Sunset Over Savannah
by Ivan Cockrum (1997)
Genres: Fantasy


action: You take the shell
response: Taken.
action: You examine it
response: It's a lovely clam shell. The outer surface is almost pure white, while the inner is lined with bright, silvery mother of pearl.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a clam shell.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You go to the east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

The snack bar must be what the sign on the stairs was pointing to. Your stomach rumbles again at the thought of food.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You go south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.

Behind the counter, a vendor is busily locking things away for the night.

The vendor sees you approaching and throws a welcoming nod in your direction, followed by a rhetorical sounding "Hey, how's it going?"
action: You ask the vendor about the peanuts
response: He looks up from his work. "They're definitely an acquired taste. I still prefer to peel the husks."

The vendor sweeps the patch of floor behind the counter.
action: You buy the peanuts
response: You clear your throat to get the vendor's attention before asking, "Pardon, could I have some peanuts?" "Oh, sure," says the vendor. "I think I've got a few left... yup, you're in luck. I'm closing up for the night. Another few minutes and I woulda tossed 'em." He takes a pot holder from beneath the counter and uses it to grab a wireframe sieve resting in the boiler. He bends over the boiler, and as he does, a small steel key slides out of his shirt pocket and falls into the bubbling water. Using the sieve, he scoops up the bobbing peanuts. He waits a moment while the sieve drains, and then dumps the peanuts into a brown paper sack. You dig a dollar out of your pocket and hand it over, and he in turn hands you the sack of peanuts. Apparently, he hasn't noticed his missing key.

The vendor sings a few lines of "Yellow Submarine" as he wipes down the counter.
action: You tell the vendor about the key
response: It occurs to you that you ought to keep that bit of information to yourself. If the vendor recovers the key, you may not get another chance to acquire it.

The vendor jerks his head sharply right, then left, issuing an uncomfortably loud crack each time.
action: You eat the peanuts
response: This southern delicacy is still something of an oddity to you. Some locals actually eat the entire peanut, husk and all. Never one to pass up a new experience, you pluck a peanut from the sack and pop it into your mouth. The husk crunches soggily between your teeth, revealing the pulpy fruit inside. You queazily suspect that a large bug would share the same texture. But despite that... it doesn't taste bad. In fact, boiled, the peanuts taste a lot like black eyed peas. You try another, this time removing the husk. Yes, it's quite tasty, so you eat a few more. They're so rich though, that it doesn't take many at all to quell your hunger. Thankfully, your stomach has stopped its rumbling, and there are still plenty of peanuts left in the sack.

The vendor bends down and slams a cupboard somewhere behind the counter.

Suddenly, the vendor pulls a white plastic bucket from beneath the counter. To your surprise, he spills it out over the railing before locking it away again. "Ah, just about done," he says to no one in particular. "Just have to dump the peanut water and I'm outta here." He grabs the sieve from the boiler and sets it on the counter. "Hey, would you lend me a hand here? I'd really appreciate it."
action: Yes
response: "Thanks!" With your help, the vendor lifts the boiler pan off its foundation and muscles it to the railing. He calls out, "Anybody down there?" In an aside to you he says "Don't worry, we only toss out stuff that's edible. It all gets eaten by the birds and the crabs. Everything else goes to the dump or gets recycled." He turns back to the railing and, having received no response from below, yells "Ok, boiling water coming down!" and leads you in tipping out the boiler. The boiling water cascades down into the sand, filling the air with billowing clouds of steam. Then, the vendor sets the empty boiling pan back on its base and folds down the lid. He reaches beneath the counter and withdraws a sturdy looking clamp, which he uses to fix the lid in place. "Welp, that's it for me. Thanks much for the help.
See ya!"

With that, the vendor steps out from behind the counter and sets his feet toward the center of the pavilion to the north.
action: You look around
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
Sitting on the snack bar is a sieve.

The boiled peanut vendor is here, apparently on his way home for the night.

The vendor exits the area and saunters north into the pavilion.
action: You get the sieve
response: Taken.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: You look in the boiler
response: It's closed.
action: You open the boiler
response: You try to pull the clamp off with your bare hands, but it's anchored too securely. There must be some trick to getting it off.
action: You examine the clamp
response: It's a thin, sturdy, triangle of steel. The open end of the triangle holds the boiler's lid tightly in place by pinching it against the thin bar that runs around the lip of the boiler.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You move the bar
response: Which bar do you mean, the snack bar, or the boiler?
action: Boiler
response: It seems to be firmly attached. There must be some special trick to removing it.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You pull the clamp
response: Pulling the clamp doesn't have any effect.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: Turn clamp
response: Turning the clamp doesn't have any effect.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: Look around
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
action: Go downwards
response: If you want to jump out of the pavilion, just say so. Otherwise, there is no way down.
action: Go north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.
action: You examine the enclosure
response: It's a red brick enclosure that houses the pavilion's rest rooms.
It's only about twice your height, and it looks like there's plenty of space between the top of the enclosure and the pavilion's canopy. Two matching doors in the nearest wall are shut. Hung between them is a bronze plaque.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You examine the plaque
response: The plaque commemorates Tybrisa Pavilion II. You learn that the original Tybrisa Pavilion, built in 1891, played the role of dance hall, bandstand, and general tourist attraction, and at one time was a popular stop on the Big Band circuit. It served the local community for over three quarters of a century before burning down in 1967. Curiously, Tybrisa Pavlion II wasn't built until 1996, nearly 30 years after the original's destruction.
action: You look at the doors
response: The twin doors lead to the pavilion's rest rooms. Both doors are closed.
action: You open door
response: You can't. The rest room doors are both locked.
action: You go to the south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: You jump
response: You throw your arms skyward and leap into the air.
action: Go down
response: If you want to jump out of the pavilion, just say so. Otherwise, there is no way down.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: Leave
response: You can't go that way.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.
action: About yourself
response: You pause for a moment to take stock of your physical condition. You're feeling quite fit and healthy after your week of relaxation and exercise.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Go north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a clam shell, a sack of peanuts, and a sieve.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: You look at the sand
response: The beach stretches quite a ways north and south of you, before curving out of sight around the contours of Tybee Island.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You go south
response: The railing prevents you from walking off the pier.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Go east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man jerks and then begins reeling in line furiously. Apparently he's had a bite. The battle between man and nature begins! He lets out a bit of line, giving his catch some play, and then resumes reeling. The struggle continues until, at last, the line goes slack. The old man reels and reels, peering over the railing with anticipation until his catch is revealed to be... a shrimp. He glares with disgust at it for a moment before removing it from his line and tossing it over his shoulder, where it lands at your feet. He then expertly ties a new lure and recasts.
action: You take the shrimp
response: Taken.

The old man draws a cigarette from his breast pocket, rolls it meditatively between thumb and forefingers, and then puts it away.
action: You look at the fountain
response: It's a waist high silver cabinet with a metal basin on top, just like all the other fountains you've ever seen.

A small child bobbles into the area and tries to sneak up behind the old man, only to break out laughing. The old man jerks in surprise and throws the child a long, harsh glare.
action: You eat shrimp
response: You look with trepidation at the live, wriggling shrimp. Well, if it's good enough for sushi eaters... You pop the shrimp into your mouth and crunch down on it, shell, legs and all. You're struck with a brief sense of nausea that passes as quickly as it came. The shrimp's juices roll over your tongue and trickle down your throat, at the same both time sharply salty and subtly sweet. In the end, you decide it's not that bad. Not that bad at all.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: Drink water
response: The ocean water is too far away.

The old man pulls back hard on his rod, pulling the line taut.

The shrimp wriggles in your grasp.
action: You turn on the fountain
response: You turn the handle, but nothing happens. Perhaps the water main has been shut off for the night.

The old man plays out a few lengths of line.
action: You drop the shrimp
response: You toss the shrimp to the ground.

The old man pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a hearty swig.
action: You eat the shrimp
response: You're not holding the shrimp.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: You eat it
response: Taken.

The old man plays out a few lengths of line.

The shrimp wriggles in your grasp.

You look with trepidation at the live, wriggling shrimp. Well, if it's good enough for sushi eaters... You pop the shrimp into your mouth and crunch down on it, shell, legs and all. You're struck with a brief sense of nausea that passes as quickly as it came. The shrimp's juices roll over your tongue and trickle down your throat, at the same both time sharply salty and subtly sweet. In the end, you decide it's not that bad. Not that bad at all.

The slight breeze carries the sound of the old man grumbling to himself.
action: You ask man about the shrimp
response: He grunts in disgust. "Danged shrimp keep catching up my line. They'll get tied up in anything given half the chance."

The old man reels in a tiny fish, grunts in disgust, and tosses it back.
action: Go west
response: The light of the setting sun stabs into your eyes as you exit the shade of the small shelter. You wait a moment for your eyes to adjust and then begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.
action: Go west
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: Go north
response: This patch of the broad pavilion floor seems to be set aside for spectators, as there are numerous wooden benches here. They're neatly arranged in two orderly rows. What with all these benches, you half expect to see picnic tables, but there are none. The main part of the pavilion floor sprawls largely to the south. Beyond that, against the southern railing, you can see the brick faced enclosure and the tiny snack bar.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: You look at the benches
response: The benches are made of weathered gray wood. Each one is about knee high and as long as you are tall. They're neatly arranged in two orderly rows.
action: You look under the benches
response: There's nothing under the benches.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: Go west
response: The railing prevents you from going that way.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You go north
response: The railing prevents you from going that way.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: You go east
response: The railing prevents you from going that way.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You look
response: This patch of the broad pavilion floor seems to be set aside for spectators, as there are numerous wooden benches here. They're neatly arranged in two orderly rows. What with all these benches, you half expect to see picnic tables, but there are none. The main part of the pavilion floor sprawls largely to the south. Beyond that, against the southern railing, you can see the brick faced enclosure and the tiny snack bar.
action: Go south
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You go south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: You examine the railing
response: It looks like many railings you've seen. A long wooden handrail lies at waist height. Below it at knee height lies a second rail. Both are supported by vertical braces placed every body length or so. The railing surrounds the pavilion on every side, broken only by exits to the east and west. You're currently standing near the southernmost section of rail.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: Go north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Go west
response: As you step across the brick path, you stumble lightly on the rough bricks.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You go to the south-east
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls.
You see a mussel shell, lying in the sand.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: You take the mussel
response: Taken.

From somewhere among the flock you hear a raucous cry that sounds suspiciously like "Big Water!"
action: You examine it
response: It's a small shell about the size of your thumb. The outer surface is a mottled black, while the inner is lined with dark, silvery mother of pearl.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: You listen to it
response: The mussel shell isn't substantial enough to make much noise.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: Look around
response: Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

From somewhere among the flock you hear a raucous cry that sounds suspiciously like "Big Water!"
action: You examine the message
response: In letters a hand high, someone has written "Here There Be Dragons." Beneath that, they've drawn a simple compass rose with an arrow pointing to the northeast.

A particularly bold or greedy gull waddles right up to your feet to seek a handout. It stares at you with one beady eye for a long, uncomfortable moment before returning to the flock.
action: You look at the trash
response: You try to wade through the flapping hoard of birds to get at the trash, but their greed is greater than their fear of you, and they refuse to back down.

A snowy white gull apparently materializes right in the middle of the flock, cranes its neck as if searching for someone, and then dematerializes.
action: You throw the mussel at the gulls
response: You toss the mussel shell among the squabbling hoard. Several of the gulls dash toward it, but quickly find it to be inedible.

The gulls battle among themselves for dominance over the temporary food supply.
action: You throw the peanuts at the gulls
response: You toss a couple of peanuts toward the flock of gulls. One lone gull takes notice of your offering and waddles over to investigate. It spots the peanuts, snatches one up, and devours it in a single gulp.

The entire flock suddenly erupts in a bout of frenzied screeching for no apparent reason. After a moment or two, they revert to their original decibel level.
action: You look at the garbage
response: You try to wade through the flapping hoard of birds to get at the trash, but their greed is greater than their fear of you, and they refuse to back down.

A particularly bold or greedy gull waddles right up to your feet to seek a handout. It stares at you with one beady eye for a long, uncomfortable moment before returning to the flock.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a clam shell, a sack of peanuts, a sieve, and a mussel shell.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

From somewhere among the flock you hear a raucous cry that sounds suspiciously like "Big Water!"
action: Open mussel
response: I don't know how to open the mussel shell.

A new gull, apparently a stranger to the flock, flies low over the feeding grounds and sends the other gulls into a screaming rage.
action: You throw sack at the gulls
response: You toss a few more peanuts towards the flock of gulls. The first gull pecks hungrily at the peanuts, drawing the attention of some of the others. They flap over to see what the first gull is eating, and become embroiled in a minor squabble over the peanuts.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: You examine the garbage
response: You try to wade through the flapping hoard of birds to get at the trash, but their greed is greater than their fear of you, and they refuse to back down.

Two gulls break off from the main flock to fight over a choice morsel. A third flies over to investigate, and soon all three fly squawking away over the beach.
action: Empty bag
response: Better just leave them in the sack.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: You drop the sack
response: You toss the sack of peanuts to the ground.

A new gull, apparently a stranger to the flock, flies low over the feeding grounds and sends the other gulls into a screaming rage.
action: You throw the sack at the gulls
response: Finally, you toss the entire bag of peanuts toward the hungry flock. The trickle of curious gulls turns into a flood. Soon, the entire hoard comes flapping and squawking to join the fight over your peanuts, abandoning the trash heap in the process. You couldn't say how long the peanuts will keep them busy, but chances are it won't be for long.

Two gulls break off from the main flock to fight over a choice morsel. A third flies over to investigate, and soon all three fly squawking away over the beach.
action: You search the trash
response: You paw through the trash with your bare hands, but it's been scattered and mixed into the powdery sand. If there's anything useful in the pile, it may have been covered with sand.

A new gull, apparently a stranger to the flock, flies low over the feeding grounds and sends the other gulls into a screaming rage.
action: Dig
response: Scooping sand away in great handfuls, you quickly excavate an area approximately a yard across and a couple of hand spans deep. Gravity and the slight wind join forces to send the surrounding sand sliding into the hole. You try to dig deeper, but the deeper you go, the more sand slides in. You are reminded unpleasantly of your efforts at work.

From somewhere among the flock you hear a raucous cry that sounds suspiciously like "Big Water!"
action: You search the trash
response: You paw through the trash with your bare hands, but it's been scattered and mixed into the powdery sand. If there's anything useful in the pile, it may have been covered with sand.

Two strutting male gulls face off, puffing out their breast feathers and bobbing their heads in each other's direction. A noise suspiciously like laughter emanates from several female gulls, and the two males hurriedly stand down.
action: Inventory
response: Using the shingle as a shovel, you quickly excavate an area approximately a yard across and a couple of hand spans deep. Gravity and the slight wind join forces to send the surrounding sand sliding into the hole. You try to dig deeper, but the deeper you go, the more sand slides in. You are reminded unpleasantly of your efforts at work.

The entire flock suddenly erupts in a bout of frenzied screeching for no apparent reason. After a moment or two, they revert to their original decibel level.

You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a clam shell, a sieve, and a mussel shell.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

A snowy white gull apparently materializes right in the middle of the flock, cranes its neck as if searching for someone, and then dematerializes.
action: You put the trash in the sieve
response: You can't put the trash heap anywhere.

A snowy white gull apparently materializes right in the middle of the flock, cranes its neck as if searching for someone, and then dematerializes.
action: You sift the trash
response: You sift diligently through the mounds of sandy trash, pouring handful after handful through the sieve. Just when you've about decided to discontinue your search as fruitless, you turn up the key from the vendor's shirt pocket!

A snowy white gull apparently materializes right in the middle of the flock, cranes its neck as if searching for someone, and then dematerializes.
action: You examine the key
response: It's a small steel key with the word 'Kwikset' stamped on it.

A snowy white gull apparently materializes right in the middle of the flock, cranes its neck as if searching for someone, and then dematerializes.
action: You get the shell
response: Which shell do you mean, the clam shell, or the mussel shell?
action: All
response: The clam shell: You already have the clam shell!
The mussel shell: You already have the mussel shell!

The entire flock suddenly erupts in a bout of frenzied screeching for no apparent reason. After a moment or two, they revert to their original decibel level.

The peanuts must be running out. You can see a few gulls beginning to trickle back towards the mound. The trickle grows to a flood and soon the entire flock is in motion, returning to the mound en masse. No trace remains of the peanuts you threw down. Even the brown paper sack is gone.
action: Go west
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

As you step across the brick path, you stumble lightly on the rough bricks.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion.
action: You move the brick
response: Which brick do you mean, the path, or the loose brick?
action: Loose
response: Moving the loose brick doesn't reveal anything.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You take it
response: You're going to need both hands free to carry that sucker. You'll have to drop anything else you're carrying.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You get the loose brick
response: You're going to need both hands free to carry that sucker. You'll have to drop anything else you're carrying.
action: You put the key in the pocket
response: You cram the steel key in the pocket of your shorts.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a clam shell, a sieve, and a mussel shell.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money, your
passcard, and a steel key.
action: You put all in the shorts
response: The clam shell: The pair of shorts is not a container.
The sieve: The pair of shorts is not a container.
The mussel shell: The pair of shorts is not a container.
action: You put the shells in the pocket
response: The clam shell: You can't fit that in the pocket of your shorts.
The mussel shell: You can't fit that in the pocket of your shorts.
action: Go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.
action: You unlock the door with the key
response: You can't open the rest room doors with the steel key.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: Go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You go to the east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.
You see a shrimp here.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man draws a cigarette from his breast pocket, rolls it meditatively between thumb and forefingers, and then puts it away.
action: Go west
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.
action: You go south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You unlock the boiler with the key
response: I don't know how to unlock the boiler.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: You open the boiler with the key
response: You can't get the clamp off with the steel key.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You pry the clamp with the key
response: You can't get the clamp off with the steel key.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You examine the clamp
response: It's a thin, sturdy, triangle of steel. The open end of the triangle holds the boiler's lid tightly in place by pinching it against the thin bar that runs around the lip of the boiler.
action: About yourself
response: You pause for a moment to take stock of your physical condition. You're feeling quite fit and healthy after your week of relaxation and exercise.
action: Go north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.
action: You go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.
action: You examine the shower
response: It's really just a tall water pipe with a shower head on top of it. Not much in the way of privacy, but it does help people rinse the sand from themselves.
action: You examine the bell
response: The bell looks like half of a big white medicine capsule, just a bit taller than you, though quite a bit wider. The open end of the capsule stands at about chest height and faces down, so that you could enter the bell if you ducked down a bit. The capsule stands on four thick metal struts, which are in turn welded to a heavy, square, metal baseplate. The whole thing looks imposingly heavy. Deeply set in the white metal capsule are several thick, round, glass portholes.
action: You go to the west
response: You set your feet back on the path to the hotel, but... you're extremely conflicted over this whole idea of quitting. If only someone or something would present you with some convincing arguments to get you off the fence.
action: You enter the bell
response: You duck your head and shoulders, and crab-walk under the lip of the bell.

