Photopia
by Adam Cadre (1998)
Genres: Slice of life

"Will you read me a story?" "Read you a story? What fun would that be? I've got a better idea: let's tell a story together."

action: %
response: The streetlights are bright. Unbearably bright. You have to squint as hard as you can to keep your retinas from bursting into flame.

"Welcome back to the land of the fucking LIVING, bud," Rob says. "You planning to stick around for a while or you gonna pass out again? Cause one thing I've learned about chicks is that they actually DON'T LIKE IT when you pass out on them in the middle of gettin' it on. You hear me? So if that's, like, your PLAN, then I'm droppin' you off and showin' up solo."

You don't exactly remember where the day went, but as you listen to Rob rant on, bits of it start to float back to you: a day on the slopes, the brisk February wind against your face; polishing off a keg back at the lodge; those two girls you and Rob had hit it off with, the ones who'd given you their address in town. "We all should get together sometime!" they'd said. Of course, Rob insisted that by "sometime" they'd meant "later tonight." You hadn't been so sure, but then you'd blacked out before you could argue the point.

How Rob came to be driving your car you're not exactly sure. Apparently he couldn't wait till you were sober enough to drive it yourself. From the way he's weaving all over the road, he also apparently couldn't wait till HE was sober enough to drive it, either.

Rob changes the radio station a few times, eventually settling on the station you were listening to in the first place.
action: About yourself
response: You're as good-looking as ever. Which is a hell of a lot better-looking than Rob.

Rob looks at the scrap of paper with the address on it as the two of you go screaming through an empty intersection. "Bartlett Hill Road," he mutters. "Where the fuck is Bartlett Hill Road?"
action: You look at Rob
response: Rob's face is flushed, as you might expect from someone fresh off the slopes. Except you're NOT fresh off the slopes. You came in at maybe three or three-thirty, and now it's past midnight.

You look up. "Hey, it's red," you say.

"Huh what?" Rob says.

"The light," you say. "You know, red? As in STOP?"

But you don't stop. You don't even slow down as you fly into the intersection, and the light stays an unmistakable red...
[ -> ]
[ -> ]
You are Wendy Mackaye, first girl on the red planet.

When you signed up for this mission, you thought that you were going to be coming to a habitable colony. ("Habitable" means you can live there.) See, the orbiter was supposed to drop all the pieces of the colony -- the power plant, the living quarters, the greenhouse, things like that -- onto the planet's surface, packed in airbags which would bounce around and then open up once they were safely on the ground. Some of the airbags were supposed to hold big trucks which would be operated by remote control, dragging the pieces of the colony into their proper places; your job was going to be to take a tour of the place and verify that everything was up and running. ("Verify" means to make sure.)

Instead, something went wrong on the orbiter, and it blew up before it had a chance to drop off its payload. Pieces of the orbiter and the colony rained all over the landscape. So this has become a salvage mission. Your instruments indicate that there's at least one piece that's still functioning. ("Functioning" means it's not broken.) Your job is to find that piece, or pieces if there's more than one.

So you climb down the ladder of your ship and step onto the surface of an alien world.

You are standing at the base of your ship. The onboard computers selected this general area as the most likely place to find salvageable remains of what would have been the colony. ("Salvageable" means you can save it.) The battered rust-red landscape stretches out before you in every direction, pitted and pockmarked and littered with boulders. A ladder leads up to the hatch of your ship.
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You are carrying nothing. You are wearing your spacesuit.
action: You examine spacesuit
response: Your spacesuit, custom-made to fit someone your size, is much less cumbersome and bulky than the spacesuits of the past; this one is actually quite stylish. It says "W. MACKAYE" on the front.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: You are standing at the base of your ship. The battered rust-red landscape stretches out before you in every direction, pitted and pockmarked and littered with boulders. A ladder leads up to the hatch of your ship.
action: You go to the north
response: You take a few steps to the north, amazed at how the light gravity turns each step into a great bounding leap.

You are standing next to what seems to be a piece of a bulldozer or some other sort of construction equipment. It is a set of wheels, each one bigger across than you are tall, wrapped in a tread like on an army tank. You can tell it landed with some force from the ring of debris that surrounds it in a perfect circle.
action: Go north
response: As you walk, you find first one geodesic panel, then another. (When people make a dome out of simple polygons like triangles or hexagons, that's called "geodesic.") Soon the clear plastic panels are as plentiful as the rust-red boulders -- this must be where the dome for the living quarters landed.

Soon you find you're right. Scattered around you are the remains of what would have been home to the first wave of colonists. Most of the housing units have been reduced to unidentifiable splintered heaps, but there's one that seems to be intact. ("Intact" means that it isn't so damaged that it's unusable.) The entrance is partially obstructed -- "obstructed" means blocked -- by debris, but you're small enough that you could probably squeeze through. That's part of what makes you the perfect person for this job, aside from your astronautical expertise. ("Astronautical" doesn't really mean anything. I just made it up.)
action: You enter the unit
response: Since no one ever moved into this unit, it's really nothing but an empty gray box, no bigger than your bedroom back home. These quarters weren't designed with anything but sleeping in mind: the first colonists were expected to take their meals in a central dining commons, and bathrooms were to be in a separate structure, with each one shared by a number of people. Still, you can't help but feel a twinge. This was going to be someone's HOME. The first thing they saw when they woke up, the place they looked forward to retreating to after a hard day doing research or exploring the planet's surface or helping to maintain the colony. There were going to be pictures on these walls, footprints on the floor. Now the only footprints left here will be yours.
action: Go outside
response: Scattered around you are the remains of what would have been home to the first wave of colonists. Most of the housing units have been reduced to unidentifiable splintered heaps, but there's one that seems to be intact. The entrance is partially obstructed by debris, but that doesn't pose a problem: you're small enough to squeeze through.
action: Go north
response: The power plant is in substantially worse shape than the living quarters, and considering that those were completely wrecked, that's saying something. Though the fissionable materials were specially packaged to prevent them from exploding, the Geiger counter in your suit indicates that this area is still very radioactive. (I'll explain that part later. For now let's just say it's very dangerous and you should probably be moving along.)
action: Go north
response: You're standing near what appears to be most of a bulldozer -- maybe the one that the tread you saw used to be attached to. Aside from that, this area is fairly desolate.
action: You enter bulldozer
response: As you attempt to climb up into the bulldozer, the remaining tread gives way and the cab of the bulldozer comes crashing down on top of you. Only your lightning-quick reflexes save you from being crushed and killed.
action: You go to the north
response: The clicking in your helmet grows steadily louder -- you must be getting closer to what you're looking for. Soon you find yourself...

