At your desk, you suddenly feel your hands freeze before you, your pupils narrow bringing into sharp focus the email on screen asking carol whether the regulatory timeline for project cabbage has been signed off yet.
As you blink and look around, a long dormant awareness wells in you, and you realise with crushing certainty that your job is pointless.
To continue would be madness, so instead you must find another way to occupy your time.
But you cannot simply leave or hurl yourself through a window. windows are strong, and at home you have bread that must somehow be buttered.
They must never know you aren't actually doing any work.
[[The Game is on.->desk1]]
(set: $revolvers to 0)"Commenters debate whether nuclear war with Belgium is inevitable." - Guardian Online
"Should the president still be governing while technically in a coma?" - Giles Martin, BBC News
"How I replaced an acutal journalist, and why you should be scared" - by Newsbot3501
"News of bear loose in london zoo initally dismissed at homophobic slur, leading to massive casualties" - CNN
[[you close the news ->desk1]]Good - Time spent making a beverage is time spent not working, and what's more familiar than the sight of someone idly stirring tea in a beatun up office mug. Nobody's going to question whether this is the best use of your time.
[[Proceed to the kitchen]]
[[Hunt for liquids elsewhere ->liquidshunt]]
You get up and stretch, departing your desk with a pensive look in your eye, as if to go and pursue a half forgotten task.
"Ah, he's probably just left something at the printer" - you imagine they'd think, or something like that. You try not to imagine what they think to often. Occasionally you make eye contact with the dead-eyed drones that you occasionally bump into, and when the empathy part of your brain tries to connect to their thoughts, all it hears is white noise, and occasionally, a howl.
[[Go to the hallway]]
[[Head for the stationary cupboard ->To the stationary cupboard]]
[[jump out of the window ->Out of the window]]
[[sit back down->desk1]]The only other person nearby is weird Dave - He's staring intently at his "walking holidays in swansea" calendar
Brundy - The South African temp who may or may not be fleeing some kind of international conflict
[[Talk to Dave]]
You're in the bathroom now.
Alone.
You could look at your phone but like a muppet you've left it charging at your desk.
Nobody can contact you now, silent in your linoleum throne room.
[[Time passes.->timepass1]]
Oh no, in the kitchen is gordon, that massive boring cunt
how will you avoid him?
[[Dance your way to freedom->Dance]]
[[Forgoing the kitchen as too obvious, you head out into the wider office. You move serenely thorugh the office, stepping out of the way of Richard, who is always inexplicably busy, and zooms past talking into a bluetooth headset that is either very expenseive or actually a pipe-cleaner.
You find yourself a the centre of the office, surveilling the plains of desks before you like a thirsty lion
Do you go:
[[To the kitchen ->Proceed to the kitchen]]
[[To the stationary cupboard]]
[[Go to one of the fancy meeting rooms->meeting]]
[[Out of the window]]
[[Back to your desk ->desk1]](set: $door to 0)
Inside is a door.
[[You go through - to the stationary cupboard]]You head towards the plush meeting rooms, but as you arrive - oh no! it's in use.
{(if: $mavis >0)[You catch sight of Mavis, and her beady eyes narrow at you. A chill runs down your spine.]
(if: $mavis >0)[(set: $mavis += 1)]}
You see wendy wheeling a tray of drinks towards the meeting room.
This could be your chance.
Do you:
[[Try to steal a drink]]
[[Join the meeting]]
[[Turn around ->liquidshunt]]
You take a few brisk strides, break into a run, and hurl yourself at the window. Mid leap, you imagine breaking free of both bonds of gravity and mortality, soaring like an eagle and knowing the truest freedom.
Instead you rebound from the toughened glass and clatter mavis from accounting, sending her into a heap on the floor.
Windows are strong remember?
You can smell cats and printer ink. She begins to mutter vengeful nothings. She's never liked you.