It surrounds you like a sturdy white shell. The ceiling is only a few fingers above your head, causing you to hunch over a bit for fear of bashing your skull. Protruding from the ceiling is a thin pipe that ends in an air valve. Several thick, round portholes look on the outside world.

The bell effectively muffles any outside sound, but an ominous low moan fills your ears.
action: You look at pipe
response: Divers used this valve to pressurize the bell's chamber, as well as refill their own tanks. The valve is connected to a pipe that passes through the bell's hull. Presumably there's a similar valve on the outside, to allow divers to attach an air hose from a surface ship.
action: Exit bell
response: You duck your head and crab walk out of the bell.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.
action: You go northeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.
action: You look in the barrel
response: The can must have been emptied recently. Just a few pieces of sticky rubbish, consisting largely of ice cream wrappers and soda cups, lie at the bottom of the can.
action: You search the rubbish
response: You root through the trash, tossing aside ice cream wrappers and soft drink cups. You find an empty glass soda bottle, which you take.
action: You search barrel
response: You root through the trash, tossing aside ice cream wrappers and soft drink cups. Aha! You find a pair of plastic swim goggles, which you take.
action: You search the rubbish
response: You root through the trash, tossing aside ice cream wrappers and soft drink cups. You don't find anything else of interest.
action: Examine barrel
response: It actually consists of two concentric cylinders. The outer cylinder is made of rough wooden staves bound by three rusty metal hoops. The inner cylinder is a single piece of textured beige plastic. A strong steel chain passes through the topmost of the metal hoops, attaching the barrel to the end of the boardwalk. A few pieces of trash lie at the bottom of the barrel.
action: Empty barrel
response: You'd just be making a mess of the beach. Better leave the trash in the barrel.
action: You examine the hoops
response: Three rusty hoops bind the outer, wooden ring of the barrel together. The topmost hoop is bent slightly out of shape to accommodate the heavy steel chain that passes through it. In fact, it seems to be a bit loose.
action: You get the top hoop
response: You manage to jam your finger tips beneath the topmost hoop. It wiggles a bit, but it's still too tight for you to remove with your bare hands.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.
action: You take the hoop
response: Which hoop do you mean, the two bottom hoops, or the third hoop?
action: Third
response: You manage to jam your finger tips beneath the topmost hoop. It wiggles a bit, but it's still too tight for you to remove with your bare hands.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a clam shell, a sieve, a mussel shell, a glass bottle, and a pair of goggles.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money, your
passcard, and a steel key.
action: You look at the goggles
response: It's a cheap pair of plastic swim goggles, held together by a thin, white rubber strap.
action: You look at the strap
response: It's a strap made of thin, white rubber. If it were removed from the goggles, it looks as if it would measure about the length of your arm.
action: You pull the chain
response: You grab hold of the chain and give it a solid tug. Oof! It's not going anywhere. Maybe if you had a hacksaw, or some bolt cutters.
action: You look at the cup
response: The can must have been emptied recently. Just a few pieces of sticky rubbish, consisting largely of ice cream wrappers and soda cups, lie at the bottom of the can.
action: You look at the bottle
response: It's a clear glass soda bottle. It appears to be empty.
action: Look around
response: Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.
action: You examine the sculpture
response: It's some sort of big reptile, longer than you are tall. You can't tell much more from here, as it lies in the wet sand to the east.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
action: You look at the sculpture
response: The enormous sand sculpture is almost twice as long as you are tall, and stands nearly to your shoulder. It's some sort of huge, scaly reptile, basking on its swollen belly in the evening light. Lying flat against its sides are a pair of batlike wings that sprout from a ridged, bony spine. The spine curves down and around, ending in a massive, coiled tail. Two plump hind legs sprawl out in back, while a pair of short, stubby arms lies crossed beneath an angular head full of sharp looking teeth.

You note that certain parts of the creature, including its spine, claws, eyes, and teeth consist of carefully placed sea shells. The shells give the creature an illusory realism. Curiously, there is an empty cavity in the creature's beak that looks as if it might once have held a shell.

All in all, the dragon seems surprisingly realistic, as if it had recently clawed its way out of the sand to warm itself beneath the bright sun.
action: You kick it
response: You move towards the dragon... but halt with a sudden flash of insight. In your mind, you picture someone spending hours digging up and piling the sand, pushing it into rough form, carefully smoothing the curves and contours, detailing the fingers and face, collecting shells for the dorsal ridge... You carefully back away, and as you do, it almost seems that one of the dragon's heavy lidded eyes opens, and favors you with a long, lazy wink.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You put the shell in the reptile
response: Which shell do you mean, the clam shell, or the mussel shell?
action: You put the clam shell in the cavity
response: You try setting the clam shell into the cavity. Nothing happens, and somehow, it just doesn't feel right. Disappointed, you reclaim the clam shell.
action: You put the mussel shell in the cavity
response: You try setting the mussel shell into the cavity. Nothing happens, and somehow, it just doesn't feel right. Disappointed, you reclaim the mussel shell.
action: You examine the cavity
response: It's a shallow cavity about the size of your two cupped palms, in both depth and circumference. There's nothing in it.
action: You examine head
response: Which head do you mean, your head, or the dragon's head?
action: You look at the dragon's head
response: The dragon's angular head rests limply on the dragon's crossed arms. Its mouth is full of sharp-looking teeth, while its beak is home to a curiously empty cavity.
action: You look at your head
response: It's your head. You've had it for years.
action: You put your head in the cavity
response: You try setting your head into the cavity. Nothing happens, and somehow, it just doesn't feel right. Disappointed, you reclaim your head.
action: You examine the dragon's teeth
response: It's an angular slit bissecting the long birdlike beak. A mouthful of shells gives the dragon a cartoonish, picket fence grin.
action: You look at the wings
response: The dragon's wings are ribbed like a bats, and lie folded up against the dragon's swollen belly. Even though they're made of sand, they someone manage to look tough and leathery.
action: Go south
response: Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
You see a crab shell, lying in the sand.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You examine the crab shell
response: It's the carapace of some sort of crab. The edges of the shell come to sharp points, almost like a serrated blade, while the surface is mottled with deep shades of red and blue.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You get it
response: You've already got your hands full.
action: Oops sieve
response: The clam shell: You toss the clam shell in the sieve.
The mussel shell: You can't fit that in the sieve.
The crab shell: You can't fit that in the sieve.
action: Go west
response: You're in a low space beneath the pavilion, which is supported by massive cement pylons. Two metal pipes extrude from the cement above you and bend east to follow the pier. The beach lies east through an opening in the dunes, and a closed wire mesh gate leads to a small storage area to the west.
action: You examine the gate
response: It's an ordinary wire mesh gate that seals off the storage area. A smooth steel plate set in the gate houses a simple lock. Currently, the gate is closed and locked.
action: Unlock lock
response: What do you want to unlock it with?
action: Key
response: Unlocked.
action: You open gate
response: The gate swings open silently, on well oiled hinges.
action: Go west
response: You're in a small, cement walled room. But for the open gate in the east face, it would be one big cement cube. Apparently it's used as a storage area for recyclable trash, as there are two big blue recycling canisters here, one containing glass bottles, the other aluminum cans. Against the rear wall is a large bin full of used paper products.
Next to that is a plain looking utility table over which is hung a peg board.
action: You drop the key
response: You toss the steel key to the ground.
action: You examine the board
response: It's a square piece of perforated cork board, hung with a variety of unrecognizable tools and useless spare parts. In fact, the only item that looks to be of any use at all is a thin, tapered strip of metal resembling a crowbar.
action: You get the crowbar
response: You've already got your hands full.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a sieve, a mussel shell, a single glass bottle, and a pair of goggles. The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: Wear the goggles
response: You slide the cheap white strap over your head and slide the goggles down over your eyes. They make an adequate, if uninspiring, seal.
action: Go east
response: You're in a low space beneath the pavilion, which is supported by massive cement pylons. Two metal pipes extrude from the cement above you and bend east to follow the pier. The beach lies east through an opening in the dunes, and an open wire mesh gate leads to a small storage area to the west.
action: Go south
response: Great dunes of sand, piled up against the pillars supporting the pavilion, block your exit in that direction.
action: You go east
response: Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
You see a crab shell, lying in the sand.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: Go south
response: Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion.
Someone has built an odd little castle just above the tide line.
action: You examine the castle
response: It's very unusual. You've never seen a sand castle like this one. Instead of the usual overturned-pail-full-of-sand method, this castle seems to have been made of little beaded droplets of wet sand, stacked capriciously atop each other into miniature spires and minnarets. Several thin spires climb skyward, rising to about knee height, and a narrow band spirals around the whole construction from base to top.
It almost looks like the whole thing was grown, rather than built, like the crystals that sprout from the "Grow Your Own Crystals!" kits that are so popular at boardwalk novelty shops. Now that you've noticed it, the castle even seems to have a certain glassy sheen.

The castle is inhabited by some sort of insects, or tiny crustaceans, that crawl all over and through it.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: Go north
response: Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.
action: Go west
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: Pry hoop
response: You set down the other stuff you were carrying to free your hands. Then you slide the crowbar beneath the deformed hoop where it meets the steel chain, and ratchet it back and forth, trying to loosen the hoop. The hoop slides up a hair's breadth, then catches on a link of the chain. You remove the crowbar and shift your point of attack to the chain. As you apply pressure to the recalcitrant link, it bites into the soft wooden stave beneath it. You keep pushing, and... crack! The force applied to the link splits the stave lengthwise, dividing a thin slice from the trunk of the stave. The thin slice now bears the brunt of the metal hoop's tension, while the main part of the stave is free of it.
action: You take the stave
response: You set down the crowbar and then seize the top end of the stave with both hands. Though it's no longer bound by the top hoop, the two lower hoops still put a lot of tension on it. Nevertheless, you grit your teeth and rock the stave back and forth, until it finally scrapes free of the barrel.
action: You look at the stave
response: It's a long, heavy, slightly curved piece of wood.
action: You take the hoop
response: Which hoop do you mean, the two bottom hoops, or the third hoop?
action: Third
response: You manage to jam your finger tips beneath the topmost hoop. It wiggles a bit, but it's still too tight for you to remove with your bare hands.
action: Third
response: You to slide your fingers under the hoop, but all the give is gone.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a pair of goggles (being worn), and a broken stave.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You take the bar
response: You toss the broken stave to the ground.

Taken.
action: Pry third hoop
response: You to slide the crowbar under the hoop, but all the give is gone.
action: You take the stave
response: Taken.
action: You take the bar
response: You already have the crowbar!
action: Go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.
action: You go to the west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You go southeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

A new gull, apparently a stranger to the flock, flies low over the feeding grounds and sends the other gulls into a screaming rage.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion.
Someone has built an odd little castle just above the tide line.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You look at the castle
response: It's very unusual. You've never seen a sand castle like this one. Instead of the usual overturned-pail-full-of-sand method, this castle seems to have been made of little beaded droplets of wet sand, stacked capriciously atop each other into miniature spires and minnarets. Several thin spires climb skyward, rising to about knee height, and a narrow band spirals around the whole construction from base to top.
It almost looks like the whole thing was grown, rather than built, like the crystals that sprout from the "Grow Your Own Crystals!" kits that are so popular at boardwalk novelty shops. Now that you've noticed it, the castle even seems to have a certain glassy sheen.

The castle is inhabited by some sort of insects, or tiny crustaceans, that crawl all over and through it.
action: You look at the insects
response: You lean in to take a close look. They're too tiny to see much detail, but there are hundreds of them zipping around the tall spires. They seem to be crustaceans. Or maybe some kind of insect. In any case, they have six legs. Or maybe eight. Call yourself crazy, but it looks like some of them are carrying grains of sand. You lean in further, and on closer inspection are able to confirm your theory. Then, right before your eyes, a small cluster of mites carries a bit of shiny something, perhaps a speck of broken glass, into the castle. They bring it to the very top of the tallest spire. Somehow, they melt down the shiny fragment and assimilate into the castle. Perhaps it's just your imagination, but you'd swear there was a miniscule plume of smoke curling about the spire.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

Two strutting male gulls face off, puffing out their breast feathers and bobbing their heads in each other's direction. A noise suspiciously like laughter emanates from several female gulls, and the two males hurriedly stand down.
action: You take all
response: The steel key: Taken.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a pair of goggles (being worn), a crowbar, and a broken stave.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You look at the passcard
response: It's a card of bright orange plastic, a bit smaller and a good deal thicker than a credit card. You can see no magnetic stripe. Instead, it has a row of red and green dots running along one edge.
action: Go east
response: You're in a low space beneath the pavilion, which is supported by massive cement pylons. Two metal pipes extrude from the cement above you and bend east to follow the pier. The beach lies east through an opening in the dunes, and an open wire mesh gate leads to a small storage area to the west.
action: Go north
response: Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
action: You go to the west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.
You see a sieve, a mussel shell, and a glass bottle, lying in the sand.
action: You take all
response: The sieve: You've already got your hands full.
The mussel shell: You've already got your hands full.
The glass bottle: You've already got your hands full.
action: Go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a pair of goggles (being worn), a crowbar, and a broken stave.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: DROP CROWBAR, STAVE, GOGGLES
response: The crowbar: You toss the crowbar to the ground.
The broken stave: You toss the broken stave to the ground.
The pair of goggles: You toss the pair of goggles to the ground.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Go northeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.
You see a sieve, a mussel shell, and a glass bottle, lying in the sand.
action: You take all
response: The sieve: Taken.
The mussel shell: Taken.
The glass bottle: Taken.
action: Go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.
You see a crowbar, a broken stave, and a pair of goggles (being
worn) here.
action: You drop all but the bottle
response: The sieve: You toss the sieve to the ground.
The mussel shell: You toss the mussel shell to the ground.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Go southeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion.
Someone has built an odd little castle just above the tide line.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You take the insect
response: It's difficult, because they're so small... but you lean in close, follow one likely specimen, and... got it! You stand up to examine your catch in better light. Ouch! You instinctively beat at the air with your wounded hand, but the creature has already been dislodged. You look at the tiny red welt already swelling on the heel of your palm. Is it... smoking? No, it must be just an illusion caused by your sudden state of distress. But you'd swear you saw a tiny plume of smoke rising from your palm.
action: You put the insect in the bottle
response: It's difficult, because they're so small... but you lean in close, follow one likely specimen, and... got it! You cram the mite through the mouth of the bottle. Just as you're beginning to enjoy your mighty triumph, you detect a sudden whiff of burning glass. You peer into the bottle to discover that the mite is burning a tiny hole straight through the bottom! The mite leaps out and disappears into the beach sand, leaving behind only a tiny drop of molten glass which cools instantly, resealing the hole.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You throw the bottle at the castle
response: You toss the bottle among the castle's spires. It lies for a moment, unnoticed. Then, a lone crustacean investigates. You see a single, tiny plume of smoke. Suddenly, as if on a prearranged signal, the mighty miniature hoards descend. More swiftly than you can follow, the tiny mites somehow disassemble the glass bottle and assimilate its mass into the castle. As the bottle disappears, the castle grows. By the time the bottle is completely gone, the castle has grown a new spire.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You examine the pipes
response: Far overhead, a pair of thick metal pipes run the length of the pier, suspended a few fingers beneath the pier's concrete underbelly. Presumably, they carry water to and from the pavilion's rest rooms and fountains. Squinting, you can just make out some shiny or reflective object, perhaps a glass lens, caught in the space between the pipe and the cement ceiling.
action: You take the lens
response: The shiny object is too far away.
action: You examine the shiny object
response: It's difficult to see just what it is from down here, hidden as it is in the dim shadow beneath the pier. All you can tell is that it's some sort of shiny object or reflective surface, perhaps a lens, nestled among the pipes overhead.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a glass bottle.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
action: Go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
You see a crab shell, lying in the sand.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You go west
response: You're in a small, cement walled room. But for the open gate in the east face, it would be one big cement cube. Apparently it's used as a storage area for recyclable trash, as there are two big blue recycling canisters here, one containing glass bottles, the other aluminum cans. Against the rear wall is a large bin full of used paper products.
Next to that is a plain looking utility table over which is hung a peg board.
You see a steel key here.
action: You take the canister
response: Which canister do you mean, the glass recycling canister, or the aluminum recycling canister?
action: Aluminum
response: It's too bulky too pick up and carry around, but you could easily push it in any direction you wanted to go.
action: You continue
response: You grab hold of the canister and slide it east, over the dry sand. You've made it almost to the far end of the pavilion when you trip over your own feet, sending the canister over on its side. You look up to find that the canister has begun rolling down the slope towards the ocean. You chase after it, but it's picking up speed. You redouble your efforts to catch it, and it looks like you just... might... make it... Splash! The canister goes into the water and starts drifting out to sea. It shrinks into the distance between the long row of pylons, becoming smaller and smaller. Soon, the canister has drifted out of sight.

Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
You see a crab shell, lying in the sand.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You go west
response: You're in a small, cement walled room. But for the open gate in the east face, it would be one big cement cube. Apparently it's used as a storage area for recyclable trash, as there's a big blue recycling canister here, containing glass bottles. Against the rear wall is a large bin full of used paper products. Next to that is a plain looking utility table over which is hung a peg board.
You see a steel key here.
action: You go west
response: The solid cement wall prevents you from exiting in that direction.
action: Keep going
response: You put your shoulder to the canister again and try to move it further east, fighting the friction of the sandy floor. Sand piles up against the leading edge of the canister, but still you struggle onward, making slow progress. You make it almost to the far end of the pavilion, where the canister freezes in the sand. You brace yourself and try to force it with a good, strong shove... until crash! the canister goes over on its side, and you with it. You look up to find that the canister has begun rolling down the slope towards the ocean. You chase after it, but it's picking up speed. It continues its descent, heading towards one of the pier's cement pylons. You redouble your efforts to catch it, and it looks like you just... might... make it... Crash! The canister rebounds off the pylon and shatters with a hideous cacophony, spewing bottles and chunks of thin blue plastic in a rain of broken glass.

Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
The beach is littered with broken bottles and blue plastic shards.
You see a crab shell, lying in the sand.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You take the shell
response: Taken.
action: You drop the crab shell
response: You toss the crab shell to the ground.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a glass bottle.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You remove the goggles
response: You strip the goggles off of your head.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There seems to be a loose brick in the path.
You see a crowbar, a broken stave, a pair of goggles, a sieve, a mussel shell, and a crab shell here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You drop bottle
response: You toss the glass bottle to the ground.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You get the loose brick
response: You rock the brick back and forth a bit, and manage to pry it from its berth. Oof! It's heavy! It takes both hands to carry it, and the muscles in your lower back protest as you straighten up. You'd better decide where you want to go now, because you won't be able to carry it for too long.
action: You drop the brick
response: Relieved of the brick's weight, you quickly straighten up. All your aching body parts cry out in relief. You flex your hands to loosen them up, then plant them at your sides and bend backwards until you feel your spine crack. Ahh!
action: You go northeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.
action: You examine the dunes
response: Tall, wind swept dunes stand between you and the hotels to the west, and also flank the base of the pavilion. The dunes are dotted with tall, scraggly sea-oats.
action: Look around
response: Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.
action: You go to the east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: Xyzzy
response: The word escapes your mouth like a gentle zephyr and swirls in the air around you. You can feel powerful forces gathering, like a static charge before a storm. You glance around in anticipation. A long moment passes, but nothing happens. You begin to fear that something has gone truly awry with the fabric of the universe.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.
action: You go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a broken stave, a pair of goggles, a sieve, a mussel shell, a crab shell, a glass bottle, and a loose brick here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You get the shells
response: The mussel shell: Taken.
The crab shell: Taken.
The clam shell: Taken.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You examine the beak
response: The dragon's angular head ends in a beaklike nose with two tiny nostrils. Just above the dragon's nostrils is a curiously empty cavity.
action: You put the shell in the beak
response: Which shell do you mean, the mussel shell, the crab shell, or the clam shell?
action: You put the crab shell in the cavity
response: You try setting the crab shell into the cavity. Nothing happens, and somehow, it just doesn't feel right. Disappointed, you reclaim the crab shell.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You drop the shells
response: The mussel shell: You toss the mussel shell to the ground.
The crab shell: You toss the crab shell to the ground.
The clam shell: You toss the clam shell to the ground.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, North of Pier
The surf swells around your knees, occasionally surging up to your waist. You can crawl up onto the beach to the west, where someone has built a large sand sculpture above the ebbing surf, or swim into deeper water to the east. To the south, you can pass through the cement pylons supporting the pier.
action: Go east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

Deep Water, North of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east, but you can swim back into shallower water to the west. The long cement pier finally ends to the south, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go downward
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water. The cold salt water stings your eyes as you descend.

Your stinging eyes and blurred vision prevent you from seeing anything interesting.

A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.
action: You examine the herring
response: Your blurred vision and salt stung eyes make it difficult to think about anything but clawing your way to the surface.
action: Go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, North of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east, but you can swim back into shallower water to the west. The long cement pier finally ends to the south, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go east
response: You gaze longingly to the horizon. Though it beckons you, you decide you're safer staying close to shore.

A gentle wave laps by, setting you bobbing in the current.
action: You go to the west
response: You kick back towards shore, skimming along for a few yards before coming to rest in shallower water.

Shallow Water, North of Pier
The surf swells around your knees, occasionally surging up to your waist. You can crawl up onto the beach to the west, where someone has built a large sand sculpture above the ebbing surf, or swim into deeper water to the east. To the south, you can pass through the cement pylons supporting the pier.
action: You go to the west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a clam shell, lying in
the sand.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: Go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a broken stave, a pair of goggles, a sieve, a
glass bottle, and a loose brick here.
action: You go northeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a clam shell, lying in
the sand.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, North of Pier
The surf swells around your knees, occasionally surging up to your waist. You can crawl up onto the beach to the west, where someone has built a large sand sculpture above the ebbing surf, or swim into deeper water to the east. To the south, you can pass through the cement pylons supporting the pier.
action: Wear the goggles
response: You slide the cheap white strap over your head and slide the goggles down over your eyes. They make an adequate, if uninspiring, seal.
action: Go downwards
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. It's layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt that sways to and fro with the pulsing tide. Small, leafy plants climb from the mud like grasping fingers.
You see a snail shell, drifting in the mud.
action: You take the shell
response: Taken.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a clam shell, lying in
the sand.
action: You put the snail shell in the cavity
response: You try setting the snail shell into the cavity. Nothing happens, and somehow, it just doesn't feel right. Disappointed, you reclaim the snail shell.
action: You examine the cavity
response: It's a shallow cavity about the size of your two cupped palms, in both depth and circumference. There's nothing in it.
action: You drop the snail shell
response: You toss the snail shell to the ground.
action: You examine the dragon's back
response: Running along the dragon's back from the base of the head to the tail is a thick, bony ridge made of sea shells.
action: You examine the shells
response: Which shells do you mean, the mussel shell, the crab shell, the clam shell, the snail shell, or the dragon's shells?
action: You look at the dragon's spine
response: Running along the dragon's back from the base of the head to the tail is a thick, bony ridge made of sea shells.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a pair of goggles (being worn).
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You go to the south-west
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a broken stave, a sieve, a glass bottle, and a loose brick here.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, a clam shell, and a snail
shell, lying in the sand.
action: Go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, North of Pier
The surf swells around your knees, occasionally surging up to your waist. You can crawl up onto the beach to the west, where someone has built a large sand sculpture above the ebbing surf, or swim into deeper water to the east. To the south, you can pass through the cement pylons supporting the pier.

Something unseen nips lightly at your toes.
action: Go east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

Salt water fills the glass bottle.

Deep Water, North of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east, but you can swim back into shallower water to the west. The long cement pier finally ends to the south, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go south
response: You launch yourself south with a vigorous crawl stroke.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: You look at the pylons
response: Twin rows of cement pylons support the long pier. Each pair of pylons is a single unit resembling a truncated letter 'A'. Here in deeper water, the pylons rise an unknown height from the murky depths.
action: You climb the pylons
response: You paddle up to a promising looking pylon, receiving a few minor bruises as the tide pushes you against the rough cement.
Nevertheless, you cling to the inclined outside face and reach for the opposite side... but no matter how hard you stretch, it's just too wide for you to get your arms around.
action: Go down
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The sandy ocean floor lies about ten feet below the surface, layered with silt and dotted with climbing green fingers of sea grass. The angled cement pillars that support the pier end here. Just beyond the final pair of pillars is a sudden drop off, a steep slope that leads down and down, far beyond your limited visibility.
action: You look at pillars
response: The pylons supporting the pier come to an end here, mere feet from the sudden steep dropoff in the ocean floor.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: Go south
response: You glide to the south with a smooth breast stroke.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.

A gentle wave laps by, setting you bobbing in the current.
action: You go downwards
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.
Resting on the rock is a great conch shell.
action: You get the shell
response: As you reach for the attractive looking shell, it suddenly sprouts legs and scuttles into a deep fissure that bisects the rock! Apparently, the shell is home to some sort of crab.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: Up
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go downwards
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The crab, which had resumed its perch on top of the rock, scuttles back into the fissure on your approach.
action: You look at the rock
response: It's a huge slab of porous, white rock, longer than you are tall and rising half your height from the muck of the ocean floor. Its scabrous surface has been eroded cruelly by time and tide, and a deep fissure cuts through it, nearly cleaving it in two. Tiny creatures crawl through the barnacles encrusting its gnarled surface, and small, broad leaved plants cling tenaciously to it.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.

The crab sends forth one probing eye stalk, then hastily withdraws it.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.
action: You go to the west
response: You kick back towards shore, skimming along for a few yards before coming to rest in shallower water.

Shallow Water, South of Pier
You're up to your knees in the gently surging tide. It flows up onto the beach to the west and grows deeper to the east. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the pier.
action: You go north
response: Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
action: Go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
The beach is littered with broken bottles and blue plastic shards.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You examine the broken bottles
response: The bottles litter the beach, many of them shattered into sharp, dangerous fragments. Spread among the broken glass are numerous thin, blue, plastic shards, the only remainders of the recycling canister.
action: You get the broken bottles
response: You've already got one. If you want to take another, perhaps you should dispose of that one first.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a pair of goggles (being worn), and a single glass bottle (containing salt water).
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You pour Water on the castle
response: Which water do you mean, the salt water, or the ocean water?
action: Salt
response: The salt water spills out of the glass bottle and rejoins the elements.
action: You put the insect in the bottle
response: It's difficult, because they're so small... but you lean in close, follow one likely specimen, and... got it! You cram the mite through the mouth of the water filled the bottle. It worked! You've got it! The tiny mite is floating around on the surface of the water. Uh oh. You watch as the mite begins to paddle its six (or eight) legs furiously, headed for the bottom of the bottle. Whatever you're going to do with the mite, you'd better do it soon.
action: Go north
response: Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
The beach is littered with broken bottles and blue plastic shards.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.

The mite continues its furious paddling. It's almost to the bottom of the bottle.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You pour the salt water on the broken bottles
response: You toss the bottle containing the mite onto the pile, where it shatters on impact. For a moment, nothing happens. Then you detect a tiny whiff of smoke. Other than that, still nothing. You're just about ready to give up on your plan when you spot a writhing black line in the sand. Holy cow! It's a living stream made up of the tiny crustaceans. Seconds later they swarm over the pile of broken glass. Before your astonished eyes they start dissolving the bottles and shards into tiny molten beads. They carry the fiery glass to the middle of the pile. Then come the towers, sprouting like overgrown stacks of soap bubbles. The bulbous, head-sized building blocks budding before you are actually rough spheres of sand-filled glass. Apparently, with such an abundance of material to work with, the mites are building on a much larger scale. Higher and higher climb the towers, until they nearly brush the bottom of the pier. An abrupt flash of color catches your eye. A sheet of thin blue plastic, once part of the glass recycling canister, is floating across the floor. Now that you've noticed it, there are pieces of plastic in motion all around you, each levitating a fraction of an inch above the ground. Instead of melting the plastic down, the mites carry the sheets to the perimeters of the tower and begin incorporating them into a spiraling ramp. Step by step, the ramp corkscrews up and around until it wraps the pinnacle of the tallest tower. Finally, all growth ceases. The finished structure looms over twice your height.

Somehow this amazing spectacle has cut through your ingrained layers of cynicism to revitalize your waning belief in a world full of wondrous novelty. It's enough to get you thinking about work again, in particular the way the same backdrop day after day has dulled your expectation for novelty.

You're feeling confused. "I didn't realize how serious I was about quitting," is what you're now thinking. The truth is, you didn't really believe you were going to find the motivation to quit here on the beach. But it's hard to ignore the wonder of what you've seen. Maybe you really could quit. Still, you're going to need a lot more convincing.

Looking around, you spot one ancient, discolored bottle that was passed up by the mites.
action: You examine bottle
response: It's an ancient rum bottle, aged to the color of dull copper, and sealed with a thick sheath of blood red wax. Much of its surface has been tinged an opaque sea green by the elements. Ribbons of oily color twist through the splotchy patches of copper and green.
action: You look at the bottle
response: It's an ancient rum bottle, aged to the color of dull copper, and sealed with a thick sheath of blood red wax. Much of its surface has been tinged an opaque sea green by the elements. Ribbons of oily color twist through the splotchy patches of copper and green.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You take the bottle
response: Taken.

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You open the bottle
response: Age and the elements have frosted the bottle nearly opaque, so you hold it up to the light of the setting sun. The orange rays flash through the bottle's glossy patina, casting a dazzling kaleidoscope into your eyes. The burst of light reveals what seems to be a rolled up sheet of parchment. You start peeling the aged wax from the bottle. It's so desiccated that it crumbles into flakes which float away on the light evening breeze. The cork pulls loose from the bottle with a small pop. You insert a finger into the bottle and slide out a rolled up parchment. Unrolling it reveals... a treasure map! It must be at least a hundred years old. Clearly, it was fashioned in another time. Thick black strokes grace the rich parchment, drawn in a purposeful hand. Fanciful trace works embellish the borders, and a spidery compass rose resides in one corner. The black strokes describe the chain of islands dominating the Savannah coast. One island in particular bears a bold red X. You examine the marker closer. Why, that's right here on Tybee Island!
action: You read the map
response: The black strokes describe the chain of islands dominating the Savannah coast. One island in particular bears a bold red X. You examine the marker closer. It seems to be a bit west of here.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You examine ramp
response: You feel as though you're looking at the original castle through a microscope. Everything looks quite similar, from the beaded droplets to the climbing towers, but oh, so much larger. The rounded building blocks of this castle are nearly the size of your head, and the tallest spires stand well over twice your height, climbing nearly to the underside of the pier. The ramp that spirals up and around the tower's circumference is paved with sheets of blue plastic and seems wide enough to stand on. Swarming over and through the castle's glossy crystalline surface are hoards of the tiny crustacean castle builders.
action: You look around
response: Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
A great crystalline castle dominates the area, rising nearly to the underside of the pier.
action: Go upwards
response: Decided to grow wings, have you?

A flash of light catches your eyes. It seems to have originated from the pipes running overhead.
action: You climb the ramp
response: With great trepidation, you set one foot on the lowest part of the spiral ramp. It supports your weight. You try the other foot. When the ramp fails to collapse, you start climbing, slowly, carefully, leaning on the nearby towers for support. Thank goodness for the blue plastic sheets inlaid in the ramp. Without them, the glassy surface would be far too slick to climb. You circle the castle once, twice, three times, four, all the while looking nervously up at the needle sharp spires. Eventually, the ramp becomes too narrow for you to continue any further. But, by bracing one foot against the topmost spire and standing on the toes of the other, you can just reach the pipes above. You reach for the shining object and... Ahh! Your foot glides off the glossy spire and you fall to your behind on the ramp. Gravity takes over and sends you sliding down the ramp, rear end scraping blue plastic through turn after turn. Finally, you slide into the sand at the base of the castle, unharmed. Wow! What a trip! Only then do you discover that you succeeded in pulling down the reflective object, because you've still got it clenched tightly in your white knuckled fist.

You examine the object to discover that you've retrieved a black banded scuba mask.
action: You look at the mask
response: It's an expensive looking scuba mask. The lens is a single large piece of glass, sides angled back to offer a wider field of vision. The lens is sealed on all sides with thick, black rubber, and held together by an equally tough neoprene strap.
action: You examine the neoprene strap
response: The strap is made of thick, black neoprene, the same stuff wetsuits are made of. It's only about as broad as your thumb where it meets the mask, but it fans out nearly to the breadth of your hand where it presses against the back of your head.
action: You wear the mask
response: You pull back the tough strap and slide the mask over your head. It fits snugly, creating a tight seal.
action: You look at the goggles
response: It's a cheap pair of plastic swim goggles, held together by a thin, white rubber strap.
action: You examine the strap
response: Which strap do you mean, the white rubber strap, or the black neoprene strap?
action: White
response: It's a thin, white, rubber strap about the length of your arm.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You look around
response: Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
A great crystalline castle dominates the area, rising nearly to the underside of the pier.
action: You go north
response: Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, a clam shell, and a snail
shell, lying in the sand.
action: Go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a broken stave, a sieve, and a loose brick here.
action: Go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.
action: You go east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.
You see a shrimp here.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: You take the shrimp
response: Taken.

The old man stares grimly at the sun, as if daring it to sink any lower.
action: You dive off the Pier
response: The old man watches with flinty eyes as you climb over the railing and maneuver yourself so that you're standing on your heels facing out with your toes hanging out over empty space. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and... jump! You ready yourself for a neat cannonball, but the water rushes up faster than you anticipated. You're still trying to bend your legs into position when splash! You hit the water with a stinging impact that burns your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. The water you displaced now comes rushing back in to slap painfully at your ears. Your momentum carries you several feet underwater, but you quickly rise, sputtering, to the surface.
You seem to have lost several of your posessions in the fall.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
You see a cork, bobbing on the waves.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a scuba mask (being worn).
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

The cork starts drifting slowly toward shallower water.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a treasure map, a scuba mask (being worn), a white rubber strap, and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
action: You drop all
response: The strapless pair of goggles: You toss the strapless pair of goggles to the ground.
The antique bottle: You toss the antique bottle to the ground.
The cork: You toss the cork to the ground.
The treasure map: You toss the treasure map to the ground.
The white rubber strap: You toss the white rubber strap to the ground.
The shrimp: You toss the shrimp to the ground.