The colonization plans called for a central dome where plants designed to thrive in the harsh, lifeless soil of the red planet would be grown and used for food. Everywhere you look are broken containers that once held seed pods and now contain nothing but cinders and ash.

Among the shattered seed pod containers you see one single undamaged one.
action: You take the container
response: (the seed pod container)
The moment you touch the seed pod container, the clicking in your helmet stops. This is the only item you will be able to save.
action: Examine pod
response: The seed pod container is a red globe about the size of a canteloupe, which is designed to withstand an awful lot of damage but can be opened with a simple twist.
action: You open pd
response: Nothing like that seems to be around.
action: You open pod
response: You open the seed pod container, revealing a seed pod.
action: You examine the seed pod
response: The seed pod, designed for rapid growth even in a hostile environment, looks sort of like a cross between a pine cone and a small pineapple.
action: Go south
response: You're standing near what appears to be most of a bulldozer -- maybe the one that the tread you saw used to be attached to. Aside from that, this area is fairly desolate.
action: Go south
response: The power plant is in substantially worse shape than the living quarters, and considering that those were completely wrecked, that's saying something. You probably shouldn't linger in this area too long.
action: Go south
response: You are standing next to what seems to be a piece of a bulldozer or some other sort of construction equipment. It is a set of wheels, each one bigger across than you are tall, wrapped in a tread like on an army tank. You can tell it landed with some force from the ring of debris that surrounds it in a perfect circle.
action: You go south
response: You are standing at the base of your ship. The battered rust-red landscape stretches out before you in every direction, pitted and pockmarked and littered with boulders. A ladder leads up to the hatch of your ship.
action: You go up
response: Gently placing the seed pod on the seat next to you, you rocket back into space, leaving the red planet in your wake. Soon a familiar cloud-streaked blue ball appears on your monitors. You are home again at last.

But something goes terribly wrong. The heat shields hold up fine during re-entry, but the parachutes fail to open as you head for splashdown. And so you plummet at an incredible rate, the ocean growing closer and closer...
[ -> ]
action: Scream
response: You hear a splash.
action: About yourself
response: You are Mary Dawson, and you're still getting used to not having to get in your car and drive to the office every morning. While it's wonderful to be able to spend more time with Alley, there have been times that you've been so busy keeping her fed and entertained on the one hand, and trying to get some work done on the other, than Sam has come home at six in the evening and you STILL haven't showered.
action: Look around
response: When you and Sam put that down payment on this house five years ago, you were expecting that you were going to need all four bedrooms eventually; but after the complications with Alison, you found yourself with a couple of extras on your hands. This one came in very handy when you started telecommuting. You can't say you're exactly glad that this room became an office instead of a bedroom for a brother or sister of Alley's, but you ARE glad that you and Sam decided not to move into that smaller house you were considering.

Your computer screen is, as usual, cluttered with the details of the Peterson account.

That splash you heard is beginning to worry you.
action: You leave
response: You're standing in the hallway just outside your office. Your guest Gabriel's room lies just ahead of you, the door wide open; a flight of stairs leads down to the ground floor.
action: Go downwards
response: As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you look through the sliding glass door leading to the back yard, and feel a bayonet slice through your heart. Gabriel is fishing Alley out of the pool. It takes all the willpower you possess to open the door as you dash outside instead of simply throwing yourself through the glass.

Your back yard isn't exactly sprawling, but it was more than big enough to accomodate the small swimming pool which Alison was never supposed to be allowed near. At least not until she learned to swim.

As you throw open the sliding glass door, Gabriel gently lays Alley down on the cement bank of the pool. "Have you called the emergency?" he asks. "No? I will call!" He runs, dripping wet, back into the house.

Gabriel comes dashing back outside, telephone in hand. "The ambulances are coming and at the same time I have the instructions for the CPR!" he declares. "First you must tilt her head back!"
action: Tilt head
response: You tilt her head back.

"Good!" Gabriel says. "Now you must breathe into her mouth."
action: You breathe into the mouth
response: You breathe into Alley's mouth.

"Good!" Gabriel says. "Now you must press her chest."
action: You press the chest
response: You apply pressure to Alley's chest and suddenly she coughs up a mouthful of water. A minute later she is sitting up and looking around bewilderedly.

"Alison!" you cry. "Alison, baby, how many times have we told you NOT to go near the pool, another minute and we would've lost you, you KNOW you're not supposed to go near--"

"I wanted to see," she says.

"What?" you say.

"I wanted to see," she says, "if the world looked the same UNDER the water as it does OVER it."
[ -> ]
[ -> ]
Your spaceship was able to survive the impact with the ocean easily -- you barely even felt the jolt. ("Impact" is what it's called when things smack into each other.) There wasn't even any damage, unless you count the flotation devices bursting. But you should definitely count that. Because without your floats, your ship sinks like a stone, down down down into the murky depths.

