The maid's "pass key" can only open one door -- the door to Room 201. Room 201, as well as you can figure, is directly to the west in the Opal Towers hallway.                                                                                  You are Michael Telan, an agent for Argrath Intelligence.  Although you are still young, you are already jaded and rather insensitized to violence. Still, Parth's and AI's methods frustrate you -- no one likes to kill.  Physically          speaking, you are 5'11'' tall, with black hair greying prematurely at the temples. Your habits of dress and activity are somewhat outdated in 2167: you are obsessed with Old Earth before the Cataclysm and act like a 20th Century Earther.   Ulam Parth is a greying, middle aged man around fifty-five years old. He is iron-willed, and demands results from his employees. His body bears the marks of years of military service and he has the mind of a supreme strategist.             But for all his virtue, Parth is not liked by agents and planet government alike.  Argrath Intelligence, a private firm, is being snubbed by gov't personnel because of Parth's cold, hard attitudes.                                           This is the door to Ulam Parth's Office.                                                                                                                                                                                                        This is the desk of a powerful (or very arrogant) executive. Jet black and polished thoroughly, the desk is a fine piece of office furniture. It is equipped with two locking drawers and a small file cabinet.                                 This is the leather chair upon which Parth's guests are seated. It is comfortable, though by no means as comfortable as Parth's own chair, and it is slightly lower than the boss's recliner to give the guest an inferior feeling.             This is one of the original self portraits of Vincent Van Gogh, a painter from old Earth. The painting is notable for its strong brush strokes and creative use of large quantities of paint. The figure in the painting appears confused and   in an unstable state. From what you know of Van Gogh, he was mentally ill at the time and committed suicide not very long after completion of the work.                                                                                         This is your personal weapon -- an antique semi-automatic pistol, which fires small globs of lead. It is not agency-approved, but it has gotten you out of many a tough jam. The gun holds seven bullets.                                       Harold Werdt is a physically huge man, very tall and rather portly. He moves his massive frame with impressive dexterity and almost menacing confidence. His large hands constantly tousle his ginger-brown, curly hair, an annoying habit that accentuates the sense of urgency created by the man. On his plain, lined face he wears a grim, thoughful expression as if deep in thought. Werdt is perhaps fifty, but moves with the energy and ease of a man half his age.                    This is an authentic trenchcoat from old Earth -- very rare and quite valuable.                                                                                                                                                                 This is a not-unusual door leading west. Little brass numbers on it read: 201.                                                                                                                                                                  Although a bit dated, this relic of 20th century Earth is your favorite hat.                                                                                                                                                                    This oak paneled door is labeled `EQUIPMENT SECTION'.                                                                                                                                                                                           This imitation mahogany door is labeled `PRIVATE'.                                                                                                                                                                                              Do you think I would bother to waste my time and dazzling writing skills to describe a mundane elevator button? Do you actually think that? It's so funny that you think I would do that! I wouldn't do that!                                   This is Tinker, head of Equipment Distribution, Development, and Testing for Argrath Intelligence. He is a small man, fifty-ish, balding. He smokes that smelly old stogey all the time, and always has a squinty look on his face like he      don't trust you. He probably doesn't. And boy does he raise hell when someone brings back one of his new pieces of equipment back busted! Tinker and you ain't the best of buddies, but he's never done anything to cross you.                  This is the card that allows you to access the first and fourth floors of the Pollar West Office Building, which houses the administrative section of Argrath Intelligence.                                                                     Argrath Intelligence is a private intelligence agency owned by an unrevealed parent company. Its purpose is to perform hired missions for the government as well as for private corporations. Argrath is not competing well with its rival      agencies, especially Indemnity Intelligence (q.v.), and is short of money much of the time. This is reflected in your salary -- you can barely afford to live in the dump you inhabit on the pittance Argrath doles out to you.                 Your magnetic-trip apartment key says `APT 205.' It opens the door to apt. 205 in the Westside Apt. building on Holm Drive.                                                                                                                     This is all the cash you have left, and you really want to hang onto it.                                                                                                                                                                        There are two locking drawers, a black one and a scratched one.                                                                                                                                                                                 The black drawer is not locked, and seems to be rarely used.                                                                                                                                                                                    This drawer has been scratched by the careless use of a key. This drawer has obviously been used (even abused) by Parth. It is wider and deeper than the black drawer, and its lock seems more secure.                                          