The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
action: You dive off the Pier
response: The old man watches with flinty eyes as you climb over the railing and maneuver yourself so that you're standing on your heels facing out with your toes hanging out over empty space. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and... jump! You ready yourself for a neat cannonball, but the water rushes up faster than you anticipated. You're still trying to bend your legs into position when splash! You hit the water with a stinging impact that burns your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. The water you displaced now comes rushing back in to slap painfully at your ears. Your momentum carries you several feet underwater, but you quickly rise, sputtering, to the surface.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.

A gentle wave laps by, setting you bobbing in the current.
action: Go down
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The sandy ocean floor lies about ten feet below the surface, layered with silt and dotted with climbing green fingers of sea grass. The angled cement pillars that support the pier end here. Just beyond the final pair of pillars is a sudden drop off, a steep slope that leads down and down, far beyond your limited visibility.
action: Go downwards
response: With a strong kick, you propel yourself towards the depths beyond the slope. Visibility dims slightly as you move away from the warming light of the sun, and the pillars fall away behind you.

Underwater, (drifting)
The slope continues its sharp descent, inclining almost vertically. Though the level of ambient light has diminished, the sun still shines down strongly, fluttering on the surface above you.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Go downward
response: You continue your drop down the face of the slope. The temperature drops severely as you pass through a thermocline, and the mounting pressure makes your ears ache. You pinch your nose shut with thumb and forefinger, and exhale gently to clear the pressure.

Underwater, (drifting)
The slope just keeps on descending. The amount of sunlight that reaches you has diminished quite a bit and the water has become quite cold. Below you all is dark, but for a small glint of light hinting through the darkness.
Half buried in the mud of the steep slope is some sort of wire
frame construction.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: You take the wire
response: You give the trap a tentative yank, but it's buried too deeply in the face of the slope to come free.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: Go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.

Something unseen brushes by your waist.
action: Go west
response: You kick back towards shore, skimming along for a few yards before coming to rest in shallower water.

Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
action: You go to the west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
A great crystalline castle dominates the area, rising nearly to the underside of the pier.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You go north
response: Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, a clam shell, and a snail
shell, lying in the sand.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.
action: You go northwest
response: Tall, sea-oat-covered dunes block your way.
action: Go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a broken stave, a sieve, and a loose brick here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You get the stave
response: Taken.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You dive off the Pier
response: The old man watches with flinty eyes as you climb over the railing and maneuver yourself so that you're standing on your heels facing out with your toes hanging out over empty space. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and... jump! You ready yourself for a neat cannonball, but the water rushes up faster than you anticipated. You're still trying to bend your legs into position when splash! You hit the water with a stinging impact that burns your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. The water you displaced now comes rushing back in to slap painfully at your ears. Your momentum carries you several feet underwater, but you quickly rise, sputtering, to the surface.
You seem to have lost one of your posessions in the fall.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
You see a broken stave, bobbing on the waves.
action: You go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
A great crystalline castle dominates the area, rising nearly to the underside of the pier.
action: You drop the stave
response: You toss the broken stave to the ground.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
action: You go east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.
action: You examine the wire
response: The construction's function isn't immediately obvious, so you clear away some of the mud surrounding it. It turns out to be a rough box made of wooden slats and chicken wire. There's a gaping hole in one face, where something has punched through the wire and splintered the surrounding slats. Apparently, it's a busted up lobster trap. Needless to say, the trap is empty. In the process of uncovering the trap, you've also revealed a short length of thick rope that's tied to it.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: You take the rope
response: You'll have to untie the length of rope from the busted trap first.

Your lungs are on fire and blue blood pounds in your veins, setting off waves of panic. You can control yourself no longer! Instinct takes over and sends you kicking and clawing your way to the surface. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. You sputter and gasp, inhaling deeply of the fresh salty air. After a few moments, the fire in your lungs subsides and calm is restored to your pounding veins.
action: You untie the rope
response: You detach the length of rope from the busted trap.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: Go upwards
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: You examine the rope
response: It's a short, stout section of rope, about half as long as you are tall and two thumb widths thick.
action: You take the stave
response: Taken.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You go north
response: Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, a clam shell, and a snail
shell, lying in the sand.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, a clam shell, and a snail
shell, lying in the sand.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You go to the southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a sieve, and a loose brick here.
action: You drop all
response: The length of rope: You toss the length of rope to the ground.
The broken stave: You toss the broken stave to the ground.
action: You examine the gap
response: It's a gap in the path, where a brick has been removed.
action: You look in the gap
response: The gap is empty.
action: You go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, and a broken stave here.
action: You get all
response: The strapless pair of goggles: Taken.
The antique bottle: Taken.
The cork: Taken.
The treasure map: Taken.
The white rubber strap: Taken.
The shrimp: Taken.

The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
action: You go west
response: The light of the setting sun stabs into your eyes as you exit the shade of the small shelter. You wait a moment for your eyes to adjust and then begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, and a broken stave here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You drop all
response: The strapless pair of goggles: You toss the strapless pair of goggles to the ground.
The antique bottle: You toss the antique bottle to the ground.
The cork: You toss the cork to the ground.
The treasure map: You toss the treasure map to the ground.
The white rubber strap: You toss the white rubber strap to the ground.
The shrimp: You toss the shrimp to the ground.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You examine map
response: It's a treasure map. It must be at least a hundred years old. Clearly, it was fashioned in another time. Thick black strokes grace the rich parchment, drawn in a purposeful hand. Fanciful trace works embellish the borders, and a spidery compass rose resides in one corner.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You get the map
response: Taken.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You read the map
response: The black strokes describe the chain of islands dominating the Savannah coast. One island in particular bears a bold red X. You examine the marker closer. It seems to be a bit east of here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: You read the map
response: The black strokes describe the chain of islands dominating the Savannah coast. One island in particular bears a bold red X. You examine the marker closer. It's right underfoot!

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Dig
response: You painfully pull back several fingernails trying to dig a hole in the cement floor.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a white rubber strap, and a shrimp here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Go west
response: You're in a low space beneath the pavilion, which is supported by massive cement pylons. Two metal pipes extrude from the cement above you and bend east to follow the pier. The beach lies east through an opening in the dunes, and an open wire mesh gate leads to a small storage area to the west.
You see an aluminum recycling canister here.
action: Dig
response: As best you can, you locate the spot indicated on the map. Scooping sand away in great handfuls, you quickly excavate an area approximately a yard across and a couple of hand spans deep. You don't manage to uncover anything interesting, but you're quite sure that this is the spot indicated on the map. As you continue to dig, gravity and the slight wind join forces to send the surrounding sand sliding into the hole. You can see that you're going to need a better digging implement than your hands if you're to make this hole any deeper.
action: You take the crowbar and the rope
response: The crowbar: You've already got your hands full.
The length of rope: You've already got your hands full.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a
action: You tie the clam shell to stave
response: scuba mask (being worn), a treasure map, a broken stave, and a clam shell.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

The clam shell can't be attached to the broken stave.
action: You go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier. A number of wooden benches sit along the north face of the pavilion.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You stand on the bench
response: The benches are too far away.
action: You climb the enclosure
response: You look longingly up at the red brick wall, but the roof of the enclosure is clearly out of reach.
action: Go north
response: This patch of the broad pavilion floor seems to be set aside for spectators, as there are numerous wooden benches here. They're neatly arranged in two orderly rows. What with all these benches, you half expect to see picnic tables, but there are none. The main part of the pavilion floor sprawls largely to the south. Beyond that, against the southern railing, you can see the brick faced enclosure and the tiny snack bar.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: You stand on the bench
response: You choose a stable looking bench and clamber on to it.
action: Go upwards
response: You can't get any higher.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You go downwards
response: The bench scrapes against the concrete floor as you leave it.
action: You move the benches
response: You push the benches around into an untidy mess.
action: You take bench
response: Choosing a bench at random, you grab hold of one end and raise it about a foot in the air. The other end scrapes loudly against the concrete floor. The bench is light enough to move around, but too bulky to carry, so you set it back down.
action: You get on the enclosure
response: You decide that you should probably get off of the benches first.
action: Stack benches
response: You pile the benches up against the brick wall of the restroom enclosure, one on top of another, into a tower twice your height.
They don't look very sturdy, but the wall does seem to add some support.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: You climb the benches
response: You'd better do something with the stuff you're carrying first.
You'll need both hands free to climb.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You drop all
response: The treasure map: You toss the treasure map to the ground.
The broken stave: You toss the broken stave to the ground.
The clam shell: You toss the clam shell to the ground.
action: You climb the benches
response: You nudge one of the benches in the tower to test for stability. The tower shivers, but remains firm. It seems to be shored up by the wall of the enclosure. Carefully, slowly, you climb to the top.

You're standing on the enclosure that houses the restrooms. The cement floor spreads all around you to the north, and the snack bar lies just below you to the east. If it weren't for the pavilion's canopy, you might have a nice view of the sunset. Unfortunately, all you can see is the canopy's shadowy underside.
action: You look at the canopy
response: The enormous canopy hangs directly overhead. From down here, you can see into the darkened rafters, and detect the pattern of wooden slats that make up the underside of the canopy. In fact, now that your eyes have adjusted to the relatively dim light, you can see a thin seam of light outlining a rectangular shape in the canopy.
action: You open hatch
response: You scramble up into the rafters, grab hold of a nearby beam, and lean out over empty space. You can just about reach the maintenance hatch. Unfortunately it's quite heavy, and at this angle you have no leverage with which to open it. Disappointed, you jump back down to the enclosure roof. If only you had a long pole to push it back with.
action: You go downwards
response: You test the top bench yet again. It's still not as sturdy as you'd like it to be, but it'll have to do. You set to climbing down the stack of benches.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a treasure map, a broken stave, and a clam shell here.
action: You take the stave
response: Taken.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: You throw the stave onto the enclosure
response: You toss the broken stave. It bounces off the enclosure and falls to the ground.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You take the stave
response: Taken.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You put the stave on the benches
response: You choose a bench at random and set the broken stave on it. (If you meant to set the broken stave on top of the stack, you can't do it without actually climbing it.)

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You climb the benches
response: You'd better do something with the broken stave you're carrying first. You'll need both hands free to climb.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: You throw the stave
response: You toss the broken stave to the ground.
action: Go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a white rubber strap, and a shrimp here.
action: You tie the strap to the stave
response: You tie the white rubber strap to the broken stave.
action: You tie the strap to yourself
response: You tie the other end of the white rubber strap to your wrist, joining the broken stave to your wrist.
action: You go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a treasure map and a clam shell here.
action: You climb the benches
response: You nudge one of the benches in the tower to test for stability. The tower shivers, but remains firm. It seems to be shored up by the wall of the enclosure. Carefully, slowly, you climb to the top.

You're standing on the enclosure that houses the restrooms. The cement floor spreads all around you to the north, and the snack bar lies just below you to the east. If it weren't for the pavilion's canopy, you might have a nice view of the sunset. Unfortunately, all you can see is the canopy's shadowy underside.
action: You open hatch
response: You scramble up into the rafters, grab hold of a nearby beam, and lean out over empty space. You can just about reach the maintenance hatch. Unfortunately it's quite heavy, and at this angle you have no leverage with which to open it. Disappointed, you jump back down to the enclosure roof. If only you had a long pole to push it back with.
action: You open the hatch with the stave
response: You extend the wooden stave and give the maintenance hatch a good, stiff jab. It rises up, swings on its hinges, and slams down on the roof. A shower of sand and a broad angular shaft of orange light fall into your eyes.
action: Go upward
response: You scramble up into the rafters, grab hold of a nearby beam, and lean out over empty space. You can just reach the opening in the pavilion. Your grip is tenuous, but you manage to pull yourself up and heave yourself through the trap door.

As you climb to your feet, a loose shingle rocks beneath your knee and nearly sends you falling back through the hatch.

The view from the shingled canopy is quite lovely. A deeply orange sun is setting beyond your hotel, while the beach stretches like a golden ribbon to north and south. To the east, the long pier stretches out towards the sprawling blue sea. Perhaps it's your imagination, but the sunset seems curiously enhanced from up here - more so than can be accounted for by the height of the canopy.
The maintenance hatch through which you climbed lies open against
the canopy.
action: You examine the sunset
response: As you gaze into the distant sky, you feel an incredible sensation, as if your body were a balloon in the process of being inflated. You rise, the canopy dropping away behind you. Your mind and vision expand as you ascend high into the atmosphere, above even the towering hotels. The world contracts beneath you. It's as if you've become some huge bubble, and your entire surface acts like a lens, magnifying, intensifying. Everything seems almost surreally beautiful. The sun wavers a hair's breadth above the horizon like a fat, ripe, blood orange. Its rays speed diagonally towards you through streamers of cloud turned to pink cotton candy. The sweeping rays hazily rake the fertile wetlands that lie beyond the shore.
Broad swathes of grassy emerald are bordered by wheat colored marshes. Green and gold are divided by snake-like ribbons of shadow and light, where twisting streams alternately capture and reflect the light. The rays fade lazily to the east, smudging the sky with shades of peach and rose and lilac and cool, steely blue. A pale moon hangs like a plump sand dollar in the milky blue eastern sky. And beyond, the stars...

Suddenly, the vision recedes as quickly as it came upon you, sending you plummeting like a falling star to the earth's welcoming grace.
You find yourself in yourself again, standing on the wood shingled canopy in the cool air of the early evening light.

You stand and consider the experience for a while. You'd nearly forgotten how to appreciate the beauty of everyday life. It's enough to get you to thinking about your job again, and how it consumes so much time that you can't even enjoy common miracles such as this.

You're wavering. "Maybe I'm being hasty," is what you're now thinking. Sure, a couple of fancy displays now and then make life more interesting, but is that enough reason to quit your job? And what about your employers? What'll they do without you? You're still going to need a few more convincing arguments.
action: Go downwards
response: You swing your legs down over the edge of the trap door and lower yourself through.

You're standing on the enclosure that houses the restrooms. The cement floor spreads all around you to the north, and the snack bar lies just below you to the east. If it weren't for the pavilion's canopy, you might have a nice view of the sunset. Unfortunately, all you can see is the canopy's shadowy underside.
action: Go downwards
response: You test the top bench yet again. It's still not as sturdy as you'd like it to be, but it'll have to do. You set to climbing down the stack of benches.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a treasure map and a clam shell here.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You go to the north
response: This patch of the broad pavilion floor seems to be set aside for spectators, while the main part of the pavilion floor sprawls largely to the south. You can see a bunch of wooden benches there. Beyond that, against the southern railing, you can see the brick faced enclosure and the tiny snack bar.
action: Go west
response: The railing prevents you from going that way.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You go to the south
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: You go south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
action: You go to the north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, and a shrimp here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You go to the east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.
action: You climb the benches
response: You'd better do something with the treasure map you're carrying first. You'll need both hands free to climb.
action: You drop the map
response: You toss the treasure map to the ground.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: Go upwards
response: You scramble up into the rafters, grab hold of a nearby beam, and lean out over empty space. You can just reach the opening in the pavilion. Your grip is tenuous, but you manage to pull yourself up and heave yourself through the trap door.

As you climb to your feet, a loose shingle rocks beneath your knee and nearly sends you falling back through the hatch.

The view from the shingled canopy is quite lovely. A deeply orange sun is setting beyond your hotel, while the beach stretches like a golden ribbon to north and south. To the east, the long pier stretches out towards the sprawling blue sea. Sadly, you can find no trace of your earlier vision, though the sunset is still glorious.
The maintenance hatch through which you climbed lies open against
the canopy.
action: You take the shingle
response: Which shingle do you mean, the rooftop shingles, or the loose shingle?
action: Loose
response: While it does wiggle a bit, it's still wedged pretty firmly in place.
action: You pry the loose shingle with the stave
response: You locate the loose shingle and try to jam the stave beneath it, but the rows of shingles are too tightly mounted to permit the broad stave.
action: Go down
response: You swing your legs down over the edge of the trap door and lower yourself through.

You're standing on the enclosure that houses the restrooms. The cement floor spreads all around you to the north, and the snack bar lies just below you to the east. If it weren't for the pavilion's canopy, you might have a nice view of the sunset. Unfortunately, all you can see is the canopy's shadowy underside.

You test the top bench yet again. It's still not as sturdy as you'd like it to be, but it'll have to do. You set to climbing down the stack of benches.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell and a treasure map here.
action: You go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a crowbar, a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, and a shrimp here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You untie stave
response: You detach the white rubber strap from the broken stave, separating it from your wrist.
action: You drop the stave
response: You toss the broken stave to the ground.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You tie the crowbar to the strap
response: Which strap do you mean, the white rubber strap, or the black neoprene strap?
action: White
response: You tie the other end of the white rubber strap to the crowbar, joining the crowbar to your wrist.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell and a treasure map here.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: Go up
response: You nudge one of the benches in the tower to test for stability. The tower shivers, but remains firm. It seems to be shored up by the wall of the enclosure. Carefully, slowly, you climb to the top.

You're standing on the enclosure that houses the restrooms. The cement floor spreads all around you to the north, and the snack bar lies just below you to the east. If it weren't for the pavilion's canopy, you might have a nice view of the sunset. Unfortunately, all you can see is the canopy's shadowy underside.
action: You pry the loose shingle with the crowbar
response: You locate the loose shingle and jam the crowbar beneath it. You apply pressure and the shingle flies out with a loud snap, leaving behind a dark chink in the otherwise perfect rows.
action: You look at it
response: It's a thin, spade-shaped slice of wood, about two hand spans long and almost as wide. It's slightly convex across its width, and tapered along its length so that one end is narrower than the other.
action: Go downwards
response: You'd better do something with the loose shingle you're carrying first. You'll need both hands free to climb.
action: You put the loose shingle in the hole
response: Hole? What hole? You don't see any hole here.
action: You put loose shingle in the hatch
response: You toss the loose shingle through the maintenance hatch, where it clatters through the wooden rafters, glances off the enclosure roof, and crashes to the cement floor of the pavilion.
action: Go downwards
response: You swing your legs down over the edge of the trap door and lower yourself through.