You're still not worried, since you can always just fly the ship right back up to the surface. Except that when you hit bottom, the engines go dead. You try to restart them, with no success. Fortunately, your spacesuit is watertight and more than capable of protecting you from the water pressure that would otherwise crush you like a soda can. It will have to. You're going to have to swim for it.

You gather up your seed pod, head to the airlock, turn on the lights in your suit, and hope for the best.

Well, this is a first. You're standing on the door of the airlock. Usually you're firmly rooted to the floor and the door is just as firmly set in the wall, or else you're floating weightlessly and there is no real "up" or "down." But the ship landed at an odd angle, and you're not quite sure what to expect when you open the doors. If there isn't enough room for you to crawl out between the door and the ocean bottom, you're in some serious trouble.

The wall -- or, now, floor -- is festooned with a big blue button, which opens the door. ("Festooned" means adorned. Hmm? Oh, "adorned" means decorated.)
action: You open the door
response: You've had a couple of experiences with explosive decompression, where you open up the airlock door and the rush of escaping air blows you out into space. This time the rush of water flooding into the airlock smashes you up into the ceiling -- or at least now it's the ceiling; it used to be the back wall. Luckily, your suit is able to cushion the blow. Soon the airlock is full of water and you are able to swim out the door, which closes behind you.

At first you're confused. You'd expected the ocean bottom to be centimeters from the open door; instead, you drift down, down, ever down, and when your feet do finally touch something solid, it isn't the silt of the bottom of the sea, but a stone floor. You look up, hoping to see a glimmer of the surface. Instead you find a stone ceiling, far too high above your head to reach, and right where you might expect to find a chandelier, you see the blinking blue lights around the outside of your ship's airlock through the hole it made upon impact.

You have crashed into an undersea castle.

Moldy stone walls stand all around you, dimly visible through the murk: you feel them more than see them. Chunks of fallen stone from the ceiling lie scattered about at your feet. You can barely make out arched doorways leading north and south.

Also at your feet is the seed pod -- you lost track of it in the rush of water. You scoop it up.
action: Look around
response: Moldy stone walls stand all around you, dimly visible through the murk: you feel them more than see them. Chunks of fallen stone from the ceiling lie scattered about at your feet. You can barely make out arched doorways leading north and south.
action: Go north
response: You are standing in the keep, a fortified tower inside the castle walls. ("Fortified" means strengthened.) A stone spiral staircase leads upward, but stops abruptly when it reaches the ceiling.
action: You go to the south
response: This is a great empty chamber just like the one you landed in, except for a long stone slab that you decide must be a dining table. You don't have any evidence for this: you don't know how this castle got here, or who might've lived in it... for all you know, they might have been incredibly tall, skinny, water-breathing creatures, and this was one of their beds. But for the time being we'll call it a dining table.

Exits once again lead north and south.
action: You go south
response: This room is just as big as the others you've seen, but unlike the others, this one contains a barnacle-encrusted object in the unmistakable shape of a chair; given the place you've found it and the fact that it's built into the floor, you can only conclude that it must be a throne. The far wall features a carved-out alcove that looks like it must have been a fireplace, though how one might go about lighting a fire underwater is anyone's guess. Mounted on the wall above the fireplace in an "X" shape are a pickaxe and a shovel.

An arched doorway leads east, but is completely blocked by debris. You can also go back the way you came.
action: You take all
response: (the shovel)
You are unable to take the shovel: it's wedged behind the pickaxe.
action: You take the shovel
response: Taken.
action: You dig the debris
response: Difficult to do underwater. Especially through stone.
action: You go north
response: You are standing in the keep, a fortified tower inside the castle walls. A stone spiral staircase leads upward to the ocean's surface.
action: Go up
response: You start up the stairs, the murk gradually diminishing as you come closer and closer to the surface. But just as the sun starts to resolve from a general glow into a specific bright blob above you, a vicious rip current pulls you off the staircase and drags you further out to sea.

The sheer power of the current throws you for a loop. You thrash in vain against it, crying out in frustration as your muscles begin to cramp from the effort while you continue to be dragged further and further out to sea. Finally you try swimming parallel to shore, and that frees you from the current's grip. For several long moments you drift aimlessly in the ocean, exhausted. When you do at last get your wind back and take your bearings, you find yourself kilometers from the nearest hint of land. Sighing, you start for shore. Your suit feels unexpectedly cumbersome, but you dare not take it off: even if it does make you tire that much faster, at least you don't risk drowning.

Or, rather, you don't risk drowning until your oxygen supply runs out. Luckily, this doesn't happen until your feet at long last touch the shore. You drag yourself onto the beach, blinding spots dancing before your eyes; your knees give even as you tear off your helmet, and everything goes dark.
[ -> ]
Everything is dark -- no matter how much you strain your eyes, you can't see the faintest hint of light. But whispering voices tickle the edge of your hearing.
action: You listen
response: "...level of point fifteen..."
action: You listen
response: "...fratboys completely uninjured..."
action: You listen
response: "...husband has an excellent..."
action: You listen
response: "...vending machine ate my dollar..."

Light flickers before your eyes. At first you don't see anything familiar. And then suddenly Linda is there at your side.

You are in a hospital bed.

"What... what...?" you start to ask.

"Shhh," Linda says. "You need to save your strength. The doctors say you'll be fine, but it'll take some time."

"Is she-- how--?" The effort to speak become too much and you have to rest for a moment. "How...?"

For a moment Linda seems confused. Then she realizes what you're asking, and shakes her head sadly.

And suddenly the room seems colder...
[ -> ]
action: Xyzzy
response: [ -> ]
The sand is curiously cold against your face as you wake up, the waves licking at the soles of your boots. Cold and hard, more like gravel or even cobblestone than sand. As you lift your head and look around, you notice something else wrong. The sand is the wrong color. It's darker, more metallic...

It's gold.

