falls partway down before the laundry chute's teeth snap closed. There's a hideous crunching sound, accompanied by the flash of bloodstained teeth in the gloom.
  
  The gutted corpse is gone. The teeth slowly curve in an unmistakable smile. Then, they melt into the sides of the laundry chute and vanish from view, leaving only smeared blood on the stainless steel tunnel to document the carnage.
  
  There's no sign of the piece of paper any more, either.
  
  > Y.
  Are you sure you want to go into the laundry chute? (y/n) >After some awkward experimentation, you realize that you'll have to go in headfirst. You put both arms in, shield your face with your arms, and wriggle into the chute. You slide rapidly down through the narrow darkness until the chute abruptly ends. For one heartstopping moment, you plummet through space, but you land safely in something soft. A quiet, papery crunch accompanies your landing.
  
  Laundry, Mt Airy Hospital (in the laundry bin)
  Crumpled white sheets fill an enormous laundry bin underneath the chute's entrance - a great relief, since those sheets were dense enough to competently break your fall. You're currently inside the laundry bin, but you can see the rest of the room well enough. There is no mistaking the purpose of this room. Industrial washers and dryers line the walls of this room. The room stinks of offal, blood and bleach all at the same time. On the east wall, a large sink made of heavy-duty steel sits, but its long faucet is bent at a peculiar angle and it is missing both handles. A particularly large laundry machine looms at the end of the row.
  
  The giant laundry machine is running, filling the room with ominous sound and vibration.
  
  An open door leads south out of the room.
  
  A sheet of typewriter paper is lying on the sheets, looking only a bit worse for its misadventures (including having you land on it). It looks like the one that you knocked free from the laundry chute.
  
  > read the notes
  (your notes)
  You already have that.
  
  The bloodstained sheet of paper reads:
  
  Raymond Pearce, M.D.
  Assistant Director, Mt. Airy Hospital
  April 16, 1978
  
  I am upset with the Director.
  While I am well aware that our hospital is under-funded and that we should take sources of revenue wherever we can find them, renting out our space to private companies performing procedures that we cannot oversee makes me feel rather like a hotel manager. Moreover, I have enough duties to see to without having to carry out the blind and deaf duty of being the Corona Corporation's liaison. Couldn't we have one of our administrators do that? A secretary, perhaps? My medical expertise certainly does not come into play, as I am not allowed to see the experimentation, nor interview the patient. If he is indeed a patient.
  The lead researcher is friendly enough, but I've not been able to
  get a private word with him since the corporate auditor showed up. I swear, he looks more like a Secret Service agent than a medical professional, and he seems to be everywhere.
  I only want to know what's going on. And barring that, I'd frankly rather not have anything to do with the Corona Corporation. This is not what I signed on for.
  
  You nearly jump out of your skin as a buzzer sounds loudly from the huge laundry machine. Its motor gradually slows to a halt.
  
  > get typewritten
  You pick up the somewhat crumpled sheet of typewriter paper.
  
  You add the somewhat crumpled sheet of typewriter paper to your existing collection of pages.
  
  > read the notes
  The somewhat crumpled sheet of typewriter paper reads:
  
  Unofficial log, April 2, 3:10 pm
  Day one with the Corona Corporation! The intrepid doctor embarks on
  a real adventure; hardly the first of his career but certainly the most extraordinary.
  I always considered my interest in the paranormal purely academic.
  No matter what a man has seen or believes, bringing such beliefs and experiences into the professional arena is a dangerous prospect. Being approached to pursue such things -- for a very tidy sum, no less! -- is not something I ever expected to see in my resume ... but here I am.
  My team is eclectic, which I suppose is to be expected. Dr.
  Atwater, slated to be my assistant overseer (and the previous man who held my current title), has a closed-minded cynicism matched only by his impressive credentials. Miss Elaine Buchanan, on the other hand, is not only a believer but actually considers herself a psychic. The company evidently agrees, since she is effectively our lead subject-seeker, spending her days poring over newspaper articles, tabloids and television programs.
  It is difficult not to find the entire outfit somewhat difficult to take seriously, but this is my chance to see what is really behind the closed door of the human mind. I find myself very nervous and excited. - Theo Yehuda
  
  > examine the laundry machine
  This laundry machine is positively monolithic, reaching chest-height on you and almost as wide as your full armspan. It lacks controls of any kind; its only feature is the hinged metal door on its top.
  
  > open the machine
  You lift the lid of the large laundry machine.
  
  The inside of the machine is not, as you expected, a metal cylinder, but a fleshy tube with a sphincter-like hole in the bottom. Stubby, glistening cilia, like the ones lining the inside of an intestine from a biology textbook, line the curved walls of the tube, each one wriggling with life. Sitting in the tube is a skeleton, complete but with its flesh eaten cleanly away. The skeleton is wearing a clean, white lab coat.
  
  > get the skeleton
  In the clean lab coat is a Corona Labs keycard.
  
  > gingerly reach inside the laundry machine, cringing away as the hungry cilia reach for your hands. You grasp the skeleton's shoulders through the protection of the lab coat and lift it. Thankfully, enough ligaments and tendons and so forth remain on the skeleton to maintain its cohesion as you pull it out, and you are able to extract it from the machine without breaking it. You lay the skeleton down on the tile floor.
  
  > take the keycard
  You fish the keycard out of the lab coat's pocket.
  
  > already have that.
  
  > enter machine
  For a moment, you picture yourself climbing into what appears to be a cannibalistic digestive system in a box. You spend the next few moments being glad that you possess a functioning self-preservation instinct.
  
  > examine the sink
  The basin of this sink is made of heavy-duty steel, its shiny surface dulled from poor care and abuse. The functioning parts of the sink are in even worse shape than the basin, though; both handles seem to be missing, and the thick metal faucet, which would normally trace a graceful, high arc, is bent at a jaunty angle.
  
  In the heavy-duty steel sink is a sheet of ruled paper.
  
  > get ruled
  (the sheet of ruled paper)
  You pick up the sheet of ruled paper.
  
  You add the sheet of ruled paper to your existing collection of pages.
  
  > read the notes
  The sheet of ruled paper reads:
  
  Raymond Pearce, M.D.
  Assistant Director, Mt. Airy Hospital
  May 1st, 1978
  
  Well, things are clearly getting exciting for our guests from
  Corona Labs.
  I'm not sure what's different, but I've heard signs of a struggle
  from McMoneagle's room during the day. Nurse Kim reports that his sleeping at night has been disruptive and suspects that his nightmares are more intense than when he first arrived. I want to know more, but obviously none of the Corona employees are telling me anything at all. As always, Cross watches me whenever I'm near their annex.
  Something very suspicious is going on. They're experimenting on
  that young man, and it's obviously not anything safe. Be it on their heads if he dies, or becomes violent. They'd better be able to contain it, or we are going to come down on them as hard as the law allows. I swear it.
  Yehuda has seemed the most concerned of the lot of them, and has mentioned to me that he may need to requisition "a few medications" from me in the near future. Truth be told, I hope he does so. That might give me some insight to just what in heaven's name they're doing.