You're standing on the enclosure that houses the restrooms. The cement floor spreads all around you to the north, and the snack bar lies just below you to the east. If it weren't for the pavilion's canopy, you might have a nice view of the sunset. Unfortunately, all you can see is the canopy's shadowy underside.

You test the top bench yet again. It's still not as sturdy as you'd like it to be, but it'll have to do. You set to climbing down the stack of benches.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell, a treasure map, and a shingle here.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: Shingle
response: The treasure map: Taken.
The shingle: Taken.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You go south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
action: You jump over the railing
response: You climb over the railing and maneuver yourself so that you're standing on your heels facing out with your toes hanging out over empty space. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and... jump! The ground rushes up faster than you could have imagined. It seems you've only just jumped when wham! Your feet hit the ground with a stinging impact that sends you sprawling forwards into the sand. You lie, stunned, for several moments. After a time the stinging fades from your feet, if not from your memory, and you climb back to a vertical position. You seem to have lost several of your posessions in the fall.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.
You see a treasure map and a shingle, lying in the sand.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

Two gulls break off from the main flock to fight over a choice morsel. A third flies over to investigate, and soon all three fly squawking away over the beach.
action: You take all
response: The treasure map: Taken.
The shingle: Taken.

Two strutting male gulls face off, puffing out their breast feathers and bobbing their heads in each other's direction. A noise suspiciously like laughter emanates from several female gulls, and the two males hurriedly stand down.
action: You go to the east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
action: Go north
response: Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
A great crystalline castle dominates the area, rising nearly to the underside of the pier.
action: You go to the west
response: You're in a low space beneath the pavilion, which is supported by massive cement pylons. Two metal pipes extrude from the cement above you and bend east to follow the pier. The beach lies east through an opening in the dunes, and an open wire mesh gate leads to a small storage area to the west. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.
You see an aluminum recycling canister here.
action: You read the map
response: The black strokes describe the chain of islands dominating the Savannah coast. One island in particular bears a bold red X. You examine the marker closer. It's right underfoot!
action: You dig with the shingle
response: Sand continues to slide in from the hole's rim, but you're able to keep abreast of it through vigorous use of the shingle. You keep on digging, making the hole deeper and wider. You climb into the hole to facilitate the excavation, and soon you're knee deep in it.
action: Keep going
response: You continue digging industriously. You're forced to stop for a moment to wipe the sweat from your brow, but you shortly resume your labor. When you next look up, you discover that you're waist deep in the hole.
action: Continue
response: Your back aches from stooping and lifting, and you're covered with sweat, but you keep on digging. That treasure must be here somewhere, you're just sure of it! Though if you don't find something soon, you may be out of luck. You're standing in the hole up to your chest, and the sand sliding in from the rim is starting to make you nervous.
action: You continue
response: You pause for a moment to contemplate the fruits of your labors. The hole rises nearly over your head. You shudder with a quick chill as the early evening breeze strokes your sweat coated skin. Or perhaps it's the sight of all the sand spilling down the rim of the hole. Then, with a dedication born of pure greed, you set the shingle to the bottom of the hole and continue digging. Hardly a moment has passed when, chunk, you strike something! You bend down to see what you've found, and...

... fall into black.

You come awake groggily, with pounding head. You seem to be lying on your side in the cold and damp. You try to sit up, but your arms are somehow pinned behind you. In fact, it feels like they're tied down. You can even feel a coarse rope tied roughly around you. Your eyes are gummed shut, but you force them open and take in your surroundings with blurred vision.

You can't even begin to imagine how, but you've come to be lying in some sort of underground grotto. The walls and ceiling are of rough stone, and water drips from the ceiling and puddles around you on the stony floor. A cool breeze on your back suggests that the cavern extends to some distance behind you. Nearby, a thin, sandy shore descends towards a sheltered inlet. The inlet follows the cove as it bends out of sight towards the sea, while pink tongues of sunset reach back around the bend to lick the dark walls of the cave.
action: You untie the rope
response: You rock back and forth on the stony ground, struggling to break free of the rope that binds you. The motion sets your head to throbbing and the coarse rope tears into your flesh, but you're unable to free yourself.
action: Inventory
response: It's hard to tell with your hands tied behind you, but you don't seem to be carrying anything.

The gentle surf laps against the thin shore.

You can hear new sounds coming from around the bend. The protesting creak of old wood is accompanied by soft, irregular splashes, and punctuated by the base tones of a grumbled conversation.
action: About yourself
response: Ugh. Your whole body throbs painfully with the blood pulsing dully through your veins.

The gentle surf laps against the thin shore.
action: Go east
response: The back of your head throbs, and coarse rope binds your arms. You can't sit up or even focus your eyes well enough to do that.

A drop of water falls from the stony ceiling and lands with a plip on the puddled ground.

A boat rows into sight from around the bend. It's a small, wooden dinghy, rowed by two scruffy looking individuals. With your vision blurred, you can't tell much more about them from here. You can hear small snippets of their grumbled conversation, but not enough to make sense of it.
action: You listen
response: The two men's coarse voices carry over the placid waters of the inlet.

The wooden dinghy scrapes up onto the thin shore, and the two men slowly clamber out. Though they're quite close, their conversation is still garbled. Their voices are deep and slurred, with a grating timbre that sends a chill crawling across your aching scalp. They seem to be discussing the previous night's debaucheries.
The heavier of the pair rubs a meaty hand through his matted hair
and says, "Gar, oy still don't see why oy have to come collect t' new recruit. T'ain't enough I been t' cudgel man?"
"Oh, shut yer stinkin' hole, McGintie. I be just as smashed as
you. Cab'in says do, ye do. Unless ye want yer throat cut here to ear." The second speaker draws one hand across his throat in a quick slashing motion.
action: You untie the rope
response: You rock back and forth on the stony ground, struggling to break free of the rope that binds you. The motion sets your head to throbbing and the coarse rope tears into your flesh, but you're unable to free yourself.

The gentle surf laps against the thin shore.

The foul reek of boozy breath chokes you as the pair scuffle your way. They're close enough now that you can make them out in better detail. It's ludicrous, but they seem to be dressed as... pirates. Though groggy and filled with fear, you're struck by the sheer lunacy of the situation. It nevertheless seems frighteningly real when the pair come to stand over you and look down with vile, appraising eyes.
"Gar, it's awake, it is. Feisty one, this," says the heavier man.
The slender man nods agreement. "Aye, and let's get it back quick, 'fore my noggin explodes."
action: You get all
response: The scuba mask: Taken.
The treasure map: Taken.
The shingle: Taken.
The white rubber strap: You take the white rubber strap and the crowbar.
action: Shingle
response: Great dunes of sand, piled up against the pillars supporting the pavilion, block your exit in that direction.

You're in a small, cement walled room. But for the open gate in the east face, it would be one big cement cube. Against the rear wall is a large bin full of used paper products. Next to that is a plain looking utility table over which is hung a peg board.
You see a steel key here.

The treasure map: You toss the treasure map to the ground.
The shingle: You toss the shingle to the ground.
action: You go east
response: You're in a low space beneath the pavilion, which is supported by massive cement pylons. Two metal pipes extrude from the cement above you and bend east to follow the pier. The beach lies east through an opening in the dunes, and an open wire mesh gate leads to a small storage area to the west.
You see an aluminum recycling canister here.
action: You go east
response: Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
A great crystalline castle dominates the area, rising nearly to the underside of the pier.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You go to the north
response: Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a snail shell, lying in
the sand.
action: You go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair
of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a shrimp, and a broken stave here.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask, a crowbar, and a white rubber strap.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.
action: Go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: Go east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man stares grimly at the sun, as if daring it to sink any lower.
action: You ask the man about the man
response: His steely grey eyes hardly flicker. "I am what I am, youngster."

The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
action: You ask the man about the sun
response: The old man's eyes never stray from the sea. "Aye, 'tis a beaut."

The old man pulls back on his rod with all his might, struggling to reel in whatever he's hooked. Incredibly, an enormous marlin breaks the surface! But victory is short lived. The line snaps and the old man staggers nearly off his feet.
action: You examine the sack
response: It's a heavy, brown, burlap sack.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: You look in the sack
response: It seems to be empty.

The old man reels in a whopper of a fish, which he tosses into the bucket by his feet.
action: You ask the man about the sack
response: Apparently the old man isn't interested in talking about that.

The old man pulls back on his rod with all his might, struggling to reel in whatever he's hooked. Incredibly, an enormous marlin breaks the surface! But victory is short lived. The line snaps and the old man staggers nearly off his feet.
action: You look at bucket
response: It's an ordinary, if somewhat corroded, metal pail, full of fish caught by the old man.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: You search the fish
response: The old man spots you reaching for his fish and fires off a smouldering glower that burns straight through the center of your forehead.

The old man reels in a tiny fish, grunts in disgust, and tosses it back.
action: You ask the man about the fish
response: He glances down at the fish in the pail. "That's today's catch. 'Relda'll cook 'em up nice."

The old man pulls back hard on his rod, pulling the line taut.
action: You ask the man about the fishing
response: He beams uncharacteristically. "'Relda and the kids picked it out for my birthday."

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: You ask man about Relda
response: He gazes wryly out to sea. "My one true lady love. After the sea, that is. Couldn't live without either of 'em."

The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
action: You ask the man about the sea
response: You don't know of any such thing.

The old man draws a cigarette from his breast pocket, rolls it meditatively between thumb and forefingers, and then puts it away.
action: You ask the man about the Island
response: The old man just grips his rod more tightly.

The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
action: You ask the man about the crab
response: The old man just grips his rod more tightly.

A small child bobbles into the area and tries to sneak up behind the old man, only to break out laughing. The old man jerks in surprise and throws the child a long, harsh glare.
action: You ask the man about the rod
response: He beams uncharacteristically. "'Relda and the kids picked it out for my birthday."

The old man pulls back on his rod with all his might, struggling to reel in whatever he's hooked. Incredibly, an enormous marlin breaks the surface! But victory is short lived. The line snaps and the old man staggers nearly off his feet.
action: You ask the man about the pirates
response: You don't know of any such thing.

The old man reels in a tiny fish, grunts in disgust, and tosses it back.
action: You ask the man about the treasure
response: "Hmph. Fools goin' lightly an all that."

The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
action: You ask the man about the map
response: You don't know of any such thing.

The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
action: You ask the man about the bait
response: I don't know the word "marlin".

I don't know the word "bait".
action: You ask the man about Pavilion
response: An uncomfortable silence ensues.

The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask, a crowbar, and a white rubber strap.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.

The old man pulls back hard on his rod, pulling the line taut.
action: Go west
response: The light of the setting sun stabs into your eyes as you exit the shade of the small shelter. You wait a moment for your eyes to adjust and then begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.
action: You go west
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: Go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair
of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a shrimp, and a broken stave here.
action: You tie the white strap to the shrimp
response: You tie the other end of the white rubber strap to the shrimp, joining the crowbar to the shrimp.
action: Go southeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

A snowy white gull apparently materializes right in the middle of the flock, cranes its neck as if searching for someone, and then dematerializes.
action: You go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, South of Pier
You're up to your knees in the gently surging tide. It flows up onto the beach to the west and grows deeper to the east. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the pier.
action: You go to the east
response: You'd better do something with one of the items you're carrying first. You'll need at least one hand free to swim.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask, a crowbar, a white rubber strap, and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The crowbar is joined to the shrimp by the white rubber strap.
action: You wear the mask
response: You pull back the tough strap and slide the mask over your head. It fits snugly, creating a tight seal.

A rather large wave surges past, wetting you up to the waist and nearly toppling you from your feet.
action: Go east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

The shrimp shows renewed life as it makes contact with the salt water.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: You go downwards
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The crab, which had resumed its perch on top of the rock, scuttles back into the fissure on your approach.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.
action: You give the shrimp to the crab
response: "Hmm..." you think to yourself, "...maybe I can lure the crab out with a tasty treat." You give yourself a little pat on the back for your cleverness.

You lower the shrimp toward the fissure, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggests that you might never see the white rubber strap or the crowbar again.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: You untie the shrimp
response: You detach the white rubber strap from the shrimp, separating it from the crowbar.
action: You drop the crowbar
response: You let go of the white rubber strap and the crowbar. The strap sinks beneath the surface and disappears into the murky water along with the crowbar.
action: You go downward
response: You plop down into the shallow water and let the gentle waves knock against your shoulders. The shrimp shows renewed life as it makes contact with the salt water.

A gentle wave rides up the slope of your back as you sit in the shallow water.
action: Go west
response: (Getting off of the ground first.)

You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You drop the crowbar
response: You toss the crowbar and the white rubber strap to the ground.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, South of Pier
You're up to your knees in the gently surging tide. It flows up onto the beach to the west and grows deeper to the east. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the pier.

A gentle, white crested wave laps past your knees.
action: Go down
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The crab, which had resumed its perch on top of the rock, scuttles back into the fissure on your approach.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.
action: You show the shrimp to crab
response: The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You give the shrimp to the crab
response: You release the shrimp. Free of your grip, it darts immediately toward the dark fissure in the rock. With surprising speed, the crab comes to life and goes after it. The chase is brief, and shortly the crab retreats to the depths of the fissure, shrimp in claw. Hmm. If only you had some way of holding on to the shrimp. You release the shrimp. Free of your grip, it darts immediately toward the dark fissure in the rock. With surprising speed, the crab comes to life and goes after it. The chase is brief, and shortly the crab retreats to the depths of the fissure, shrimp in claw. Hmm. If only you had some way of holding on to the shrimp.

The crab extends its claws and clacks them together menacingly.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You take the shell
response: You thrust your hand boldly into the fissure and probe the darkness, trying to grab the conch shell. Ouch! Something bit you! Or maybe pinched you. Either way, you jerk your hand free and examine it. Fortunately, whatever it was didn't break the skin. It occurs to you to find some way to lure the crab out.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: Go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
You see a crowbar and a white rubber strap, lying in the sand.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.
action: You take the crowbar
response: You take the white rubber strap and the crowbar.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

A snowy white gull apparently materializes right in the middle of the flock, cranes its neck as if searching for someone, and then dematerializes.
action: Go west
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a loose brick, a length of rope, a strapless pair
of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, and a broken stave here.
action: You drop the crowbar
response: You toss the crowbar and the white rubber strap to the ground.
action: You go east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.
You see a shrimp here.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man stares grimly at the sun, as if daring it to sink any lower.
action: You take the shrimp
response: Taken.

The old man plays out a few lengths of line.
action: You tie the rope to shrimp
response: You try, but the coarse rope is too thick to be knotted around the shrimp.

The old man's mind must have been wandering. He jerks suddenly back to attention, evidently the result of a tug on his line.
action: You examine the line
response: It looks like 40lb test.

The old man pulls back hard on his rod, pulling the line taut.
action: You ask the man about the line
response: He shrugs his cast iron shoulders. "Not much to say about it, youngster."

The old man reels in a whopper of a fish, which he tosses into the bucket by his feet.
action: You ask the man for the line
response: He twangs the active line to check for tautness. "Sorry youngster, can't spare any line today."

The old man pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a hearty swig.
action: You take the money
response: You'd better just leave it in your pocket.

The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
action: You buy the line from the man
response: [TADS-1026: wrong number of arguments to user function "<NO SYMBOL TABLE>.<NO SYMBOL TABLE>"]
action: You go west
response: The light of the setting sun stabs into your eyes as you exit the shade of the small shelter. You wait a moment for your eyes to adjust and then begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a loose brick, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a broken stave, a crowbar, and a white rubber strap here.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You drop the shrimp
response: You toss the shrimp to the ground.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), and a length of rope.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: Go north
response: You launch yourself north with a heart pumping butterfly stroke.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: Go downwards
response: You continue your drop down the face of the slope. The temperature drops severely as you pass through a thermocline, and the mounting pressure makes your ears ache. You pinch your nose shut with thumb and forefinger, and exhale gently to clear the pressure.

Underwater, (drifting)
The slope just keeps on descending. The amount of sunlight that reaches you has diminished quite a bit and the water has become quite cold. Below you all is dark, but for a small glint of light hinting through the darkness.
A busted lobster trap lies half buried in the mud of the steep
slope.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: You tie the rope to trap
response: You try to tie the length of rope to the busted trap, but find it difficult to summon enough coordination while bobbing in the currents.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: You pull the trap
response: Pulling the busted trap doesn't have any effect.

A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.

Your lungs are on fire and blue blood pounds in your veins, setting off waves of panic. You can control yourself no longer! Instinct takes over and sends you kicking and clawing your way to the surface. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. You sputter and gasp, inhaling deeply of the fresh salty air. After a few moments, the fire in your lungs subsides and calm is restored to your pounding veins.
action: You look at the trap
response: It's a rough box made of wooden slats and chicken wire. There's a gaping hole in one face, where something has punched through the wire and splintered the surrounding slats. Apparently, it's a busted up lobster trap. Needless to say, the trap is empty.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: Keep going
response: You try to tie the length of rope to the busted trap, but find it difficult to summon enough coordination while bobbing in the currents.

