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Bureaucracy: The Search For The Permit
Copyright (c) 2023 SilverCorp. All rights reserved.
"Bureaucracy" is a registered trademark of SilverCorp.
Version: 1.2.3.972a Hotfix 32
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Congratulations! You are almost ready to become the next in a long line of truly successful American entrepreneurs. Having spent the last few months knee-deep in market research and preparation, you have established that setting up a VHS rewinding service on the main street of your small town is going to be the ticket that will make you a textbook example of the American Dream. You have the land and the building, you have your equipment, you even have a pimply-faced teenager that seems to be perpetually bored as your one employee. The only thing left is seeing to a letter that dropped into your mailbox today and is now lying on your desk.
> You read the letter.
It seems to be the answer to the permit request you sent in to the county capital a few months ago. The government sure works fast! The letter explains that while your paperwork is in order, you are required to appear at city hall and fill out some more. In particular, there seems to be a focus laid upon you acquiring a permit going by the name "A-38".
> You travel to the county capital.
Building a business doesn't leave much capital for things such as personal vehicles, and as such, your trip to the county capital is marred somewhat by the bumpy ride in your 1965 Liberty Revelator. Sure, you were supporting the local economy at the time, but there's a reason Liberty folded about ten minutes after you bought that vehicle. You feel like every mile you drive with this rust bucket is reducing your lifespan in some way. But with entrepreneurship at stake, you push forward and arrive at your destination: city hall. Time to get to work.
> You enter the city hall building.
Somehow, it looks a lot bigger on the inside. In fact, the main hall you find yourself in shouldn't even fit into the building you saw outside, but you ignore that for now. The hallway goes on further than you can even see, with plenty of doors lining the left and right sides and staircases leading up and down. But most notably, there are five desks in front of you, marked with the letters A through E.
> You walk over to desk A.
The desk is not staffed. A small piece of paper on it reads "Closed for lunch. Please check desk C."
> You walk over to desk C.
The desk is staffed by a secretary that is sitting there, typing away. The moment she sees you approach, she points to a piece of paper that reads "Closed for lunch. Please check desk F."
> You ask the secretary "Do you know a permit 'A-38'?"
Unclear as to where to start, you decide to ignore the sign and speak to the secretary. "I'm looking for a permit 'A-38'. Where can I get that?" you ask. She points to the paper again, not responding.
> You walk over to desk F.
There is no desk F, at least not as far as you can see.
> You ask the secretary "Where is desk F?"
Returning to desk C, you ask her, "Excuse me, where is desk F?"
She gives you an overly exaggerated eye roll in return. "I don't know. Check with the Desk Requisition Committee on Floor 3," she replies before returning to her typing and ignoring you once more. Further requests for clarification are ignored. Looks like you're on your own for now.
> You head up the nearest staircase.
While you cannot see anything that tells you which floor you're on right now, you simply assume that this must be the ground floor, and wherever this third floor may be, it's most likely higher up. Heading over to the next open side door you see, you step into a featureless gray stairwell. When you look down, you quickly avert your eyes, because you could not see an end to the stairs and you were getting dizzy. Instead, you firmly grasp the railing and begin making your way up the steps.
> You attempt to find Floor 3.
Alas, while you have a destination, finding it is beyond you. In the end, all you manage is to go up three sets of stairs and exit the stairwell, hoping that whatever you find these is, in fact, the third floor. On the other side, you find a small office with two doors leading away, one to the left, and one to the right. In the center of the room, an old man wearing a captain's hat sits at a desk, poring over various images of scantily clad women dancing. "Ahoy there, landlubber!" he bellows in your general direction.
> You ask the man "Is this the Desk Requisition Committee on Floor 3?"
While this place doesn't look right, who knows, really, so you ask, "Excuse me, is this the Desk Requisition Committee on Floor 3?"
Sadly, he shakes his head. "Nae, this be the Burlesque Requisition Committee. What ye be lookin' for may be past me two doors, but I ain't recallin' which one be the right one," he explains. A thought then seems to cross his mind, and he begins to dig through one of the desk's drawers. "Aye, but before ye go, take this, it may help ye," he then adds, placing a hourglass down.
> You look at the hourglass.
It's just a regular old hourglass, at least as far as your perception is concerned. Sand runs through it. You cannot tell if there is anything special about it, or why the old man would want you to have it. Still, it's a gift, right?
> You take the hourglass.
"Good luck, landlubber!" the old man says.
> You ask the old man "Have you ever heard of a permit 'A-38'?"
Before you leave, you figure you might as well try and see what the old man knows about the permit as well. "Say, captain, have you ever heard of a permit 'A-38'?" you ask.
Surprisingly enough, he nods. "Aye, 'Permission To Establish Exceedingly Likely To Fail Venture In Business Wasteland, Subform 38 For Delusional Wannabe Entrepreneurs'. Put out many o' those in me time, but that no longer be me department, and me old mind be failin' me in tryin' to remember where ye get that one. Sorry," he says before returning to his pictures. That was at least some information, even if the full name of that form doesn't seem promising. You suppose you will continue to simply refer to it as "A-38".
> You head through the left door.
With nothing much to go on, you thank the old man once more and head through the left door. However, the moment you step through it, the door slams shut and locks behind you. Looks like you're not going back, at least for now.
> You look around.
The room you now find yourself in seems even stranger than the last. It's completely empty apart from a desk in the center of the room, which itself is empty apart from three cups placed on it in a shell game-like arrangement. At the desk sits a middle-aged woman dressed up in a stereotypical magician's outfit—cape, top hat, the works. There are also two doors at the other side of the room, but they both have a comically over-sized padlock hanging in front of them.