The chatter subsides and a cacophony of brass hits the speakers. As the lights dim, two thousand attendees feel the hair on the back of their necks prickle. For many, more visceral senses tighten too.

The employee conference is the most heavily anticipated event of the year. Tickets are allocated on some random algorithm and are regarded as gold to the fortunate recipients. Unless you are C-suite royalty, you only ever get to go to one of these gigs.

And now it is about to begin.

All forms of digital communication have been confiscated at the door, using screening technology akin to the most sensitive of airport security. And they had gone through it twice.

Out of the pure darkness, a blistering light hits the stage. Huge gold gates as large as the room freeze shut for a few seconds—until they ease open and as if to give their size some context, a figure tiny in comparison emerges, all in black.