A generic room in a generic cheap apartment in San Francisco, California
You are in your apartment in San Francisco, California. The only furniture of any consequence is your bed. The only other adornment of any consequence at the moment is your computer. There is various other stuff strewn around, but you are only peripherally aware of it. From across the room your computer invites you with the alluring smile of a display and input devices that say, “We can protect you from the discomfort you are sure to feel if you focus anywhere else.” Each pulse of the power LED is like a beckoning wink, tugging at you as you stand transfixed.

There is probably a door leading in some direction, but thanks to your computer you are blissfully unaware of it at the moment.

> i
You are currently in possession of a mild sense of euphoria related to your recent securing of your recently-secured job.

> use euphoria
That doesn’t work here.

> approach computer
You slide across the room towards your target, a glide with a touch of vain strut and euphoric bounce. Your target doesn’t move, waiting coolly for you to get within range.

You are slightly-more-than-peripherally aware of glasses here.

> use computer
That’s a bit hasty, don’t you think?

> slowly use computer
That’s a bit hasty, don’t you think?

> very slowly use computer
You know how to move real suave, but you also know when to use those suave moves, and you know the mood isn’t right yet.

> i
You are currently in possession of a mild sense of euphoria related to your recent securing of your recently-secured job.

> x computer
There are glasses here.

> take glasses
You heft the gargantuan aviator glasses onto your face and are momentarily overcome with self-love. Then you see again the computer screen gazing up at you, and you can’t help but smile. You’re so cool.

—- Aviator glasses added to inventory.

> use computer
Aw yeah! It’s time. You gently set your fingers on the keyboard, applying just a touch of pressure so that it knows you’re there. The screen beams up at you, lighting the whole room.

Your login screen - a screenshot used in your latest blog post - calls for you.
The computer reaches out and touches your wrist with a headphone cable.

> take headphones
There is momentary resistance as you give the headphone cable a little tug, before your computer offers up the two soft hemispheres of the headphones.

—- Headphones added to inventory.
—- You are now tethered to your computer.

Your login screen - a screenshot used in your latest blog post - calls for you.

> login
That’s a bit hasty, don’t you think?

> put on headphones
The headphones clip awkwardly around your ears, holding you warmly. You feel a deeper connection with the computer.

Your login screen - a screenshot used in your latest blog post - calls for you.

> login
(at computer) The login screen - a screenshot used in your latest blog post - has two text fields, for your username and password.

> type username
(at computer) You pound out your username like a homicidal psychopath revving a chainsaw.

> type [tab]
(at computer) You smirk a little as you drive the tab key home.

> type password
(at computer) You pound out your password like a homicidal psychopath revving a lawnmower.

> type [return]
(at computer) You smirk a little as you drive the return key home.

The login screen fades to your desktop, like a submissive nod accompanying the “Welcome home master, I await your command” that the character in your login screen screenshot was squeaking as you captured the screen capture.

> anthropomorphize computer more
You almost lose yourself, drifting into reverie for a moment. But it’s not yet time for that. Besides, you also still have that Aria Christmas Special that you’ve been saving. You patiently nod to yourself, “Later.”

A throbbing pulse in the lower left corner of the screen catches your eye.

> x pulse
(at computer) Your IRC client’s alert widgetamathing is trying to tell you something.

> click pulse
(at computer) With a touch your IRC client springs to life, filling your screen with the records of the days idolatry poured towards you by your fans. As a spinal reflex you run your hand through your hair and readjust the aviators. You’re so cool.

> enter channel
(at computer) You strike a pose as you visualize multicast TCP packets raising the curtain of your stage. The first message is coming through:

“What’s the good word, Jace?” asks Jeff.

It’s time.

> use euphoria
(at computer) With a flourish, you announce in reply,

“The topic is, LAW1 hired me finally! Woot! Party!!”

—- Stage Clear —-

—- Would you like to save your progress so far? (y/n)

> y

—- Progress saved

—- Proceed to the next stage? (y/n)

> y

—- Loading…
—- Loading….
—- Please wait….

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A Street Corner in San Francisco, California
You are standing on a street corner in San Francisco, California.

> l
A Street Corner in San Francisco, California
You are standing on a street corner in San Francisco, California.

