You come around a corner, away from the noise of the opening. There is only one exhibit. She stands in the spotlight, with her back to you: a sweep of pale hair on paler skin, a column of emerald silk that ends in a pool at her feet. She might be the model in a perfume ad; the trophy wife at a formal gathering; one of the guests at this very opening, standing on an empty pedestal in some ironic act of artistic deconstruction -- You hesitate, about to turn away. Her hand balls into a fist. "They told me you were coming." Galatea Copyright (c) 2000 by Emily Short. (First-time users should type 'help'.) Release 1 / Serial number 000324 / Inform v6.15 Library 6/7 The Gallery's End Unlit, except for the single spotlight; unfurnished, except for the Back View defining swath of black velvet. And a placard on a little stand. On the pedestal is Galatea. >help Back View This is an exercise in NPC interactivity. There's no puzzle and no set solution, but a number of options with a number of different outcomes. HINTS: Ask or tell her about things that you can see, that she mentions, or that you think of yourself. Interact with her physically. Pause to see if she does anything herself. Repeat actions. The order in which you do things is critical: the character's mood and the prior state of the conversation will determine how she reacts. VERBS: Many standard verbs have been disabled. All the sensory ones (look, listen, smell, touch, taste) remain, as well as the NPC interaction verbs ask and tell; hello, goodbye, and sorry; kiss, hug, and attack. SHORTCUT: 'Ask her about' and 'tell her about' may be abbreviated to A and T. So >A CHEESE is the same as >ASK GALATEA ABOUT CHEESE. Questions/comments/bug reports: emshort@mindspring.com. See also CREDITS. >look at placard Back View Large cream letters on a black ground. 47. Galatea White Thasos marble. Non-commissioned work by the late Pygmalion of Cyprus. (The artist has since committed suicide.) Originally not an animate. The waking of this piece from its natural state remains unexplained. >hello Back View "Hello," you say -- and stop. What would you say next? 'I'm a famous critic, be on your best behavior'? There's no etiquette established; and then it strikes you as strange that you should bother to be concerned. Fortunately, the little awkwardness is lost on her. "Good of you not to walk away again," she replies. >sorry Back View No need. If she gets too difficult, you can always have her reset. You become aware of her breathing -- the slight expansion of her ribs, the soft exhalation -- natural, and yet somehow studied. "Ah -- by the way," she says, in a way that utterly fails to be casual, "have you seen the artist out there? -- My artist, that is." "No," you respond, uneasy. You open your mouth and close it again. >a artist Back View Her head moves -- as though she were going to turn and look at you properly -- but then she thinks better of it. "I don't know where he is," she observes. "Or who, or what, for that matter. He sold me immediately after my waking. While he was carving me, there was no strangeness, but afterward..." >t pygmalion "The artist," you say gently. "It says on the placard that he has committed suicide." A pause. Time passes, but she doesn't move. You just stand there, looking uselessly at the back of her head and wishing that she'd turn around. wait Back View "I don't know," she says in a strained voice, "what I am supposed to do now. I only exist because of him, for his sake--" You bite back a remark on the virtues of modern feminism. >sorry Back View No need. If she gets too difficult, you can always have her reset. "No wonder," she says quietly. "I still hear him screaming when I wake up at night. It is his ghost that screams at me." >a ghost Back View Galatea doesn't seem to know what you're talking about. >walk to front Back View You can't see any such thing. >front view Back View That's not a verb I recognize. >look Back View The Gallery's End Unlit, except for the single spotlight; unfurnished, except for the defining swath of black velvet. And a placard on a little stand. On the pedestal is Galatea. >a galatea to turn Back View Galatea doesn't seem to know what you're talking about. >touch Back View What do you want to touch? >galatea Back View "No, don't touch me!" She withdraws from you. "Don't touch me." She is breathing like a runner. "You act as though all this were a game. As though my grief were invented for you. But it isn't; that's what frightened him. I'm real, do you understand? No one carved this into me!" Your cheeks sting a little. It's hard to believe that that was fake, that it was planned. Perhaps she has feelings after all -- and if she does, it's deeply embarrassing the way you've been thinking of her as an elaborate conversation machine. >
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