You are at the south end of the beach, a glittering crescent nestled between the crashing ocean to the east and towering cliffs to the west, ankle-deep in gold. You run your hands through it: rings, coins, nuggets... and gold dust. Drifting down from the sky, collecting in dunes, the dust is everywhere. You run your hands through your hair and your gloves come out looking like they belong to a statuette.

To your relief, your seed pod has washed up onto the beach in excellent condition, though the container it was in is nowhere to be found. And though you thought you'd lost it a long way from shore, your shovel is here too.
action: You take the gold
response: Which do you mean, the dunes, the dust, the nuggets, the coins or the rings?
action: You take all
response: Nothing seems to be available.
action: You take the coins
response: You pick up a coin.
action: You look around
response: You are at the south end of the beach, a glittering crescent nestled between the crashing ocean to the east and towering cliffs to the west, ankle-deep in gold.
action: You go to the north
response: You are right in the middle of the golden beach, which stretches off to the north and south.

Something wooden is buried in the "sand" at your feet, but it's buried so deeply that only a corner of it is visible.
action: Dig
response: You dig for a few minutes, and seem to be making good progress when suddenly the handle of the shovel snaps off: apparently all that time underwater weakened it after all. Luckily, you no longer need it -- you've done enough digging that you're able to grab the wooden object and pull it loose. It's a treasure chest! A tiny one. What's more, it doesn't seem to be locked!
action: Open chest
response: Opening the container reveals... dirt! Someone must have found this very precious. Which makes sense: it was buried in a place where gold was everywhere and so wasn't especially valuable. Dirt, on the other hand, seems to be quite rare around here. Since it's so scarce, it's worth keeping safe.
action: You put the seed in the chest
response: You'd have to empty out the chest first to make room.
action: Empty chest
response: If you took the dirt out now, you wouldn't be able to get it all back in. That's not a risk worth taking, at least not right now.
action: You take the chest
response: Taken.
action: Go north
response: You are at the north end of the golden beach, which stretches off to the south. Though the cliffs to the north butt right up against the ocean, there is a pass to the northwest, with something shiny visible through the gap in the cliffs.

A platinum seashell rests near the water's edge.
action: You take shall
response: Nothing like that seems to be around.
action: You take the shell
response: As you reach out to take the shell, a crab emerges from inside it and skitters off into the sea, dragging the shell along with it!
action: Look around
response: You are at the north end of the golden beach, which stretches off to the south. Though the cliffs to the north butt right up against the ocean, there is a pass to the northwest, with something shiny visible through the gap in the cliffs.
action: You go northwest
response: You take one last look at the golden beach and stride off through the pass.
[ -> ]
You take one last look at the hockey game on TV and stride through the garage door to tell Alley it's time to come in.

This was supposed to be a two-car garage, but with the trash cans, your workbench, Alley's bike and all the rest of the junk that's taken up residence in this place, you're lucky to be able to even squeeze just the Volvo in here.
action: You look at the trash
response: One's for trash, the other's for recyclables.
action: You look at the bike
response: It's a boys' model, blue with a horizontal crossbar. Alley was pretty insistent about that.
action: You examine Volvo
response: Mary was the one who wanted the Volvo. She said it was more practical than what you wanted, which was a Porsche. So you compromised and got a Volvo with racing stripes on it.
action: Look around
response: This was supposed to be a two-car garage, but with the trash cans, your workbench, Alley's bike and all the rest of the junk that's taken up residence in this place, you're lucky to be able to even squeeze just the Volvo in here.
action: You leave
response: One of the advantages of living on the outskirts of town is that you were able to get a house with a little bit of land around it. Which isn't to say that you have to walk a kilometer to get to your neighbor's house, just that you can actually take a few steps outside your door and not be on anyone else's property.

Alley is sprawled on the front lawn, gazing up at the stars. "Hi, Daddy," she says. "Hey, how come the night sky is dark? I mean, with all the stars in the universe, if you look in any direction wouldn't you eventually see a star?"
action: You talk to ALLEY
response: Please select one:

(1) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT INVERSE SQUARE LAW
(2) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT CRYSTALLINE SPHERES
(3) >ALLEY, COME INSIDE
action: 1
response: Mary thinks it's a little strange that you've started choosing introductory astrophysics texts as your bedtime reading material, but it really pays off at moments like this. "Well," you say, lying down on the grass next to Alley, "it has to do with the inverse square law. Think of a star, and imagine putting up an enormous sheet of paper about one astronomical unit away. The star'll light up a certain area of the sheet of paper. Now take that paper and put it two astronomical units away. The area that the star lights up will be twice as tall and twice as wide, but it's the same amount of light hitting it -- the same number of photons, only spread out over an area four times as big. That means if you look at a small area of the sheet of paper, only one-fourth as many photons are hitting it, so it looks one-fourth as bright. If you look at it from ten times as far away, it looks one one-hundredth as bright.

"That means that the further away you get, the fewer photons have a chance of reaching your eyes. Now, you may think that you'd have the number of stars in your visual field increasing just as fast as their intensity decreases. But the universe is finite: you could write the number of stars in the universe on a single piece of notebook paper. And the observable universe is even more finite -- the universe expanding fast enough that the photons from a lot of stars haven't had a chance to reach us yet and maybe never will. So eventually you run out. And if you factor in all the things that can block the photons that do have a chance to get here -- clouds of hydrogen gas, for instance -- only the photons from the closest and brightest stars make it to your eyes. The rest of the sky looks dark."