A yellow VW bug drives past. There is a flower in the flower holder, and another seventeen form a wreath around the driver’s head. She is a woman in her late twenties, who, judging by her license plate number, must be named Irene. 3IOP337 lives eight blocks North and four blocks West of here, in a small third-floor room in an old house. She teaches at the elementary school nearby, and spends most of her waking hours intoxicated by incense. On the weekends she likes to ride her bike across the bridge to the Marin Headlands. Two years ago she tried to write a children’s book, a variant of the classic fairy tale about three pigs, that involved homes made entirely of renewable materials. Publication was of course prevented.

> n

A Street Corner in San Francisco, California
You are standing on a street corner in San Francisco, California.

A brown BMW drives past. 6GGG009. Henry, the driver, is a middle-aged man with hair painted the color of his bumper. He is a partner in a law firm in downtown. Five years ago he was involved in a consumer protection class action lawsuit against the manufacturer of a flawed toy gun. That lawsuit was thrown out, of course, but Henry still passes here every day on his way to the office even though he hasn’t actually worked a case since. He is divorced and estranged from his ex-wife and daughter, who live in San Ramon. He spends most evenings at home nursing a glass of whiskey and staring at the ceiling of his mediocre apartment. It is two miles from here; he moved there after the divorce.

> n

A Street Corner in San Francisco, California
You are standing on a street corner in San Francisco, California.
There is a nondescript black van parked here.

A huge black Mercedes with tinted windows speeds past, NRA private police, Henry’s shadow. You met one of them once, a decent fellow named Alvin. Actually his name is Robin, and he’s from Montana, but not even his partner Stuu (born Jimmy Jim, from Arkansas) knows that. Alvin - or Robin, rather - let his NRA membership lapse for two months when he was 17. Stuu - or Jimmy Jim, rather - didn’t even have an NRA membership until he was in college. State school in Tennessee, as it were - he was on the run from the local law at home. That’s when he became Ronny. Stuu came later: he arm-wrestled a man for the name in a trailer park in Arizona. Alvin and Stuu are both extremely uninteresting.

> x van
The van is black. It is nondescript, just the way your employer likes it. It occurs to you that perhaps it is almost nondescript to the point of being suspicious.

> approach van
You are now closer to the van.

> x van
The van is black. It is nondescript, just the way your employer likes it. It occurs to you that perhaps it is almost nondescript to the point of being suspicious.

> approach van
You are now closer to the van.

A dark green Toyota Corolla drives past. It is in horrible shape, and the front license plate is missing. It belongs to Churchill who lives just three blocks north of here, but it is his Dennis driving at the moment. His son is actually only 14, but Churchill is not willing to himself drive the boy to his private school in the East Bay. This laziness coupled with a severe paranoia about public transit (which you know is correct in conclusion, though completely wrong in reasoning) results in the boy driving himself. Dennis has managed to never get pulled over. You note scornfully the incompetence of local law enforcement.
Churchill is a fireman, and decent enough aside from having his son drive illegally every day. But he didn’t protest when his sergeant removed the US flag from their truck way back in the Fall of 2001. He spends most of his spare time in front of the TV, and regularly attends football games on both sides of the bay.

> tl;dr
Yeah, sorry. Just ignore and get on with entering the van.

> enter van
The van is closed.

> open van door
Open which van door, the passenger door or the crew door?

> open crew door
The crew door is locked.

> open passenger door
You grip the handle of the door and suddenly find yourself sitting on the ground. You cannot feel your right arm, but you can see your right hand and fingers shaking. The handle of the passenger door is electrified. The twitching was quite disconcerting the first time, but by now you are confident that you will regain control of your muscles soon enough.

There is a piece of paper on the ground here, which you dropped in shock when you were shocked.

> x paper
It is the small fluorescent green Post-It note on which you scribbled an instruction before leaving your apartment this morning.

> read instruction
You cannot read that from here.

> take paper
You pick up the piece of paper.

—- Small note added to inventory.

> read instruction
A number was hastily scribbled on the note: 32165489576548956523215.
You recall that this is a hash for the code for the lock on the van door. It reminds you of the code (which you memorized before leaving your apartment earlier this morning).

—- Crew door unlock code memory added to inventory.

> x crew door
The crew door is black and nondescript like the rest of the van. It has a handle, and next to the handle is a small number pad.

> type code into number pad
You can’t reach that from here.

> stand up
You are now standing.

> type code into number pad
Done.

> open crew door
Done.

