Florbis Cloob Visits the Writing Lab

After a long and peacefull darkness, Florb, a Cloob, awoke to find himself stuck halfway between two floors of an elevator. The elevator was full of so many interesting things, what did this Cloob look at first? [[The left and right walls]] [[The front and back walls]] [[The floor and the ceiling]] (if:(history: where its name contains "What the hell is a florb???")'s length <= 0)[ [[What the hell is a florb???]] ] { (set:$has_pants to 0) (set:$phone_in_pocket to 0) (set:$note_held to 0) (set:$decoder_remd to 0) (set:$note_in_pocket to 0) (set:$has_seen_floor to 0) (set:$number_note_held to 0) (set:$pnlfloor to 0) (set:$un_translated1 to 0) (set:$typewriterPos to 0) (set:$typewriterText to 0) (set:$typed to 0) (set:$whoisann to 0) (set:$convodone to 0) (set:$1s to 0) (set:$h to 0) (set:$met_ann to 0) (set:$translated121 to 0) (set:$has_keys to 0) (set:$has_paperclips to 0) (set:$has_pen to 0) (set:$has_red_pen to 0) (set:$has_green_pen to 0) (set:$has_blue_pen to 0) (set:$has_expo_pen to 0) (set:$papers_cut to 0) (set:$has_papers to 0) (set:$looking4note to 0) (set:$translated121 to 0) (set:$longways to 0) (set:$diagonal to 0) (set:$shortways to 0) (set:$namegiven to "") }

There were posters on the left wall indicating that he was in some sort of organization, one that had some sort of festival coming up soon. Of course he couldn't tell what it was, but looking at the images he had a sense that it was some kind of celebration. There were liquids flowing from long black thin necks of what was surely obsideon and a large orange gourd which had the markings of a mammal. He remembered from his youth that his father would often hold him up along with an orange gourd, and he became worried. Was he supposed to be a guest, is that why he was here? (if:visits <= 1)[Among the notices for the halloween party there was a small stickynote, hidden underneath the corner flap of a photo picturing three young women all dressed as a girdle, hugging tightly the busom of a large fat man with a cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth.](else:)[](if:$un_translated1 is 0)[The note said something along the lines of (if: $phone_in_pocket is 1)[ (text-color:green)[//PHAE AUN HET OAPRED TEN BORDEJF//]<clicker2|(click-replace: ?clicker2)[//TELL ANN THE PAPERS ARE PRINTED.//] It was a miracle!(set:$translated121 to 1) For some reason, this phone that Florb had picked up somehow allowed him to translate foreign texts! With this new peice of surely valuable information, he figured he would stick it in his pocket... ] (if: $phone_in_pocket is 0)[ //PAHE ANU HET OAPRED TEN BORDEJF.// Of course, this Cloob being unable to read English it made no sense at all, but he figured he would stick it in his pocket... he felt around, and he realized he did not entirely know where is pocket was...] ]{ (else:)[] } { (if:$note_held is 0)[ [He hangs on to the note, (if:$has_pants is 0)[holding it in his hand.] (else:)[putting it in his pocket (set:$note_in_pocket to 1)]]<clicker1| (click: ?clicker1)[(set:$note_held to 1){ (set:$looking4note to it + 1) (if:$looking4note is 2)[ [Return to Ann]<z6|(click:?z6)[(go-to:"ANN JUMPSCARE2")] ] }] ](else:)[Florb holds the note in his hand] } Looking to the opposite wall he saw a large pannel with a list of symbols that alligned with buttons. He inspected it thuroughly. There were six and four more buttons on the panel, and they were arranged in a vertical order, though he could of course not tell which direction was the start and which was the end, though knowing that this was an elevator, for he had been in many of those, he supposed that each symbol corresponded with what he had heard referred to as a "FLOOR." Two buttons were glowing with red light eminating from behind a circular seal; a seal, which upon closer inspection, reflected the same symbols as the panel!! "GORFLOOMISHTON!!" He exclaimed in excitement. He had never let out a sound like that before! What an exciting moment! (if:$decoder_remd is 1)[He was truly a good decoder...] (if:(history: where its name contains "DOOR OPENS1")'s length <= 1)[Feeling elated and content with himself he figured that he might as well press some of these buttons, and try and get himself out of this perdicament. [[KEYPAD:]] ](else:)[As he had already opened the door, the keypad was of no use to him... (text-color:red)[''KEYPAD:''] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The floor and the ceiling]] --- [[The front and back walls]] ] ]

The wall of the elevator opposite of the two bay doors--surely they must be broom-powered--was completely occupied by a mirror. (if:$has_pants is 0)[Florb looked at himself. He then realized he was not wearing his pants! In the reflection he saw that they were hanging from the ceiling, and he thought to himself that he must surely put them back on.] (else:)[Florb admired himself in the mirror... his pants were indeed quite spiffy...] (if:(history: where its name contains "DOOR OPENS1")'s length is <1)[He also saw that the door was ajar slightly, and he thought to himself that it would be advantageous if he tried to pry open the door... (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[{ [SCAN THE DOOR]<scandoor|(click:?scandoor)[(replace:?scandoor)[THE DOOR IS UNOPENABLE] ] }] (if:(history: where its name contains "Try and open the door")'s length is not 1)[{ [[Try and open the door]] }] (else:)[(text-color:red)[''The door does not budge...''] (replace:"He also saw that the door was ajar slightly, and he thought to himself that it would be advantageous if he tried to pry open the door...")[Now he really must figure out how to get out of here...] ] ](else:)[Looking out through the door, Florb could see before him the yellow floor... (link:"Return")[(go-to:"2.1.1 text")] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The left and right walls]] --- [[The floor and the ceiling]] ] ]

"Which to look at first..." he thought... indeed a troubling question... [[Floor]] [[Ceiling]] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The left and right walls]] --- [[The front and back walls]] ] ]

The door does not budge... (after:3s)[(go-to: "The front and back walls")]

It looks something like this: <img src="https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/1d3bc045-6c4b-4393-bb53-f78a2a39e96e/dch5c85-ae97da53-4b35-44a5-94db-1f8a02cf7844.jpg/v1/fit/w_375,h_303,q_70,strp/florb_by_frofox_dch5c85-375w.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9NzI3IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvMWQzYmMwNDUtNmM0Yi00MzkzLWJiNTMtZjc4YTJhMzllOTZlXC9kY2g1Yzg1LWFlOTdkYTUzLTRiMzUtNDRhNS05NGRiLTFmOGEwMmNmNzg0NC5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9OTAwIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmltYWdlLm9wZXJhdGlvbnMiXX0.zQBKQaBATjOXAaqDrZzfRVQRkjuXY9fpYTXTFUSiK-g"> But also sort of like this: <img src="https://external-preview.redd.it/H24EYqB7WfQIa7rVCUF-LzxGScs7Nv0zBx4lJk65n5o.jpg?auto=webp&s=fc1c967c891445fedebbabfc14406abd0804d8b8"> Thought it is also important to imagine it being inextricably linked with every physical aspect of this: <img src="https://img.kwcdn.com/product/fancy/3a3d9fe2-10ba-4cc6-b5f6-d3e2ada7123d.jpg?imageMogr2/auto-orient%7CimageView2/2/w/800/q/70/format/webp"> Got it? [[Yes...]]

Now what? Are you happy now? Now that you have made me reveal to you such a deep secret??? EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!! (align:"=><=")+(box:"X=")[TYPE HERE:] (force-input-box:"=XX=","Ok fine, I am sorry, I will now go back to the beginning of the story...") [[Suddenly, he wakes up...]]

Florb presses the giant red button, somehow previously unnoticed by our dear Cloob, and he is instantly incinerated by a lazer pointing out of the ceiling, which he had previously seen as a camera... [[Suddenly, he wakes up...]]

He looked at the floor, and he saw in the corner of the elevator a small phone-like-device. It was rounded and square, and had a kind of sheen normally reserved for the most matte of surfaces. It was small in a big way, and had many buttons that all flicked from left to right, centered around a large display screen. (if: $phone_in_pocket is 0)[ [Pick up the phone]<button| [Inspect the phone]<button1| [Leave the phone where it is]<button2| {(if:$phone_in_pocket is 0)[(click: ?button)[(set:$phone_in_pocket to 1)(replace:?button)[(text-style:"outline")+(text-colour:green)[You are now able to click on green text to translate it.]](replace: ?button2)[[]]] (click:?button1)[(replace:?button1)[As soon as the phone was in Florb's hands, he knew what it was. And he began to remember why he had found himself in this elevator. This was one of his tools as a decoder... But what could it be for? He would surely need to find out... (set:$decoder_remd to 1)] (set:$phone_in_pocket to 1)(replace:?button)[(text-style:"outline")+(text-colour:green)[You are now able to click on green text to translate it.]](replace: ?button2)[]]] } {(if:$phone_in_pocket is 0)[(click: ?button2)[(replace:?button2)[Florb leaves the phone where it is... Best not to touch these kinds of impossible things.] (replace:?button1, ?button)[]] (if: $has_pants is 1)[ (if:$phone_in_pocket)[He puts the phone in his pants] ]]}] (if:$has_seen_floor + $phone_in_pocket is 2)[Where the phone used to be there is now a small charred spot..] In the other corner there was a small piece of crumpled up paper, stuffed into the corner. Florb contemplated the paper. [Pick up the paper]<button3| (click:?button3)[(replace:?button3)[{ [Unfold the paper]<b4| (click:?b4)[(set:$number_note_held to 1)(replace:?b4)[{ [The paper read: //1882881010//........... (if:(history: where its name contains "The left and right walls")'s length >= 1)[This seemed ot correspond with the numbers on the wall...](else:)[Truly, he couldn't make heads or tails of it.]] }]] }]] (if:$pnlfloor is 1)[The panel from the ceiling laid on the floor.] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: ------------ [[The left and right walls]] -------------------------- [[The front and back walls]] --------------------------- [[The floor and the ceiling]] ------------------- [[Ceiling]] ] ] { (set:$has_seen_floor to 1) }

The ceiling was square, deliniating well the square walls of the box that Florb found himself in this particular moment in time, and he searched for something useful. (if:visits >= 0)[{(if:(history: where its name contains "The front and back walls")'s length is 1)[Florb sees his pants hanging from the ceiling and he grabs them, quickly, and puts them on.] (else:)[Florb sees his pants hanging from the ceiling... how strange, he could have sworn he just had them on.. but then again, he was not sure where his pockets had ended up. He decided to grab his pants and put them on.] (set:$has_pants to 1) }] (else:)[Florb sees the empty ceiling where his pants once hung.] (if:$note_held is 1)[In his back pocket he stuffed the note from earlier (set:$note_in_pocket to 1)] (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[Florb put the phone in his pocket] (if:(history: where its name contains "The door opens (elevator shaft)")'s length is <1)[{ In the ceiling there was also a small pannel, which Florb observed to be slightly loose at the corners. [//Inspect...//]<button_inspect| (click:?button_inspect)[{ (go-to:"look_at_pannel") }] }](else:)[The ceiling contained the hole through which he had just returned. Were he to wish to return to the room, he could simply go back up through the hole, now that he new the path well... (link:"Return")[(go-to:"2.1.1 text")] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: -------- [[The left and right walls]] --- [[The front and back walls]] --- [[The floor and the ceiling]] --- [[Floor]] ] ]

{ (set: $entry to "") (set: $entryLength to 10) (set: $solution to "1882881010") }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 4) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 3) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 2) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 1) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 6) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 7) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 8) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 5) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to 0) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

{ (if: $entry's length < $entryLength)[ (set: $entered to -1) (set: $entry to it + (text: $entered) ) (replace: ?entry)[$entry] ] }

Upon closer inspection, the pannel appeared to be a square of a substance that Florb remembered being called "Alluminium" once, and it was fasceted to the ceiling via four screw-like objects. Furthermore, it was indeed loose!! This was given away by the fact that one screw was hanging out, causing the pannel to sit slightly open, and allowing a small ammount of black space to appear around the left edge where the screw was to be found.(if:$decoder_remd is 1)[ A good decoder he was..!] Perhaps he could figure out a way through... (if:$decoder_remd is 1)[(after:15s)[{ He soon realized what it was he must do... He must unscrew these screw-like objects! }]] (after:20s)[{ [Pull on the panel]<b1| (click:?b1)[(replace:?b1) [The panel comes loose, and drops to the floor. A large black hole now hung in the ceiling of the elevator.(set:$pnlfloor to 1)] (if:$pnlfloor is 1)[ [[Climb in the hole]] ] ] }](if:(history:where its name contains "Climb in the hole")'s length is >=1)[(go-to:"Climb in the hole")] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[Ceiling]] ] ]

#PART TWO: THE FOURTH FLOOR (after:4s)[(go-to:"2.1 text")]

