Jo pulls a book from one of the shelves, opens the cover. It looks as though there’s a button inside that’s being pressed, and the shelf opens up like a door. Jo looks at us, “Come on, folks. The food ain’t gonna make itself, at least, not right now it won’t.”

I’m crouching down because even though Jo just went through here, there’s still cobwebs all over the entrance. I’m waiting for my eyes to adjust, then trying to feel my way along this dark corridor into which Jo has disappeared. It kinda reminds me of that bell jar we passed through when we first entered the compound, except we’re surrounded by strange, old, dusty objects that I’m practically tripping over. Somehow Jo, Miraj, and Colette are all ahead of me. I try to slow them down by calling out, “Hey, who was that, by the way?”
“Qui?”
“Did you see that guy in the bell jar?”
“Ooooh, you mean the Gatekeeper. His name is, ‘Lin’.”
I think it’s Mirj answering me.
“How does that work?”
“Only U.V. knows that. Jo, do you know how that whole uh Gatekeeper thing works?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to know how the Gatekeeper works. U.V.’s been through it. Lin’s been through it. You’d have to go through it in order to find out. I don’t wanna know that badly. I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna know that badly either. You have to trust that Lin is with us and helping to keep us safe.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Godammit. I almost fell over something that looks like a huge mask. What is all of this stuff doing in here anyway? It’s so musty. I guess nobody ever airs out –
Phmmpp. Flat on my face.
“Cherie?”
“You ok back there?”
“Whathefuck?! Isn’t there a better place for all this junk?!”
Somebody is dangling a pair of 20th century boxing gloves above my head. I guess that’s meant to help me up.
“Well, nobody really uses... We’ve got too many…”
The voice is faint, even though I feel that it’s directly above me.
“You could at least install some kind of lighting!”
A glow appears a few paces ahead.
“Move towards the light, Carey!”
I can hear them laughing at me. Great.

It’s a kitchen, a regular old-fashioned kitchen. They’re dishing about someone, I can tell.
“Did you know what she was in the middle of doing when we interrupted her? Same thing she’s been obsessed about for years. It’s that Gentlemen’s Club, from Dalhousie in 2014! McKay! He’s the last one. She’s done to each of them what they threatened to do to their female classmates.”
Jo slams down a package of tofu on the counter.
“She’s protecting us, Miraj!”
“At what cost? That’s all I’m saying.”
“Uh, what are we making here?”
I’m trying to break up the tension that’s building from –
“C’est un bon question, cherie. Nous sommes en train de faire quelque chose d'importance -”
“Yeah, but what are we going to eat?”
“Stir fry. Here, chop some carrots and broccoli.”
“Nice! Where did you get those?!”
“It’s all in the brochure, Carey! Didn’t you read it?”
Miraj winks at me.
"Quelle blague vieille, Miraj."
"At least I'm trying, Colette. And, yeah Jo. I'm sick of violence. There it is. Aren't humans capable of more? YOU know that they are. That's WHY we're here."
Jo is looking at Miraj.
"It's like violence is the only thing they believe they can agree on, but WE know that's not true."
Colette has stepped out of the kitchen, back into the corridor. It sounds like she's rummaging around for something. She returns with a big smile and a large bottle of 20th century wine, the good stuff.
"J'ai trouve quelque chose qu'on peut tous accepter. Faites l'amour, pas la guerre."