> enter van

Inside of LAW1 Van
You are inside a van. The interior space seems much larger than the outside appearance would make someone expect. Several people are here apparently working, which is to say that their eyes are glued to their latpops’ glowing screens. In one corner on the floor is a stack of folding chairs, and several more chairs are scattered about. In an opposite corner just below the ceiling is a speaker. Much of the ceiling is a gigantic display.

The bright chilly San Francisco morning shines in through the open crew door behind you, completely spoiling the atmosphere of glowing computer screens.

A burly, pleasant-looking man speaks without moving his gaze from the display in front of him, “Jason! Long time no see!”

> say “hi”
Nothing happens.

A chilly wind blows from the open van door, and you hear the sound of papers falling somewhere in the back of the van.

> close door
You pull the crew door shut behind you, and instantly the van’s atmosphere is fixed. Natural light is for weakies. Something still doesn’t feel right though.

> say “Hi!”
You hear a stifled snort from the back of the van.

> x back of van
It is dark. Dangerously dark. There are people back there. You fear for their physical safety. There are also folding chairs scattered about. Though obviously uncomfortable, they look very inviting.

> sit in chair
You slouch back in one of the folding chairs, letting your gaze wander sleepily around the room. The commute to work was hard work.
The burly, pleasant-looking man speaks without moving his gaze from the display in front of him, “Life treating you well?”

> yeah
You lie, rubbing your aching wrist and tingly right hand.

The burly man continues, “You haven’t been around much lately.”

> yeah
The experience has been great, but interning is interning, after all. You can’t afford to live if you’re not working.

A woman’s voice comes over the speaker, “So what, you’ll actually show up once in a while if I call you hired?”

> yeah
You’re not at all confident that you’re really cut out to be a Fed, but if the Inspector is giving you this chance, you really can’t say no.

“Don’t downplay your own abilities, Jason!” yells the burly man without so much as glancing away from his laptop screen. He then gives you an extremely motivational speech about the Jazz.

—- Extreme motivation added to inventory.

> use extreme motivation
“The unit will never be ready for me!” you exclaim, pumping one fist in the air. “And I’m more than ready for it!”

“Yes, yes,” the inspector replies with a sigh over the intercom. “Alright, Jason, you're hired. We'll get you your official code name, and have you sign the papers, and all that, later.”

—- Stage Clear —-

—- Would you like to save your progress so far? (y/n)

>y

—- Progress saved

—- Proceed to the next stage? (y/n)

>y

—- Loading…
—- Loading….
—- Please wait….

—- Error: resource unavailable. Please proceed to Gate 7 to collect your ticket.
—- This message has been brought to you by the letter F and the numbers 1 and 3. We now return to your regularly scheduled website.

A Dark Cubicle
You are standing in a dark cubicle - yours. The furnishings include a plain desk of cold hard varnished wood, a chair, and a small wastebasket. They do not include anything else. There are several shadowy forms on the desk, one of which gently glows a sickly green. You know these as your computer monitor, keyboard, mouse, and desk clock. It is the clock which is glowing. The darkness does a passable job of masking the oppressive blandness of the space.
The hallway outside is dark as well.

>x watch
You strain slightly to read the cracked display of this clunky digital watch. It is 5:12 am.
Your shift ends at 5:30.

>wait 15 minutes
You wait for 15 minutes. It is probably now approximately 5:27 am.

>turn on monitor
You flip a switch and the massive CRT display on the desk buzzes to life, bathing the office in a soft blue light.

>shutdown computer
There are still programs running. It is not safe to shut down the computer now.

>exit programs
(at computer) Which programs would you like to exit?

>all of them
—- I’m sorry, ‘all of them’ is not an action I understand.

>exit all programs
(at computer) You exit Ԫ�word processor, web browser, Tetris clone, e-mail client. As you dispatch the last application you notice that your inbox lacks any unread messages. You note that this is odd.

>shutdown computer
With a great grinding of disks and fans the ancient Dell tower bids you good night. With a pop and a crack the image disappears from the monitor, and the cubicle is dark once more.

>turn off monitor
You flip the switch one more time, cutting the power to the monitor.

>x watch
It is 5:28am.

>exit cubicle
You stride out into the dark hallway.

—- Stage Clear —-

—- Would you like to save your progress so far? (y/n)

>y

—- Progress saved

—- Proceed to the next stage? (y/n)

>y

—- Loading…
—- Loading….
—- Please wait….