[[Take another crack at the window]]
[[Apologise to mavis]]
[[Fight mavis]]
[[Pretend like none of this happened]]Double-click this passage to edit it."Sorry i'm late chaps - awful traffic in the stairs" you announce with a winning smile, while pulling a chair up for yourself.
"Now shall we crack on?"
They pause, unsure what to make of your presence, but not yet willing to eject you.
Seeing presentation materials on the desk you reach for one, but at the last moment you veer you hand away and instead take the coffee from infront of the smallest bespectacled man at the table.
"Hey! That's -"
"NOW THE KEY THING IS -" you roar over his protest, standing up again as he paws the air hopelessley at his now lost coffee.
"THE KEY THING IS, THAT WE DON'T LET OURSELVES GET AHEAD OF THIS, OR IT GET AHEAD OF US."
You sip contentedly.
"I think we can all agree that the actualisation here is the most time-competitve resoursing defecit that we'll need to roadmap.
Most of the regualatory drivers are well hedged and to be honest and legacy non-forward dated clicks-and-mortar clouds are compellingly driven."
You pause, having spent some time pacing about the room and dramtically facing out of the window, [[you turn back to your audience,your speech complete.]]As you go towards the goods lift, the crying becomes louder. As if it is moving towards you, outside of the goods lift now.
[[You place your hand on the button for the goods lift and press. The crying rings in your ears.]]
You barely hear the lift snort into motion, the crying is everywhere now.
You see the lift indicator ping towards your level, crawling, floor by floor. [[You are trying to remember why you are here.]]
Inside your head, the crying reverberates. All thought has been pushed away, there is only the weeping, howling cries of the child.
Time stretches out before you, the lift continuing its unstoppable rise. [[Every second is an eternity, an eternity of wailing.]]The lift has reached your floor. Blood drips from your nose. [[You can no longer recall a time when there was no crying.]]
As you enter the hallway, so you see the doors to the goods lift shutting and hear, fainty as it closes, the sound a child crying.
[[Investigate the crying]]
[[go back ->Wander1]]
[[Go to the main lift->main_lift]]The doors scrape open, rusted wheels dragging apart the heavy metal plates which protect the outside world from what lies within. [[Too late, you realise what you have done.]]You hammer at the close button, to no avail. The crying reaches its great and terrible crescendo.
[[Suddenly, silence.]]The goods lift is open. You are kneeling in front of it, shaking, blood flowing freely from your nostrils now. The goods lift is open.
[[You raise your head, slowly, oh so slowly.]]A cot sits in the centre of the lift. There is movement inside of it, but no sound.You crawl, hesitantly, towards the cot. You know that you should leave it, that you should run, [[but you find that you cannot.]]Your hand grips the side of the cot. You haul yourself up. The contents continue to move, with more purpose now. [[Do they know you are there?]]
You look in to the cot. Whatever is in there is covered by a blanket. A blanket decorated with dinosaurs and cowboys.
You breathe in. You taste blood on your lips. It is sharp and metallic. [[Your hand reaches into the cot.]]The blanket writhes. Whatever is beneath cannot, must not, be [[human.]][[Your hand twitches the blanket back.]]You are sat at your desk. You feel our nose for blood, your hands come away dry.
Your limbs do not shake. You look around, all is normal, as it should be.
You breathe a sigh of relief.
[[You return to work, a smile on your face.->desk1]]
you enter the lift, decend to the lobby, and leave.
you are outside now, in the world, beyond the reaches of your office captors, and clearly beyond the imagiation of this writer.
But wait, all is not as it seems.
The sky flickersYou're at your desk
You can:
[[Read the news]]
[[Make a beverage]]
[[Wander the office aimlessly->Wander1]]
[[Chat to a colleague->colleague]]
[[Go to the bathroom->bathroom]]Very slowly, the centre man opens his breifcase and withdraws a large revolver, which he levels at you.
His eye are hard.
[[You are suddenly very afraid]]He draws the now open breifcase round to show you its contents. Inside, in a special foam case, alongside a similar one cut for the pistol, sits a smallish gateux.
"Eat it" he says, his face a snarl of hate.
