Bloodless revolution
A holographic castle emerges from the abyss, rotating slowly, glowing gold as through a mist. The proscenium arch, a Klimtian mosaic of gold tiles, glints in the footlights. A murmur of strings groans from the pit. The auditorium’s interior, a sleek Scandinavian design of blonde wood and beige seating, seemed innocuous enough before the show, but now the lights are down. We’re deep in the bowels of some empty, dank, dark lair. Suddenly, a white light burns through portcullis bars to reveal a pai...