The staff cafeteria is immaculate, lit with fluorescence and perked up by leaf-green supergraphics. Four dwarfs and a brown nylon-shag bear stand at the counter, ordering chipped beef. Their human faces, pinheads emerging from their neck-holes, look tiny, naked and grumpy. Across a wide cinder-block corridor whose ceiling is wreathed like a battleship's with gas pipes and power mains, more ducks and mice are disappearing into the mask room. REMOVE YOUR HEAD AND PLACE ON TABLE AFTER ENTERING, a notice Commands; the racks are full of familiar visages, the icons of...
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