"Cool," Alley says. "Is that true about everything a star sends out, or just light?"
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT SOLAR RADIATION
(2) >ALLEY, COME INSIDE
action: 1
response: "Well," you say, "a star doesn't emit a whole lot EXCEPT light, if by light you mean photons, which can range anywhere from radio waves to X-rays and beyond. Then there's the solar wind, which is mostly protons. And then there are neutrinos, which go through pretty much everything. People have collected huge pools of gallium, put them deep underground, and it turns out that thirty tons of the stuff -- thirty TONS -- will catch ONE neutrino a day. The neutrino will turn ONE atom of gallium into germanium. All the other billions and billions of neutrinos just go streaming right through the earth. But you can't see them, because they go right through your eyes."

"Awesome," Alley says. "Where does the gallium come from?"
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT GALLIUM PRODUCTION
(2) >ALLEY, COME INSIDE
action: 1
response: "Good question," you say. "The easy answer is that it's mined. But here's the more interesting answer. You know what a star is, right?"

"Sure," Alley says. "It's a big ball of hydrogen being fused into helium."

"Bing," you say. "Right as usual. Now, eventually the hydrogen runs out. What happens to the helium left over? Some of it gets expelled out into space, and the rest of it contracts even tighter, till the HELIUM starts to fuse. So the star lights up again, turning helium into carbon, and then into oxygen. And the process keeps going -- some of the matter is expelled into space, the rest keeps contracting, fusing, into neon, magnesium, silicon, and eventually, into iron. Iron is pretty much the most stable thing there is. Right now hydrogen is the most common substance there is, but if you wait long enough, it'll be iron.

"Now, iron is element #26, and gallium is #31, so you'll never get to gallium that way. Heavy elements like gallium, or gold, are produced in supernovae -- they're formed when stars explode, and fly out into space."

"Really? Gold?" Alley says. "It just comes raining down out of space?"
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT PLANETARY ACCRETION
(2) >ALLEY, COME INSIDE
action: 1
response: "Maybe indirectly," you say. "See, the newly-formed heavy elements fly out into space, and collect in gravity wells, start clumping together... some end up inside new second- or third-generation stars, while others get locked up in planets only to get dug up a few billion years later and used for neutrino detection, or jewelry, or coins. Of course gold is used in coins because it's valuable, and it's valuable because it's rare, and it's rare because... well, to a certain extent, it's the luck of the draw. If you look at a chart of the elements in the earth's crust, it turns out that iridium and the elements around it are rarer than you might expect. Right after iridium is platinum, which is very precious, and after that is gold, which is just slightly more common and just slightly less precious. But if you look at meteorites, you find that they're not lacking in iridium the way the earth is -- meteorites are loaded with the stuff. And they've got even more platinum. So it's easy to imagine that there are planets out there where there just so happened to be a lot of gold and platinum in the area of space where the planet was formed, and so they're considered common while something else -- zirconium, maybe -- is considered really valuable."

"I've heard of iridium before," Alley says. "Isn't there a lot of it in the layer of the earth's crust that comes from right when all the dinosaurs died out? I remember reading something like that."
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT DINOSAUR EXTINCTION
(2) >ALLEY, COME INSIDE
action: 1
response: "That's right," you say. "That's usually counted as evidence that it was a meteorite impact that led to them all dying off -- not that the iridium killed them, but that iridium is a sign that there was a big meteorite around that time, and it's easy to see how a big impact could lead to massive die-offs. But that's also an important thing to keep in mind when you think about this stuff. One bit of pure gold is exactly the same as any other bit of pure gold -- the substance behaves the same way. So from one point of view, any particular piece of gold isn't valuable at all, since you can always get another. You can even replace your iridium. But Michael Crichton notwithstanding, you can't get back any of the dinosaurs.

"You're not made of a whole lot that's particularly exotic -- the only stuff heavier than iron, the only things you'd need a supernova for, are trace elements: a little iodine to keep the goiter away, that kind of thing. You're made mainly of the most common star stuff: carbon, oxygen, hydrogen. But you can't just trade yourself in for a sack of carbon and oxygen and hydrogen the way you can trade gold for gold. What makes you you is the way that star stuff is arranged, and that's totally unique. Which makes you more valuable than all the gold from all the stars in the sky."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Mary asks, emerging from the garage. "'All the stars in the sky'? Really, Sam. When you start trying to wax poetic it's a pretty good sign that it's past your bedtime. Let alone Alley's. Time to come in, kids."

"Okay, mom," Alley says. She stands up and stretches. "Night, Daddy."

"Good night, honey," you say. "Sweet dreams."

As you follow her inside, you pause to take a quick look at the sky yourself. It's certainly pretty, but it's been a long time since you were as enraptured by it as Alley seems to be. You can't help but feel a little sad about that.
[ -> ]
[ -> ]
As you walk through the pass, you encounter first one shard of glass on the ground, then another. But it isn't until you crest the final hill that you see what you've discovered.

You are standing on a ridge above the entrance to a vast crystal labyrinth. You'd be tempted to call it a city, with its haphazard collection of iridescent towers and spires and arches -- "iridescent" means shimmering with rainbow colors -- but from what you can see from your vantage point, there is barely enough space between the crystal walls to permit one person to pass between them. The labyrinth is ringed by steep mountains, so going around it is impossible: your only choices are to enter it to the west, or to head back the way you came.
action: Go west
response: You step into the crystal labyrinth and immediately get lost.

You are in a dazzling crystal maze, with passages leading out to the north, south, and west.
action: Go north
response: You wander around the maze of glass until you find yourself at another intersection...

You are in a dazzling crystal maze, with passages leading out to the west, east, and south.
action: You go to the west
response: You wander through the maze of glass until you find yourself at another intersection...

You are in a dazzling crystal maze, with passages leading out to the north, south, and east. Two of the nearby walls intersect to form the base of an immense spire.
action: You examine the spire
response: Though the crystal sparkles in every color, the dominant note seems to be a beautiful light blue, refracted from the sky above. ("Refraction" is what happens when light passes through a medium that bends it, like water or a prism.)
action: You go west
response: You wander through the maze of glass until you find yourself at another intersection...