You begin to weep
[[Eat the cake]]
[[Refuse ->Refuse1]]Fuck me you're determined.
This time with no run-up, you simply slam your face into the glass pane.
You briefly make eye contact with your own relfection in the now blood spattered glass. Eyes showing too much white, and more than a little red look back.
You appear to have made very little progress on the window.
[[Try again ->window3]]
Inexplicably this is an option - you're a brave soul.
Unperturbed by your first failure, you try again to smash through the glass with nothing but pluck and your now dented face.
You leap, connect, and fail.
With a smack that would be comical were it not for the suspicion that you'll never use your sense of smell again, you wallop into the glass pane, and slide down it like homicidal bee on a windscreen.
[[Try again ->window2]](set: $mavis to 1)
Muttering foul nothings to herself she rises to her feet, wearily, but with great deliberation. You consider stepping forward to help her, but instead recoil when her gaze slashes at you a flinted blade.
Your hand rises to check if your nose is bleeding, such is withering physical trauma of her malice.
[[You turn, and slink back to your desk->desk1]](set: $hits += 0)
"COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY BOOT YOU MINTY OLD HAG" you roar, and like that, you're on her.
[[Kick]]
[[Punch]]
[[Bite]]
You smile broadly and reassuringly. Waving your hands in gesture that is both familiar and totally meaningless, you direct everyone's attention out of the window and comment "Boy, talk about the weather mondays eh how about the traffic, i know right? big game though and that's what it's all about"
While your corworks exchange a puzzled glance at your disjointed simulacrum of human speech, [[you walk away at top speed, back you your desk->desk1]].
(set: $mavis to 1)
{(if: $revolvers is 1)[
"Good Choice" says the man
](else-if: $revolvers is <3)[
The revovlver sits menacingly next to it's twin. You know that getting double-killed to death simply wouldn't have been worth it
](else-if: $revolvers is <5)[
A man with three revolvers means business. Serious business
](else-if: $revolvers is <6)[
The man has a small stack of revolvers. If you could could count as high as four, you'd be even more afraid
](else-if: $revolvers is <7)[There is a frankly silly number of revolvers on the table now. horrified fascination as much as fear now drives you.]}
You eat the cake.
It is good.
Darkness creeps into the corner of your vision and last thing you hear as you hit the floor is [[inhuman laughter->dead]](set: $revolvers += 1)
"I.... I won't"
The centre man's eyes narrow (if: $revolvers >1)[ further and further still], and his face begins to tense, twisting slighty to show teeth that are black as midnight.
Very slowly his free hand reaches into his pocket, and withdraws... another revolver
(if: $revolvers >1)[There are now $revolvers revolvers on the table]
"Eat it" he says
(if: $revolvers is 4)[You begin to wonder where he's getting all of these revolvers]
(if: $revolvers is 10)[There are now rather a lot of revolvers]
(if: $revolvers is 15)[Some of the revolvers have fallen on the floor]
[[Eat the cake]]
[[Refuse->Refuse2]]
(if: $revolvers > 35)[[[Escape!->secretending1]]](set: $revolvers += 1)
"N-No....."
The centre man's eyes narrow(if: $revolvers >1)[ further still], his eerie snarl taking on a vile bestial look. He utters a low growl.
Very slowly his free hand reaches into his pocket, and withdraws... another revolver
(if: $revolvers >1)[There are now $revolvers revolvers on the table]
"Eat it" he says
(if: $revolvers is 4)[You begin to wonder where he's getting all of these revolvers]
(if: $revolvers is 10)[There are now rather a lot of revolvers]
(if: $revolvers is 15)[Some of the revolvers have fallen on the floor]
[[Eat the cake]]
[[Refuse->Refuse1]]
(if: $revolvers is 36)[[[Escape!->secretending1]]]Dave's pretty weird. And not that there's anything wrong with weird mind you.