This is the card that gives you elevator access to the first and fifth floors of the Renwick Enterprises Building, which houses the offices of the Distribution Bureau of Argrath Intelligence.                                                 This is the card that gives you access to the first and third floors of the Halvorsen Enterprises Building, which contains your office.                                                                                                         The date is intangible; it is an abstract invention of man which is nothing more than an attempt to reconcile his position in the space-time continuum. You can't look at it.                                                                   This is a small steel safe set firmly into the wall of the office. It has a small dial on the front.                                                                                                                                            This is a button that alerts the elevator to your presence and causes it to come to you.                                                                                                                                                        Well, I would have to admit that it closely resembles an apartment door.                                                                                                                                                                        The trap door is lightweight and easily openable in times of emergency. It probably leads up into the elevator shaft.                                                                                                                           The dial has numbers etched on it going from 1 to 50.                                                                                                                                                                                           This wretched excuse for a rock band is called `Rotting Bits of Cat Flesh' and is best known for its members' resemblance to rotting bits of said cat flesh. It consists of four distasters of genetics who thrash epilectically around the     stage, waving amplified torture devices called instruments. Their entire repertoire consists of a song called `Hello! May I Vomit on Your Toenails?,' which is reported to have 20 verses, but no one can stand to listen past four or five.    The group of thugs sitting at the table consists of three seedy looking individuals, none of whom you would like to meet in a dark alley. They are eating quickly, and holding a heated discussion about something.                             The black-robed man looks exactly how one would expect an expert hired killer to look: mean, wiry, ice-cold. He is dressed in a sinister black robe that covers him from head to toe, and he brandishes a large, custom-made .44 magnum.        These are the rotting boards used to cover the entryway of an abandoned building. They seem heavy but you could probably handle them.                                                                                                           This is a large floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with volumes on a myriad of subjects ranging from art to xenophobia.                                                                                                                           Among the various titles in the bookcase you notice a copy of `Doppleganger -- The Novel' sticking out slightly from the books around it.                                                                                                       This is a novelization of `Doppleganger,' a sci-fi espionage thriller, written by T.A. Long and Payman Paranormal.                                                                                                                              The cage occupies the northwest corner of this room, and can hold two prisoners. The cage can be, of course, open and locked.                                                                                                                   This is one of Abraham's experimental gadgets: a wristwatch that can generate a strong magnetic field. Not an especially new idea, but one that has never been succesfully achieved outside of cheap spy novels. You simply activate the watch, and it does the rest. The electromagnet watch has not been tested very thoroughly, though, and you are doing the agency a service by testing it in the field.                                                                                   This is an anonymous-looking set of keys.                                                                                                                                                                                                       The fuse is set permanently in the drum of gasoline. It sparks and burns wildly, its flame drawing closer to the huge drum of gas every minute.                                                                                                 This is a red, fifty gallon drum filled with a liquid that smells unpleasantly like gasoline.                                                                                                                                                   This is the card that gives you elevator access to the first and third floors of the Simpson Building, which contains the offices of IPHS, Inc. It is a gift from Abraham, who must have gone to great lengths to get it for you.               This is a regulation AI standard issue gas mask.                                                                                                                                                                                                This is a type 50-B Monorail vehicle, which has a capacity of 142 passengers plus three crew members. This particular monrail is an old model, now reserved for limited duty. It only serves two stations, on Wood Street and Lortan Avenue.    This is a computerized ticket booth; you just pay the machine and it gives you a ticket. Attached to the booth is a sign which reads "Lortan Ave. Station -- Tickets $2 -- Trains daily at 9:00 am, 3:30 pm, and 7:00 pm to Wood St."           The "ticket" is really an ultraviolet marking that the computerized booth puts on your body. The monorail itself will not allow people without a mark to enter it. Once you board the train, the mark disappears.                               This is the computerized, unmanned ticket booth for the Wood Street Station. A small sign on the booth reads "Tickets $2 -- Trains Daily to Lortan Avenue at 10:30 am, 5:00 pm, and 8:30 pm. Have a nice day!"                                  