policesquadquest/cases/case-00c-the-liaison/rooms/room1.json

{
  "name": "Hotel Meridian — Federal Field Office, Floors Two and Three",
  "enter_text": "Two floors of a commercial hotel, requisitioned. There is a plastic dome over two chairs and somebody is inside it, gesturing.",
  "music": 2,
  "strokes": [
    { "Rect": { "x": 0, "y": 0, "w": 160, "h": 168, "color": 8, "meaning": "Floor" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 0, "y": 0, "w": 160, "h": 60, "color": 0, "meaning": "Wall" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 0, "y": 58, "w": 160, "h": 3, "color": 15, "meaning": "None" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 0, "y": 61, "w": 160, "h": 107, "color": 8, "meaning": "Floor" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 10, "y": 8, "w": 44, "h": 46, "color": 15, "meaning": "None" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 14, "y": 12, "w": 36, "h": 38, "color": 8, "meaning": "None" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 104, "y": 12, "w": 46, "h": 40, "color": 15, "meaning": "None" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 108, "y": 16, "w": 38, "h": 3, "color": 0, "meaning": "None" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 108, "y": 24, "w": 28, "h": 3, "color": 0, "meaning": "None" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 108, "y": 32, "w": 34, "h": 3, "color": 0, "meaning": "None" } },
    { "Rect": { "x": 0, "y": 164, "w": 160, "h": 4, "color": 0, "meaning": "Wall" } }
  ],
  "spawn": [18, 146],
  "exits": [null, 2, null, 0],
  "exit_flags": ["", "met_analyst", "", ""],
  "exit_blocked": ["", "The analyst found the pattern. You do not leave this building before you have met the analyst.", "", ""],
  "objects": [
    {
      "name": "dome",
      "sprite": "dome",
      "x": 40,
      "y": 122,
      "look": "The Bureau's secure conversation apparatus: a transparent dome lowered over two chairs, guaranteed to defeat all known listening devices.  It defeats them by making conversation inaudible to the participants. Agent Klapp is inside it now, mouthing something, to somebody.  Everybody outside the dome can hear him perfectly.",
      "synonyms": "apparatus plastic bubble secure chairs",
      "use_text": "Klapp waves you in and lowers it over you both.  For eleven minutes he briefs you on the operation. You hear none of it. He hears none of it. The two hotel porters refilling the coffee at the far end of the room hear every word, and one of them takes notes, and the notes are accurate.  When it lifts, Klapp shakes your hand and says it is good to finally speak freely."
    },
    {
      "name": "gadgetcase",
      "sprite": "gadgetcase",
      "x": 118,
      "y": 128,
      "look": "The field kit, open on the bed. A camera in a cufflink. A radio in a hairbrush. A telephone in a shoe. A second telephone, in a second shoe, in case of the first shoe.  Everything in this case is a real object hidden inside another real object, and none of it works as well as either object would alone.",
      "synonyms": "briefcase kit gadgets equipment spy",
      "use_text": "You inspect the kit, as procedure requires of a liaison officer.  You log it, item by item, in your own hand: one (1) camera, concealed, cufflink; one (1) radio, concealed, hairbrush; two (2) telephones, concealed, footwear, left and right.  The log takes two pages. It is the only complete inventory the Bureau has ever had of this case, and Klapp asks for a copy, and frames it."
