181 lines
7.9 KiB
Plaintext
181 lines
7.9 KiB
Plaintext
<ROUTINE WITNESS ()
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<TELL
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"[You are chief police detective in the suburb of Cabeza Plana.
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Today you received a telegram from a Mr. Linder, saying that his life
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is in danger and asking for your help. His name \"rang a bell,\" and you
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consulted a police file on the case of his wife's recent suicide.
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Now you are ready to meet him for the first time.]|
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Somewhere near Los Angeles. A cold Friday evening in February 1938.
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In this climate, cold is anywhere below about fifty degrees. Storm
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clouds are swimming across the sky, their bottoms glowing faintly from
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the city lights in the distance. A search light pans slowly under the
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clouds, heralding another film premiere. The air seems expectant, waiting
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for the rain to begin, like a cat waiting for the ineffable moment
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to ambush.|
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The taxi has just dropped you off at the entrance to the Linders' driveway.
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The driver didn't seem to like venturing into this maze of twisty streets
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any more than you did. But the house windows are full of light, and
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radio music drifts toward you. Your favorite pistol, a snub-nosed Colt
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.32, is snug in its holster. The long week is finished, except
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for this appointment. But why does an ominous feeling grip you?|
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The WITNESS: An INTERLOGIC Mystery|
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Copyright (c) 1983 Infocom, Inc. All rights reserved.|
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WITNESS is a trademark of Infocom, Inc.|
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What next?|
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>RING THE DOORBELL|
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Someone turns off the radio. You hear footsteps inside the house. Then
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the door swings open.
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\"Good evening,\" says a smiling face, \"I am Phong. Please come in.\"
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He leads you into the house and closes the door behind you.|
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You are now in the entry.|
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Here in the entry is a small Shinto shrine, with a hanging scroll and
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an arrangement of flowers, as well as a coat closet and a platform
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for storing shoes. You can see a hallway to the east.|
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Phong's straight black hair and folded eyelids make him obviously Asian,
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but no definite nationality. His open, almost gentle face holds a quick
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smile and eyes that seem to miss nothing. He carries his stout body
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lightly, but you can see great strength under his light shirt and dark
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trousers. You guess his age at about fifty, but who knows how many
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lifetimes of experience he carries?|
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Phong says, \"I believe the Linders are in the living room. Please follow
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me.\" He leads you into a hallway and turns left. This hallway seems
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to run the length of the house, from the garage at the south end to
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the living room at the north. There is enough warm yellow light flooding
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from the living room for you to see a few doors on each side of the
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hall. As you get near the living room, you hear voices talking, half-loud
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and fast.|
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You are now in the living room.|
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A huge fieldstone fireplace on the south wall holds a blazing fire,
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filling the living room with warmth and light. Grouped in front of
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the fire are a glass-topped coffee table and a rattan davenport and
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club chair, with cushions covered in a print showing bamboo plants
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in the style of Japanese brush-painting. A lamp with a printed shade
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and a telephone sit on the table.
