But no one so much as bats an eyelid, either, as we walk through themassive, marble-drenched atrium towards the elevators. Five sets of brassdouble doors stand at attention in a neat row. Dmitri leads me to thecentermost one and punches in a number that I don’t catch.
I’m not doing a great job of retaining much of anything at the moment. Mynerves feel like they’ve been rubbed raw, like they might snap at anymoment.
I flinch at the weirdly sultry robot voice that welcomes us into the elevator.The bottom half of the car is padded in a jade green velvety fabric, whilethe top half is armored with infinity mirrors.
An endless procession of duplicates of my reflection stares back at me,blinking when I blink, moving when