    },
    {
      "name": "patternmap",
      "sprite": "patternmap",
      "x": 78,
      "y": 108,
      "look": "Her map. The whole city, framed, and twenty-four pins in it joined by string — 1939 to 1958, every job weighted and dated, nineteen years of your working life on a hotel wall.  It is beautiful work. It is the best police work you have ever seen and none of it was done by a police officer.",
      "synonyms": "wall pins string city framed",
      "points": 15,
      "sets_flag": "seen_map",
      "use_text": "You stand at the map for a long time, the way a man stands at a painting.  Twenty-four pins. There were twenty-six. The map is short the Fairmont depot in 1943 and the customs annexe in 1951 — the two nobody ever noticed, not the insurers, not the auditors, not the department, and now not the Bureau either.  You do not correct it.  It is the closest anybody has ever come, and it is two short, and you stand there holding your hat, feeling something you decide not to examine, because it is either pride or loneliness and neither one belongs in a field office.  (+15)"
    },
    {
      "name": "analyst",
      "sprite": "analyst65",
      "x": 108,
      "y": 132,
      "look": "The analyst. Margaret Vale. She found the pattern — alone, over four years, out of insurance filings and property logs nobody else ever read.  She is the first person in twenty-six years to read your reports. All of them. She does not know that is what she has been doing.",
      "synonyms": "margaret vale woman federal",
      "requires_flag": "seen_map",
      "points": 10,
      "sets_flag": "met_analyst",
      "use_text": "You introduce yourself. She shakes your hand and looks at you a half-second longer than the handshake needs, the way you look at a fact that has not yet found its sentence.  Vale: Sergeant Drebin. You closed the Ardmore Street file in '58.  You confirm it.  Vale: That was the best report in the stack. I've read it eleven times. Page two reads like the man was standing in the room.  You tell her, truthfully, that he was.  (+10)",
      "dialogue": [
        {
          "says": "Vale: You've seen my map. Most people ask why I bothered. Twenty-year-old property crime, nobody dead, money never spent.",
          "choices": [
            { "text": "Why did you bother, Miss Vale?", "goto": 1 },
            { "text": "The count is wrong.", "goto": 2 },
            { "text": "Why did he stop?", "goto": 3 }
          ]
        },
        {
          "says": "Vale: Because it's perfect.  She says it flatly, the way you would say it.  Vale: Twenty-four jobs and not one print, not one witness, not one dollar surfacing, for nineteen years. Perfection is a fact, Sergeant. Facts have causes. Everyone in this Bureau thinks the cause is an organisation. Organisations leak. This never leaked once.  Vale: So it isn't an organisation. It's a man. One man, patient, local — and the Bureau flew in fourteen agents and a plastic dome to find a man I could probably find with a library card.",
          "choices": [ { "text": "What would you look up?", "goto": 4 } ]
        },
        {
          "says": "Vale: ...Is it.  She does not reach for a pen. She looks at you, and the half-second happens again, longer.  Vale: The Bureau count is twenty-four. You'd say higher?  You say, truthfully, that you would say higher.  Vale: You know those files better than any man alive. That's why they gave me you.  She lets it sit exactly long enough for you to notice which words she chose, and then she turns back to the map.",
          "choices": [ { "text": "Why did he stop?", "goto": 3 } ]
        },
        {
          "says": "Vale: 1958. Mid-pattern, mid-career, silence.  Vale: Dead, jailed, or moved — we checked all three for four years. He is alive, free, and in this city, and he stopped, and that is the part that frightens me, Sergeant, because a man who can simply stop was never doing it for anything I know how to name.  Vale: What makes a man like that stop?  You consider the question. Ardmore Street closed in October 1958. Prosky drew nine to fifteen in November. The last tin under the third board is dated the same month.  You tell her: perhaps something finally cost somebody else.  She writes that down. It is the only thing you say all day that she writes down.",
          "choices": [ { "text": "Perhaps.", "goto": -1 } ]
        },
        {
          "says": "Vale: Attendance.  Vale: Twenty-four jobs and no witnesses means nobody stood anywhere near them — except the responding officers. I'd look up who attended. Who surveyed. Who signed. One name, Sergeant, across nineteen years of paperwork, again and again, doing everything right.  She shrugs.  Vale: But the Bureau doesn't read paperwork. The Bureau photographs rooftops.",
          "choices": [ { "text": "The Bureau photographs rooftops.", "goto": 0 } ]
        }
      ]
    }
  ]
}