??
There is a sharp pain in your ribs, and you are very much awake.

>l
You see nothing. Your eyes are closed.

>open eyes
You are wincing too violently to open your eyes.

>massage ribs
You ruefully rub your side, and after a moment the pain fades enough for you to open your eyes.

>l
Your vision is clouded by tears.

>wipe eyes
You blink, dispersing the tears.

A Dark Cubicle
You are standing in a dark cubicle - yours. The furnishings include a plain desk of cold hard varnished wood, a toppled chair, and a small wastebasket. They do not include anything else. There are several shadowy forms on the desk, one of which gently glows a sickly green. You know these as your computer monitor, keyboard, and desk clock. It is the clock which is glowing. The darkness does a passable job of masking the oppressive blandness of the space.
The hallway outside is dark as well.

>turn on light
There is no way to do that here.

>pick up chair
You start to bend to lift the chair, but your ribs hurt too much.

>massage ribs
You ruefully rub your side, and after a moment the pain fades further.

>massage ribs
You ruefully rub your side, and after a little while the pain is gone.

You remember that a third, tinnier sound followed quickly on the heels of your collision with the desk as you surged to wakefulness and the toppling of the chair.

>pick up chair
You don’t feel like doing that right now.

>exit cubicle
You’re not allowed to leave until your shift is over.

>wait
Nothing happens.

>wait
Nothing happens.

>*sigh*
You tiredly sigh - a weak expression of scorn for the world - and have slightly more energy.

>pick up chair
You heave the clumsy chair upright.

>sit
You are now seated on the floor. Your chair and desk loom over you.

It occurs to you that with a couple cushions it would be quite comfortable sleeping down here — at least compared to sleeping in the chair. As you think about cushions and feel around evaluating the space you knock over the waste basket. It makes a tinny sound.

>x wastebasket
It is a generic plastic waste basket as found in cubicles across America. It contains a computer mouse.

>take mouse
You remove the mouse from the wastebasket.

—- Computer mouse added to inventory.
—- You are now tethered to your computer keyboard.

>put mouse on desk
You don’t feel like doing that right now.

>sigh at mouse cord
You morosely contemplate the mouse’s obsolete cord and the injustice it represents - a moderate expression of scorn for the world - and have a bit more energy.

>put mouse on desk
The mouse is now back on the desk.

—- Computer mouse subtracted from inventory.
—- You are no longer tethered to your computer keyboard.

>pick up wastebasket
You reset the mousetrap, and then wonder why you bothered.

>exit cubicle
You’re not allowed to leave until your shift is over.

>x clock
You cannot see the clock from your current position.

>stand up
You are now standing. You loom over your desk and chair.

>x clock
The little backlit analog clock on the corner of the desk indicates that it is ten o’clock. But this clock has been broken for ages.

>i
On your left wrist is a watch.

> x watch
You strain slightly to read the cracked display of this clunky digital watch. It is 5:12 am.
Your shift ends at 5:30.

—- Stage Clear —-

—- Would you like to save your progress so far? (y/n)

>y

—- Progress saved

—- Proceed to the next stage? (y/n)

>y

—- Loading…
—- Loading….
—- Please wait….

Subway Platform
You are standing on a subway platform. To the north are subway tracks, running east-west. To the south is a turnstile, and beyond it the lobby. The platform is crowded with sullen commuters.

> i
In your right hand is a subway card.
On your left wrist is a watch.

> x card
It is a crisp ten-ride card for the New York City subway system. It has three stamps on it. It was purchased seventeen hours and eight minutes ago, and the most recent stamp is from 5:17pm.

> x watch
You strain slightly to read the cracked display of this clunky digital watch. It is 5:18 pm

You hear a pathetic whimpering from the south.

> s
The path is blocked.

You hear a pathetic whimpering from the south.

> hop turnstile
—– Sorry, i don’t understand the term ‘hop.’

You hear a pathetic whimpering from the south.

> jump over turnstile
Subway Station Lobby
You are in the lobby of a filthy subway station. A trickle of light coming down the stairwell to the east provides the only illumination. To the north is the turnstile, and beyond it the subway platform. Along the wall to the south are several ticket machines and a large map. To the west is a small station agent’s booth.

Loud sobs are coming from the center of a crowd of people.

> x map
The map is too faded to read from your current position.

Loud sobs are coming from the center of a crowd of people.

> approach map
The path is blocked.