Your lungs are on fire and blue blood pounds in your veins, setting off waves of panic. You can control yourself no longer! Instinct takes over and sends you kicking and clawing your way to the surface. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. You sputter and gasp, inhaling deeply of the fresh salty air. After a few moments, the fire in your lungs subsides and calm is restored to your pounding veins.
action: Go southwest
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

Something brushes your shoulder. You pivot, instinctively, just in time to see a gull sweep past your head.
action: You go northwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a loose brick, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a broken stave, a crowbar, a white rubber strap, and a shrimp here.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.
action: You drop the rope
response: You toss the length of rope to the ground.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a scuba mask (being worn).
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You take the brick
response: You rock the brick back and forth and manage to get your fingers under it. Oof! It's heavy! It takes both hands to carry it, and the muscles in your lower back protest as you straighten up. You'd better decide where you want to go now, because you won't be able to carry it for too long.
action: You go to the east
response: Brick in hands, you stagger up the concrete ramp. It's a good thing the ramp was there, as you doubt you could have carried the brick up all those stairs.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.

Your arms and shoulders feel a bit sore from carrying the weight of the brick.
action: You go east
response: You stagger out of the shady pavilion and onto the long pier. The weight of the brick makes the lengthy pier look even longer than usual.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.

You let the brick hang lower, and it relieves the soreness in your arms a bit, but your lower back strains as it's forced to pick up the slack.
action: You go to the east
response: You stagger into the shade of the small shelter, brick still in hands.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

Your hands are starting to cramp from clutching the brick, and your lower back is in agony, forcing you to bend over almost double.

The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
action: You jump
response: Not while you're carrying that brick.

Finally, you can carry the brick no more. It bangs to the ground with a loud, scraping thud that you feel in the soles of your feet, and narrowly misses your toes. Relieved of the brick's weight, you quickly straighten up. All your aching body parts cry out in relief. You flex your hands to loosen them up, then plant them at your sides and bend backwards until you feel your spine crack. Ahh!

The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
action: You take the brick
response: You rock the brick back and forth and manage to get your fingers under it. Oof! It's heavy! It takes both hands to carry it, and the muscles in your lower back protest as you straighten up. You'd better decide where you want to go now, because you won't be able to carry it for too long.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: Dive
response: You try to dig a hole to China, but don't get very far.

Your arms and shoulders feel a bit sore from carrying the weight of the brick.

A small child bobbles into the area and tries to sneak up behind the old man, only to break out laughing. The old man jerks in surprise and throws the child a long, harsh glare.
action: You go downwards
response: If you want to jump off the pier, you should say so. Otherwise, there is no way down.

You let the brick hang lower, and it relieves the soreness in your arms a bit, but your lower back strains as it's forced to pick up the slack.

The old man pulls a flask from his pocket and takes a hearty swig.
action: You jump off the Pier
response: The old man watches with flinty eyes as you set the brick on the railing and then climb over, coming to rest on the outside of the railing with your heels hanging over open air. Suddenly, you realize you won't be able to turn around while carrying the brick. You swallow and resign yourself to going off backwards. A trembling spasm flits through your calves as you raise the brick. You count three, take a deep breath, and... jump! You fall fast and hit the water, hard, with your face, throwing spray everywhere. The weight of the brick drags you down fast, faster. You fall down and down alongside an enormous dropping slope, and the water turns cold around you while the pressure pierces your ears with shards of glass. You throw back your head and howl in pain, losing most of your air in a glittering swarm of bubbles, and still you fall into darkness. But below you is a speck of light, and even as you fall from the sunlight, this new light gives you hope. It grows as the sun diminishes, and though it gives off no warmth, it cheers you slightly. The barbed pain in your ears subsides. You fall further and further, and finally, you hit bottom with a dull thud that raises a cloud of mud. When the mud clears you find you've somehow lost track of the brick.

Underwater, (drifting)
You're at the bottom of a long, precipitous slope. The cold and pressure are intense. Judging by the dim light, you must be many fathoms below the surface. It's astonishing that you made it this deep without any diving equipment. An enticing beam of light in these frigid, sub-arctic depths has resolved into... the huge staring eye of an enormous octopus!

Your lungs are almost empty of air after your long descent. You can already feel burning tendrils of pain spreading through your chest.
action: You look at the octopus
response: You examine the 'octopus' more closely. You can see now that it's nothing more than a rusty old diving bell. But it really does look like an enormous octopus stretching up from the ocean floor. Its rusting, barnacle encrusted head is supported by four thin, stilted tentacles which disappear into the swirling sands. Completing the illusion are a pair of plate sized eyes, which stare at you with shining intensity while producing the light that lured you so deep.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: You look through the porthole
response: You glance out the porthole expecting to see little more than muck and murk. Instead, you're confronted with a breathtaking vision. The stygian depths have parted to permit a single powerful beam of sunlight, which illuminates a scene of startling beauty. The ocean floor beyond the portholes is grown over with a coral reef that swarms with a kaleidoscopic variety of life. Brain coral sprout like fungi, their convoluted folds home to tiny, salmon colored shrimp. Larger crustaceans are visible here and there, hiding in shadow as they wait for their unwary prey. Schools of fish swarm in great prismatic clouds, their pale bellies reflecting tiny bursts of light as they wheel and twirl. Fluted ivory branches climb surface ward, reaching like grasping fingers for the silver fish that dart among them. And presiding over all like the kings of yore are great purple sea fans, which wave majestically in the currents as if bestowing grace upon their radiant subjects.

Discovering all this at such great depth and so far north is nothing short of miraculous. You'd almost forgotten the pleasant thrill of finding beauty in unexpected places. It starts you thinking about work again, in particular the way it dulls your interest in searching for wonder.

You're feeling skittish. "Could I really do this?" is what you're asking yourself. You've unconsciously begun tallying your savings. You've even got the beginnings of a resignation letter going in the back of your mind. If only you had a couple more arguments to put your mind at rest.

You notice that the mud beneath the coral seems oddly level. In fact, one patch in particular doesn't look like mud at all.
action: Search patch
response: The patch of level surface is too far away.
action: You examine patch
response: You pier out through the scratched glass straining for more detail. Eyes squinting, tongue poking through teeth in concentration, you can just make out some sort of pattern hidden beneath the mud...
action: Go outside
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
You're at the bottom of a long, precipitous slope. The cold and pressure are intense. Judging by the dim light, you must be many fathoms below the surface. It's astonishing that you made it this deep without any diving equipment. An enticing beam of light in these frigid, sub-arctic depths has resolved into the porthole of a long disused diving bell. The porthole only reflects the single, powerful ray of sunlight that has miraculously penetrated to this great depth. You can make out a partially obscured pattern in the fine mud of
the ocean floor.
action: You move the mud
response: You can't move the mud.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Search patch
response: You find nothing of interest.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You examine the pattern
response: Unfortunately, you can't make much out through the mud.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Clean mud
response: You have no way to secure yourself, which makes moving the mud a difficult process. But you scrape it away industriously, waving it off in large swathes. The mud rises, clouding the surrounding water, but the pattern becomes slightly clearer. You can just make out a single black footprint.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You look at the footprint
response: You can just make out what appears to be a black footprint.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: You examine patch
response: You pier out through the scratched glass straining for more detail. Eyes squinting, tongue poking through teeth in concentration, you can just make out some sort of pattern hidden beneath the mud...
action: Go outside
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
You're at the bottom of a long, precipitous slope. The cold and pressure are intense. Judging by the dim light, you must be many fathoms below the surface. It's astonishing that you made it this deep without any diving equipment. An enticing beam of light in these frigid, sub-arctic depths has resolved into the porthole of a long disused diving bell. The porthole only reflects the single, powerful ray of sunlight that has miraculously penetrated to this great depth. You can make out a partially obscured pattern in the fine mud of
the ocean floor.
action: You examine footprint
response: You can just make out what appears to be a black footprint.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You stand on the footprint
response: I don't know how to stand on the obscured pattern.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: Leave
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
You're at the bottom of a long, precipitous slope. The cold and pressure are intense. Judging by the dim light, you must be many fathoms below the surface. It's astonishing that you made it this deep without any diving equipment. An enticing beam of light in these frigid, sub-arctic depths has resolved into the porthole of a long disused diving bell. The porthole only reflects the single, powerful ray of sunlight that has miraculously penetrated to this great depth. You can make out a partially obscured pattern in the fine mud of
the ocean floor.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.
action: Clean pattern
response: You continue waving mud from the pattern, further clouding the water. You manage to uncover a second footprint, and a curved line connecting them both.

A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Keep going
response: At last you can make out the pattern. It's a dance diagram. There can be no doubt. Black footprints connected by swooping lines describe an intricate dance step. A sudden burst of recognition hits you. This flat surface must be a chunk of the original Tybrisa Pavilion! You wish you could tell what dance was being described here.

A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: You examine the pattern
response: It's a dance step diagram, inscribed on what must be a piece of the old Tybrisa pavilion dance floor.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Dance
response: You can't dance in the water, but you do manage a provocative wiggle.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: You leave the octopus
response: Underwater, (drifting)
You're at the bottom of a long, precipitous slope. The cold and pressure are intense. Judging by the dim light, you must be many fathoms below the surface. It's astonishing that you made it this deep without any diving equipment. An enticing beam of light in these frigid, sub-arctic depths has resolved into the porthole of a long disused diving bell. The porthole only reflects the single, powerful ray of sunlight that has miraculously penetrated to this great depth. You can make out a partially obscured pattern in the fine mud of
the ocean floor.
action: You go upwards
response: Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: Go west
response: You kick back towards shore, skimming along for a few yards before coming to rest in shallower water.

Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
action: You go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, Beneath Pier
You stand in the cool shadow of the long pier, among its supporting pylons. The pylons lead east like a subterranean avenue. A pair of pipes runs the length of the pier, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. To the west, the dunes that surround the pavilion part to allow passage beneath it. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
A great crystalline castle dominates the area, rising nearly to the underside of the pier.
action: You go south
response: Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
action: You go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

From somewhere among the flock you hear a raucous cry that sounds suspiciously like "Big Water!"
action: Go west
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a broken stave, a crowbar, a white rubber strap, a shrimp, and a length of rope here.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Dance
response: You set your feet to the dance hall floor and follow the steps you learned from the old, sunken diagram. You begin with clumsy feet, but become more proficient as you rehearse. As you dance around the pavilion, a strange thing happens. Ghostly figures begin to join you - a small few at first, but growing in number. You can see them becoming more substantial as they spin and whirl in their gossamer wing tips and slippers. Petticoats twirl about you as the ladies wearing them prance and pirouette, lead by gentlemen in high collared, pin striped suits. You glance around at the revelers surrounding you, only to notice that the pavilion has undergone a transformation of its own. Where once everything was dull grey cement, you now find rough wooden planks painted with a variety of dance step diagrams. The pavilion has also shrunken considerably. Colorful banners light up the otherwise gloomy rafters. Your examination is interrupted when someone taps your shoulder. You whirl to find a partner inviting you to join in the revelry. Following your new partner's lead, you swing and sway to the spirited notes of a lively jazz band. The music plays on for what seems like hours, but you never tire, even when the sun descends in the west. As the sky grows dark, attendants set out paper lanterns which bring a fiery glow to the festivities. You continue to dance through song after song, frequently trading partners until you're giddy and slicked with sweat. Eventually, though, the ball begins to wind down. The musicians belt out one final, powerful number. Afterwards, they pack away their instruments. The lights dim as the attendants blow out the paper lanterns one by one and the dancers slowly crowd toward the exit. As they leave the pavilion, the ethereal dancers fade back into the past. The musicians go too, soon followed by the attendants with their paper lanterns.

In a few bare moments everyone is gone, and you notice that the pavilion has reverted back to grey cement. Though hours seemed to have passed while you danced, the sun is still just where you recall seeing it prior to this latest vision.

You feel like beating your chest in wild excitement. Ahh! What an incredible reminder of the joy of expression! In fact, it gets you to thinking about work again, particularly the way it crushes all your creative output and turns it into predigested pap for unintelligent clients.

You're feeling excited. "Yes, I could really do this!" you exclaim. You've got plenty of money in the bank. And to heck with your employers! What have they ever really done for you? You're teetering right on the brink of decision. If only you had one more argument to set your resolve.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: Go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, a broken stave, a crowbar, a white rubber strap, a shrimp, and a length of rope here.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.
action: Crowbar
response: The shrimp: Taken.
The crowbar: You take the white rubber strap and the crowbar.
action: Go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: Go east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man reels in a tiny fish, grunts in disgust, and tosses it back.
action: You examine the fountain
response: It's a waist high silver cabinet with a metal basin on top, just like all the other fountains you've ever seen.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: You look in the basin
response: There's nothing in the drinking fountain.

The old man pulls back hard on his rod, pulling the line taut.
action: You turn on the fountain
response: You turn the handle, but nothing happens. Perhaps the water main has been shut off for the night.

A small child bobbles into the area and tries to sneak up behind the old man, only to break out laughing. The old man jerks in surprise and throws the child a long, harsh glare.
action: Go west
response: The light of the setting sun stabs into your eyes as you exit the shade of the small shelter. You wait a moment for your eyes to adjust and then begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: Go west
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: You go to the south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.

Grains of sand on the concrete floor twinkle as the light of the setting sun streaks through them at just the right angle.
action: You look at the boiler
response: The metal appliance is an industrial sized boiler, which looks rather similar to a deep fryer. Basically, it consists of a deep metal pan resting on a foundation of electric heating coils. Handles on either side of the pan suggest that it can be detached from the base. A thin metal bar girdles the lip of the tray, reinforcing the frame, and a hinged lid lies flat on top, anchored to the metal bar with a sturdy clamp which the vendor attached before leaving for the night.
action: You examine the counter
response: The snack bar carries the usual variety of foods and beverages, though none of these are in evidence. Apparently, the vendor has locked up for the night. Empty shelves line the wall behind the counter, and presumably there are more shelves beneath the counter. A prominently placed sign advertises boiled peanuts, something you've come to think of as a particularly southern delicacy. Just behind the counter is a closed metal boiler, its metal lid held firmly in place by a strong metal clamp.
action: You look under the counter
response: The narrow space beneath the counter is deep in shadow. You can't make out anything of interest, and it's unlikely that you could retrieve anything anyway.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: Search counter
response: You find nothing of interest.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You look behind the counter
response: The only thing of obvious interest is the industrial boiler.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.
action: You open the boiler
response: You try to pull the clamp off with your bare hands, but it's anchored too securely. There must be some trick to getting it off.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You pry the clamp with the crowbar
response: You put the other stuff you were carrying on the counter to free your hands. Then you slide the metal bar beneath the clamp and apply pressure. Getting no immediate results, you push harder on the bar. It bites into the soft flesh of your palms as you strain to force the clamp. Suddenly, instead of the clamp giving way, the lid's hinges shear off with a violent wrenching sound. Free of the lid's resistance, you go lunging forward and almost fall from your feet.
The clamp pops off with a metallic twang and clatters to the floor where it disappears beneath the counter. Simultaneously, the lid flies off and goes sailing away over the railing like a big, square, metallic frisbee.
action: You look in the boiler
response: It appears to be empty.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: You look under the counter
response: The narrow space beneath the counter is deep in shadow. You can't make out anything of interest, and it's unlikely that you could retrieve anything anyway.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Look around
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
Sitting on the snack bar is a shrimp and a length of rope.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You put the shrimp in the boiler
response: You toss the shrimp in the boiler.
action: You go west
response: The brick faced enclosure blocks your way.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: Go north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.
action: Go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a sieve, a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, and a broken stave here.
action: You go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You go south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
Sitting on the snack bar is a length of rope.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: You put the shrimp in the sieve
response: You toss the shrimp in the sieve.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.
action: You put the sieve in the boiler
response: You toss the sieve in the boiler.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You turn on the boiler
response: You turn the knob to the 'On' position.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: You turn off the boiler
response: You turn the knob back to the 'Off' position.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: Go north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.
action: You go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a cork, and
a broken stave here.
action: You go southwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, a cork, and a broken stave
here.
action: Go northwest
response: You rattle the glass door of the Marine Center, but find it locked. A sign inside the door explains that the center is only open from 10am to 2pm. However, beside the entrance is a sturdy looking white diving bell.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You examine Center
response: The Tybee Island Marine Center is closed. A notice inside the glass door informs you that its hours are 10am to 2pm. Through the door you can see posters displaying various local sea life, and through a dark passage, you can just barely make out several glass tanks. Outside the entrance is a sturdy looking white diving bell.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You examine the posters
response: The Tybee Island Marine Center is closed. A notice inside the glass door informs you that its hours are 10am to 2pm. Through the door you can see posters displaying various local sea life, and through a dark passage, you can just barely make out several glass tanks. Outside the entrance is a sturdy looking white diving bell.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a snail shell, lying in
the sand.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, North of Pier
The surf swells around your knees, occasionally surging up to your waist. You can crawl up onto the beach to the west, where someone has built a large sand sculpture above the ebbing surf, or swim into deeper water to the east. To the south, you can pass through the cement pylons supporting the pier.

A gentle, white crested wave laps past your knees.
action: You fill the bottle with Water
response: You fill the antique bottle with salt water from the ocean.
action: You go to the southwest
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a snail shell, lying in
the sand.

Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.

You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, a cork, and a broken stave
here.
action: Go south
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.