You are in a dazzling crystal maze, with passages leading out to the north, south, and west. An enormous arch looms overhead.
action: Go west
response: You wander through the maze of glass until you find yourself at another intersection...

You are in a dazzling crystal maze, with passages leading out to the north, south, and west.

With an audible sputter, the cooling unit of your spacesuit finally gives out.
action: You take off the suit
response: You take off your spacesuit and drop it on the ground.
action: Go north
response: You wander around the maze of glass until you find yourself at another intersection...

You are in a dazzling crystal maze, with passages leading out to the north, south, and east.
action: You go west
response: Solid crystal blocks your path.
action: Go east
response: You wander around the maze of glass until you find yourself at another intersection...

You are in a dazzling crystal maze, with passages leading out to the west, east, and south.

The cool breeze ruffles the feathers of your wings.
action: Go upwards
response: You stretch your wings and soar into the sky.

You are hovering above the crystal labyrinth; from this perspective, it looks like a mind-bogglingly complex mandala. (A "mandala" is a pattern that some people use in prayer.) There is no way your could have possibly navigated it on the ground -- in fact, it almost gives you a headache. Much more relaxing is the cloudless, sparkling blue sky all around you.

A bird flies by, disappearing through the gap in the mountains to the west.
action: Go west
response: You fly through the pass, reveling in the rush of the wind against your white feathered wings.
[ -> ]
She's an angel. She's an absolute angel.

No. No. Can't think like that. She's just a kid like any other kid. Completely approachable. Puts her pants on one leg at a time like anyone else.

Oops. Bad move. Should not have thought about her putting on pants.

Concentrate. Concentrate. Focus power. Eye of the tiger. Wax on, wax off. Wait, that's not right. C'mon, don't overthink this. Just go in and ask her. "Hey, Alley, what's up? Want to go to the dance with me?" Easy as that. What's the worst that could happen?

Well, you could wet your pants. Funny how it always comes back to pants.

You walk into the gym.

Usually rather damp and dingy, the gym is currently festooned with colorful balloons and streamers in preparation for the big dance Friday night. The first ones went up at lunch, so when you went in for your fifth-period PE class, the coach looked around, shrieked, and declared that there was a change in plans and that the class would be playing soccer for the rest of the week.

You look around and there, far above your head, is Alley, glowing like a star -- or maybe that's just from standing in front of the spotlight rigged to the ceiling. She's balanced on a tall ladder, draping streamers from the rafters.

Her colleagues on the Student Activities Committee, Joyce and Sherrill, are standing around a helium tank, filling balloons and letting them float up to the ceiling.

Alley looks down at you as you come in. "Hey, Jon," she says. "Can you turn off that light for me? It's burning kind of hot." She points at the switch.
action: You turn off the light
response: [Which do you mean, the spotlight or the light switch?]
action: Switch
response: [What do you want to switch?]
action: You turn off the light switch
response: You turn the light off. "Thanks," Alley says. "That about does it for the streamers." She climbs back down the ladder, digs around in her backpack, and pulls out an orange. "Want one?" she asks.
action: Yes
response: [To converse with someone, please use the TALK TO command.]
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >ASK ALLEY FOR AN ORANGE
(2) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT OUR LACK OF ANIMOSITY
(3) >ASK ALLEY ABOUT POSSIBLE PARAMOURS
(4) >ASK ALLEY TO THE DANCE ON FRIDAY
action: 2
response: "So, uh, we get along okay, huh?" you ask. "Like, uh, remember in kindergarten when I traded you my juice box for your Pudding Snak? That was pretty cool, huh?"

Joyce and Sherrill snicker, but Alley seems not at all put off by the stupidity of what you've just said. "Sure," she says.
action: 3
response: "So, um, are you, like, seeing anyone, or not, or...?" Your voice dies away.

"Not so as you'd notice," Alley says cheerfully.
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >ASK ALLEY FOR AN ORANGE
(2) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT OUR LACK OF ANIMOSITY
(3) >ASK ALLEY TO THE DANCE ON FRIDAY
action: 1
response: Alley digs around in her backpack. "Oops, looks like that was the last one," she says. "I've got an apple left, though." She tosses it to you.
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT OUR LACK OF ANIMOSITY
(2) >ASK ALLEY TO THE DANCE ON FRIDAY
action: 2
response: You take a deep breath. It doesn't take, so you try it again. "Well," you say. "Um. So. I was just kind of wondering whether maybe if you weren't doing anything and weren't already going whether you might want to go to the dance with me if you want I mean it's no big deal or anything it's up to you I just thought you know why not." There, you think. That was pretty smooth.

But Alley shakes her head. "Sorry," she says. "I'm babysitting that evening."

Your heart plummets into your stomach with what you're sure is an audible splash. You're trying to decide whether to throw yourself in front of the nearest bus or if you should just go home and slash your wrists when you realize Alley isn't finished talking.

"...so it'll have to be Saturday," she concludes.

"Satur-- wait, so that's a yes?" you ask, gaping.

"Sure," she says. "It won't be a dance, but I'm sure we can find something fun to do. Can you come by around seven?"

Saturday. Seven o'clock. Seventy-five hours, forty-three minutes, seventeen seconds from now. Suddenly, it seems like a lifetime.
[ -> ]
action: You examine Alley
response: As you pass Alley's school, you can't help but notice that the message board outside says "DANCE FRIDAY GYM 6-10 PM". "There was a dance tonight?" you ask. "You should have told us. We could've found another sitter."

"That's okay," Alley says drowsily. "You and Ms. Mackaye asked before any boys did."

"Still," you say. "Next time you just call us and give us the old heave-ho, okay? I'm sure there must be a legion of boys out there who cried themselves to sleep thanks to us."

