{"type":"location","location":{"title":"Interrogation Room 7, Agency Headquarters","description":"You sit across from a metal desk in a windowless concrete room, its walls painted an institutional grey-green that seems to absorb light. A single fluorescent tube flickers overhead, casting everything in a sickly pallor. The air is stale, tinged with cigarette smoke and the faint chemical smell of industrial cleaning supplies. Your credentials hang around your neck: FORENSIC LINGUIST, DEPT. OF ANALYSIS. You've been called in on short notice—unusual for a Friday.\n\nAcross from you sits a woman in her late thirties, wrapped in a grey wool blanket despite the room's warmth. She has the hollowed look of someone who hasn't slept properly in days. On the desk between you: a folder marked CLASSIFIED, a worn passport-like document, several bills of unfamiliar currency, and a tape recorder. The folder contains transcripts of her initial testimony, conducted in a language your colleagues in the department couldn't quite place.\n\nA digital clock on the wall reads 14:47. You have until 17:00 before the review committee meets to decide her fate.\n\nThe woman watches you intently, waiting.","suggestedActions":["Open the classified folder and examine the initial testimony transcripts","Study the unfamiliar currency and passport document","Ask the woman to repeat her story in her own words","Check the tape recorder and listen to her original recorded statement"],"conversation":"s8hd4vo1vlboke0440yzqd"},"conversationLength":1,"maxFreeConversationLength":10}