736 >Enter name.

You are the Problem Solver.  You solve problems, if it wasn't obvious by your name.  You've been employed to do such solving of problems by the Queen Herself.  Which queen?  The White Queen.  She has recently tasked you with the solving of the future game that will occur, and she has tasked you with chronicling all the events that will lead to the end of the game, and how to change them so that victory can be achieved.

You haven't a clue how to even approach that.  Fortunately, you have been issued a FENESTRATED PANEL to allow you to view moments in the future.  Unfortunately, however, you aren't very good with the controls.  Sometimes you can view actual moments from the game, other times, you just see garbage like this.

You are a very hard carpascian.  You like to sweet talk dames through your phone.  They always rant about worries about their future, and how they can do their part to help the game.  You tell the sweet, hysterical broad on the other side of the line that she's got nothing to worry about, and she's already doing her part by calling.

Life is hard on Prospit.  Work is long.  Pay is adequate.  Nights can droll longer than you could expect they should.  For that, you are sufficiently supplemented for the extra hours.  Your one goal in life?  You ponder that a moment.  It probably is to have a nice steak dinner.  It's a dream of yours to have that every night.  Every day, you'd walk into your apartment on slum row, and find there, waiting, a large steak for you to eat.  Maybe a nice broad to serve it to you, but that isn't necessary of that dream.  You'd be ok with anybody serving you, even yourself.

Today seems like a particularly balmy summer's day.  You're feeling extra hard-boiled today.  What do you do?

>Take out arms.