This is unlike any room I’ve ever seen. It’s an ancient Victorian ballroom, and outside its tall windows, stars and nebulae wheel past. There is something wrong with the chandelier; it’s tinged with red and appears to be suspended in midair. The floor feels uneven though it appears to be marble. At the center of the room sits a stately table set for two, and laden with food. Fruits and vegetables, loaves of bread, steaming tureens, and delicate iced cakes festoon the surface. It’s a king’s feast. I couldn’t begin to make a dent in it.