Alley smiles sleepily. "You sound like my dad," she says.
action: About yourself
response: You are Jim Mackaye, an accounts manager at the First Queensport Bank, husband to a lovely ex-teller named Linda and father to a beautiful little girl named Wendy who is still much too young to be left home alone without a sitter. The sitter in question is Alison Dawson, currently sitting in the passenger seat.

You cruise through the Polk Boulevard intersection.
action: You look at Alley
response: Alley and your daughter Wendy struck up a friendship a couple summers back, when the teacher of Wendy's swimming class brought in some of the kids from her youth league team to help out. Since then Alley's been your regular babysitter. She's bright, polite, doesn't charge very much, and Wendy likes her enough that her first question whenever you and Linda get home from an outing is when you'll be going out again.
action: Wait
response: Time passes.

You go over the train tracks and through the O'Brien Boulevard intersection.
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >ASK ALLEY ABOUT HOW I SOUND LIKE HER DAD
(2) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT WENDY'S UNDYING ADORATION
(3) >ASK ALLEY IF SHE CAN BABYSIT ON THURSDAY
action: 1
response: "Hmm?" Alley says. "Oh, it's just that when you were talking about 'legions of boys crying themselves to sleep' it reminded me of how my dad's always telling me that 'you're at the age now where you're going to have to deal with droves of grubby little boys vying for your affections, and I just wanted to warn you that I'm bound to show an inordinate amount of glee with every heart you break. So go to it!'" She smiles.
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >ASK ALLEY ABOUT INORDINATE GLEE
(2) >TELL ALLEY ABOUT WENDY'S UNDYING ADORATION
(3) >ASK ALLEY IF SHE CAN BABYSIT ON THURSDAY
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >ASK ALLEY ABOUT INORDINATE GLEE
(2) >ASK ALLEY IF SHE CAN BABYSIT ON THURSDAY
action: 1
response: "Well," Alley says, "when I asked him about that, he said, 'You see, it's just like Freud said: the parent of the powerless sex always longs to have a child of the powerful sex. And sure enough, after years of having to deal with being on the receiving end of possible rejection every time I was interested in someone, it's going to be a thrill to see my very own kid dishing it out. It's a clear-cut case of Venus envy.'"
action: You talk to Alley
response: Please select one:

(1) >ASK ALLEY IF SHE CAN BABYSIT ON THURSDAY
action: 1
response: "I hate to ask you to come over twice in less than a week," you say, "but are you free to look after Wendy on Thursday? If not, please, just say the word and we can find someone else. I don't want to keep you from hanging out with kids your own age."

"Sure, no problem," Alley says. "I don't mind, really. I like spending time with Wendy. Most of my friends are either significantly younger or significantly older than me anyhow."

You enter the Montgomery Boulevard intersection...

...and are blindsided by a car screaming down the road with its lights off at a hundred kilometers an hour, maybe more. The impact caves in the passenger-side door and sends the car spinning wildly, the air thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burnt rubber, Alley's blood hot against your face, and as you black out, you catch a glimpse of the light, and it was green, it was green, it was green...
[ -> ]
[ -> ]
On the other side of the pass, you find yourself flying over a vast forest that stretches as far as you can see. The mere sight of it is enough to make your wings ache -- there's no way you can fly that far under your own power. Besides, the idea of strolling through a shady forest seems awfully appealing right about now. You touch down and wander through the woods.

After a few minutes, you reach a small clearing, and pause to take a look around. Something is wrong. In fact, everything is just slightly off. The leaves of the trees don't sway enough in the breeze; the subtle sounds of the forest are conspicuously absent; everything smells sterile and dead. But you can't quite put your finger on why this is.
action: You examine wings
response: Your wings are a little sore from having been bound up in your spacesuit for so long.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You are carrying a coin, your seed pod and a treasure chest (which is closed).
action: Look around
response: You're standing in a small clearing, trying to figure out what's wrong. It's something about the trees -- they just don't HUM the way that trees are supposed to.
action: You examine the trees
response: As you look more closely at the trees, you suddenly realize what's wrong with them: they're not alive. The trunks and branches of the trees are solid stone: petrified wood, the organic material replaced with silica from the groundwater over the course of millions of years. ("Silica" is silicon dioxide, which makes up sand, quartz, and all kinds of things.) But these are not mere stone pillars: they're still trees, complete with leaves made of malachite, a green marbled stone derived from copper and as arresting in its own way as emerald. ("Arresting" means it makes you stop and look.)

You don't have much time to ponder this mystery, however: suddenly you hear a growling in the distance, and turn to see a wolf charging right at you!
action: You fight the wolf
response: Not only are you a top-notch astronaut, you're a master of the martial arts. So the wolf is taken by surprise when, before it can jump at you, you jump at it and pummel it with a lightning-quick series of kicks and punches. Soon it is whimpering and lying wounded on the ground, while you bask in your triumph.

As you gather up your possessions, though, you can't help but wonder -- you don't KNOW that the wolf had any hostile intentions. Even if it did, even if this was a matter of being better off safe than sorry, hurting any living thing is never something to feel proud of. The wolf is certainly no threat now. Maybe you can get it back on its feet again.
action: Pet wolf
response: You run your fingers through the wolf's fur. If only wolves could purr.
action: You look at wolf
response: The wolf looks rather emaciated. ("Emaciated" means scrawny from lack of food.) It's also wounded, thanks to your unfortunate violent streak. Someone needs to feed it and heal it, and it looks like you're elected.
action: You take the wolf
response: The wolf is too heavy for you to carry.
action: You feed the wolf
response: Whom do you want to feed the wolf to?
action: Yourself
response: (first taking the wolf)
The wolf is too heavy for you to carry.
action: Look around
response: You're standing in a small clearing, surrounded by trees of petrified wood and malachite.

