Cut to the chase.

"Um, I think I want to just start with an objet. Is there a specific room I should go to, or-"

Joy delicately removed his hand and began to button her shirt back up. As she did, she rose and opened the door, ushering him out of the office. "Don't worry, Mr. Sorbonne. I'll take you to one of our suites and make sure your needs are taken care of. Now, how many objets would you like?"

He coughed. "Just one for now."

"Of course," she said in a professional tone as she smoothed out her shirt. Taking his arm, she led him down the hall. "What sort of area would you like? We've got all of the usual domestic options - bedrooms, living rooms, kitchens - as well as more specialized locations like beaches, jungles, and pools."

"How does that work? You have beaches in here?"

She patted his arm. "Mr. Sorbonne, are you familiar with the term dramaturgy?"

He shook his head. "Dramaturgy," she continued, "is the study of turning a set of words into an experience. Specifically, turning a written play into a live theater show. Countless people have spent their entire lives advancing a field for which the only goal is to entertain you. Not cancer, not the environment, not particle physics; entertainment. Just think! All of those people dedicated to finding ways to suspend your disbelief, to pique your curiosity, to bring you laughter and tears and excitement. And you know what those people hate? When you go to a play and look for technical errors. Sitting in the audience, watching out for wires and trapdoors, keenly waiting for an actor to miss a line."

"Ok, I get it. You don't want me asking too many questions."

"No, Mr. Sorbonne, you misunderstand. Aside from the rules I outlined previously, you're free to do what you want. If you'd really like, I could sit down and explain in detail how all of this works. To the dramaturge, though, the creator and consumer are on the same side. The consumer wants an experience and the creator wants to give it to them. If you fight against that, you'll likely have a much different and probably less enjoyable experience than if you work with the creator to fully enjoy what they have to offer. So I'll ask again-"

This time he cut her off. "Look, I'll just start with a bedroom and a single objet."

She nodded courteously and they turned immediately into a room. It was a spacious bedroom, well furnished and homey. The walls were painted a light blue and there was a four-poster bed in the center of the room, with two easy chairs in the corner and a small door that opened onto a bathroom.

"Will this do, Mr. Sorbonne?"

He nodded. Now that he was so close to getting what he wanted, he felt slightly nervous. Joy picked up on this and sat next to him on the bed. "Your objet will be here shortly. I can stay with you until it arrives, if you'd like."

He nodded and cleared his throat. She put a hand on his knee and rubbed soothingly. "It's ok to be nervous. Most people are their first time."

Before he could respond, the door opened and a woman walked in. She looked like she could have been the receptionist's sister, with short brown hair and a cherubic face. She was smiling politely as she walked across the room and stood wordlessly in front of them.

"Hello?" Charles asked, but she gave no response. Joy laughed again.

"She's not quite ready yet, Mr. Sorbonne." She took his hand and placed it on the woman's collar. She guided his thumb to a small round button on the band. "This will pick up your fingerprint and unlock her just for you."

Before he could reply, the woman's eyes lit up. She made eye contact and blushed. "...Mr. Sorbonne?" she asked timidly.