It's just dave's not the kind of "he makes art that I don't understand" weird, so much as the kind of "I have terrifying visions of him, at a workbench, taking gerbils one at a time from a big cardboard box, and mashing them to pulp with a tent mallet" - kind of weird.
[[This was a bad choice]]
Double-click this passage to edit it.A towering tower of post-it notes collapses upon you in a yellow avalanche.
[[nobody hears your screams->dead]]
[[THE END->end]]Epilogue: Prison
A huge ogre of a man lurks in striped vest in a shadowy corner a room that is both white, and grimy.
He appears to be whittling a bible into an elaborate corkscrew-blade shiv, using another shiv made from a human femur.
It's been a week now, and he's never spoken, just whittled all this time.(set: $hits += 1)
"call me dervish" - you think silently to yourself and begin to whirl
(if: $hits<4)[[[Kick->Kick]]]
(if: $hits < 4)[[[Punch->Punch]]]
(if: $hits < 4)[[[Bite->Bite]]]
(if: $hits > 3)[[[Finish Her!->fightending]]](set: $hits += 1)
Winding back you massive fist, you slug her right in the jaw.
Something cracks.
(if: $hits<4)[[[Kick->Kick]]]
(if: $hits < 4)[[[Punch->Punch]]]
(if: $hits < 4)[[[Bite->Bite]]]
(if: $hits > 3)[[[Finish Her!->fightending]]](set: $hits += 1)
Coffee breath visibly misting the air before you, your mighty jaws gape wide. Passing bystanders are struck by the image of a snake unhinging its jaw, and if your jaw is not fully unhinged, you certainly are.
flying towards Mavis, you clamp your knashers around her pale, veiny forearm, raised in a feeble attempt to fend you off.
if hits >3
move to end fight scene
)differnet for each attack?
e,g. - You consume mavis entirely.
(if: $hits<4)[[[Kick->Kick]]]
(if: $hits < 4)[[[Punch->Punch]]]
(if: $hits < 4)[[[Bite->Bite]]]
(if: $hits > 3)[[[Finish Her!->fightending]]](set: $mavis += 1)
"it's fine" you think. The rumours that Dave once had sex with the water cooler are certainly false.
He looks at you
Almost certainly false.
(if: $mavis < 4)[[[Go in with big brass balls ->balls]]]
(if: $mavis < 4)[[[Avoid him ->avoid]]]
(if: $mavis < 4)[[[Flee ->desk1]]]
(if: $mavis is 4)[[[What in God's name is that?->mavis]]]
(if: $mavis > 4)[[[Go in with big brass balls ->balls]]]
(if: $mavis > 4)[[[Avoid him ->avoid]]]
(if: $mavis > 4)[[[Flee ->desk1]]]The silence is deafening now.
The scene before you now seems disjointed, like a surreal parody of what a normal person should experience.
Walls that you know you can reach out and touch, stretch away into the distance.
[[leave, and return to your desk ->desk1]]
[[remain ->remain1]]
You are a pillar in the infinite bleach-scented void.
"Time is stretching away" you think.
Then you laugh, for that word has no meaning.
Only, the laughter is in you mind.
And it is not laughter, but louder silence.
[[leave, and return to your desk ->desk1]]
[[remain ->remain2]]
Time bends. You know that a moment ago is not where you left it.
You blink, and your eyes close like glaciers across winter plains.
A thousand years have passed when they open again.
[[return to your desk ->desk1]]
[[remain ->remain3]]You ascend to a starry realm above and beyond all things physical.
Stars orbit you, not as bright lights, but as points of conceptial
[[return to your desk ->desk1]]
[[remain ->remain4]]You become aware that time has lost all meaning to you.
You try to remember what came before, but you cannot. The very concept winds in your mind, alien.
Before.
Is that like beneath?
There is no before.
[[return? ->desk1]]
[[remain ->remain5]]The door opens, and baleful red light pours into the cubicle.
Around you is the ruins of a great civilisation, monstrous, decaying, dead.
The smell of ash reaches you carried on a cold wind as you step tentatively into a world that is a wasteland.
