It was like one of those Brazilian restaurants where the waiters wandered around with meat to slice off, but the consumption was more ethereal.

They’d bring around a “package”, offering slices of memory. “summer sun”, “drunken regret”, “joyful day”. Just some of the flavors they offered the assemblage of customers.

Should the package prove to one’s tastes, one could inquire about having some time with the “package” in a private room. Of course the costs were relative to the rarity and planned duration.

Though being what they were, it was uncommon for them to care about such commerce, that was for their assistants to resolve.

While the samples were just echoes, and thus of trifling expense, even with the markup, the consumption in the back rooms was more complete, and far more expensive.

All in all, a terrible place to break out of a stupor. And certainly something they had not expected.