They file into an auditorium with dim, dusky lighting. Cages hang from overhead, swaying to music heavy on strings: erhu, zither. Fox replicants move underfoot like ground fog, shimmering and russet. Sometimes they disappear, replaced by a woman in Tang dynasty silks whose robes are pulled down to bare a breast or an arm, to expose skin dusted in pearl and platinum. Gold lenses over their eyes, gold nail guards over their fingertips. Lanterns slanted at irregular angles bleed livid scarlet light across the floor.