A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
Sitting on the snack bar is a length of rope.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: You pour Water into the boiler
response: Which water do you mean, the salt water, or the ocean water?
action: Salt
response: The amount of water in the antique bottle is hardly enough even to cover the bottom of the pan. You decide not to bother.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: You take the shrimp
response: Taken.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You go west
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
You see a clam shell here.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, a cork, and a broken stave
here.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: Go southeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

Two gulls break off from the main flock to fight over a choice morsel. A third flies over to investigate, and soon all three fly squawking away over the beach.
action: Go west
response: You're in a small, cement walled room. But for the open gate in the east face, it would be one big cement cube. Against the rear wall is a large bin full of used paper products. Next to that is a plain looking utility table over which is hung a peg board.
You see a steel key, a treasure map, and a shingle here.
action: You examine bin
response: It's a waist high wooden bin. It seems to be full of used paper products.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a crowbar, a white rubber strap, an antique bottle (containing salt water), and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The white rubber strap dangles limply from the crowbar.
action: You put the shrimp in Water
response: You let go of the white rubber strap, the shrimp and the crowbar. The strap sinks beneath the surface and disappears into the murky water along with the shrimp and the crowbar.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a crowbar, a white rubber strap, an antique bottle (containing salt water), and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The crowbar is joined to the shrimp by the white rubber strap.
action: Go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
action: You drop the bottle
response: You toss the antique bottle to the ground.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, South of Pier
You're up to your knees in the gently surging tide. It flows up onto the beach to the west and grows deeper to the east. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the pier.
action: Go east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

The shrimp shows renewed life as it makes contact with the salt water.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go downward
response: The ocean muck oozes through your fingers, but there doesn't seem to be anything hidden beneath it.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: You go to the north
response: You launch yourself north with a heart pumping butterfly stroke.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.
action: You pry the trap with the crowbar
response: You realize the futility of trying to pry open the busted trap with the crowbar.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: Go upwards
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a crowbar, a white rubber strap, and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The crowbar is joined to the shrimp by the white rubber strap.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.
action: You go west
response: You kick back towards shore, skimming along for a few yards before coming to rest in shallower water.

Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.

Something unseen nips lightly at your toes.
action: You remove the white strap from the crowbar
response: You detach the white rubber strap from the crowbar, separating it from the shrimp.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a white rubber strap, a shrimp, and a crowbar.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The white rubber strap waves in the current, anchored to the
shrimp.
action: You go to the east
response: You'd better do something with one of the items you're carrying first. You'll need at least one hand free to swim.
action: You drop the crowbar
response: You toss the crowbar to the ground.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.
action: You go to the east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

The shrimp shows renewed life as it makes contact with the salt water.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: You go to the south
response: The dim light and pulsing waves both serve to confound your sense of direction. Nevertheless, you kick off in what you believe to be the right direction.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Go downward
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The sandy ocean floor lies about ten feet below the surface, layered with silt and dotted with climbing green fingers of sea grass. The angled cement pillars that support the pier end here. Just beyond the final pair of pillars is a sudden drop off, a steep slope that leads down and down, far beyond your limited visibility.

A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.
action: Go south
response: The dim light and pulsing waves both serve to confound your sense of direction. Nevertheless, you kick off in what you believe to be the right direction.

A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Go up
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.
action: You go to the south
response: You glide to the south with a smooth breast stroke.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go east
response: (Getting off of the ground first.)

You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

The shrimp shows renewed life as it makes contact with the salt water.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go down
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The crab, which had resumed its perch on top of the rock, scuttles back into the fissure on your approach.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.
action: You drop the shrimp
response: You let go of the white rubber strap and the shrimp. They disappear towards the murky bottom.

A large red fish darts by, just barely out of reach.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You give the shrimp to the crab
response: "Hmm..." you think to yourself, "...maybe I can lure the crab out with a tasty treat." You give yourself a little pat on the back for your cleverness.

You lower the shrimp toward the fissure, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggests that you might never see the white rubber strap again.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You drop the shrimp
response: You let go of the white rubber strap and the shrimp. The strap sinks beneath the surface and disappears into the murky water along with the shrimp.
action: Go downwards
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The crab, which had resumed its perch on top of the rock, scuttles back into the fissure on your approach.
action: Go downwards
response: The ocean muck oozes through your fingers, but there doesn't seem to be anything hidden beneath it.

A big wave must have broken somewhere above you. You can feel the dull percussion of it throughout your body.

The crab sends forth one probing eye stalk, then hastily withdraws it.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a scuba mask (being worn).
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a white rubber strap, and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The white rubber strap waves in the current, anchored to the
shrimp.
action: You tie the white strap to yourself
response: You tie the other end of the white rubber strap to your wrist, joining the shrimp to your wrist.

A rather large wave surges past, wetting you up to the waist and nearly toppling you from your feet.
action: You give the shrimp to the crab
response: Not while the shrimp is joined to your wrist by the white rubber strap.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
You see an antique bottle, lying in the sand.
action: You remove the mask
response: You strip the mask off of your head.
action: You take the neoprene
response: You can't, it's an integral part of the mask.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: You wear the mask
response: You pull back the tough strap and slide the mask over your head. It fits snugly, creating a tight seal.
action: You take all
response: The antique bottle: Taken.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a shrimp, a white rubber strap, and an antique bottle (containing salt water).
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The shrimp hangs from your wrist by the white rubber strap.
action: You go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

The gulls battle among themselves for dominance over the temporary food supply.
action: You take shell
response: Taken.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.
action: You go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Go east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man reels in a tiny fish, grunts in disgust, and tosses it back.
action: You ask the man about the crab
response: The old man scuffs his heavy shoes against the cement floor, but makes no reply.

The old man stares grimly at the sun, as if daring it to sink any lower.
action: You examine the tackle box
response: The tackle box is a grownup's toychest full of colorful lures, shiny bobs, and dull metal weights.

A small child bobbles into the area and tries to sneak up behind the old man, only to break out laughing. The old man jerks in surprise and throws the child a long, harsh glare.
action: You ask the man about the tackle box
response: He glances at the box and beams uncharacteristically. "My grandkids got it for me last Christmas."

The old man draws a cigarette from his breast pocket, rolls it meditatively between thumb and forefingers, and then puts it away.
action: You ask the man about the lures
response: He glances at the box and beams uncharacteristically. "My grandkids got it for me last Christmas."

The slight breeze carries the sound of the old man grumbling to himself.
action: You kick the bucket
response: The old man spots you reaching for his pail and fires off a smouldering glower that burns straight through the center of your forehead.

The old man plays out a few lengths of line.
action: Go west
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the greater pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: Go south
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
Sitting on the snack bar is a length of rope.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: You look at the rope
response: It's a short, stout section of rope, about half as long as you are tall and two thumb widths thick.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You untie the rope
response: The length of rope isn't attached to anything.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You remove the white strap from yourself
response: You detach the white rubber strap from your wrist, separating it from the shrimp.
action: White
response: You detach the white rubber strap from the shrimp.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: You tie the shrimp to the rope
response: You try, but the coarse rope is too thick to be knotted around the shrimp.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), an antique bottle (containing salt water), a clam shell, a length of rope, a shrimp, and a white rubber strap.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: You go to the west
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, a cork, and a broken stave
here.
action: You drop all but the mask and the shrimp
response: The antique bottle: You toss the antique bottle to the ground.
The clam shell: You toss the clam shell to the ground.
The length of rope: You toss the length of rope to the ground.
The white rubber strap: You toss the white rubber strap to the ground.
action: Go southeast
response: You skip along the wooden boardwalk to the beach, evoking a strong memory of the carefree summer days of your childhood.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: You go to the east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.

The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, South of Pier
You're up to your knees in the gently surging tide. It flows up onto the beach to the west and grows deeper to the east. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the pier.
action: You give the shrimp to the crab
response: You release the shrimp. Free of your grip, it darts immediately toward the dark fissure in the rock. With surprising speed, the crab comes to life and goes after it. The chase is brief, and shortly the crab retreats to the depths of the fissure, shrimp in claw. Hmm. If only you had some way of holding on to the shrimp. You release the shrimp. Free of your grip, it darts immediately toward the dark fissure in the rock. With surprising speed, the crab comes to life and goes after it. The chase is brief, and shortly the crab retreats to the depths of the fissure, shrimp in claw. Hmm. If only you had some way of holding on to the shrimp.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: Wait
response: Time passes...

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: Go downwards
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The crab, which had resumed its perch on top of the rock, scuttles back into the fissure on your approach.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.
action: You examine the fissure
response: It's a deep, dark crevice cut in the rock.You can just make out the tip of the conch shell hidden in it.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You go west
response: You kick back towards shore, skimming along for a few yards before coming to rest in shallower water.

Shallow Water, South of Pier
You're up to your knees in the gently surging tide. It flows up onto the beach to the west and grows deeper to the east. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the pier.

Something unseen nips lightly at your toes.
action: Go west
response: You splash merrily out of the shallow water, on to the hard packed sand.

Damp Sand, South of Pier
To the east, the shallow surf ebbs and flows up onto the cold, wet sand. The sand turns into powdery gold back to the west. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the long pier that extends from the pavilion. The small castle you found here earlier has disappeared. The mites must have integrated its materials into the larger castle.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

The entire flock suddenly erupts in a bout of frenzied screeching for no apparent reason. After a moment or two, they revert to their original decibel level.
action: You go to the northwest
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, a cork, a broken stave, an antique bottle, a clam shell, a length of rope, and a white rubber strap here.
action: Go east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
action: Go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.
action: You go to the east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.
You see a shrimp here.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The old man draws a cigarette from his breast pocket, rolls it meditatively between thumb and forefingers, and then puts it away.
action: You look at the fish
response: A couple of flounder and some grouper, but mostly a bunch of red herring.

The old man stares out to sea, and solemnly salutes a far away tanker.
action: You examine man
response: He looks like he just stepped out of a Hemingway novel. He stares out to sea, lantern jaw thrust defiantly forward, stony countenance unbroken by any hint of emotion, while the evening breeze tousles his iron gray hair. He wears a rumpled blue shirt, brown canvas slacks, and heavy boots. The cuffs of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms of corded steel. Powerful hands, scarred times beyond measure, anchor a rod no more rigid than themselves.

The old man pulls back on his rod with all his might, struggling to reel in whatever he's hooked. Incredibly, an enormous marlin breaks the surface! But victory is short lived. The line snaps and the old man staggers nearly off his feet.
action: You take the shrimp
response: Taken.

The slight breeze carries the sound of the old man grumbling to himself.
action: You give the shrimp to the man
response: The old man's head turns towards you as if driven by archaic machinery. You can almost hear the gears groaning. He stares at you expressionlessly for a long, embarrassing moment that drags on interminably. Finally, his eyes dismiss you with a nearly imperceptible flicker before beginning the long return voyage out to sea.

The slight breeze carries the sound of the old man grumbling to himself.
action: You ask the man about the job
response: You don't know of any such thing.

The old man consults his bait box, and reties his line with a new lure.
action: You take the tackle
response: The old man spots you reaching for his tackle box and fires off a smouldering glower that burns straight through the center of your forehead.

The old man draws a cigarette from his breast pocket, rolls it meditatively between thumb and forefingers, and then puts it away.
action: You ask the man about the lobster trap
response: The old man frowns, but says nothing.

The old man doggedly reels in a few lengths of line.
action: Look around
response: The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.

An old man is fishing off the pier with a great, heavy rod. Resting on the railing beside him is an open tackle box, while at his feet sit a bucket full of freshly caught fish and an empty burlap sack.

The slight breeze carries the sound of the old man grumbling to himself.
action: You go to the south
response: The railing prevents you from walking off the pier.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: Go downward
response: If you want to jump off the pier, just say so. Otherwise, there is no way down.

A speck of sunlight glints off a ship lying far off on the eastern horizon.
action: You jump off the Pier
response: You climb over the railing and maneuver yourself so that you're standing on your heels facing out with your toes hanging out over empty space. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and... jump! The ground rushes up faster than you could have imagined. It seems you've only just jumped when wham! Your feet hit the ground with a stinging impact that sends you sprawling forwards into the sand. You lie, stunned, for several moments. After a time the stinging fades from your feet, if not from your memory, and you climb back to a vertical position. You seem to have lost one of your posessions in the fall.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, a snail shell, and a shrimp, lying in the sand.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You examine the mud
response: The mud covers all of the ocean floor.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You move the mud
response: You can't move the mud.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: Go upward
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), and a shrimp.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You check your inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), and a pair of goggles (being worn).
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You wear the mask
response: You pull back the tough strap and slide the mask over your head. It fits snugly, creating a tight seal.

A tiny crab rushes from an invisible hole by your feet and scuttles away, quickly disappearing into another, equally invisible hole.
action: You go east
response: The surf glides up to meet you as you approach the water, a cool shock against your warm skin.

Shallow Water, Beneath Pier
The knee-deep water here is cooled by the shadow of the pier, which here rises to almost three times your height. A pair of metal pipes run the length of it, presumably a part of the pavilion's plumbing. The avenue of supporting pylons leads west, on to the sand, and also continued into deeper water to the east. You can escape the pier's chilly shadow to the north or south.

You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

Deep Water, Beneath Pier, (treading water)
The long pier finally comes to an end, the last of its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths below. To the east lies nothing but endless ocean. The welcoming sands of the beach lie back to the west. Or you can strike off north or south, parallel to the shoreline.
action: You look at the wire
response: The construction's function isn't immediately obvious, so you clear away some of the mud surrounding it. It turns out to be a rough box made of wooden slats and chicken wire. There's a gaping hole in one face, where something has punched through the wire and splintered the surrounding slats. Apparently, it's a busted up lobster trap. Needless to say, the trap is empty. In the process of uncovering the trap, you've also revealed a short length of thick rope that's tied to it.

A few small bubbles escape your lips, glittering in the light as they rise towards the surface.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: You pull the rope
response: You tug on the length of rope, but nothing happens.

Your lungs are on fire and blue blood pounds in your veins, setting off waves of panic. You can control yourself no longer! Instinct takes over and sends you kicking and clawing your way to the surface. You rise and rise and can't climb fast enough and finally, just when you don't think you're going to make it, you break the surface. You sputter and gasp, inhaling deeply of the fresh salty air. After a few moments, the fire in your lungs subsides and calm is restored to your pounding veins.
action: Go down
response: You continue your drop down the face of the slope. The temperature drops severely as you pass through a thermocline, and the mounting pressure makes your ears ache. You pinch your nose shut with thumb and forefinger, and exhale gently to clear the pressure.

Underwater, (drifting)
The slope just keeps on descending. The amount of sunlight that reaches you has diminished quite a bit and the water has become quite cold. Below you all is dark, but for a small glint of light hinting through the darkness.
A busted lobster trap lies half buried in the mud of the steep
slope.
You see a length of rope, drifting in the mud.
The length of rope waves in the current, anchored to the busted
trap.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: You tie the rope to yourself
response: The length of rope isn't long enough to join the busted trap to you.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: You examine the message
response: In letters a hand high, someone has written "Here There Be Dragons." Beneath that, they've drawn a simple compass rose with an arrow pointing to the northeast.

Something brushes your shoulder. You pivot, instinctively, just in time to see a gull sweep past your head.
action: You examine the cork
response: It's stained a dark mahogany color.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a shrimp, and a cork.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
action: You tie the white strap to the cork
response: You can't tie the white rubber strap to the cork.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You drop the cork
response: You toss the cork to the ground.
action: You take the stave
response: Taken.

A slight gust of wind sends eddies of sand swirling over the brick path.
action: You tie the white strap to the shrimp
response: You tie the other end of the white rubber strap to the shrimp, joining the broken stave to the shrimp.
action: Go east
response: The warm dry sand gives way to cool wet sand as you move closer to the shoreline.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a snail shell, lying in
the sand.
action: You drop the shrimp
response: You let go of the white rubber strap, the shrimp and the broken stave. Together, they fall to the water with a splash and bob lightly on the surface.
action: Wait
response: Time passes...

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.

The broken stave starts drifting slowly toward shallower water, towing the shrimp behind it.
action: You go east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
You see a broken stave, a shrimp, and a white rubber strap, bobbing
on the waves.
The broken stave is joined to the shrimp by the white rubber strap.

The broken stave drifts out of reach into shallower water, towing the shrimp behind it.
action: Go west
response: You kick back towards shore, skimming along for a few yards before coming to rest in shallower water.

Shallow Water, South of Pier
You're up to your knees in the gently surging tide. It flows up onto the beach to the west and grows deeper to the east. To the north, you can pass among the pylons supporting the pier.
You see a broken stave, a shrimp, and a white rubber strap, bobbing
on the waves.
The broken stave is joined to the shrimp by the white rubber strap.

The broken stave starts drifting slowly towards shore, towing the shrimp behind it.
action: You take the stave
response: You take the white rubber strap, the shrimp and the broken stave.

Something unseen nips lightly at your toes.
action: Go east
response: You launch yourself towards deeper water, skimming along for a few yards before coming to a stop.

The shrimp shows renewed life as it makes contact with the salt water.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
action: Go downwards
response: You try to dive below the surface, but the buoyancy of the stave prevents you from going under.

A gentle wave laps by, setting you bobbing in the current.
action: Inventory
response: You have a pair of shorts (being worn), a bathing suit (being worn), a scuba mask (being worn), a broken stave, a shrimp, and a white rubber strap.
The pocket of your shorts seems to contain some money and your passcard.
The broken stave is joined to the shrimp by the white rubber strap.
action: You put the shrimp in pocket
response: You cram the white rubber strap, the shrimp and the broken stave into the pocket of your shorts.
action: Go downward
response: You fill your lungs to capacity and dive into the water.

Underwater, (drifting)
The gradually sloping ocean floor is only about ten feet below the surface here. The sandy bottom is layered with a suspension of mud and fine silt. Here and there, thin leaved plants claw through the mud like grasping fingers. Dominating the entire area is an enormous slab of barnacle encrusted rock.

The crab, which had resumed its perch on top of the rock, scuttles back into the fissure on your approach.

The crab pops out of the fissure, spots you, and scuttles back in.
action: You take the shrimp
response: You're already carrying the shrimp.

The crab pops out of the fissure, spots you, and scuttles back in.

Pressure starts to build in your lungs.
action: You take the stave
response: You're already carrying the broken stave.

The pressure turns into an itch, which quickly becomes a burning heat.
action: You drop stave
response: You let go of the white rubber strap, the shrimp and the broken stave. Together, they float up to the surface of the water and bob lightly on the waves.

The crab extends its eye stalks and peers tentatively from the fissure, as if sensing the shrimp's presence. Unfortunately, it soon spots you and retreats back into its hole.