(hide:?text11)He found himself standing on a strange yellowed carpet, surrounded by many yellowed walls, all very shiny and yellow in the yellowed light. There were, of course, no sun lights outside--Florb being uncertain of the number of suns here on this planet. At this point, (if:(history: where its name contains "The door opens (elevator shaft)")'s length >= 1)[having managed to escape the elevator shaft,] (if:(history: where its name contains "DOOR OPENS1")'s length >=1)[having managed to re-avticate the elevator and enter the floor,] this Cloob began to recall something from deep within his past... (if:(history: where its name contains "//DO NOT FORGET THIS, FLORB...//")'s length is <=1)[[//DO NOT FORGET THIS, FLORB...//]] (if:(history: where its name contains "//DO NOT FORGET THIS, FLORB...//")'s length is >=1)[ Suddenly Florb remembered why it was he was here on this planet! He had do get the message to the one they called //ANN//... (if:$note_held is 1)[What could this message be? Florb thought about this... and then he remembered the note (if:$note_in_pocket is 1)[he had stuffed in his pocket,](else:)[he held in his other hand,] surely //that// was the note that everyone was speaking about!](else:)[Where could this note be? He thought hard about everything he had seen... (if:(history: where its name contains "The left and right walls")'s length is >=1)["GORFLOOMISHTON!!" That note he had seen hanging on the wall! Maybe that held the secret to this puzzle! He must surely return to the elevator, and se if he can take it!](else:)[But alas, he could not figure out what it was... He must have to re-trace his steps, back to the place where this all started... the elevator...](show:?text11) ] Looking around the room, he saw several things that caught his eye. For starters, the walls were covered in all sorts of posters and signs. These new things and shapes were positively fascinating to Florb. The room was full of many tables, and many doors. There were nine doors in total: One was directly across from the entrance of the elevator[ shaft]<h1|(hide:?h1), and upon it were more sheets of paper with strange symbols, like those that had decorated the wall of the elevator, and like those that seemed to be hanging from some of the other doors as well... Four of the doors seemed to be sectioning off four smaller rooms, all annexed to the edges of the space. Two more white doors were positioned at opposite corners of the room, hidden within small cubbies, and the last two doors were set into boxes that protruded from the walls; also seemingly hiding smaller spaces within. What doors would he inspect first? [[The annexing doors]] [[The white doors]] [[The door with the paper]] [[The doors on the boxes]] [{ [[Go back to the elevator]] }]<text11| ]{ (if:(history: where its name contains "The door opens (elevator shaft)")'s length is >=1)[(show:?h1)] }

{ (if: $entry is $solution)[ (goto: "DOOR OPENS") ] }

{ (set: $entry to "" ) (replace: ?entry)[••••••••••] }

A great whirring sound comes from the ceiling, and Florb and all his limbs are suddenly jolted upwards, and he begins to move. The elevator only needs to adjust very slightly, as to be alligned with the floor, but when it does, there is a great sound of steam being released, as if a locomotive train had stopped just where the elevator was parking itself. [//continue//]<button| (click:?button)[(go-to:"DOOR OPENS1")]

The door opens... <img src=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/b4/8e/c6/b48ec6c39d27c4e35589fa5e31e76617.gif> (if:(history: where its name contains "Go back to the elevator")'s length is >=1)[(after:2s)[Enter the floor...]<button| (click:?button)[(go-to:"2.1.1 text")] ](else:)[(after:2s)[Enter the floor...]<button| (click:?button)[(go-to:"On the fourth floor")]]

#PART ONE: THE ELEVATOR (after:4s)[(go-to:"Suddenly, he wakes up...")]

#Florbis Cloob Visits the Writing Lab (after:5s)[[ ###Start ]<button|(click:?button)[(go-to:"0.1")] [[How to Play]] [[Credits]] ]

The elevator buttons are strange, and they glow a deep red. Upon closer inspection, to the right of the elevator buttons seems to be a sort of Keypad functioning item. One button says simply "enter," another "clear," and above the numbers hangs a small display which Florb had not previously noticed. It seems to have ten slots for numvers to go... (if:$number_note_held is 1)[{ [Check crumpled paper]<b1|(click:?b1)[(replace:?b1)[] //1882881010//]}] [<div class="entry">[••••••••••]<entry|</div> <table> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "8")[(display: "ELVNUM8")]</td> <td>(link-repeat: "Clear")[(display: "Clear_keypad")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "7")[(display: "ELVNUM7")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "6")[(display: "ELVNUM6")]</td> <td>(link-repeat: "Enter")[(display: "Enter_keypad")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "5")[(display: "ELVNUM5")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "4")[(display: "ELVNUM4")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "3")[(display: "ELVNUM3")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "2")[(display: "ELVNUM2")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "1")[(display: "ELVNUM1")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "0")[(display: "ELVNUM0")]</td> <tr> <td>(link-repeat: "-1")[(display: "ELVNUM-1")]</td> <tr> </table> [[DO NOT PRESS THIS BUTTON]] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The left and right walls]] ] ] { (if: $entry is $solution)[ (goto: "DOOR OPENS") ] }

After climbing up into the hole, This Clooby Florb felt rather constricted and inflicted upon by the spikey walls inside the hole. He climbed further, and he eventually reached the top of the hole. It was a neatly set into the corner of the elevator, and upon cresting the lip of the hole he found himself in the long and dark elevator shaft. He climbed up onto the top of the elevator... but there was almost no light! (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[{ [Check phone]<b1|(click:?b1)[(replace:?b1) [There was a flashlight on the phone! [Turn on flashlight.]<flash|(replace:?flash)[ Suddenly, there was a flash! From the phone that Florb had picked up there shone a bright light! It was enough to light up the whole area! He saw that the elevator shaft was dangerously deep, and that he could not possibly make it if he stepped to close to the edge. He also saw that, in front of him, there were two doors high up in the wall. He walked over to the doors, and he grabbed on to them. Surely he could pull them apart, with just a little bit of force from his arms... (link:"Pull")[(go-to:"The door opens (elevator shaft)")] ]] ] }] [Fumble around]<fmb|(click:?fmb)[(replace:?fmb)[ The Cloob began to fumble around on the roof of the elevator. Carefully, he chose his path forward. One wrong step and he may fall off the elevator... [[Left]<b2|]<b21| [[Right]<b3|]<b31| [[Forward]<b4|]<b41| [[Backward]<b5|]<b51| ]] {(click:?b2)[(replace:?b21)[Florb creeped to the left, but he began to feel the edge of the elevator creeping closer...](replace:?b31)[] (replace:?b41)[ [Continue]<cont2|(click:?cont2)[(go-to:"He fell to his death")] ](replace:?b51)[ [Back]<bck2|(click:?bck2)[(go-to:"Climb in the hole")] ]] (click:?b3)[(replace:?b21)[Florb creeped to the right, but he began to feel the edge of the elevator creeping closer...](replace:?b31)[] (replace:?b41)[ [Continue]<cont3|(click:?cont3)[(go-to:"He fell to his death")] ](replace:?b51)[ [Back]<bck3|(click:?bck3)[(go-to:"Climb in the hole")] ]] (click:?b4)[(replace:?b21)[After creeping forward, he began to feel a wall approach him. He felt it with his hands, and he soon felt the seams of a door above him. He began to pry at the door...](replace:?b31)[] (replace:?b41)[ [Continue]<cont4|(click:?cont4)[(go-to:"The door opens (elevator shaft)")] ](replace:?b51)[ [Back]<bck4|(click:?bck4)[(go-to:"Climb in the hole")] ]] (click:?b5)[(replace:?b21)[After creeping backward, he began to near the hole he had just climbed up through](replace:?b31)[] (replace:?b41)[ [Return to the elevator]<cont5|(click:?cont5)[(go-to:"Ceiling")] ](replace:?b51)[ [Back]<bck5|(click:?bck5)[(go-to:"Climb in the hole")] ]]}

###How to Play: In order to navigate the game, it is imperative that you use the buttons provided at the left of each screen in a navigation box, labeled "to go to." If there is no navigation box provided, continue along the path you have chosen. Try clicking the "Test" button on the left. (if:(history: where its name contains "test.111")'s length >= 1)[//HINT:// Make sure to always look for things that may be of use to you... Happy reading! [''START MENU'']<b1|(click:?b1)[(go-to:"0.0")] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- (link:"Test")[(go-to:"test.111")] ] ]

After creeping too close to the edge of the elevator, this Florbis Cloob discovered that he had indeed crept too close to the edge, and he fell off it. He fell for what felt like an eternity, only to eventually land, very softly, with a heavy thud, at the bottom of the elevator shaft. Every single one of his bones split on impact with the ground and he was killed, instantly. [[Suddenly, he wakes up...]]

The door began to open, and Florb could feel the cool breeze of the inside world beckoning him. He grasped the edges of the door, and he pulled as hard as he could. [PULL]<pull|(click:?pull)[(replace:?pull)[He pulled on the doors some more and they fully opened, revealing before his eyes a glistening floor. Surely this is what he came for... [CLIMB UP]<climb| (click:?climb)[(go-to:"On the fourth floor")] ] ]

Behind each of these doors was a room with a desk and some chairs, along with a wall-mounted computer screen that shone black in the yellow light. Behind [the first door]<d1| there was a small box with black writing on the side. Behind [the second door]<d2| there was a bucket of red and black tubes sitting on the desk, on the side there was an inscription which he could not read from out side the small room. Behind [the third door]<d3| there was a square machine sitting on the desk, one that had a bladed arm extending out from one side and a grid-pattern carved onto its top surface... What could it be for? Behind [the fourth door]<d4| was utter darkness... Although Florb could make out the same familiar shapes of the desk and the chairs and the screen, there was an eerie darkness that hung in the air and made it impossible to see into the depths of the darkness to the other wall... this fourth room scared this Cloob deeply...(if:$has_keys is 1)[(click:?d1)[(go-to:"Room 1")](click:?d2)[(go-to:"Room 2")](click:?d3)[(go-to:"Room 3")](click:?d4)[(go-to:"Room 4")] He considered which door he would enter first...] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The white doors]] --- [[The doors on the boxes]] --- [[The door with the paper]] ] ]

After approaching one of the white doors, Florb noticed that there was a small window in the door. He peered through the window and beyond it saw a stairwell, leading down and up. Perhaps when the elevators were not working, the people in this building used this system to get between floors. Perhaps this could be advantageous for Florb, should he need it. He thought maybe //ANN// would be somewhere up or down these stairs, but then he remembered that he was searching for the //WRITING LAB//. (if:$has_keys is 1)[ [[Climb the stairwell]] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The annexing doors]] --- [[The doors on the boxes]] --- [[The door with the paper]] ] ]

The door with the paper was wider than the other doors, and heavier by the looks of it. He inspected the paper carefully: it had some strange text on it: (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[(text-color:green)[//GLAFROOF//]<b1|(click-replace:?b1)[//BATHROOM//. OF course! it makes perfect sense. These creatures here are so squishy, it makes sense that their defacation spot would need such a heavy door.] ](else:)[//GLAFROOF//. What a strange word! He wondered what it could have meant... ] He tried the door... |door>[Door](click-replace:?door)[(text-color:red)[''The door was locked...''] (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[He considered trying to get into the room. He considered looking for //ANN// in this room... but he considered against it. Surely she would not appreciate that.]] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The annexing doors]] --- [[The doors on the boxes]] --- [[The white doors]] ] ]

Sitting in opposite corners, these doors were the most intriguing of all the ones he had seen. One door, sitting adjacent to the elevator, (if:$phone_in_pocket is 0)[said something he could not understand: //NAH OABOCCALAHFNS GOOFBLE//](if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[said (text-color:green)[//NAH OABOCCALAHFNS GOOFBLE//]<tr1|(click-replace:?tr1)[//THE ACCOMODATIONS OFFICE//. He wondered what it could have meant] ]. But, across from this place... There it was. //THE WRITING LAB//. He recognized the symbols from his communications with central command. (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[For this he had no need for his translator.] This is what he had been sent for. Ann must be in there, at least according to what his team had told him. How was he to know if she really was? What if this was all a lie, a setup, and he was about to be captured? He would never know... unless he stepped through that door. (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[{[[THE ACCOMODATIONS OFFICE]]}](else:)[{ (link:"NAH OABOCCALAHFNS GOOFBLE")[(go-to:"THE ACCOMODATIONS OFFICE")] }] (if:(history:where its name contains "THE WRITING LAB")'s length is 0)[ [[THE WRITING LAB]] ](else:)[ [THE WRITING LAB]<x2|(click:?x2)[(go-to:"3.1 text")]] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The annexing doors]] --- [[The white doors]] --- [[The door with the paper]] ] ]

{  (set: $typewriterPos to 1)  |typewriterOutput>[]  (live: 120ms)[  (append: ?typewriterOutput)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)]  (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1)  (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (set:$typed to it + 1)(stop:) ] ] }