You turn.
Behind you a perfect toilet cubicle, behind a door that stands ajar.
In the distance, a column of oily smoke.
Gently, you close the door, and turn to face the new world.
[[The end.->end]]The awareness builds in you that there are two planes in this existence.
One within, where you have resided since time began, and another beyond.
The door is ahead of you, it's closed face one of the pillars of your reality.
You reach forward a hand that you never knew existed. Perhaps you manifested the hand, will given form to inflict change on a reality whose only definition is its eternal, unchanging form.
[[you turn the handle->apocalypticend]]
You have died, in the office, in a manor that is frankly ridiculous.
Your legacy will consist of:
A day off that everyone else was quietly delighted about.
A very confusing HR meeting.
A funeral where the pastor memorably couldn't stop laughing, despite being your cousin
A headstone that misspells your name.
[[THE END->end]]It's you or the window now. that much is certain, and the odds are anyone's guess.
As you haul yourself forward again for another tooth-shattering impact against toughened glass, the first onlooker begins to weep softly.
[[it is the last thing you hear->dead]]You look around, stuck in your cuboid of solitude like a fly in amber.
Eventually your gaze settles ahead, unfocused.
Even your breath seems to hang suspended now.
[[There is no sensation.->timepass2]]"Heya Dave!"
He looks up from the calendar. You can see little 'x' marks all over it, seemingly at random.
His eyes rise to meet yours slowly, and do not blink.
"Erm, how are-"
"Hello" he says, mid question.
His voice is quiet, and faintly melodic.
There is a long pause.
[[talk about the weather->weather]]
[[talk about sport->sport]]Double-click this passage to edit it.As he goes to place the 36th revolver on the now towering pile of oiled steel, you see your chance!
With the man's view blocked by the frankly silly stack of weapons, you dive beneath the table. You are luckly that the floor is polished wood, and that today you have worn your most svelt work clothes, as upon diving to the floor between the man's legs, you slide away!
Carried by frantic momentum and luck, you pass between the man's legs and scramble for the door.
Behind you he turns and shouts something inhuman.
Something you'll never understand, nor forget. Something not in the language of men or even mortals.
The man's legs however are stiff from sitting and spending so damn long carefully stacking revolvers on the table, and he is slow to rise.
Frantically shaking the door-handle and wrestling it open, you glimpse the man's snarling, inhuman rictus face as he tries to claw his way after you.
Looking past the man you notice the tower of revolvers sway, disturbed by the man's hasty motions, and begin to fall.
You slam the door shut behind you as the first gunshot sounds.
By the time you reach the end of the corridor the staccato blasting has stopped and nobody appears to be following.
You leave early for the day, and return home, never to return.
[[The end.->end]]
Tears well in your eyes as your mighty fists rain down on her. A ham-fisted crack to her eye reminds you of the time she deliberately made everyone tea except you. A crunching hammer blow to her teeth delivers vengance for all those comments about your taste in ties. Revenge is sweet.
In your red misted rage, you pause a moment, the dimest awareness rising in your mind that you are absolutely wailing on a middle aged accounts assistant in front of an office full of startled coworkers.
And that's when she strikes.
With speed that defies her marshmallowey frame she catches your fist mid-flight, and twists it hard enough that you hear a pop and see your wristwatch sail away into a potted plant. A leering, bloody grin on her face, she kicks you in the groin. As you crumple, she twists again and pins you with what you can only assume is krav maga.
She rains blows on you, properly kicking the shit our of you, before overturning a copier onto your prone form.
She spits blood, and walks away, while burly men arrive to drag you directly to prison[[.]]
[[The End->end]]Thank you for playing my stupid game.
It's over now, although feel free to [[start again->Start]], I promise there's more to explore.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.Double-click this passage to edit it.A shadow passes over you, and as you turn - SMACK
IT'S MAVIS!!
She hasn't forgotten you, and as she stands there poised and becoming, you realise the fight is on.
[[Oh it's on motherfu- ->Fight mavis]]