The burning pain in your lungs grows stronger, triggering the first feelings of panic and setting your heart racing.
action: You go upwards
response: Lungs burning, you kick and claw your way toward the glittering sunlight above you. Gasping, you break the surface and fill your lungs with the salty ocean air.

Deep Water, South of Pier, (treading water)
There's nothing but endless ocean to the east. Shallower waters beckon to the west. The long cement pier finally comes to an end to the north of you, its supporting pylons disappearing into the murky depths.
You see a broken stave, a shrimp, and a white rubber strap, bobbing
on the waves.
The broken stave is joined to the shrimp by the white rubber strap.

A rather large wave surges over your head, leaving you momentarily sputtering.

The broken stave disappears beneath the waves with a sudden jerk, but pops back to the surface only a moment later.

The broken stave starts drifting slowly toward shallower water, towing the shell behind it.
action: You take the stave
response: You harvest the shell from your simple trap. It proves to be quite hefty. The crab has withdrawn deep into the shell's spirals. You tug on the rubber strap, and it pulls free with a small snap, leaving the strap tied to the broken stave.

You're still admiring your shiny new prize when your eye is caught by a tiny motion from above. Your eyes are drawn to the very tip of the pier, where the old man is just visible as a small blob of shadow against the pale sky. It's hard to tell from here, but he seems to be putting his pole away.
action: You examine the shell
response: It's a beautiful conch shell, half the size of your head. Nature has painted its whorls a luscious, glossy pink, and dotted them with subtly toned spots of brown and white. A crab is packed tightly inside it, entirely hidden but for one bony claw.
action: You listen to the conch
response: The conch shell isn't making any noise.

The conch shell rocks in your grasp.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, South of Pier
The cool early evening has left the beach nearly deserted but for a few joggers and unsupervised children. To the east, the dry, powdery sand goes hard as it rolls down toward the swelling tide. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the north, tall dunes flank the base of the pavilion, blocking your way.
Someone has scrawled a message and a simple diagram in the powdery sand.
A heap of trash has been scattered into the sand by the squabbling flock of gulls. The shallow hole you dug here earlier is still visible.

Hundreds of gulls are engaged in a fierce battle over the pile of refuse, squabbling and squawking at each other and filling the air with hungry shrieks.

A toddler of about four, gurgling excitedly, barrels into the flock of gulls. A flurry of white and grey feathers explodes into the air, only to flap back to earth a few feet away.
action: You go to the west
response: You skip across the wooden boardwalk, passing over the scrub covered dunes.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a clam
shell, a length of rope, and a cork here.
action: You go to the east
response: You skip lightly up the concrete stairs to the pavilion.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: You go east
response: The light of the setting sun warms your back as you exit the shade of the pavilion and begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.

The conch shell rocks in your grasp.
action: You go east
response: It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shade beneath the small shelter.

The pier ends here in a small rectangular shelter with a low wooden roof. You imagine that, seen from overhead, it would look like a pendulum hung from the face of the pavilion. The railing surrounds you on all sides but to the west, where you can follow the pier back towards the pavilion. A water fountain is tucked in one corner.

The old man is here, apparently packing up for the night.

The old man seems reluctantly to be packing his gear away. He's already reeled in his line, and his rod lies beside him. He stows the flies, lures and weights into the tackle box and folds it up. Then, he draws a large folding blade from his hip pocket and proceeds to gut his catch. He takes each fish in turn from the pail and deftly decapitates it, slits it lengthwise, strips out the viscera, and sweeps the offal into the sea. Once done, he wraps each fish in newspaper and tosses them into a burlap sack at his feet. Once the pail is empty, he swings the sack over his shoulder, collects his rod and tackle, and turns his feet to the west.
action: You examine the pail
response: It's a large metal pail, left behind by the old man.

The old man hikes off toward the setting sun, hauling away the day's catch in the burlap sack slung over his shoulder. Whether by chance or intent, he seems to have left the pail behind.
action: You take the pail
response: You've already got your hands full.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.
action: You drop the stave
response: You toss the broken stave and the white rubber strap to the ground.
action: You take the pail
response: Taken.

A bunch of young children run past, slowing only long enough to point at you and giggle.
action: You go to the west
response: The light of the setting sun stabs into your eyes as you exit the shade of the small shelter. You wait a moment for your eyes to adjust and then begin the long stroll down the pier.

The pier is even longer than it looked. It stretches back west to the great pavilion and continues still further east towards the sea. A small shelter rests at the far end. From below, you can hear the fizzle and hiss of the shallow surf.

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.

The conch shell rocks in your grasp.
action: You jump off the Pier
response: You climb over the railing and maneuver yourself so that you're standing on your heels facing out with your toes hanging out over empty space. You steel yourself, take a deep breath, and... jump! The ground rushes up faster than you could have imagined. It seems you've only just jumped when wham! Your feet hit the ground with a stinging impact that sends you sprawling forwards into the sand. You lie, stunned, for several moments. After a time the stinging fades from your feet, if not from your memory, and you climb back to a vertical position. You seem to have lost several of your posessions in the fall.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, a snail shell, a conch shell, and a pail, lying in the sand.
action: You put the conch in the cavity
response: You set the conch shell in the cavity. It's a perfect fit, and somehow you can feel the... rightness... of it. A shiver seems to ripple over the dragon's spine, as if presaging some magical awakening. Uh oh. Sensing the lack of any restraint, the crab has also begun to stir. It probes the sculpted sand beneath it and, finding no resistance, extends its claws and scuttles out of the cavity. It falls from the dragon's face, then retreats hastily back into its shell on impact with the wet sandy floor.
action: Pail
response: The conch shell: Taken.
The pail: Taken.
action: You fill the pail with Water
response: You dip the bucket into the ocean, where it fills up immediately. The added weight of the water in the bucket staggers you, forcing you to hold it with both hands. You set the conch in the pail to keep from losing it in the surf.
action: Go west
response: Splashing and struggling under the weight of the pail full of water, you stagger out of the shallow surf.

Damp Sand, North of Pier
The damp, hard packed sand is darkened almost to bronze by the relentless tide to the east, while to the west it lightens to a powdery gold before ending in tall dunes. To the south, you can pass through the pylons supporting the long pier that stretches east from the pavilion.
Someone has built an enormous sand sculpture here. It seems to be some sort of reptile.
You see a mussel shell, a crab shell, and a snail shell, lying in
the sand.
action: Go west
response: Hard packed wet sand gives way to loose dry sand as you struggle up the beach under the weight of the pail full of water.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line , where someone has built a large sand sculpture. The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.
action: You go to the west
response: You stagger west over the boardwalk under the weight of the pail full of water, thankful to have solid ground under your feet.

The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a clam
shell, a length of rope, and a cork here.
action: Go east
response: Bucket in hands, you stagger up the concrete ramp. It's a good thing the ramp was there, as you doubt you could have carried the water filled bucket up all those stairs.

You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: Go south
response: You stagger south under the bucket's weight.

A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: You pour Water into the boiler
response: Which water do you mean, the salt water, or the ocean water?
action: Salt
response: You heave the heavy pail full of water up to your chest and set it on the counter. Before tipping the pail out, you remove the item from it and set it on the counter. Then, you pour the contents of the pail into the boiler in a quick, heavy stream. The water from the pail fills the boiler about three quarters of the way to the top. You figure that should be sufficient.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.

The shell rocks as the crab inside considers its surroundings.
action: You take the shell
response: Taken.

The conch shell rocks in your grasp.
action: You examine the sieve
response: It's an open-topped wireframe box with a metal handle, used to extract and drain peanuts from the boiler. It's currently submerged in boiling water.

The conch shell rocks in your grasp.
action: You put the conch in sieve
response: You toss the conch shell in the sieve.

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed. The crab crawls out of the sieve and falls into the boiler.

The crab scuttles about in the boiler, revived by the cool salt water.
action: You turn on the boiler
response: You turn the knob to the 'On' position.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.

The crab scuttles about in the boiler, revived by the cool salt water.
action: Wait
response: Time passes...

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.

The crab scuttles about in the boiler, revived by the cool salt water.

The water in the boiler begins to simmer.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes...

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.

The crab darts back and forth in the boiler, agitated by the water's warmth.
action: Wait
response: Time passes...

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.

The crab darts back and forth in the boiler, agitated by the water's warmth.

Steam begins to rise from the water in the boiler.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes...

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.

The crab scuttles along the walls of the boiler, searching frenziedly for any escape from the searing heat. Finally, it gets one claw over the lip of the boiler and pulls itself out and onto the counter.
action: You turn off the boiler
response: You turn the knob back to the 'Off' position.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.
action: You take the sieve
response: You consider the near boiling water, and decide otherwise.

The shell rocks as the crab inside considers its surroundings.

Steam ceases to rise from the water in the boiler.
action: You look around
response: A quaint little snack bar nestles beside the brick enclosure, while the rest of the pavilion sprawls out to the north. A hand-painted sign above the counter advertises boiled peanuts. The vendor has gone home for the night.
Behind the counter is an industrial boiler.
Sitting on the snack bar is a conch shell.
action: You listen to the shell
response: It occurs to you that you'd need to be holding it in order to put it against your ear.

The water in the boiler stops simmering and comes to rest.
action: You look at the crab
response: It's a beautiful conch shell, half the size of your head. Nature has painted its whorls a luscious, glossy pink, and dotted them with subtly toned spots of brown and white. A crab is packed tightly inside it, entirely hidden but for one bony claw.

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.
action: You turn on the boiler
response: You turn the knob to the 'On' position.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.

The shell rocks as the crab inside considers its surroundings.
action: You wait
response: Time passes...

An elderly couple strolls past you, hand in hand, clearly enjoying the sunset.

The shell rocks as the crab inside considers its surroundings.

The water in the boiler begins to simmer.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes...

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.

The conch shell rocks in your grasp.

Steam begins to rise from the water in the boiler.
action: Wait
response: Time passes...

A young boy wearing a bright blue bathing suit and matching flip-flops runs by.
action: You examine Water
response: Which water do you mean, the salt water, or the ocean water?
action: Salt
response: It's ordinary salt water from the ocean.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.

The water in the boiler reaches full boil.
action: You put the conch in sieve
response: You toss the conch shell in the sieve.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach. The crab crawls out of the sieve and falls into the boiler.

A high, piercing shriek - a horrible sound that you wouldn't imagine a crustacean capable of - emanates from the crab as it, quite literally, dies a screaming death in the boiling salt water. The crab shoots from its overheated shell in a vain, frenzied attempt at escape. A bare moment later, the doomed creature floats to the top of the water, while its former home drops like a stone to the bottom of the boiler.
action: You take the sieve
response: You consider the boiling water, and decide otherwise.

The water in the boiler stops bubbling.
action: You take the sieve
response: You consider the near boiling water, and decide otherwise.

The breeze carries the sound of a calypso drum from somewhere far down the beach.
action: Wait
response: Time passes...

Several gulls land nearby, briefly tussle over some invisible morsel, and fly off shrieking.

Steam ceases to rise from the water in the boiler.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes...

A young, auburn haired woman wearing nothing more than sneakers and an incredibly revealing thong bikini jogs past. Jogging alongside her is a darkly-tanned, slim-hipped young man, similarly dressed.
action: You take the sieve
response: You consider the near boiling water, and decide otherwise.

An early evening breeze fills your nose with the tangy scent of brine.

The water in the boiler stops simmering and comes to rest.
action: You examine the crab
response: It looks like an ordinary boiled crab to me.
action: You eat the crab
response: You crack the shell open without hesitation. The crab's juices dribble out over your chin as you suck out the sweet meat. Mmm! You couldn't have gotten better at Savannah's finest restaurant. Oh, if only you had some butter and a bit of lemon juice! Once you finish, you discard the broken bits of shell and wipe your greasy hands off on your damp shorts.

A fat, grey gull swoops past you, lands momentarily on the nearby railing, and then launches itself back into the air.
action: Go north
response: You're standing in the center of a colossal gazebo that provides shade for sunburned tourists like yourself. The octagonal floor is made of unbroken grey concrete, bordered on each face by a waist high railing. Tall beams support a sloping wooden canopy that rises over three times your height. A red brick enclosure squats in the southwest corner and a small snack bar nestles up against the enclosure to the south. To the east lies the foot of a seemingly endless pier.
There are numerous wooden benches here. Right now, they're
stacked, one on top of another, into a towering wooden column twice your height.
action: You go west
response: The brick beach path ends at the foot of a cement stairway that leads east to the Tybrisa Pavilion. To the northeast and southeast, twin boardwalks wrap around the pavilion towards the beach. By one of the boardwalks is a simple public shower, while a white diving bell stands near the entrance of a small building to the northwest. Your hotel towers back to the west, obscuring the sunset.
A sign advertising boiled peanuts points east, into the pavilion. There's an ugly gap in the path.
You see a strapless pair of goggles, an antique bottle, a clam
shell, a length of rope, and a cork here.
action: You put the conch in the cavity
response: You set the conch shell in the cavity. It's a perfect fit, and somehow you can feel the... rightness... of it. A shiver seems to ripple down the dragon's spine, as if presaging some magical awakening. The ripple rebounds from the tail and shudders back up the spine, growing in force and velocity until it disappears into the base of the creature's skull. Then, slowly, lazily, the eyes open as if from a long, restful sleep. Suddenly the head darts forward, causing you to leap back, fearful of an attack. But the creature is merely stretching its long, sinuous neck. Its angular head splits open in a great, toothy yawn that sends you peddling still further back. Then, it rises up on its plump forelegs and shakes from side to side like a dog throwing off droplets of water. Stretched and shaken, the creature throws its head skyward and trumpets forth with an elephantine roar that rattles your bones and sends every gull in the vicinity flapping away down the beach. The creature's wings snap open with a loud crack that echoes out over the water like gunshot. Finally, the great, sandy beast glances around the beach, tightens the muscles of its powerful hind legs, and launches itself into the air. In an instant, it is airborne, beating the air with mighty strokes of its wings. Its tail whips from side to side as it claws at the air, climbing higher and higher. It turns to the west, toward the setting sun and the great marshy wetlands. Soon, it's just a speck against the pastel smudged sky. Then, gone.

Incredible. You've never believed that there was any real magic in the world, though your heart has always wished otherwise. Here it is not only proven, but shown to be the result of singular personal vision. What else but the sculptor's purity of belief in his creation could have brought it to life? It gets you to thinking about work again, and how infrequently it lets you pursue your own vision.

You're feeling resolute. "That's it. I'm quitting." You've made up your mind and thrown caution to the winds. First thing on Monday, you're going to write your letter of resignation. You feel exhilaratingly light, as if some constant pressure had been removed. You're sure that this is the right decision.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: Go southwest
response: The dunes piled up against the base of the pavilion block your way.

A thin crest of white foam glides up the beach and covers your toes before gently receding.
action: Go west
response: Cool wet sand gives way to warm dry sand as you climb up the beach.

Dry Sand, North of Pier
The season is early and the day late, leaving the beach deserted but for a few strollers. The golden sand turns dark as it leads east toward the tide line . The boardwalk lies back to the west. To the south, tall dunes flank the base of the Tybrisa Pavilion, blocking your way.
Chained to the end of the boardwalk is a trash barrel.

A slight gust raises a thin skein of sand and whips it across your ankles.
action: Go west
response: *   *   *   *   *

As the last rays of the sun dip below the horizon, a scrap of verse runs through your mind. It's something you read on a tombstone in Savannah's colonial cemetery.

"My life is like the Summer Rose,
"That opens to the morning sky;
"But ere the shades of evening close
"Is scattered on the ground - to die."

You recall that it was penned by Richard Henry Wilde. It was inspired by brother James' descriptions of Florida, where he campaigned against the Seminoles. Richard left his epic poem unfinished after James was shot through the heart in a duel with a fellow officer.

You reflect on all the things you've seen and done here today. Somehow, life seems more precious now. With life so short, why spend so much time and energy on a job you hate? Especially at the expense of the creative pursuits that make life worth living.

Yes, you think, it's definitely time for some change...

*   *   *   *   *

You have completed Sunset Over Savannah.

You may undo your last move, restore a saved game, start over, view a list of fun things to try, view a list of painful things to try, or quit.

Please enter (U)NDO, (R)ESTORE, RE(S)TART, (F)UN, (P)AIN, or (Q)UIT:
action: Fun
response: Have you tried...

1) Burying yourself in the sand?
2) Building (and destroying) a sand castle?
3) Removing your bathing suit in various places?
4) Typing "XYZZY"?
5) Saying "Hello, sailor" to the old man and asking him about the waving girl?
6) Saying "Hello, sailor" to the pirates, or cursing, greeting, or hitting them?
7) Jumping off the pavilion's canopy?
8) Eating the peanuts?
9) Eating the shrimp?
10) Eating the boiled crab?
11) Hitting the dragon?
12) Hitting or punching the sand castle?
13) Dropping the brick on various small items?
14) Pushing the aluminum canister out of the storage area?

Please enter (U)NDO, (R)ESTORE, RE(S)TART, (F)UN, (P)AIN, or (Q)UIT:
action: Pain
response: Things that can get you hurt...

1) Drowning yourself.
2) Jumping in the diving bell.
3) Jumping from the roof of the enclosure.
4) Jumping off the pier into the sand.
5) Jumping off the pier into the sand with the brick.
6) Jumping off the pavilion canopy.
7) Trying to dig with bare hands in the cement.
8) Kicking the glass castle.
9) Punching the glass castle.
10) Putting your hand in the boiler.
11) Swimming without eyegear.
12) Reaching into the fissure.
13) Climbing the benches while they're stacked in the north face.
14) Picking up a glass mite.
15) Dropping the brick on your feet.

Please enter (U)NDO, (R)ESTORE, RE(S)TART, (F)UN, (P)AIN, or (Q)UIT: