> Matt Gingell
>Well - whatever. What's so great about survival anyway, and why do we
>get so sentimental about our own species? Not to sound too much like a
>black-sweater nihilist, but, seriously, why does it matter?
[with apologies to Infocom]
You are standing on a city street at night. There are signs of activity coming from the surrounding buildings and nearby avenues. In front of you is a bar.
> who am i
You are a black-turtlenecked, beret-wearing, little-mustached existentialist.
You have 0 points out of a possible 0. You will never do better than this.
> examine bar
Bars are required settings in a certain class of jokes. This bar is called, simply, "The Transhumanist". It is nestled between The Hackers' /pub and a shoe store. It looks like a nice place.
> enter bar
This is a fairly busy establishment with various groups of people talking quietly, shouting, thinking, dashing about, tinkering, and occasionally banging their heads against the walls. There are tables in the rear (to the north) and numerous bookshelves throughout. The main bar is along the east wall.
The bartender looks up as you enter. His prosthetic arm whines as he uses leftover martini toothpicks and olives to construct a tinkertoy buckyball.
There are exits to the north, south, and west. There are stairs leading up and down.
> recite pretentious poetry
You can't do that to the poetry!
You are carrying:
a well-worn classic existentialist text the weight of the world
a thing that your aunt gave you that you don't know what it is
You are wearing:
a black turtleneck
a black beret
> examine turtleneck
This is one of the hallmarks of a great existentialist. You wear it so that people think that you are an intellectual and not a lunatic.
> feel despair
You have 0 points out of 0. You will never do better than this.
> approach bar
At the Bar
There is a fantastic crystalline array of bottles behind the bar. Most of them have labels with long names that you remember seeing in the high-school biochemistry book that you burned in protest one semester.
The bartender looks at you a little strangely. He asks: "What'll it be today?"
> examine biochemistry book
You don't see that here!
> examine weight of the world
It's pretty heavy. It is currently on your shoulders.
The bartender looks at you expectantly.
> say "Nothing, thanks."
"I thought so," the bartender chuckling. He reaches for another toothpick.
There is no exit.
You are standing on a city street at night. There are signs of activity coming from the surrounding buildings and from other nearby avenues. In front of you is a bar.
As you leave the bar you are knocked down from behind by a postmodernist who has apparently been neatly ejected from the establishment.
"They're mad! Mad, I tell you!" he wails as he scrambles to his feet. He runs off to continue to invent some more obscurantist metaphors, build more defenses against the advancement of science, and wage his tiresome war against critical thinking.
There is a postmodernist book here that he left behind in his haste.
> take book
Taken. As you pick it up you, by the process of diffusion, are transferred into the book. You are a postmodernist book.
***You are dead.*** Your score is -100 out of a possible 0.
Start over as a transhumanist? (y/n) y
. . .