An all-out bawing of epic proportions is coming from the center of a crowd of people.
A station agent is pushing her way through the crowd from the west.

> hit crowd
You elbow your way through the crowd. In the center of the crowd you come upon a woman doubled over crying.

A station agent is pushing her way through the crowd from the west.

> x woman
It is your boss, Ms. Harris. She does not have a purse.

The crowd of people glares at you.
A station agent is pushing her way through the crowd from the west.

> say “what’s wrong, harris?”
The woman replies: “(sobbing)no… money. purse… in… car.”

The crowd of people glares at you.
A station agent is pushing her way through the crowd from the west. The station agent appears to be shouting.

> lift woman
You pull Ms. Harris to her feet.
—– Ms. Harris added to inventory.

The crowd of people glares at you.
A station agent is pushing her way through the crowd from the west. The station agent appears to be shouting.

> e
The path is blocked.

The crowd of people glares at you.
A station agent is pushing her way through the crowd from the west. The station agent appears to be shouting. The station agent is brandishing a gun.

> hit crowd
You punch the closest face. A man’s head is flung back into the nose of the woman behind him. With a spectacular spray of blood, the people fall like dominoes, opening a path to the east.

The crowd of people is cheering loudly.
A station agent is pushing her way through the crowd from the west. The station agent appears to be shouting. The station agent is brandishing a gun.

> e
Streetcorner in Queens
You are on a streetcorner in Queens. The rush-hour commute traffic is not moving at all. There is a stairway down to a subway station here.

From below you hear a cheering crowd and gunshots.

> n
Hood of a Taxi Cab
You are on the hood of a taxi cab in a traffic jam in Queens.

From the south you hear a cheering crowd and gunshots.

> n
Hood of a Taxi Cab
You are on the hood of a taxi cab in a traffic jam in Queens.

To the south a taxi cab driver is desperately trying to open the door of his cab.
From the south you hear a cheering crowd and gunshots.

> n
Hood of a Taxi Cab
You are on the hood of a taxi cab in a traffic jam in Queens.

To the south a taxi cab driver has broken his windshield with the butt of a shotgun and climbed onto the hood.
You are deafened by a cacophony of gun shots and car horns.

> n
Hood of a Limousine
You are on the hood of a limousine in a traffic jam in Queens.

To the south a taxi driver holding a shotgun lies dead on the hood of a taxi cab, shot by the taxi driver whose car he was standing on.
You are deafened by a cacophony of gun shots and car horns. Your ears are ringing. You can no longer hear.

> n
Streetcorner in Queens
You are on a streetcorner in Queens. The rush-hour commute traffic is not moving at all. There is an escalator down to a subway station here. A narrow footpath snakes between two buildings to the northwest.

To the south a bullet-riddled taxi cab is exploding.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. The buildings on each side are so tall that only a narrow strip of sky is visible between them. The path continues to the northwest. To the south is a busy street.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. There is a dumpster here. A man sits on the dumpster looking at you. The path continues to the northwest.

The man seems to be speaking.

> x man
The man wears ragged clothes but is clean-shaven with a smart hair cut. He is sitting in an easy lotus position, with his wrists resting on his knees. In his left hand is a short corncob pipe. The pipe does not appear to be lit.

The man looks slightly offended at your probing visual inspection.
Your ears have stopped ringing. You can hear again.

> say “uh… hi.”
The man replies: “(closing eyes and turning away from you)”

You hear an explosion from the south. The southern end of the path is lit up.

> say “…um… hello?”
The man replies: “(ignores you)”

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. The path continues to the northwest.

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. The path continues to the northwest.

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. The path continues to the northwest.

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> nw faster, damnit!
—– Sorry, i don’t understand the term ‘faster.’

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. The path continues to the northwest.

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. The path continues to the northwest.

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> nw
Footpath
You are on a narrow footpath between two skyscrapers. The path continues to the northwest.

A giant fireball is approaching from the southeast.

> e
Starbucks Restroom
You are in the unisex restroom of a small Starbucks in Queens. There is a sink and a toilet. Two rolls of toilet paper lie in a puddle in the corner. The door is at the south end of the room. In the west wall a small window opens out into a narrow footpath that runs between two skyscrapers.

> close window
You close the window.

> bolt shutter

You bolt the shutter.

The building rumbles as a giant fireball passes outside the window.

—– STAGE CLEAR —–