‘It felt so… organic. I had total free choice about where I was going, but this, sort of, story started happening. A bloody nasty story. It was almost as if there was a narrative connection from one room to another, even though there was no way they could know which passage I’d choose.’

‘They knew, love. There was no free choice. They were herding you.’

‘No, I don’t think so. Honestly. I thought about it.’ She hadn’t thought about much else all weekend. She could have done with Vincent’s company, at least a chance to compare impressions, but without him, she was left to wander those passageways over and over. In her dreams she got more and more lost, peering into alcoves that didn’t exist in the show, revealing things that didn’t exist in the Cabinet warehouse – even Jouval and Barnes and Metamuse wouldn’t be sick enough to present what was apparently lying deep in her psyche.

‘Did you notice Metamuse minions subtly opening and closing doors around you?’

‘No, not really.’

‘It was dark, though, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, mostly.’

‘So the minions and the black-painted doorways in the black-painted set walls would be invisible. The paths you were meant to take were subtly lit.’

Now that Petra thought back, it was pretty obvious – you bump into a chipboard wall in the dark a few times, discover that the black doors don’t open, and you subtly and quickly learn to stick to the dimly lit path and push through the coloured doors only. Of course they were herding her. The realisation of just how simply – and effectively – she’d been played made her feel foolish and gullible, but also a little bit relieved. If she was feeling weird, as if the show’s effects had been just for her, it was because the show wanted her to feel that way. She wasn’t going loopy. ‘God. It was so… intimate. Like they were in my head.’

‘There were voices, weren’t there?’ Suki continued. Petra nodded. ‘And ice-cold chills, a slap of humid air, just at the right time. Just a suggestion, to make you feel like it was a reaction – the chill for a fright, the warm flush for shame or arousal.’

‘Yup, I suppose so.’ Petra smiled and shook her head. ‘Are you sure you weren’t there?’

‘I wish. This one sounds a lot like The Crying Tree – I went to that in Tokyo. It’s big-budget stuff. Amazing they can afford it on their limited runs. All the top-end directional speakers, mini air-treatment units. They even changed the floorboards in one of the sets, used hard sponges doused in syrup and animal blood. Jesus, I remember how my feet sucked at the sticky floor.’

‘Did you buy it? I mean, did you get freaked out?’

Suki shrugged. ‘Hmn. Nah, I kinda knew how they did it. I deconstructed it too much to enjoy it fully. It’s a bit of a curse, I suppose, doing what I do. Oh, how I wish for a pure and innocent and shockable mind like yours, my pearl.’