The "ticket" is really an ultraviolet marking that the computerized booth puts on your body. The monorail itself will not allow people without a mark to enter it. Once you board the train, the mark disappears.                               It is your average Joe door.                                                                                                                                                                                                                    I would have to say that at a glance it looks like a door of some sort.                                                                                                                                                                         This is a long, wooden table used for meetings of the Knights of the Red Flag.                                                                                                                                                                  This is a sharp knife with an extremely thin blade.                                                                                                                                                                                             This is a small lock in the door.                                                                                                                                                                                                               This is your bed. You sleep on it.                                                                                                                                                                                                              This is your clothes dresser. It is in no way unusual.                                                                                                                                                                                          This is your second-favorite hat, which is somewhat crushed from being kept in a dresser with other items of clothing.                                                                                                                          This is your handy-dandy trusty secret agent general-issue flashlight -- guaranteed to provide unfailing illumination for three hours. It has confused you -- as well as your friends and acquaintances -- for years as to why you like to keep it in the dresser where it can wreck your second-favorite hat. The flashlight is also suitable for use as a club, in fact, now it is only thusly valuable, for you have just realized that the batteries have worn out.                         This is a super-duper futuristic Iceaire Econoline Refrigerator -- what do you want, a service manual?                                                                                                                                          I can't say that it looks different from any other can of beer you've seen in your life.                                                                                                                                                        It is a fine frothy, golden-brown brand of beer.                                                                                                                                                                                                It is a golden-delicious apple grown in the hydroponic orchards of the largest moon of Uranus.                                                                                                                                                  Tolya Ivanoff is surely dead, and a good thing, too, for if he weren't, he'd be trying to make you be the poor sap who's lying on the floor dead as a blunt doornail, so don't feel so bad about all the violence here, I mean, he started it.  The IP-39 android looks exactly like an average, anonymous-looking human male. It (he?) is five-feet ten-inches tall, average build, pale complexion, with no distinguishing marks.                                                             This is the security guard for InterPlanetary Human Simulations mentioned in the documents for this mission. He is badly wounded, and appears to be dying, though he seems to be conscious at the moment.                                       Indemnity Intelligence is the name of an intelligence agency owned and controlled by Rex Remerak Enterprises, one of the leading corporations of the nation. (It's founder and president, Rex Randall Remerak, is currently a fugitive from     justice, as the Supreme Court has declared him guilty of a list of crimes three miles long.) Indemnity is known to be ruthless and dishonest, but it is very effective, and is very successful.                                                 The Knights of the Red Flag is the notorious espionage team of the Federation of Communist Planets. It is flawlessly effective, viciously ruthless, and frustratingly elusive. Powerful as the Knights of the Red Flag group is, it is only the foreign branch of the far-larger communist espionage and anti-espionage organization, the Knights of the Green Banner, or KGB.                                                                                                                  Amalgamated Automatons is the largest robot and android manufacturer in the Union. Its headquarters and main plant is located on third street.                                                                                                  You have heard that Parth has a daughter named Veronica who is also an agent for Argrath, but you have never seen her. Too bad.                                                                                                                 The enemy. They have forced your nation to inhabit only the ugly, outer planets while they dwell on the fine moons of the "gas giants" Saturn and Jupiter. They have held technological superiority in terms of space travel for ages, and      are determined to crush you, the Free People, entirely. The Earth was destroyed in a war to preserve freedom, and now the commies are trying to dominate the entire Solar System.                                                               Even though it was determined centuries ago that cigarettes are harmful to one's health, people still smoke them as fast as they can. This, alas, is your last cigarette, a low-tar, filtered menthol. One good thing about cigarettes in this  day and age is that you don't need matches anymore. You just start smoking the bloody thing, and it lights up for you. Ah, technology!                                                                                                          John Abraham, head of Distribution for Argrath Intelligence, is a tall, well-dressed black man with a scar from a war-wound over his left eye.                                                                                                  