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On the north wall are a console radio and a liquor cabinet made of
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light-colored wood.|
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\"Excuse me, sir,\" says Phong, \"but the detective has arrived.\"|
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Monica stops talking and looks at you sharply. She is a woman in her
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mid-twenties. Her grey eyes flash, emphasizing her dark waved hair
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and light but effective make-up. She wears a navy Rayon blouse, tan
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slacks, and tan pumps with Cuban heels. She acts as though you were
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a masher who just gave her a whistle.|
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Linder stands at least six foot, with a powerful frame but quick actions,
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like a cat. His eyeglasses sit on top of his head, where thin strands
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of long black hair go here and there, mostly combed backward. His wide-set
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hazel eyes size you up quickly from within their pouches in his ruddy
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face. He wears a silk peach-colored Mandarin shirt and chocolate trousers,
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impeccably tailored and laundered, but sweat gleams on his high forehead,
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and he looks as though he hasn't slept much lately.|
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Linder turns to you and says, \"Detective, am I glad to see you! This
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is my daughter, Monica, and of course you've met Phong already.\" He
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looks at a wrist watch with a gleaming silver bracelet. \"I see you're
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right on time. I'll be with you as soon as I finish my drink.\"
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Mr. Phong heads off to the south.|
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What next?|
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>WAIT|
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Time passes...|
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Suddenly, a clap of thunder rolls across the hills outside.|
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Without warning, lightning flashes outside, and a few seconds later
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thunder rattles the house.|
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Rain begins to fall outside in a sprinkle.|
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Linder gulps down the rest of his drink. \"Well, Detective,\" he says,
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\"I'm anxious to get on with our business. Let's you and I go to my
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office so we can talk undisturbed.\" He takes you by the arm and leads
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you through the hallway. Just south of the entry, he opens a door to
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the east and leads you through it.|
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(office)|
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This is obviously the office of Mr. Linder's company, Pacific Trade
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Associates. At the west end of the office, a massive desk of teak and
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mahogany faces toward the window. It has no drawers, but the top is
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covered with piles of letters, some newspapers, a telephone, and various
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souvenirs from the Far East.|
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Behind it is a large ornately-carved chair, like a cruiser escorting
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a battle ship. A simple wooden chair, polished smooth by visitors,
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flanks the desk on the other side. On the north wall is a lounge, upholstered
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in green velvet and a bit lumpy, with a framed wood-block picture hanging
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over it. On the outside wall, next to a door and window, stands a grandfather
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clock, ticking relentlessly. A file cabinet stands in the corner.|
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A cat is sleeping in the corner.|
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Linder sits down in the carved chair.|
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It's now 8:13 p.m.|
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>SIT ON WOODEN CHAIR|
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You are now sitting on the wooden chair.|
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Linder begins his story. \"My late wife, may she rest in peace, got
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involved with a young man named Stiles. Naturally I tried to stop this
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affair, but without much success. Since my wife passed away, this Stiles
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fellow has gone off the deep end, I'm afraid, and blamed me for her
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death. I tried my best to ignore him, but he seems to have lost his
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senses. This morning I received this note and decided to ask your help.\"
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He hands the note to you.|
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The rain outside is falling heavily now.|
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>WAIT|
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Time passes...|
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The rain outside begins to taper off.|
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The rain storm outside has passed now.|
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The clock chimes once to mark the half hour.|
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Monica bursts into the office, wearing a felt hat and wool coat, and
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struggling to get her driving gloves on. She glances icily in your
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direction and then back to her father. \"I'm off to the pictures with
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Terry, Dad. Good-bye.\" She hugs him briefly but firmly, burying her
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head in his shoulder.|
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He pushes her away and says, \"You're leaving
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now?! I thought you'd be talking to the detective here. What about
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the threat on my life?\" He has the hurt look of an orphan pup.|
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She
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answers, \"You don't need me here. I need to get away now and then.
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I'm not like Mother, you know.\" Tears well up in her eyes but she brushes
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them away before they drop. She turns to leave.|
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Monica, for whom you are waiting, has arrived.|
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It's now 8:36 p.m.|
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>WAIT|
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Time passes...|
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Monica heads off to the west.|
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Outside somewhere, a car roars to life and speeds away.|
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The clock chimes 9 times to mark the hour.|
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You hear the door bell ring.|
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Linder looks toward the window and says, \"I don't think Phong has answered
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the door bell yet.\" He reaches toward the butler's button and at the
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same instant shouts \"Stiles!\" You turn around and dimly see a figure
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outside. Suddenly there is a flash of light and an explosion, and the
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window falls into dozens of shiny shards. The cat bolts and disappears
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somewhere. The figure outside turns and runs before you can see the
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face. When you turn back around, you see Linder slumping down in his
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chair, with a bloody stain spreading across his silk shirt. He teeters
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on the edge of the seat, then falls onto the floor, quite dead.|
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It's now 9:03 p.m.">>
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