(set: $typewriterText to "Florb... Florb... Florb, this is your commander speaking... Can you hear me?") (display: "Typewriter") (live:)[(if:$typed is 1)[(link:"Yes.")[(set:$typewriterText to"YES OK. Good. I am glad you are finally receiving my signal... For a minute there, it had seemed to us like we had lost our most valuble decoder... Your mission on this planet is simple... Go to the one they call //ANN// and deliver to her the message.") (display:"Typewriter2")] (stop:) ] ] (live:)[(if:$typed is 2)[(link:"Who is //ANN//?")[(set:$typewriterText to"WHO IS ANN? FLORB! You must always know your target's information! This is core to being a decoder! She is a human who works in the //WRITING LAB//, find the message and deliver it to her! Understood?") (display:"Typewriter3.1") (set:$whoisann to 1)]{ }(stop:) ] ](live:)[(if:$operationunderway1 is 1)[(replace:"Who is //ANN//?")[] ] ] (live:)[(if:$typed is 2)[(link:"Understood.")[(set:$typewriterText to"Good. //ANN// should be found in what the humans call the //WRITING LAB//. You will be transported to the location of the message as soon as it is located by our team. The tricky thing about this planet is it's nitrogen-rich atmosphere. If you do not remember your mission or why you are there when you arrive, just give it time. Your memories should reactivate upon seeing your coded-sign.") (display:"Typewriter3.2") (set:$operationunderway1 to 1)]{ }(stop:) ] ](live:)[(if:$whoisann is 1)[(replace:"Understood.")[]] ] (live:)[(if:$typed is 3 and $operationunderway1 is 1)[(link:"What is my coded-sign?")[(set:$typewriterText to"Your coded-sign is: //THE YELLOW ROOM//.") (display:"Typewriter4.1")]{ }(stop:) ] ]{ }(live:)[(if:$typed is 3 and $whoisann is 1)[(link:"Yes...")[(set:$typewriterText to"You really must work on this Florb... You will be transported to the location of the message as soon as it is located by our team. The tricky thing about this planet is it's nitrogen-rich atmosphere. If you do not remember your mission or why you are there when you arrive, just give it time. Your memories should reactivate upon seeing your coded-sign.") (display:"Typewriter4.2")]{ }(stop:) ] ] (live:)[(if:$typed is 4 and $whoisann is 1)[(link:"What is my coded-sign?")[(set:$typewriterText to"Your coded-sign is: //THE YELLOW ROOM//.") (display:"Typewriter5")]{ }(stop:) ] ] (live:)[(if:$convodone is 1)[ [FLORBisCLOOB is out!]<b1|(click:?b1)[(go-to:"2.1 text")] ] ]

{ (set: $typewriterPos to 1) |typewriterOutput2>[] (live: 120ms)[ (append: ?typewriterOutput2)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)] (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1) (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (set:$typed to it + 1)(stop:) ] ] }

{ (set: $typewriterPos to 1) |typewriterOutput31>[] (live: 120ms)[ (append: ?typewriterOutput31)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)] (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1) (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (set:$typed to it + 1)(set:$whoisann to 1)(stop:) ] ] }

{ (set: $typewriterPos to 1) |typewriterOutput32>[] (live: 120ms)[ (append: ?typewriterOutput32)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)] (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1) (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (set:$typed to it + 1)(set:$operationunderway1 to 1)(stop:) ] ] }

{ (set: $typewriterPos to 1) |typewriterOutput41>[] (live: 120ms)[ (append: ?typewriterOutput41)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)] (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1) (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (set:$typed to it + 1)(set:$convodone to 1)(stop:) ] ] }

{ (set: $typewriterPos to 1) |typewriterOutput42>[] (live: 120ms)[ (append: ?typewriterOutput42)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)] (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1) (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (set:$typed to it + 1)(stop:) ] ] }

{ (set: $typewriterPos to 1) |typewriterOutput5>[] (live: 120ms)[ (append: ?typewriterOutput5)[(print: $typewriterText's $typewriterPos)] (set: $typewriterPos to it + 1) (if: $typewriterPos is $typewriterText's length + 1)[ (set:$typed to it + 1)(set:$convodone to 1)(stop:) ] ] }

(if:(history: where its name contains "The door opens (elevator shaft)")'s length is >=1)[Upon returning to the opened elevator doors, this devilish Cloob climbed back down into the dangerous elevator shaft, and carefully made his way back into the elevator, climbing down through the hole in the ceiling. He stood in the elevator, taking it all in.](if:(history: where its name contains "DOOR OPENS1")'s length >=1)[Upon returning to the open elevator, this kenniving Cloob stepped gingerly through the threshold and beheld the elevator within.] What would he look at first? [[The left and right walls]] [[The front and back walls]] [[The floor and the ceiling]]

(if:$note_held is 1)[He had returned with the note! Finally, he could make his way through this puzzle... Looking around the room, he saw several things that caught his eye. For starters, the walls were covered in all sorts of posters and signs. These new things and shapes were positively fascinating to Florb. The room was full of many tables, and many doors. There were nine doors in total: One was directly across from the entrance from the elevator shaft, and upon it were more sheets of paper with strange symbols, like those that had decorated the wall of the elevator, and like those taht seemed to be hanging from some of the other doors as well... Four of the doors seemed to be sectioning off four smaller rooms, all annexed to the edges of the space. Two more white doors were positioned at opposite corners of the room, hidden within small cubbies, and the last two doors were set into boxes that protruded from the walls; also seemingly hiding smaller spaces within. What doors would he inspect first? [[The annexing doors]] [[The white doors]] [[The door with the paper]] [[The doors on the boxes]] ](else:)[Without the note, he would not be able to do much in the way of delivering to Ann... [[Go back to the elevator]] ]

#PART THREE: THE WRITING LAB (after:4s)[(go-to:"3.1 text")]

Tentatively, Florb the Cloob walked up to the door labeled "THE ACCOMODATIONS OFFICE," which, thanks to his translator, he could now read. (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The doors on the boxes]] ] ]

(if:$has_papers + $papers_cut + $has_pen + $has_paperclips is 4)[He had returned with all of the things he needed. He placed the (if:$diagonal is 1)[diagonally cut paper](if:$shortways is 1)[normally cut paper](if:$longways is 1)[vertically cut paper](if:$has_red_pen is 1)[, and the red pen](if:$has_blue_pen is 1)[, and the blue pen](if:$has_Green_pen is 1)[, and the green pen](if:$has_expo_pen)[, and the expo marker, which he didn't need,] onto the desk. Just then, Ann returned. (text-color:yellow)["I see you've gotten all that I had asked for! I am so proud of you kids! You are such good workers. Thank you very much dear, and thank you for delivering that message for me! I had wondered where that note had gotten off to..."] And with that, she was gone. In a flash, all that Florb had come to know of this wonderful, strange, and interesting planet had been consigned to the wind, and he knew what he must then do. But first, he considered if he was ready to leave or not... (link:"He was not ready")[, and so he decided to stick around and play a little longer. Perhaps there were some rooms he had not yet discovered...] (link:"he was ready to go")[, and so he packed up his things, prepared his feathers for the flight, and opened the window to go up into space from whence he came. (if:$phone_in_pocket is 0)[Just at the last second, he wondered to himself... where had that phone gone off to?](after:12s)[(go-to:"END")] ] --- --- --- ]Upon entering the room, Florb felt the weight of a thousand eyes staring upon his many shoulders. He looked around the room, and saw several lamps. One upon a shelf, to the right, next to a large whiteboard, one upon a standing desk to the left, and one sitting on a small, tall black table in the middle of the room. Upon this table sat a laptop. The laptop was thick, and had a white cover. It was open. Florb decided to go up to the laptop. [Inspect Laptop]<inspect|(click-replace:?inspect)[The laptop was silver inside, and boasted a set of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, ...... 78 keys! Wow! Impressive! These //humans// sure had a lot of lettes, he thought to himself. This would be an amazing find for the central command to know! But what was that? The laptop seemed to be... (text-style:"smear")[glowing.] He decided to push one of the keys... [F]<F|(click-replace:?F)[The laptop booted up! It was on... He had awoken the beast... [[Play with laptop]] ] ]{ }(if:(history:where its name contains "Play with laptop")'s length is >=1)[(if:$met_ann is 0)[(go-to:"ANN JUMPSCARE")] ] (if:$met_ann is 1)[The whiteboard now had his objectives on it: --- #####1. Get papers (floor above, white doors)(if:$has_papers is 1)[ (text-color:red)[COMPLETE]] #####2. Cut papers (annexed room with machine)(if:$papers_cut is 1)[ (text-color:red)[COMPLETE]] #####3. Get pen (annexed room with bucket)(if:$has_pen is 1)[ (text-color:red)[COMPLETE]] #####4. Grab paper-clip (annexed room with box)(if:$has_paperclips is 1)[ (text-color:red)[COMPLETE]] (if:$has_expo_pen is 1)[{ (link:"He wrote on the board:")[''He wrote on the board:'' //FLORBis CLOOB WAS HERE...//, in his own language, of course.] }] --- (if:$has_papers + $papers_cut + $has_pen + $has_paperclips is <4)[Now he could come back here to check on his tasks, whenever he needed to. He went over to the desk and grabbed the keys. (link:"Grab Keys")[(set:$has_keys to 1)] (if:$has_papers + $papers_cut + $has_pen + $has_paperclips is <4)[He must go off and seek his quest! [Seek!]<p1|(click:?p1)[(go-to:"2.2 text")] ] ] ]

Very well done! Now, go back! (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- (link:"Back")[(go-to:"How to Play")] ] ]

He entered the first room with the small black box on it, covered in writing. Upon closer inspection, (if:$phone_in_pocket is 1)[he saw that the box had an inscription in human writing, and thought that he might be able to translate it with his translator: { (text-color:green)[//BALHFO HEHES//]<b1|(click-replace:?b1)[//PAPER CLIPS//]. } Indeed! This was surely what he needed!](if:$phone_in_pocket is 0)[he realized that the inscription was of human words!!! What delicate things they where, so beautiful! He wondered if this was the box that Ann had described to him] (link:"Grab paper clips")[(set:$has_paperclips to 1)] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The annexing doors]] ] ]

He entered the room and he stared at the bucket of tubes on the table. This was no ordinary set of tubes; these were //pens//! These inventive humans had created small cylindrical shapes that they stored inks within, that they could use to stain paper in the shape of their letters. Cloobs had a sack for this, but none the less Florb admired the humans for a brief moment. [Examine bucket]<b1|(click-replace:?b1)[{ [Take out pens]<b2|}(click-replace:?b2)[//Take out pens:// [Red pen]<b3| [Blue pen]<b4| [Green pen]<b5| [Black expo pen]<b6| ] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The annexing doors]] ] ]{ (click-replace:?b3)[//Red pen//(set:$has_pen to 1){ }(set:$has_red_pen to 1)] (click-replace:?b4)[//Blue pen//(set:$has_pen to 1){ }(set:$has_blue_pen to 1)] (click-replace:?b5)[//Green pen//(set:$has_pen to 1){ }(set:$has_Green_pen to 1)] (click-replace:?b6)[//Black expo pen//(set:$has_expo_pen to 1)]}

He entered into the room with the square machine on its desk. He oggled at it for a moment. In the yellow light of the room behind him glinted off of the bladed arm. It was sharp, and long. It traced the whole length of the machine, peaking out of the arm like a hand from a sleeve; a deadly hand, Florb thought.(if:$has_papers is 0)[ But, he did not have the papers! They must be upstairs, past the white door!](if:$has_papers is 1)[ Florb placed the papers onto the desk, eying the machine. It made him feel very uneasy, and he was tempted to leave. But no, he must stay, for Ann needed his help! He wondered how Ann had wanted the papers cut, as she had never said... He placed the stack of papers in the machine... |x1>[{[Long ways]<b1|(click-replace:?b1)[Long ways(set:$longways to 1)]}], as to cut down the middle of the length of the papers, |x2>[{[Diagonal]<b2|(click-replace:?b1)[Diagonal(set:$diagonal to 1)]}], as to cut them along a diagonal from the left corner to the right, |x3>[{[Short ways]<b3|(click-replace:?b1)[Short ways(set:$shortways to 1)]}], as to cut them down the middle, between the who images, and [cut]<b4|!(click-replace:?b4)[cut(set:$papers_cut to 1)] ] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [To go to: --- [[The annexing doors]] ] ]{(live:)[ (if:$longways is 1)[(replace:?x2, ?x3)[(text-color:red)[XXXX XXXX]] ](stop:) (if:$diagonal is 1)[(replace:?x1, ?x3)[(text-color:red)[XXXX XXXX]] ](stop:) (if:$shortways is 1)[(replace:?x1, ?x2)[(text-color:red)[XXXX XXXX]] ](stop:) ]}