You look at the friendly receptionist, and noticing that she repeats the same message over and over to you, you deduce that she is an android. She is a rather good-looking android, though, you must admit, and very well-made.                The "French" bellcap is obviously a fake -- he wears a false mustache and bad toupee, and his accent is deplorable. It's a wonder that he is allowed to work in such a quality hotel as this; perhaps he's the brother-in-law of the owner or   something. The bellcap doesn't even look rich enough to work here, let alone stay here. In fact, he strikes you (a seasoned observer of people) as a rather dishonest-looking, money-hungry guy.                                                Armand is a heavy, garrulous, friendly man with a huge, cheesy mustache that moves all over his face when he laughs, which is quite often. You have been friends with Armand for most of your life.                                             Amy Wilstein is a tall, rail-thin woman with jet black hair and a squinty, screwed-up face. She constantly wears ridiculously bulky costume jewelry and calls everyone "dear." Her little shop is popular among the older women of Lortan City. Sam is the stereotypical greasy spoon fry cook -- pot-bellied, bald, clad in a grubby white tee shirt and smoking a smelly cigar. Sam is quite intelligent and articulate, though. He's just a slob, that's all.                                This device, when activated, detects the presence of an android nearby. When it finds an android close enough to you it makes a noise, and tells you which direction to go to find the android. Its batteries will last five hours.             The list authorizes you to obtain the following items of equipment: one android detector, one electromagnet watch, one gas mask. If any of these items are damaged, lost, or destroyed, the cost of the item will be subtracted from your pay.  This picture postcard is from a rack of cards called `Rip-Roaring Robots.' It is very new, and the only one of it's kind. It depicts a plain, medium-sized, fair-skinned man with a blank expression on his face, and is labeled `IP-39: AmazingNew Human Substitute From IPHS, Inc.' On the back, it reads, `IP-39 was created by Harold Werdt, a new genius in the field. One of IP-39's most interesting abilities, according to Werdt, is the ability to heal himself automatically!'       This is a heavy box of ammunition you keep in your room to contain spare ammunition. The box is large enough to hold enough bullets for ten reloadings.                                                                                         The IPHS security guard has died from the multiple injuries suffered during IP-39's violent disappearance and Indemnity Intelligence's capture of him.                                                                                          The black-robed man lies on the floor, dead.                                                                                                                                                                                                    This is not a very unusual door. Sorry to disappoint you.                                                                                                                                                                                       I'm afraid I must lay the bad news upon you again: this door is nought but a normal portal or entryway, having no distinguishing characteristics for you to marvel at and study at length.                                                      Yes, this is a door, humble invention of man, created long ago by an unsung genius who is, alas, lost to history's annals. Unfortunately, this is a rather bland, mundane, and terribly uninteresting door. Waste of time to look at it.        This is a stout steel door that is mainly meant to keep people in somewhere they don't particularly want to be, like a cell. It also serves well in keeping rescuers as yourself out.                                                           This is a strong steel cell door. I doubt that even Arnold Schwartzenhooger, famous Lortan City movie star, could break it in. Of course, he's very small. But take my word for it -- the door's veeery strong.                                 The room key is inscribed with the name "Opal Towers Hotel" and the number 212.                                                                                                                                                                 The hotel room door has the number 212 on it.                                                                                                                                                                                                   The monorail conductor is a tall black man with a funny little blue hat.                                                                                                                                                                        The piece of paper looks ordinary enough to me. Perhaps if you read it, you will become more enlightened regarding its importance.                                                                                                              The health-club ferns are very nice, green jobbies. One of them, however, appears to be a little out-of-the-ordinary. That fern looks an awful lot like a cannabis plant, which is still quite illegal in the world of 2167.                    This particular fern appears to be a (gasp) cannabis plant, source of the mind-altering drug, marijuana. If Law Enforcement got hold of this, they could close the snooty health club down, or at least arrest some people, just for fun.       The posters depict several scantily clad, peppy young ladies doing various exercises. About as subtle as a brick. One of the posters appears to be a little wrinkled.                                                                           This poster has writing on the back.                                                                                                                                                                                                            This is a magnificent fountain, you must admit. Full of water, shooting all over the place in delightful arrays of cascading cascadingness, and other superfluous imagery like that.                                                            This appears to be an underwater listening device that would probably disintigrate if it touched the open air. Pretty handy if you want to bug a room and don't want some secret agent to goof with the microphone.                             