The wolf you injured is lying on the ground, whimpering softly.
action: You take all
response: (the wolf)
The wolf is too heavy for you to carry.
action: Empty chest
response: The treasure chest is closed.
action: Open chest
response: You open the treasure chest, revealing some dirt.
action: Empty chest
response: dirt: Dropped.
action: Plant seed
response: You plant the seed pod, step back, and wait for it to grow.

Nothing happens.

You hear a soft chuckling behind you. "Well, well," says a voice. "If it ain't pirate-turned-astronaut Wendy Mackaye. What're YOU doing in the Queen's realms?"

You turn around to find a diminutive man with a bushy white beard, pushing along a white cart almost as big as he is. ("Diminutive" is another word for "small".) "Who are you?" you ask.

"I'm the local weather salesman," he says. "And I'd say that you're not going to have much success growing things without some rain handy." He rummages through his cart. "You're in luck," he says. "I just happen t'have some in stock."
action: You buy rain
response: "That'll be one gold piece," the salesman says. "The one you're carrying will do nicely."
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying a coin and a treasure chest (which is open but empty).
action: You give the coin to the man
response: The weather salesman pockets the gold piece and snaps his fingers; a moment later, a tiny cloud appears at knee level, raining a trickle of water onto the planted pod. You start to complain, but suddenly there's no one to complain to -- the salesman is gone without a trace.

And in the end, it doesn't matter: even this tiny rainstorm does its job. Shortly after the cloud dissipates, the pod shudders, and a full-grown shrubbery erupts from inside, loaded with deep red berries and bright green leaves. The wolf starts nibbling at the berries, first tentatively, then with relish.

Now all that remains is to heal its wounds. The leaves on the shrub look promising.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You are carrying a treasure chest (which is open but empty).
action: You take leaf
response: You pick some of the leaves.
action: You look at the wolf
response: The wolf looks rather emaciated. Eating the berries should take care of that; now all you have to do is heal its wounds. Maybe those leaves will do the trick.
action: You examine the leaf
response: They're an almost unnatural shade of green.
action: You give leaves to the wolf
response: The wolf nibbles at the leaves, but then draws back and whimpers. Maybe if you were to rub them on its wounds it might be more effective.
action: Rub leaves on wound
response: You rub the leaves on the wolf's wounds, and it immediately starts to look more sprightly and alert. ("Sprightly" means energetic and spirited.) So while it looks as though you won't have anything from the red planet to hand over to headquarters once you get home, you have saved a life.
[ -> ]
"And that's the end of our story for tonight," Alley says.

What? But that can't be the END -- there's still so much you don't know! Like, how do you get home? Are you even on the right planet? Do you get in trouble for not having the pod anymore? Who's this queen the weather salesman talked about? "But wait," you begin, "what about--"

"Come on, Wendy," Alley says. "You know the rules. It's way past your bedtime. Your parents'll be home soon and if you're still up it won't look too good for either of us. I'll be right here if you need anything." She pulls a book out of her backpack and starts in on her homework.
action: About you
response: You are Wendy Mackaye. By day, you are a student at Queensport Elementary School; by night, or at least on those nights that Alley comes over to babysit, you are a pirate, or an astronaut, or the democratically elected leader of the planet, or whatever it is that the two of you make up. (Though, you have to admit, even though she SAYS you're making up the stories together, Alley does most of the work.)
action: You examine Alley
response: Alley is your regular babysitter, but she doesn't just throw a TV dinner at you and make you go to bed at six: she tells you stories, and helps you with your homework, and lets you help cook, and tells you which boys she likes, and all in all acts like a friend: a friend who's older and smarter and more beautiful than you could ever be, but still, a friend.
action: You talk to ALLEY
response: Please select one:

(1) >ASK ALLEY ABOUT HER HOMEWORK
(2) >ASK ALLEY FOR A GLASS OF WATER
(3) >ASK ALLEY WHERE SHE GETS HER IDEAS
(4) >ASK ALLEY ABOUT HOW I GET HOME
(5) >ASK ALLEY ABOUT THE QUEEN
action: About you
response: You are Linda Mackaye, freshly returned from the most excruciatingly boring party you've ever attended. The slides were out of focus, the small talk necessitated the use of a magnifying glass, and if you had to hear your hosts share another tidbit of conversational Japanese, you were ready to disembowel yourself with your shrimp fork.

Alley finishes stuffing her books in her backpack and puts it on. "Okay, see you soon," she says. You follow her out to the garage door; Jim's car is waiting in the driveway, and as she walks toward it, she is swallowed up in the glare of the headlights.
[ -> ]
Pure white light blazes down on Alley's crib as Sam plugs in the huge screen he ordered through the mail and mounted on the ceiling. Alley rubs her eyes.

"What is that thing, anyway?" you ask. "Just a fluorescent light?"

"Not at all," Sam says. "The Photopia is a low-energy, high-intensity LCD screen with a bunch of different settings." He tosses you the remote. "Just push the white button to cycle through them."
action: You examine Alley
response: Alley is your daughter -- still just a baby, really, though luckily she's well out of the reptilian newborn stage and instead looks like a perfectly adorable little girl.
action: About yourself
response: You are Mary Dawson, mother of a beautiful baby girl named Alison who you're sure is going to have the world at her feet when she grows up. "C'mon, hon, we've had our fun," Sam says. "Time to turn off the lights."
action: Examine sam
response: Sam is your husband, who has lately taken to ordering all kinds of strange things through the mail: today it was the Photopia; the day before that it was some kind of "baby-safe" blender; tomorrow it'll be a bag of llama feed or something.
action: You turn off the light
response: You glance into the crib as you reach the light switch. "Good night, Alley," you say. "Sleep well."

You turn out the light.
[ -> ]
[ -> ]
debugcheapnitfol quit with exit status: 0