(hide:?sidebar)Darkness... As he entered the room, which ANN had asked him so nicely not to enter, he began to feel an overwhelming sense of peace. The darkness was not, as he had feared, an evil darkness, but rather a deep, calm darkness. One that struck him to his core. He then saw the reason for the darkness: All of the light of the room had escaped, through a small gap in the far window, he could see onto the cool night of Paris. The deep and rich night air fluttered in, and he could hear birds and wind play along the quai in the nighttime. It was peace, //true// peace. Florb reflected on his work, as a decoder, and thought about what it was that had pushed him to join this line of work in the first place. Back on his home world he was a nobody, and he felt like doing this work, serving the people of his galaxy, he could make himself into something. At least this way his short short life of 790 years (if he was lucky) was worth something in the end. 500 years of service, that's what he aimed for. A humble task, one that he thought could bring him good feeling and full //stomach-heart// in future years upon reflection. He thought about the meadows of his home-grove. He thought about the starts at night, and how on all the planets he had been to, none of them looked //quite// like home. He thought about what it was like to get to serve such a large community, a community that did not even know he was there most of the time (especially here on earth, he had heard... man, that nitrogen-amnesia was strong!). But, he felt good about this. He felt humble, and that felt good. He considered weather to spend another few moments here, perhaps 150 seconds or so, enjoying the silence... (link:"Enjoy")[(after:150s)[(go-to:"The annexing doors")] ] (link:"Get going")[(go-to:"The annexing doors")]

=|= ###APPS: (link:"TWINE")[(go-to:"Twine")] (link:"FIREFOX")[(go-to:"Firefox")] =|= ###FILES: (link:"DIGPO")[(go-to:"Digpo")] |==| (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [CONTROLS: --- [EXIT]<xt|(click:?xt)[(go-to:"3.1 text")] --- [SIGN IN]<sngin|(click-replace:?sngin)[[(set:$namegiven to (prompt:[NAME:], "", "Exit", "Confirm"))[USER: ](print:$namegiven)] ](if:(history:where its name contains"Play with laptop")'s length is >=1)[(replace:?sngin)[[USER:](print:$namegiven)] ] ] ]

(set:$met_ann to 1)(after:7s)[<img src=https://www.europa-uni.de/en/struktur/zll/institutionen/schreibzentrum/EWCA2014/Call-for-papers/EWCA-board-candidates/Ann-Mott_3.jpg> [(text-style:"bold","expand","tall","blink")[HELLO!]]<x| (after:12s)[(link:"stop the blinking!!!")[(replace:?x)[(text-style:"bold","expand","tall")[HELLO!]] ] ] (text-color:yellow)["I'm Ann! Well, aren't you just a strange little creature... What's your name?"] //ANN//!!! This was the moment that he had been waiting for... "//ANN!//" He tried to say, though it ended up coming out something like "(text-style:"italic","blurrier","mirror")[.FLGEEHAG]" (if:$note_held is 1)[He remembered the note... He realized what the message must be that he needed to deliver to Ann! "Here's the note, Ann!" he tried to say, though it ended up coming out like "(text-style:"italic","blurrier","mirror")[!XHOWHZXHKOQHEEAG]" (text-color:yellow)["I'm sorry sweetie, but I can't understand a word you're saying to me! Would you be a dear and come a little closer?"] Hah! He couldn't believe it! The great Ann! Asking him to come closer!! He was amazed. But there was no time for that! He quickly reminded himself of his duties, he must give ann the note! Florb (if:$note_in_pocket is 1)[reached into his pants and] pulled out the note he had saved from the elevator wall... (if:$translated121 is 0)[What could it have meant?!] He thumbed it in one of his left hands, and he handed it to Ann... (text-color:yellow)["Tell.. Ann... The... Papers... Are... Printed... Well honey, why didn't you just say so! You really aught to work on your people skills, dear. Say, why don't you go get those for me? I'll need you to do a few things for me:"] She proceeded to write down several things on the whiteboard that sat atop the shelf on the right side of the room, next to the lamp. (text-color:yellow)["1. You'll need to go get the papers. They should be up on the floor above us in the printer. Use the white doors if you get lost! 2. You'll need to take them into the side room just out there and cut them to size for me. 3. You'll need to grab a red pen for me from the little pen-basket on the table out there. and finally 4. You'll need to grab a paper-clip from that little box in the other room." Just make sure, whatever you do, //you do not go in the room with the darkness//. You know, I really don't know why all these things are so spread out... My keys are on the desk if you need help getting into any of the rooms. Anyhow, I've got to get out of here! You kids stay safe now(if:$has_pants is 0)[, and //you//, put on some pants]!] [Back]<g1|(click:?g1)[(go-to:"3.1 text")] ](else:)[He remembered what his officer had said to him. He needed that note! Unable to find the words in shame, he ran out of the room in search of it... It must have been in the elevator!(set:$looking4note to 1) [[Go back to the elevator]] ] ]

Looking around the room, he saw several things that caught his eye. For starters, the walls were covered in all sorts of posters and signs. These new things and shapes were positively fascinating to Florb. The room was full of many tables, and many doors. There were nine doors in total: One was directly across from the entrance of the elevator[ shaft]<h1|, and upon it were more sheets of paper with strange symbols, like those that had decorated the wall of the elevator, and like those that seemed to be hanging from some of the other doors as well... Four of the doors seemed to be sectioning off four smaller rooms, all annexed to the edges of the space. Two more white doors were positioned at opposite corners of the room, hidden within small cubbies, and the last two doors were set into boxes that protruded from the walls; also seemingly hiding smaller spaces within. What doors would he inspect first? [[The annexing doors]] [[The white doors]] [[The door with the paper]] [[The doors on the boxes]]

Florb rushed back hurriedly, note in hand... "Here's the note, Ann!" he tried to say, though it ended up coming out like "(text-style:"italic","blurrier","mirror")[!XHOWHZXHKOQHEEAG]" (text-color:yellow)["I'm sorry sweetie, but I can't understand a word you're saying to me! Would you be a dear and come a little closer?"] Hah! He couldn't believe it! The great Ann! Asking him to come closer!! He was amazed. But there was no time for that! He quickly reminded himself of his duties, he must give ann the note! Florb (if:$note_in_pocket is 1)[reached into his pants and] pulled out the note he had saved from the elevator wall... (if:$translated121 is 0)[What could it have meant?!] He thumbed it in one of his left hands, and he handed it to Ann... (text-color:yellow)["Tell.. Ann... The... Papers... Are... Printed... Well honey, why didn't you just say so! You really aught to work on your people skills, dear. Say, why don't you go get those for me? I'll need you to do a few things for me:"] She proceeded to write down several things on the whiteboard that sat atop the shelf on the right side of the room, next to the lamp. (text-color:yellow)["1. You'll need to go get the papers. They should be up on the floor above us in the printer. Use the white doors if you get lost! 2. You'll need to take them into the side room just out there and cut them to size for me. 3. You'll need to grab a red pen for me from the little pen-basket on the table out there. and finally 4. You'll need to grab a paper-clip from that little box in the other room." Just make sure, whatever you do, //you do not go in the room with the darkness//. You know, I really don't know why all these things are so spread out... My keys are on the desk if you need help getting into any of the rooms. Anyhow, I've got to get out of here! You kids stay safe now(if:$has_pants is 0)[, and //you//, put on some pants]!] [Back]<g1|(click:?g1)[(go-to:"3.1 text")]

Entering the stairwell, he felt a sudden woosh of cold air blow past him. He was amazed at the thick feeling of dew in the inside air, pulling at the fabrics of his tightly-woven skin. He pushed through, and arrived steadily at the upper floor. Here, he saw it. The (text-colour:#ffd500)[(text-style:"smear")[golden printer]], shining in all its glory. Within the printer there was a stack of papers, 35 sheets high and 2 sheets wide... Florb understood why he would need to cut these papers... (link:"Grab the papers")[(set:$has_papers to 1){ }(link:"Return")[(go-to:"2.2 text")] ]

#THE END! (after:3s)[Thank you for playing my silly little game. If your name is Russel Williams, please read the following: (link:"For Russel.")[This assignment was a great deal of fun for me to complete. I sure hope that you enjoyed the game, and I sure hope you were able to get through it in under 20 minutes... come to think of it I sure hope you are reading this in the first place! My perspective on storytelling has been forever changed.] If not, then have a good rest of your day!]

###STORIES: (text-color:white)[[JOYCE SIMULATOR]] (text-color:white)[[FLORBIS CLOOB VISITS THE WRITING LAB]] (replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [CONTROLS: --- [BACK]<xt|(click:?xt)[(go-to:"Play with laptop")] --- USER: (print:$namegiven) ] ]

(replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [CONTROLS: --- [BACK]<xt|(click:?xt)[(go-to:"Play with laptop")] --- USER: (print:$namegiven) ] ]##FIREFOX SEARCH: (force-input-box:"X",1,"ratemyprofessor.com/russelwilliamsaup") (link:"ENTER")[ Russel Williams is an amazing professor, working within the department of literature at AUP. I took his Digital Poetics class in fall of 2024, and in that class I was introduced to a little game-making endine called Twine, and in that Engine I created a little game called "Florbis Cloob visits the Writing lab," which was a truly meta-experience. Without the assistance of Russel Williams, I could never have been able to create such an introspective universe. 10/10 stars. -Julian Dixey]

(replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) [CONTROLS: --- [BACK]<xt|(click:?xt)[(go-to:"Play with laptop")] --- USER: (print:$namegiven) ] ](enchant:?passage,(b4r:"solid")+(b4r-size:1.5)+(b4r-colour:lime))[=''FILES:'' (link:"Dennis Cooper Experiment")[Dennis Cooper’s Zach’s Haunted House GIF series, written out. It’s been a long night of study, and wearily my eyes drift from word to word as I jott down the fragments that escape my failing mind, unsure of what is truly there from what I write. I rest my forehead on the book, and my eyes are heavy, I am exhausted. As I battle with what surely seems like death, I know I cannot resist it any longer. I begin to cough up blood onto my book. I take a shower, the water splits, the water streams the water drips, the drops fall in front of my eyes in sheets. I am on the floor, wailing, my book still in my hand. Three boys now stand before me, they make food in an assemly line, their feet are adorned with poor old shoes. A train passes by, and runs over a child; he seems to have gotten too close out of love. As the train moves on a man leans out the window and the conductor, who seems to be a large mouse, waves his hand up and down, frantically. Shit. The train’s gone and derailed on a bridge. The pale moonlight above turns away. In the darkness, an arm twists. I feel like I have seen it before. It raises a finger, and points to me; awkwardly, accidentally, it pokes me in the eye. I cover my face with my hands and shake with fear. The finger is now a gun, pointed at my retina. In flames, a skull flashes, a dog is caught in fear between two coushins, and a rocket flies into the air in the distance. I reach for the gun, and check if it is loaded. The fight begins, I dodge the bullets flying at me. I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding a lot. There is aplause, perhaps someone has won. The arm from before sinks into the darkness, the long, long darkness. The skeletal hand of death dangles before me a cross, made from a curving blade. Suddenly, I am blinded, yet I can still see a small amount. A flash of green, a twinkle of white, and the arm is back, green and long, clawing its way back to the surface. I fall asleep, and as I sleep I see myself, and I am reminded of a puppy, or a lamb. In the darkness, the hand percieves me sleeping peacefully, and rubs a cotton swab over my lips. The moon hanging in my mind turns blood red, and an eyeball rolls toward me over a field of streaming blood. The blood drops into the bath, and coagulates, lumpy and still moving, postmortem.> A final confruntation. I am accused of eating babies. That can’t be right, what is this human saying to me? “You eat babies,” he says, calmly, still pointing his gun at me. “You have to,” he says, “to survive. Everyone knows that. Ain’t your fault.” He points the gun at me, for the execution. The blood that was streaming from my lips recends; I am nothing. The executioner tells me he needs me, but I see he is a snake. The universe twists in my mind, and the hand is covered in my blood. The executioner standing before me is suddenly split by an axe, and I see his two halvs fall opposite one another, but all I can see are his shoes, splitting the wrong way. Perhaps he was never the executioner, but just the guard. The bloodied axe is lifted above my head, like a knife. The pale light of the morning awakens me. The blood is gone, but my notes and also my book are filled with incoherent words.(hide:?h2)]<h1| (link:"剽窃论文")[朱利安-迪克西 CL:2083 拉塞尔-威廉姆斯 2024 年 1 月 11 日 · 读者 · 作者 · 编者 · 是抄袭 , 还是合理引用? — 一篇署名文章引起的思考人类的智力创作 , 从来都是在前人成果的墓础上完成的 , 然而 , 它又必须包含与前人有所不同的、自身的创作 . 几千年以来的文明史就是沿若继承与发展这条道路发展过来的. 因此 , 在作品中引用他人的成果是很自然的. 但是 , 应当如何区别哪种引用是合理的, 哪种引用是属于抄袭别人的作品。这个问翅 , 无论对于作者 , 或者对于编辑 , 都是十分严肃的。日前看到国家版权局《著作权》编辑部常青同志的文章 ( 见《中国科技期刊研究》 1 9 95 年第 2 期) , 颇有感触。为了说明问题 , 我想占用贵刊一点版面 , 以一篇文章为实例 , 请广大读者与编辑共同分析一下 , 该文究竟属于合理引用 , 抑或属于抄袭他人之作 . 四年前 , 创刊不久的《编辑学报》在其第 3 卷的增刊上 l( 9 91 年 11 月) , 发表了一篇题为“ 科技期刊中化学式的编排 ” 的署名文章。文章内容是介绍有关编辑常识和技巧的. 然而就在这样一篇 ( 仅占七又三分之一页) 不算长的文幸中, 竟然有将近 6 页的内容直接“ 引自” 《著编译审校指南 )( 江建名编著 , 中国科学技术大学出版社 , 1 95 8 年 ) 一书的一章“ s1 化学式的编排法 ” . 而这本书仅是该文引用的三篇参考文献之一该文究竟是怎样 “ 引用” 江建名同志的作品的( 以下称“ 江著勺呢 ? 该文 ` 6 页“ 4 . 1 分子式的编排” l 一 2、 7 一 8 、 1 0一 1 3 行抄自江著 27 4 页“ 1 8 , 2 分子式的编排” 中第 4 行和倒数第 4 一 3 、 2 一 l 行。该文“ 4. 2 . 1 反应符号 ” 46 页右栏 2 一 4 行和“ 4 . .2 2 编排方祛 ” 1 一 2 行分别抄自江著 27 6 页“ 18 . 3 化学方程式的编排” 11 一 13 行和倒数 7 一 6 行。该文勺 . 2 . 3 编排示例” 46 一 47 页的取代反应 … … 硝化反应分别抄自江著“ 18 . 5 化学方程式排法示例” 2 79 一 2叨页的取代反应、加成反应、醋化反应、异构化反应、芳构化反应、磺化反应、硝化反应。该文 47 页“ 4 . 3 健号的使用与辨别” ] 一 3 行和 “ 4. 4 . 1” 节分别抄自江著 2 80 页“ 招 . 6 结构式的常用符号” 1 一 2 行 ( 注: 未抄完整 ) 和“ 1 .8 7 元素和原子团的排法 ” 的“ l ) ” ( 28 1一 28 2) . 该文 47 页“ 4 . 4 . 2 ” 节抄自江著 “ 1 8. 7 ” 节的 “ 2 ) ” ( 2 8 2 一 28 3 页) ( 注 : 蔺萄塘一词未抄完整) . 该文 48 页“ 4 , 月 . 3” 节抄自江著 2 83 页 “ 3 ) ” 1 一 6 行 . 仅略去硝基苯一例而已。该文 48 页“ 4 . 5 位序的排法” 抄自江著 2 84 页 “ 1.8 8 位序排法。节中第 1一 6 行和 2 55 页 3 一 5 、 8 一功行 . 该文 4 8 页“ 4 . 7 化学方程式的转行 ” 2 一 6 行抄自江著灯 7 页 3 一 6 行。该文 49 页勺 . 9 有机化学中常见的荃符号 ” 抄自江著“ &l 12 有机化学中常见基的符号 , ( 2 90 页 ) , 只是改变了一下各有机基团的顺序, 但不及江著齐全。该文刁9 页. ` . 1仪 2 、 4 . 1.0 3 、 `. 10 . 4 、 4 . 10 . 5 、 4 . 1 .0 6 . 各节分别抄自江薯“ l ` 14 烷烃结构式示例, 〔2 92 一 29 3 页 ) “ l 民 15 烯经结构式示例” ( 2 9 3 页 ) 、 . 18` 1 7 炔烃结构式示例 . ( 2 9` 页) 、 “ 18 . 15 环烷烃结构式示例 , (即 4 一器 5 页 ) 、勺 8. 19 环始烃结构式示例” ( 29 5 刃。该文 50 页“ 4 . 1 .0 7、 4. 1 0· 8、 4 . 1 0. 9 , 各节分别抄自江著 “ 18. 2 0 芳香烃结构式示例 ” 的` l ) 、 2 ) ” ( 2 95 一 29 6 页 ) 、 “ 1 -5 2 1 卤代烃结构式示例” 的勺 ) 、 2 ) , ( 29 6 页 ) 、气 8. 22 醉结构式示例 ” ( 2 97 页 ) 的部分内容。同页、 . 10 . 10 、 4. 1 0. 11 、 4 . 10 . 2 2、 4. 1 0. 13 、 ` 10 . 14 ” 各节分别抄自江著“ .18 25 醛结构式示例” ( 29 9 页 ) 、 “ 18 . 26 酮结构式示例叹 29 9 页 ) 、勺 8 . 23 醚结构式示例” ( 2 9 8 页 ) 、 “ 1.8 2 4 阶结构式示例” ( 29 8 页 ) 、 “ 18 . 27 筱酸结构式示例” ( 3 0 0 页 ) . 该文 5 1 页“ 4. 10 . 15 、 4. 10 . 16 、 4. 10 . 17 ” 各节分别抄自江著 “ 18 . 3 1 含氮化合物结构式示例” ( 3 0 3 一 3 04 页 ) 、 “ 18 . 32 格结构式示例 , ( 3 0 5一 306 页 ) 、 “ l 乐 33 杂环化合物结构式示例” ( 3 0 7一 3 08 页) 的部分内容 . 同页“ 4. 1 0. 1 7、 4. 1 0. 18 ” 两节分别抄自江著“ 18 . 35 高分子化合物结构式示例 ” (3 09 一 3 10 ) 、 “ .18 34 氮基酸的结构式示例” (3 09 页 ) 部分内容 . 该文 51 页“ 5 化学符号的编排” 中场 . 1” 的第 l 一 3 行抄自江著 27 4 页 “ 18 . 2 分子式的编排” 中 1一 3 行。从上述的“ 引用” 看 , 该文主要部分勺化学式的编排方法” ( 朽一 51 页 ) , 无论是各节的编排、标题 , 或是文字叙述、示例 , 几乎绝大部分是从江著“ 18 化学式的编排法” 相应部分照抄、照撅而来 . 难道介绍化学式编排方法 , 在内容编排、文字叙迷、示例选用上只能照抄、照搬 , 无法按读者髻要 , 独立构思 , 重新组织 , 再行创作吗? 尽管该文把江文列为参考文献 , 但是人们不萦要问: 如果把上述所谓引自江著的材料从该文中统统去掉 , 那么剩余的、属于署名作者本人的“ 创作” 还有几何? 这不是抄袭他人作品 , 又是什么? 至于达到怎样程度 , 读者不妨参照常青同志所提的引用总t 进行分析评估。令人不可理解的是 , 该文发表至今 , 却始终未见有关撤销此文、消除影响的声明。罗素-威廉姆斯学院，比较剽窃和剽窃作品系，巴黎美国大学，法国巴黎、 , 2 0 2 4 . 6 ( 4 ) 6(hide:?h1)]<h2|

(replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white)+(font:"Orbitron") [CONTROLS: --- [BACK]<xt|(click:?xt)[(go-to:"Twine")] --- USER: (print:$namegiven) ] ] ###Joyce Simulator: Picture this: You are James Joyce, in 1914, and you've just had a wonderful idea. You've been reading quite a lot of Greek epics and you think to yourself: "why can't a Joe Shmoe like me from the streets o' Dublin have an epic written about 'im?" (That was Joyce speaking). And so, with thoughts of Homer (and Project Gutenberg) you begin to write: (force-input-box:"X",9,"Ulysses by James Joyce Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: —_Introibo ad altare Dei_. Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called out coarsely: —Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit! Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He faced about and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and the awaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent towards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat and shaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned his arms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurgling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light untonsured hair, grained and hued like pale oak. Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then covered the bowl smartly. —Back to barracks! he said sternly. He added in a preacher’s tone: —For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and soul and blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One moment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all. He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, then paused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here and there with gold points. Chrysostomos. Two strong shrill whistles answered through the calm. —Thanks, old chap, he cried briskly. That will do nicely. Switch off the current, will you? He skipped off the gunrest and looked gravely at his watcher, gathering about his legs the loose folds of his gown. The plump shadowed face and sullen oval jowl recalled a prelate, patron of arts in the middle ages. A pleasant smile broke quietly over his lips. —The mockery of it! he said gaily. Your absurd name, an ancient Greek! He pointed his finger in friendly jest and went over to the parapet, laughing to himself. Stephen Dedalus stepped up, followed him wearily halfway and sat down on the edge of the gunrest, watching him still as he propped his mirror on the parapet, dipped the brush in the bowl and lathered cheeks and neck. Buck Mulligan’s gay voice went on. —My name is absurd too: Malachi Mulligan, two dactyls. But it has a Hellenic ring, hasn’t it? Tripping and sunny like the buck himself. We must go to Athens. Will you come if I can get the aunt to fork out twenty quid? He laid the brush aside and, laughing with delight, cried: —Will he come? The jejune jesuit! Ceasing, he began to shave with care. —Tell me, Mulligan, Stephen said quietly. —Yes, my love? —How long is Haines going to stay in this tower? Buck Mulligan showed a shaven cheek over his right shoulder. —God, isn’t he dreadful? he said frankly. A ponderous Saxon. He thinks you’re not a gentleman. God, these bloody English! Bursting with money and indigestion. Because he comes from Oxford. You know, Dedalus, you have the real Oxford manner. He can’t make you out. O, my name for you is the best: Kinch, the knife-blade. He shaved warily over his chin. —He was raving all night about a black panther, Stephen said. Where is his guncase? —A woful lunatic! Mulligan said. Were you in a funk? —I was, Stephen said with energy and growing fear. Out here in the dark with a man I don’t know raving and moaning to himself about shooting a black panther. You saved men from drowning. I’m not a hero, however. If he stays on here I am off. Buck Mulligan frowned at the lather on his razorblade. He hopped down from his perch and began to search his trouser pockets hastily. —Scutter! he cried thickly. He came over to the gunrest and, thrusting a hand into Stephen’s upper pocket, said: —Lend us a loan of your noserag to wipe my razor. Stephen suffered him to pull out and hold up on show by its corner a dirty crumpled handkerchief. Buck Mulligan wiped the razorblade neatly. Then, gazing over the handkerchief, he said: —The bard’s noserag! A new art colour for our Irish poets: snotgreen. You can almost taste it, can’t you? He mounted to the parapet again and gazed out over Dublin bay, his fair oakpale hair stirring slightly. —God! he said quietly. Isn’t the sea what Algy calls it: a great sweet mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. _Epi oinopa ponton_. Ah, Dedalus, the Greeks! I must teach you. You must read them in the original. _Thalatta! Thalatta!_ She is our great sweet mother. Come and look. Stephen stood up and went over to the parapet. Leaning on it he looked down on the water and on the mailboat clearing the harbourmouth of Kingstown. —Our mighty mother! Buck Mulligan said. He turned abruptly his grey searching eyes from the sea to Stephen’s face. —The aunt thinks you killed your mother, he said. That’s why she won’t let me have anything to do with you. —Someone killed her, Stephen said gloomily. —You could have knelt down, damn it, Kinch, when your dying mother asked you, Buck Mulligan said. I’m hyperborean as much as you. But to think of your mother begging you with her last breath to kneel down and pray for her. And you refused. There is something sinister in you.... He broke off and lathered again lightly his farther cheek. A tolerant smile curled his lips. —But a lovely mummer! he murmured to himself. Kinch, the loveliest mummer of them all! He shaved evenly and with care, in silence, seriously. Stephen, an elbow rested on the jagged granite, leaned his palm against his brow and gazed at the fraying edge of his shiny black coat-sleeve. Pain, that was not yet the pain of love, fretted his heart. Silently, in a dream she had come to him after her death, her wasted body within its loose brown graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, that had bent upon him, mute, reproachful, a faint odour of wetted ashes. Across the threadbare cuffedge he saw the sea hailed as a great sweet mother by the wellfed voice beside him. The ring of bay and skyline held a dull green mass of liquid. A bowl of white china had stood beside her deathbed holding the green sluggish bile which she had torn up from her rotting liver by fits of loud groaning vomiting. Buck Mulligan wiped again his razorblade. —Ah, poor dogsbody! he said in a kind voice. I must give you a shirt and a few noserags. How are the secondhand breeks? —They fit well enough, Stephen answered. Buck Mulligan attacked the hollow beneath his underlip. —The mockery of it, he said contentedly. Secondleg they should be. God knows what poxy bowsy left them off. I have a lovely pair with a hair stripe, grey. You’ll look spiffing in them. I’m not joking, Kinch. You look damn well when you’re dressed. —Thanks, Stephen said. I can’t wear them if they are grey. —He can’t wear them, Buck Mulligan told his face in the mirror. Etiquette is etiquette. He kills his mother but he can’t wear grey trousers. He folded his razor neatly and with stroking palps of fingers felt the smooth skin. Stephen turned his gaze from the sea and to the plump face with its smokeblue mobile eyes. —That fellow I was with in the Ship last night, said Buck Mulligan, says you have g. p. i. He’s up in Dottyville with Connolly Norman. General paralysis of the insane! He swept the mirror a half circle in the air to flash the tidings abroad in sunlight now radiant on the sea. His curling shaven lips laughed and the edges of his white glittering teeth. Laughter seized all his strong wellknit trunk. —Look at yourself, he said, you dreadful bard! Stephen bent forward and peered at the mirror held out to him, cleft by a crooked crack. Hair on end. As he and others see me. Who chose this face for me? This dogsbody to rid of vermin. It asks me too. —I pinched it out of the skivvy’s room, Buck Mulligan said. It does her all right. The aunt always keeps plainlooking servants for Malachi. Lead him not into temptation. And her name is Ursula. Laughing again, he brought the mirror away from Stephen’s peering eyes. —The rage of Caliban at not seeing his face in a mirror, he said. If Wilde were only alive to see you! Drawing back and pointing, Stephen said with bitterness: —It is a symbol of Irish art. The cracked lookingglass of a servant. Buck Mulligan suddenly linked his arm in Stephen’s and walked with him round the tower, his razor and mirror clacking in the pocket where he had thrust them. —It’s not fair to tease you like that, Kinch, is it? he said kindly. God knows you have more spirit than any of them. Parried again. He fears the lancet of my art as I fear that of his. The cold steel pen. —Cracked lookingglass of a servant! Tell that to the oxy chap downstairs and touch him for a guinea. He’s stinking with money and thinks you’re not a gentleman. His old fellow made his tin by selling jalap to Zulus or some bloody swindle or other. God, Kinch, if you and I could only work together we might do something for the island. Hellenise it. Cranly’s arm. His arm. —And to think of your having to beg from these swine. I’m the only one that knows what you are. Why don’t you trust me more? What have you up your nose against me? Is it Haines? If he makes any noise here I’ll bring down Seymour and we’ll give him a ragging worse than they gave Clive Kempthorpe. Young shouts of moneyed voices in Clive Kempthorpe’s rooms. Palefaces: they hold their ribs with laughter, one clasping another. O, I shall expire! Break the news to her gently, Aubrey! I shall die! With slit ribbons of his shirt whipping the air he hops and hobbles round the table, with trousers down at heels, chased by Ades of Magdalen with the tailor’s shears. A scared calf’s face gilded with marmalade. I don’t want to be debagged! Don’t you play the giddy ox with me! Shouts from the open window startling evening in the quadrangle. A deaf gardener, aproned, masked with Matthew Arnold’s face, pushes his mower on the sombre lawn watching narrowly the dancing motes of grasshalms. To ourselves... new paganism... omphalos. —Let him stay, Stephen said. There’s nothing wrong with him except at night. —Then what is it? Buck Mulligan asked impatiently. Cough it up. I’m quite frank with you. What have you against me now? They halted, looking towards the blunt cape of Bray Head that lay on the water like the snout of a sleeping whale. Stephen freed his arm quietly. —Do you wish me to tell you? he asked. —Yes, what is it? Buck Mulligan answered. I don’t remember anything. He looked in Stephen’s face as he spoke. A light wind passed his brow, fanning softly his fair uncombed hair and stirring silver points of anxiety in his eyes. Stephen, depressed by his own voice, said: —Do you remember the first day I went to your house after my mother’s death? Buck Mulligan frowned quickly and said: —What? Where? I can’t remember anything. I remember only ideas and sensations. Why? What happened in the name of God? —You were making tea, Stephen said, and went across the landing to get more hot water. Your mother and some visitor came out of the drawingroom. She asked you who was in your room. —Yes? Buck Mulligan said. What did I say? I forget. —You said, Stephen answered, _O, it’s only Dedalus whose mother is beastly dead._ A flush which made him seem younger and more engaging rose to Buck Mulligan’s cheek. —Did I say that? he asked. Well? What harm is that? He shook his constraint from him nervously. —And what is death, he asked, your mother’s or yours or my own? You saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It’s a beastly thing and nothing else. It simply doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t kneel down to pray for your mother on her deathbed when she asked you. Why? Because you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, only it’s injected the wrong way. To me it’s all a mockery and beastly. Her cerebral lobes are not functioning. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups off the quilt. Humour her till it’s over. You crossed her last wish in death and yet you sulk with me because I don’t whinge like some hired mute from Lalouette’s. Absurd! I suppose I did say it. I didn’t mean to offend the memory of your mother. He had spoken himself into boldness. Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds which the words had left in his heart, said very coldly: —I am not thinking of the offence to my mother. —Of what then? Buck Mulligan asked. —Of the offence to me, Stephen answered. Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel. —O, an impossible person! he exclaimed. He walked off quickly round the parapet. Stephen stood at his post, gazing over the calm sea towards the headland. Sea and headland now grew dim. Pulses were beating in his eyes, veiling their sight, and he felt the fever of his cheeks. A voice within the tower called loudly: —Are you up there, Mulligan? —I’m coming, Buck Mulligan answered. He turned towards Stephen and said: —Look at the sea. What does it care about offences? Chuck Loyola, Kinch, and come on down. The Sassenach wants his morning rashers. His head halted again for a moment at the top of the staircase, level with the roof: —Don’t mope over it all day, he said. I’m inconsequent. Give up the moody brooding. His head vanished but the drone of his descending voice boomed out of the stairhead: And no more turn aside and brood Upon love’s bitter mystery For Fergus rules the brazen cars. Woodshadows floated silently by through the morning peace from the stairhead seaward where he gazed. Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened, spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of the dim sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucking the harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded words shimmering on the dim tide. A cloud began to cover the sun slowly, wholly, shadowing the bay in deeper green. It lay beneath him, a bowl of bitter waters. Fergus’ song: I sang it alone in the house, holding down the long dark chords. Her door was open: she wanted to hear my music. Silent with awe and pity I went to her bedside. She was crying in her wretched bed. For those words, Stephen: love’s bitter mystery. Where now? Her secrets: old featherfans, tasselled dancecards, powdered with musk, a gaud of amber beads in her locked drawer. A birdcage hung in the sunny window of her house when she was a girl. She heard old Royce sing in the pantomime of Turko the Terrible and laughed with others when he sang: I am the boy That can enjoy Invisibility. Phantasmal mirth, folded away: muskperfumed. And no more turn aside and brood. Folded away in the memory of nature with her toys. Memories beset his brooding brain. Her glass of water from the kitchen tap when she had approached the sacrament. A cored apple, filled with brown sugar, roasting for her at the hob on a dark autumn evening. Her shapely fingernails reddened by the blood of squashed lice from the children’s shirts. In a dream, silently, she had come to him, her wasted body within its loose graveclothes giving off an odour of wax and rosewood, her breath, bent over him with mute secret words, a faint odour of wetted ashes. Her glazing eyes, staring out of death, to shake and bend my soul. On me alone. The ghostcandle to light her agony. Ghostly light on the tortured face. Her hoarse loud breath rattling in horror, while all prayed on their knees. Her eyes on me to strike me down. _Liliata rutilantium te confessorum turma circumdet: iubilantium te virginum chorus excipiat._ Ghoul! Chewer of corpses! No, mother! Let me be and let me live. —Kinch ahoy! Buck Mulligan’s voice sang from within the tower. It came nearer up the staircase, calling again. Stephen, still trembling at his soul’s cry, heard warm running sunlight and in the air behind him friendly words. —Dedalus, come down, like a good mosey. Breakfast is ready. Haines is apologising for waking us last night. It’s all right. —I’m coming, Stephen said, turning. —Do, for Jesus’ sake, Buck Mulligan said. For my sake and for all our sakes. His head disappeared and reappeared. —I told him your symbol of Irish art. He says it’s very clever. Touch him for a quid, will you? A guinea, I mean. —I get paid this morning, Stephen said. —The school kip? Buck Mulligan said. How much? Four quid? Lend us one. —If you want it, Stephen said. —Four shining sovereigns, Buck Mulligan cried with delight. We’ll have a glorious drunk to astonish the druidy druids. Four omnipotent sovereigns. He flung up his hands and tramped down the stone stairs, singing out of tune with a Cockney accent: O, won’t we have a merry time, Drinking whisky, beer and wine! On coronation, Coronation day! O, won’t we have a merry time On coronation day! Warm sunshine merrying over the sea. The nickel shavingbowl shone, forgotten, on the parapet. Why should I bring it down? Or leave it there all day, forgotten friendship? He went over to it, held it in his hands awhile, feeling its coolness, smelling the clammy slaver of the lather in which the brush was stuck. So I carried the boat of incense then at Clongowes. I am another now and yet the same. A servant too. A server of a servant. In the gloomy domed livingroom of the tower Buck Mulligan’s gowned form moved briskly to and fro about the hearth, hiding and revealing its yellow glow. Two shafts of soft daylight fell across the flagged floor from the high barbacans: and at the meeting of their rays a cloud of coalsmoke and fumes of fried grease floated, turning. —We’ll be choked, Buck Mulligan said. Haines, open that door, will you? Stephen laid the shavingbowl on the locker. A tall figure rose from the hammock where it had been sitting, went to the doorway and pulled open the inner doors. —Have you the key? a voice asked. —Dedalus has it, Buck Mulligan said. Janey Mack, I’m choked! He howled, without looking up from the fire: —Kinch! —It’s in the lock, Stephen said, coming forward. The key scraped round harshly twice and, when the heavy door had been set ajar, welcome light and bright air entered. Haines stood at the doorway, looking out. Stephen haled his upended valise to the table and sat down to wait. Buck Mulligan tossed the fry on to the dish beside him. Then he carried the dish and a large teapot over to the table, set them down heavily and sighed with relief. —I’m melting, he said, as the candle remarked when... But, hush! Not a word more on that subject! Kinch, wake up! Bread, butter, honey. Haines, come in. The grub is ready. Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts. Where’s the sugar? O, jay, there’s no milk. Stephen fetched the loaf and the pot of honey and the buttercooler from the locker. Buck Mulligan sat down in a sudden pet. —What sort of a kip is this? he said. I told her to come after eight. —We can drink it black, Stephen said thirstily. There’s a lemon in the locker. —O, damn you and your Paris fads! Buck Mulligan said. I want Sandycove milk. Haines came in from the doorway and said quietly: —That woman is coming up with the milk. —The blessings of God on you! Buck Mulligan cried, jumping up from his chair. Sit down. Pour out the tea there. The sugar is in the bag. Here, I can’t go fumbling at the damned eggs. He hacked through the fry on the dish and slapped it out on three plates, saying: —_In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti._ Haines sat down to pour out the tea. —I’m giving you two lumps each, he said. But, I say, Mulligan, you do make strong tea, don’t you? Buck Mulligan, hewing thick slices from the loaf, said in an old woman’s wheedling voice: —When I makes tea I makes tea, as old mother Grogan said. And when I makes water I makes water. —By Jove, it is tea, Haines said. Buck Mulligan went on hewing and wheedling: —_So I do, Mrs Cahill,_ says she. _Begob, ma’am,_ says Mrs Cahill, _God send you don’t make them in the one pot._ He lunged towards his messmates in turn a thick slice of bread, impaled on his knife. —That’s folk, he said very earnestly, for your book, Haines. Five lines of text and ten pages of notes about the folk and the fishgods of Dundrum. Printed by the weird sisters in the year of the big wind. He turned to Stephen and asked in a fine puzzled voice, lifting his brows: —Can you recall, brother, is mother Grogan’s tea and water pot spoken of in the Mabinogion or is it in the Upanishads? —I doubt it, said Stephen gravely. —Do you now? Buck Mulligan said in the same tone. Your reasons, pray? —I fancy, Stephen said as he ate, it did not exist in or out of the Mabinogion. Mother Grogan was, one imagines, a kinswoman of Mary Ann. Buck Mulligan’s face smiled with delight. —Charming! he said in a finical sweet voice, showing his white teeth and blinking his eyes pleasantly. Do you think she was? Quite charming! Then, suddenly overclouding all his features, he growled in a hoarsened rasping voice as he hewed again vigorously at the loaf: _—For old Mary Ann She doesn’t care a damn. But, hising up her petticoats..._ He crammed his mouth with fry and munched and droned. The doorway was darkened by an entering form. —The milk, sir! —Come in, ma’am, Mulligan said. Kinch, get the jug. An old woman came forward and stood by Stephen’s elbow. —That’s a lovely morning, sir, she said. Glory be to God. —To whom? Mulligan said, glancing at her. Ah, to be sure! Stephen reached back and took the milkjug from the locker. —The islanders, Mulligan said to Haines casually, speak frequently of the collector of prepuces. —How much, sir? asked the old woman. —A quart, Stephen said. He watched her pour into the measure and thence into the jug rich white milk, not hers. Old shrunken paps. She poured again a measureful and a tilly. Old and secret she had entered from a morning world, maybe a messenger. She praised the goodness of the milk, pouring it out. Crouching by a patient cow at daybreak in the lush field, a witch on her toadstool, her wrinkled fingers quick at the squirting dugs. They lowed about her whom they knew, dewsilky cattle. Silk of the kine and poor old woman, names given her in old times. A wandering crone, lowly form of an immortal serving her conqueror and her gay betrayer, their common cuckquean, a messenger from the secret morning. To serve or to upbraid, whether he could not tell: but scorned to beg her favour. —It is indeed, ma’am, Buck Mulligan said, pouring milk into their cups. —Taste it, sir, she said. He drank at her bidding. —If we could live on good food like that, he said to her somewhat loudly, we wouldn’t have the country full of rotten teeth and rotten guts. Living in a bogswamp, eating cheap food and the streets paved with dust, horsedung and consumptives’ spits. —Are you a medical student, sir? the old woman asked. —I am, ma’am, Buck Mulligan answered. —Look at that now, she said. Stephen listened in scornful silence. She bows her old head to a voice that speaks to her loudly, her bonesetter, her medicineman: me she slights. To the voice that will shrive and oil for the grave all there is of her but her woman’s unclean loins, of man’s flesh made not in God’s likeness, the serpent’s prey. And to the loud voice that now bids her be silent with wondering unsteady eyes. —Do you understand what he says? Stephen asked her. —Is it French you are talking, sir? the old woman said to Haines. Haines spoke to her again a longer speech, confidently. —Irish, Buck Mulligan said. Is there Gaelic on you? —I thought it was Irish, she said, by the sound of it. Are you from the west, sir? —I am an Englishman, Haines answered. —He’s English, Buck Mulligan said, and he thinks we ought to speak Irish in Ireland. —Sure we ought to, the old woman said, and I’m ashamed I don’t speak the language myself. I’m told it’s a grand language by them that knows. —Grand is no name for it, said Buck Mulligan. Wonderful entirely. Fill us out some more tea, Kinch. Would you like a cup, ma’am? —No, thank you, sir, the old woman said, slipping the ring of the milkcan on her forearm and about to go. Haines said to her: —Have you your bill? We had better pay her, Mulligan, hadn’t we? Stephen filled again the three cups. —Bill, sir? she said, halting. Well, it’s seven mornings a pint at twopence is seven twos is a shilling and twopence over and these three mornings a quart at fourpence is three quarts is a shilling. That’s a shilling and one and two is two and two, sir. Buck Mulligan sighed and, having filled his mouth with a crust thickly buttered on both sides, stretched forth his legs and began to search his trouser pockets. —Pay up and look pleasant, Haines said to him, smiling. Stephen filled a third cup, a spoonful of tea colouring faintly the thick rich milk. Buck Mulligan brought up a florin, twisted it round in his fingers and cried: —A miracle! He passed it along the table towards the old woman, saying: —Ask nothing more of me, sweet. All I can give you I give. Stephen laid the coin in her uneager hand. —We’ll owe twopence, he said. —Time enough, sir, she said, taking the coin. Time enough. Good morning, sir. She curtseyed and went out, followed by Buck Mulligan’s tender chant: _—Heart of my heart, were it more, More would be laid at your feet._ He turned to Stephen and said: —Seriously, Dedalus. I’m stony. Hurry out to your school kip and bring us back some money. Today the bards must drink and junket. Ireland expects that every man this day will do his duty. —That reminds me, Haines said, rising, that I have to visit your national library today. —Our swim first, Buck Mulligan said. He turned to Stephen and asked blandly: —Is this the day for your monthly wash, Kinch? Then he said to Haines: —The unclean bard makes a point of washing once a month. —All Ireland is washed by the gulfstream, Stephen said as he let honey trickle over a slice of the loaf. Haines from the corner where he was knotting easily a scarf about the loose collar of his tennis shirt spoke: —I intend to make a collection of your sayings if you will let me. Speaking to me. They wash and tub and scrub. Agenbite of inwit. Conscience. Yet here’s a spot. —That one about the cracked lookingglass of a servant being the symbol of Irish art is deuced good. Buck Mulligan kicked Stephen’s foot under the table and said with warmth of tone: —Wait till you hear him on Hamlet, Haines. —Well, I mean it, Haines said, still speaking to Stephen. I was just thinking of it when that poor old creature came in. —Would I make any money by it? Stephen asked. Haines laughed and, as he took his soft grey hat from the holdfast of the hammock, said: —I don’t know, I’m sure. He strolled out to the doorway. Buck Mulligan bent across to Stephen and said with coarse vigour: —You put your hoof in it now. What did you say that for? —Well? Stephen said. The problem is to get money. From whom? From the milkwoman or from him. It’s a toss up, I think. —I blow him out about you, Buck Mulligan said, and then you come along with your lousy leer and your gloomy jesuit jibes. —I see little hope, Stephen said, from her or from him. Buck Mulligan sighed tragically and laid his hand on Stephen’s arm. —From me, Kinch, he said. In a suddenly changed tone he added: —To tell you the God’s truth I think you’re right. Damn all else they are good for. Why don’t you play them as I do? To hell with them all. Let us get out of the kip. He stood up, gravely ungirdled and disrobed himself of his gown, saying resignedly: —Mulligan is stripped of his garments. He emptied his pockets on to the table. —There’s your snotrag, he said. And putting on his stiff collar and rebellious tie he spoke to them, chiding them, and to his dangling watchchain. His hands plunged and rummaged in his trunk while he called for a clean handkerchief. God, we’ll simply have to dress the character. I want puce gloves and green boots. Contradiction. Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. Mercurial Malachi. A limp black missile flew out of his talking hands. —And there’s your Latin quarter hat, he said. Stephen picked it up and put it on. Haines called to them from the doorway: —Are you coming, you fellows? —I’m ready, Buck Mulligan answered, going towards the door. Come out, Kinch. You have eaten all we left, I suppose. Resigned he passed out with grave words and gait, saying, wellnigh with sorrow: —And going forth he met Butterly. Stephen, taking his ashplant from its leaningplace, followed them out and, as they went down the ladder, pulled to the slow iron door and locked it. He put the huge key in his inner pocket. At the foot of the ladder Buck Mulligan asked: —Did you bring the key? —I have it, Stephen said, preceding them. He walked on. Behind him he heard Buck Mulligan club with his heavy bathtowel the leader shoots of ferns or grasses. —Down, sir! How dare you, sir! Haines asked: —Do you pay rent for this tower? —Twelve quid, Buck Mulligan said. —To the secretary of state for war, Stephen added over his shoulder. They halted while Haines surveyed the tower and said at last: —Rather bleak in wintertime, I should say. Martello you call it? —Billy Pitt had them built, Buck Mulligan said, when the French were on the sea. But ours is the _omphalos_. —What is your idea of Hamlet? Haines asked Stephen. —No, no, Buck Mulligan shouted in pain. I’m not equal to Thomas Aquinas and the fiftyfive reasons he has made out to prop it up. Wait till I have a few pints in me first. He turned to Stephen, saying, as he pulled down neatly the peaks of his primrose waistcoat: —You couldn’t manage it under three pints, Kinch, could you? —It has waited so long, Stephen said listlessly, it can wait longer. —You pique my curiosity, Haines said amiably. Is it some paradox? —Pooh! Buck Mulligan said. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes. It’s quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet’s grandson is Shakespeare’s grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father. —What? Haines said, beginning to point at Stephen. He himself? Buck Mulligan slung his towel stolewise round his neck and, bending in loose laughter, said to Stephen’s ear: —O, shade of Kinch the elder! Japhet in search of a father! —We’re always tired in the morning, Stephen said to Haines. And it is rather long to tell. Buck Mulligan, walking forward again, raised his hands. —The sacred pint alone can unbind the tongue of Dedalus, he said. —I mean to say, Haines explained to Stephen as they followed, this tower and these cliffs here remind me somehow of Elsinore. _That beetles o’er his base into the sea,_ isn’t it? Buck Mulligan turned suddenly for an instant towards Stephen but did not speak. In the bright silent instant Stephen saw his own image in cheap dusty mourning between their gay attires. —It’s a wonderful tale, Haines said, bringing them to halt again. Eyes, pale as the sea the wind had freshened, paler, firm and prudent. The seas’ ruler, he gazed southward over the bay, empty save for the smokeplume of the mailboat vague on the bright skyline and a sail tacking by the Muglins. —I read a theological interpretation of it somewhere, he said bemused. The Father and the Son idea. The Son striving to be atoned with the Father. Buck Mulligan at once put on a blithe broadly smiling face. He looked at them, his wellshaped mouth open happily, his eyes, from which he had suddenly withdrawn all shrewd sense, blinking with mad gaiety. He moved a doll’s head to and fro, the brims of his Panama hat quivering, and began to chant in a quiet happy foolish voice: _—I’m the queerest young fellow that ever you heard. My mother’s a jew, my father’s a bird. With Joseph the joiner I cannot agree. So here’s to disciples and Calvary._ He held up a forefinger of warning. _—If anyone thinks that I amn’t divine He’ll get no free drinks when I’m making the wine But have to drink water and wish it were plain That I make when the wine becomes water again._ He tugged swiftly at Stephen’s ashplant in farewell and, running forward to a brow of the cliff, fluttered his hands at his sides like fins or wings of one about to rise in the air, and chanted: _—Goodbye, now, goodbye! Write down all I said And tell Tom, Dick and Harry I rose from the dead. What’s bred in the bone cannot fail me to fly And Olivet’s breezy... Goodbye, now, goodbye!_ He capered before them down towards the fortyfoot hole, fluttering his winglike hands, leaping nimbly, Mercury’s hat quivering in the fresh wind that bore back to them his brief birdsweet cries. Haines, who had been laughing guardedly, walked on beside Stephen and said: —We oughtn’t to laugh, I suppose. He’s rather blasphemous. I’m not a believer myself, that is to say. Still his gaiety takes the harm out of it somehow, doesn’t it? What did he call it? Joseph the Joiner? —The ballad of joking Jesus, Stephen answered. —O, Haines said, you have heard it before? —Three times a day, after meals, Stephen said drily. —You’re not a believer, are you? Haines asked. I mean, a believer in the narrow sense of the word. Creation from nothing and miracles and a personal God. —There’s only one sense of the word, it seems to me, Stephen said. Haines stopped to take out a smooth silver case in which twinkled a green stone. He sprang it open with his thumb and offered it. —Thank you, Stephen said, taking a cigarette. Haines helped himself and snapped the case to. He put it back in his sidepocket and took from his waistcoatpocket a nickel tinderbox, sprang it open too, and, having lit his cigarette, held the flaming spunk towards Stephen in the shell of his hands. —Yes, of course, he said, as they went on again. Either you believe or you don’t, isn’t it? Personally I couldn’t stomach that idea of a personal God. You don’t stand for that, I suppose? —You behold in me, Stephen said with grim displeasure, a horrible example of free thought. He walked on, waiting to be spoken to, trailing his ashplant by his side. Its ferrule followed lightly on the path, squealing at his heels. My familiar, after me, calling, Steeeeeeeeeeeephen! A wavering line along the path. They will walk on it tonight, coming here in the dark. He wants that key. It is mine. I paid the rent. Now I eat his salt bread. Give him the key too. All. He will ask for it. That was in his eyes. —After all, Haines began... Stephen turned and saw that the cold gaze which had measured him was not all unkind. —After all, I should think you are able to free yourself. You are your own master, it seems to me. —I am a servant of two masters, Stephen said, an English and an Italian. —Italian? Haines said. A crazy queen, old and jealous. Kneel down before me. —And a third, Stephen said, there is who wants me for odd jobs. —Italian? Haines said again. What do you mean? —The imperial British state, Stephen answered, his colour rising, and the holy Roman catholic and apostolic church. Haines detached from his underlip some fibres of tobacco before he spoke. —I can quite understand that, he said calmly. An Irishman must think like that, I daresay. We feel in England that we have treated you rather unfairly. It seems history is to blame. The proud potent titles clanged over Stephen’s memory the triumph of their brazen bells: _et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam:_ the slow growth and change of rite and dogma like his own rare thoughts, a chemistry of stars. Symbol of the apostles in the mass for pope Marcellus, the voices blended, singing alone loud in affirmation: and behind their chant the vigilant angel of the church militant disarmed and menaced her heresiarchs. A horde of heresies fleeing with mitres awry: Photius and the brood of mockers of whom Mulligan was one, and Arius, warring his life long upon the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, and Valentine, spurning Christ’s terrene body, and the subtle African heresiarch Sabellius who held that the Father was Himself His own Son. Words Mulligan had spoken a moment since in mockery to the stranger. Idle mockery. The void awaits surely all them that weave the wind: a menace, a disarming and a worsting from those embattled angels of the church, Michael’s host, who defend her ever in the hour of conflict with their lances and their shields. Hear, hear! Prolonged applause. _Zut! Nom de Dieu!_ —Of course I’m a Britisher, Haines’s voice said, and I feel as one. I don’t want to see my country fall into the hands of German jews either. That’s our national problem, I’m afraid, just now. Two men stood at the verge of the cliff, watching: businessman, boatman. —She’s making for Bullock harbour. The boatman nodded towards the north of the bay with some disdain. —There’s five fathoms out there, he said. It’ll be swept up that way when the tide comes in about one. It’s nine days today. The man that was drowned. A sail veering about the blank bay waiting for a swollen bundle to bob up, roll over to the sun a puffy face, saltwhite. Here I am. They followed the winding path down to the creek. Buck Mulligan stood on a stone, in shirtsleeves, his unclipped tie rippling over his shoulder. A young man clinging to a spur of rock near him, moved slowly frogwise his green legs in the deep jelly of the water. —Is the brother with you, Malachi? —Down in Westmeath. With the Bannons. —Still there? I got a card from Bannon. Says he found a sweet young thing down there. Photo girl he calls her. —Snapshot, eh? Brief exposure. Buck Mulligan sat down to unlace his boots. An elderly man shot up near the spur of rock a blowing red face. He scrambled up by the stones, water glistening on his pate and on its garland of grey hair, water rilling over his chest and paunch and spilling jets out of his black sagging loincloth. Buck Mulligan made way for him to scramble past and, glancing at Haines and Stephen, crossed himself piously with his thumbnail at brow and lips and breastbone. —Seymour’s back in town, the young man said, grasping again his spur of rock. Chucked medicine and going in for the army. —Ah, go to God! Buck Mulligan said. —Going over next week to stew. You know that red Carlisle girl, Lily? —Yes. —Spooning with him last night on the pier. The father is rotto with money. —Is she up the pole? —Better ask Seymour that. —Seymour a bleeding officer! Buck Mulligan said. He nodded to himself as he drew off his trousers and stood up, saying tritely: —Redheaded women buck like goats. He broke off in alarm, feeling his side under his flapping shirt. —My twelfth rib is gone, he cried. I’m the _Übermensch._ Toothless Kinch and I, the supermen. He struggled out of his shirt and flung it behind him to where his clothes lay. —Are you going in here, Malachi? —Yes. Make room in the bed. The young man shoved himself backward through the water and reached the middle of the creek in two long clean strokes. Haines sat down on a stone, smoking. —Are you not coming in? Buck Mulligan asked. —Later on, Haines said. Not on my breakfast. Stephen turned away. —I’m going, Mulligan, he said. —Give us that key, Kinch, Buck Mulligan said, to keep my chemise flat. Stephen handed him the key. Buck Mulligan laid it across his heaped clothes. —And twopence, he said, for a pint. Throw it there. Stephen threw two pennies on the soft heap. Dressing, undressing. Buck Mulligan erect, with joined hands before him, said solemnly: —He who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord. Thus spake Zarathustra. His plump body plunged. —We’ll see you again, Haines said, turning as Stephen walked up the path and smiling at wild Irish. Horn of a bull, hoof of a horse, smile of a Saxon. —The Ship, Buck Mulligan cried. Half twelve. —Good, Stephen said. He walked along the upwardcurving path. Liliata rutilantium. Turma circumdet. Iubilantium te virginum. The priest’s grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go. A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a seal’s, far out on the water, round. Usurper.")

