You glance through the bars. You prepare yourself for something grand enough to be worthy of The House, and expect a lavishly, glass-wrapped eden that would eclipse all imagining.

But you do not expect this.

The House, of course, is infinite enough to contain other greenhouses.

You wonder, for a moment, if it would not be better to visit them instead.

“Do not stray off of the path," the guardsman says. “Do not touch the plants. Some areas of the conservatory are sealed within glass. Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass.”

“Ok,” you reply, shakily. Events are moving a tad too fast for comfort.

“Raise your arms.”

You oblige, and he begins to strap highly sophisticated and well worn body armour to your torso. He tries several helmets on you until he finds one that fits. Then he hands you a steel garden rake.

He presses a button and the iron bars slide open.

“What’s this for?” You ask him, holding the rake.

“Your protection,” he says, gently pushing you out.

The door closes behind you.