>Give him the runaround

Yes, hello, you are the Herald of the Bright Epoch, savior of snakekind. Or lizardkind, or whatever it is. Could he please explode #301 now?

Ugh! That won't work. Should you lie? You're no good at all at lying, but you have a lizard face at the moment, and it doesn't seem to be very expressive. It mostly just opens and closes. And Richard was lying up a storm out there, and you're better than him, so can you let him beat you? No! You clear your throat. "Ahem. Shouldn't you know why I'm here? I'm somebody very important, after all, here on important business, and it's frankly shameful that my meeting, which I scheduled, in advance, has been thrown to the wayside—"

"I'm sorry," the Director says.

"—thrown, I say, thrown, and— what? You're sorry? I mean, of course you're sorry. You should be! The meeting was supposed to start a whole hour ago, in fact, and I was waiting out there the whole time, and—"

"I— I didn't know there was a meeting. You're the first person who's ever come in here."

"What?"

"You're the first one who's ever come in. I've been alone in here."

You try to process. "For how long?"

"I— I don't know. A whole bunch of orbits. I got recycled... I think. I can't remember anything, and nobody ever came to... I never got a... I think they forgot to give me any instructions. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing. So I don't think I can— I can help with whatever your problem is, sorry."

"Was there a Director before you?"

"I don't remember. Probably. Maybe your meeting was with that one?" The Director has sat back down. "But it'll have been recycled by now, too, so... I don't think anybody can help anymore."

"But," you say, "aren't you in charge of... everything? How does it all keep going?"

"Oh. I think it sorts itself out. Everybody know what to do already. I like to watch them." He cranes his neck back, toward the windows behind. "Um, it's the only thing I can do, but I have a nice view. It's not so bad."

Is he stuck in the room? "What about that box on the desk?"

"Oh. I don't know how to use it. They never gave me any instructions."

"'They,'" you say.

"The Recycling department?"

A-ha! "The Recycling department! Who usurped the previous Director and planted you, a helpless puppet, in his stead, so they could feed you their nefarious instructions—"

"I don't think so. Um, I haven't received any instructions. Like I said. And it's the BrainWyrm that determines who to recycle, and nobody knows how it works anymore, so..."

"So the BrainWyrm usurped the previous Director."

The Director is inscrutable in his lizardness (this is very inconvenient for you), but his lizard voice, once sufficiently parsed, sounds confused. "Maybe? Is this what your meeting was about?"

(Choices next.)