This piece of Amy Wilstein's merchandise interests you for some reason. It's one of those cartoon show type thingies with the crisscrossing slats that extend so you can reach things from farther away.                                        The red document appears to be a bunch of words printed on some red paper. It would pay to read it, I think.                                                                                                                                    This document is obviously very official, as it is typed in solid, blocky, official-looking letters on thick, strong paper that sounds awful official if you rustle it around. It would not be a bad idea to read it, I bet.                    The business card has the following printed on it: "Robert MacCumhaill, President  -- Amalgamated Automatons, Inc." On the back, written in black pen is this, "Parth, anytime you want to see me, give this to my receptionist. -- R.MacC."    The Opal Towers Hotel second floor maid does not appear to be a very friendly woman. She is quite large, and despite her age, appears to be very vigorous and violent.                                                                          This is the second floor maid, whom you have, in order to stop her from roasting you with that vicious flame-throwing vacuum cleaner, killed.                                                                                                   These papers look very suspicious and would probably make interesting reading.                                                                                                                                                                  I sure wouldn't mess with him!                                                                                                                                                                                                                  This is a portrait of Ayatollah Khomeini, the instigator of the Iranian Revolution of 1979. History has not been kind to him....                                                                                                                The wooden chair is bolted to the floor.                                                                                                                                                                                                        This appears to be an agent of Argrath Intelligence who has been captured and tied up. Despite his confined condition, he appears to be in perfect health.                                                                                      It appears to be a metal key which has undergone some superficial oxidation.                                                                                                                                                                    This appears to be a battery pack for a small electronic device. Don't ask me what it was doing behind a portrait.                                                                                                                              Look it up in a history book.                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Dr. Farsi is a scientist who is asleep.                                                                                                                                                                                                         The robot is a short mean-looking little guy equipped with a loud speech system and a vicious-looking laser weapon.                                                                                                                             The large bag is full of robotic parts.                                                                                                                                                                                                         The large sack seems to be full of electronic parts.                                                                                                                                                                                            This card gives you elevator access to the first and tenth floors of the Arctaven Building.                                                                                                                                                     He is the president of Amalgamated Automatons.                                                                                                                                                                                                  He is the leader of the Knights of the Red Flag.                                                                                                                                                                                                This guard is armed with a laser rifle. He is quite large.                                                                                                                                                                                      This guard is armed with a laser rifle. He is quite small. You don't get much of a chance to examine him closely because you are somewhat distracted by the fact that he is shooting at you.                                                    The large thug resembles a gorilla wearing a human suit.                                                                                                                                                                                        The small thug looks like a version of the large thug, only squashed down. He's about four feet tall and five feet wide.                                                                                                                        This is a small, black, metallic club which seems too tiny to do any damage to anyone. It seems to have a compartment of some sort which appears to be about the size of a battery pack. I don't think you'd to able to put anything else in it.The large guard has been slain.                                                                                                                                                                                                                 The small guard has been violently subdued in an act of self-defense by Our Hero, Michael Telan, secret agent.                                                                                                                                  The large, gorilla-like thug lies on the floor, motionless.                                                                                                                                                                                     The small thug lies on the floor in a squashed-up-gorilla-ish way.