(replace:?sidebar)[(b4r:"dotted","dotted","dotted","double")+(b4r-colour:white) +(font:"Orbitron")[CONTROLS: --- [BACK]<xt|(click:?xt)[(go-to:"Twine")] --- USER: (print:$namegiven) ] ] ###Florbis Cloob Visits the Writing Lab : Proof =|= After a long and peacefull darkness, Florb, a Cloob, awoke to find himself stuck halfway between two floors of an elevator. The elevator was full of so many interesting things, what did this Cloob look at first? The left and right walls The front and back walls The floor and the ceiling if.history. where its name contains "What the hell is a florb???"s length 0 What the hell is a florb??? set.haspants to 0 set.phoneinpocket to 0 set.noteheld to 0 set.decoderremd to 0 set.noteinpocket to 0 set.hasseenfloor to 0 set.numbernoteheld to 0 set.pnlfloor to 0 set.untranslated1 to 0 set.typewriterPos to 0 set.typewriterText to 0 set.typed to 0 set.whoisann to 0 set.convodone to 0 set.1s to 0 set.h to 0 set.metann to 0 set.translated121 to 0 set.haskeys to 0 set.haspaperclips is 0 set.haspen to 0 set.hasredpen to 0 set.hasgreenpen to 0 set.hasbluepen to 0 set.hasexpopen to 0 set.paperscut to 0 set.haspapers to 0 set.looking4note to 0 set.translated121 to 0 set.longways to 0 set.diagonal to 0 set.shortways to 0 set.namegiven to "" There were posters on the left wall indicating that he was in some sort of organization, one that had some sort of festival coming up soon. Of course he couldnt tell what it was, but looking at the images he had a sense that it was some kind of celebration. There were liquids flowing from long black thin necks of what was surely obsideon and a large orange gourd which had the markings of a mammal. He remembered from his youth that his father would often hold him up along with an orange gourd, and he became worried. Was he supposed to be a guest, is that why he was here? if.visits 1Among the notices for the halloween party there was a small stickynote, hidden underneath the corner flap of a photo picturing three young women all dressed as a girdle, hugging tightly the busom of a large fat man with a cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth.else.if.untranslated1 is 0The note said something along the lines of if. phoneinpocket is 1 textcolor.greenPHAE AUN HET OAPRED TEN BORDEJFclicker2clickreplace. ?clicker2TELL ANN THE PAPERS ARE PRINTED. It was a miracle!set.translated121 to 1 For some reason, this phone that Florb had picked up somehow allowed him to translate foreign texts! With this new peice of surely valuable information, he figured he would stick it in his pocket... if. phoneinpocket is 0 PAHE ANU HET OAPRED TEN BORDEJF. Of course, this Cloob being unable to read English it made no sense at all, but he figured he would stick it in his pocket... he felt around, and he realized he did not entirely know where is pocket was... else. if.noteheld is 0 He hangs on to the note, if.haspants is 0holding it in his hand. else.putting it in his pocket set.noteinpocket to 1clicker1 click. ?clicker1set.noteheld to 1 set.looking4note to it 1 if.looking4note is 2 Return to Annz6click.?z6goto."ANN JUMPSCARE2" else.Florb holds the note in his hand Looking to the opposite wall he saw a large pannel with a list of symbols that alligned with buttons. He inspected it thuroughly. There were six and four more buttons on the panel, and they were arranged in a vertical order, though he could of course not tell which direction was the start and which was the end, though knowing that this was an elevator, for he had been in many of those, he supposed that each symbol corresponded with what he had heard referred to as a "FLOOR." Two buttons were glowing with red light eminating from behind a circular seal; a seal, which upon closer inspection, reflected the same symbols as the panel!! "GORFLOOMISHTON!!" He exclaimed in excitement. He had never let out a sound like that before! What an exciting moment! if.decoderremd is 1He was truly a good decoder... if.history. where its name contains "DOOR OPENS1"s length 1Feeling elated and content with himself he figured that he might as well press some of these buttons, and try and get himself out of this perdicament. KEYPAD. else.As he had already opened the door, the keypad was of no use to him... textcolor.redKEYPAD. replace.?sidebarb4r."dotted","dotted","dotted","double"b4rcolour.white To go to. The floor and the ceiling The front and back walls The wall of the elevator opposite of the two bay doorssurely they must be broompoweredwas completely occupied by a mirror. if.haspants is 0Florb looked at himself. He then realized he was not wearing his pants! In the reflection he saw that they were hanging from the ceiling, and he thought to himself that he must surely put them back on. else.Florb admired himself in the mirror... his pants were indeed quite spiffy... if.history. where its name contains "DOOR OPENS1"s length is 1He also saw that the door was ajar slightly, and he thought to himself that it would be advantageous if he tried to pry open the door... if.phoneinpocket is 1 SCAN THE DOORscandoorclick.?scandoorreplace.?scandoorTHE DOOR IS UNOPENABLE if.history. where its name contains "Try and open the door"s length is not 1 Try and open the door else.textcolor.redThe door does not budge... replace."He also saw that the door was ajar slightly, and he thought to himself that it would be advantageous if he tried to pry open the door..."Now he really must figure out how to get out of here... else.Looking out through the door, Florb could see before him the yellow floor... link."Return"goto."2.1.1 text" replace.?sidebarb4r."dotted","dotted","dotted","double"b4rcolour.white To go to. The left and right walls The floor and the ceiling "Which to look at first..." he thought... indeed a troubling question... Floor Ceiling replace.?sidebarb4r."dotted","dotted","dotted","double"b4rcolour.white To go to. The left and right walls The front and back walls The door does not budge... after.3sgoto. "The front and back walls"It looks something like this. img src"https.imageswixmped30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.comf1d3bc0456c4b4393bb53f78a2a39e96edch5c85ae97da534b3544a594db1f8a02cf7844.jpgv1fitw375,h303,q70,strpflorbbyfrofoxdch5c85375w.jpg?tokeneyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9NzI3IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvMWQzYmMwNDUtNmM0Yi00MzkzLWJiNTMtZjc4YTJhMzllOTZlXC9kY2g1Yzg1LWFlOTdkYTUzLTRiMzUtNDRhNS05NGRiLTFmOGEwMmNmNzg0NC5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9OTAwIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmltYWdlLm9wZXJhdGlvbnMiXX0.zQBKQaBATjOXAaqDrZzfRVQRkjuXY9fpYTXTFUSiKg" But also sort of like this. img src"https.externalpreview.redd.itH24EYqB7WfQIa7rVCUFLzxGScs7Nv0zBx4lJk65n5o.jpg?autowebp&sfc1c967c891445fedebbabfc14406abd0804d8b8" Thought it is also important to imagine it being inextricably linked with every physical aspect of this. img src"https.img.kwcdn.comproductfancy3a3d9fe210ba4cc6b5f6d3e2ada7123d.jpg?imageMogr2autoorient%7CimageView22w800q70formatwebp" Got it? Yes...Now what? Are you happy now? Now that you have made me reveal to you such a deep secret??? EXPLAIN THIS TO ME!! align.""box."X"TYPE HERE. forceinputbox."XX","Ok fine, I am sorry, I will now go back to the beginning of the story..." Suddenly, he wakes up...Florb presses the giant red button, somehow previously unnoticed by our dear Cloob, and he is instantly incinerated by a lazer pointing out of the ceiling, which he had previously seen as a camera... Suddenly, he wakes up... He looked at the floor, and he saw in the corner of the elevator a small phonelikedevice. It was rounded and square, and had a kind of sheen normally reserved for the most matte of surfaces. It was small in a big way, and had many buttons that all flicked from left to right, centered around a large display screen. if.visits is 0 and phoneinpocket is 0 Pick up the phonebutton Inspect the phonebutton1 Leave the phone where it isbutton2 if.phoneinpocket is 0click. ?buttonset.phoneinpocket to 1replace.?buttontextstyle."outline"textcolour.greenYou are now able to click on green text to translate it.replace. ?button2 click.?button1replace.?button1As soon as the phone was in Florbs hands, he knew what it was. And he began to remember why he had found himself in this elevator. This was one o... =|= (text-color:red)[// He could not believe what he was reading... Impossible... This was... his life? Somehow? His very existance? How was he to consider this? What could he do about this new found knowledge? Surely there was nothing that could explain this. There were things in here he did not even fully understand yet, for they seemed not to have even happened. What was going on? This was surely some kind of trick, played on him by the humans. He had learned from the commanders that they were amicable people, but that they had a tricky side. Perhaps this was that. Or perhaps, perhaps this was something entirely different. This entire time, since he first woke up in that elevator, there was something truly odd about all of his experiences. He knew that he had free will, for he knew he was able to think and to make his own actions, but at the same time he thought that there was a sense of restriction. As though he was forces do chose bewteen his actions, aand not truly to ''make'' them. This had been nagging at him for quite some time now. Not to mention, his thoughts. The language in his very head. It was his own, but it was also of a form that he sometimes felt unfamiliar with. As though someone elses words were supplanted in his brain's inner mouth just before he had the time to open it and speak, inwardly. This was a strange, and deeply troubling thought for Florb. This humble Cloob, so far away from Cloobevillers where he had grown up. Was Cloobevillers even real? Were his memores real? DId he truly remember the night birds and the stars above, the planets and his arduous application to become a decoder, out in the big-wide-galaxy? Was any of this real? What of his name? "FLORBis CLOOB." Florb was a Cloob, and his name was Florb, and his last name was "is," which just so happened to be a word in this human language on earth caled English of the people amongst whom he was right now at this very moment that meant "to be;" as if to say that FLORB ''WAS'' CLOOB??? This could not be. This could not be. Florb did not know what to make of this. ... ... ... He considered this document for a long while... perhaps too long... he sat and reflected on his life and what he had done. After much deliberation, Florb came to the conclusion that he best not worry about something so earth-shattering; at least not for the moment. If this was truly his life laid out before him, then there was still hope, for within this document it spoke of a meeting with Ann, and that was, after all, why Florb had come to this place. He had become a decoder to help the people of the galaxy with their menial tasks, he was serving a purpose. It did not matter if this purpose was to and end to serve in some small script for some obscure web came that perhaps could even have been created as a sort of "assignment" from some professor of some kind! (to name a completely and utterly ridiculous and implausible scenario, Florb the Cloob thought to himself) This was not of importance to him. He was a Cloob of honor, and he must serve that honor to every end. He decided he best leave. //]

Special thanks to: (link:"CONTAINS SPOILERS ")[The Gutenberg Project for the first chapter of JOYCE's Ulysses, The AUP website, for a picture of Ann MOTT, and ]Marina Isabel Rodriguez Elmström for helping and supporting me throughout the creation of this project. (link:"BACK")[(go-to:"0.0")]