Lots of well-dressed people were gathering in a huge, capacious room of aristocratic flamboyancy, a high-vaulted glass dome above their heads, a marble floor beneath their feet, and dozens of ornaments and completely inappropriate statues of both great value and great fragility lining the walls.
Ambassador Hsing, a champagne glass in her hand, gazed up in wonder at the distant ceiling. The room was actually square, and the corners of the ceiling that the dome did not devour were occupied by epic paintings of chubby cherubim, sticking spears in each other and drawing blood. It was unnecessary filler; graffiti on a grand scale.
Beyond the glass it was a clear night, and the stars added yet another dimension to the already over-the-top immenseness of it all.
Hsing sipped at her champagne and looked around the room at the people there. As Ambassador, it was her job to promote her own city through warm smiles, flattering speeches and displays of appropriate amounts of interest in the lives of the rich and influential people she was acquainted with. This evening was all about the unveiling of some supposedly exquisite piece of artwork, which was apparently well worth having the city spend ridiculous amounts of money on, despite the appalling state of affairs the city was actually in.
But, as Hsing knew well, it was all about outward appearance.
Most of the guests seemed to have arrived. Hsing smoothed her black dress and flicked back her dark hair to ensure full ambassadorial volume before making her way to the stage, detouring on the way to greet a man with a frighteningly large moustache. The stage itself was only small: a slightly raised platform occupying a section of the room's edge, covered in red carpet and with a backdrop of prospectus-style photos taken at quirky angles. A smartly dressed, elderly curator was giving two thumbs up.
On the stage itself was a microphone stand, the soon-to-be-revealed art hidden under a white sheet, and the curator in person, standing with his hands behind his back and looking thoroughly austere.
Hsing walked up to the microphone and adjusted it a little. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' she said, and smiled while she waited for the chatter to die down. 'Ladies and gentlemen, good evening and welcome to the Apostle of the Arts Insitution. It is an honour and a privilege to have you all here tonight for this
momentous occasion, where we shall be unveiling the latest, near-priceless addition to the city's proud collection.
'So, without further ado, I think it's time to put you all out of your misery and reveal this magnificent masterpiece, the divine work of the famous Hermes de Quelquepart, which will surely remain an inspiration to the whole city for many years to come.
'Mr Spiffle, if you would kindly do the honours...'
The curator nodded, and carefully pulled back the sheet. The audience were collectively repelled as a statue of a skeletal figure appeared before them. It was clutching its head as if in agony, a horrified expression on its face and eyes bulging.
Then the glass of the great dome above exploded inwards, and there were shrieks of horror from the guests as a dozen or so figures abseiled down ropes to meet them.
Hsing watched in horror as one of them fell in half as soon as it touched the ground, splitting at the midsection like wet spongecake. Its skin was pale and sickly, almost green, and its guts glistened from within.
Others remained moving. And they moved with speed, pouncing on the guests and biting...
Hsing had involuntarily backed herself into the wall. Mr Spiffle was frozen to the spot, staring at the chaos in stunned silence.
Those that still could ran for the exits, and Hsing decided that it would probably be wise to follow. She was about to shake the curator out of his daze when one of the gruesome figures lurched up behind him and sank its rotted teeth into his neck.
Hsing screamed and fell back. She turned and ran for one of the doors, kicking it with such force when it wouldn't open that it splintered and the heel of her shoe broke. The door swung open and Hsing discarded her shoes, running straight down a carpeted corridor. One of them chased after her and she resorted to knocking over extremely expensive items in its path to try and slow it down.
She sprinted through a small section of museum, skittering to a halt to unhook the red rope from a metal railing and pick the railing up (with some difficulty). She turned to face her attacker and swung the railing at it. It flung up its arms to defend itself and was knocked to the ground.
She hit it repeatedly, a metallic clonk resounding through the museum each time, but the battering appeared to have very little effect on it. Most of its bones crushed, it still managed to get up and follow her as she abandoned the metal railing and ran on, but at least it had slowed it down.
Hsing raced through more museum, her progress hindered and her panic mounting as she searched desperately for the doors that weren't locked. Bursting through a fire exit and triggering the alarm, she finally made it out, gasping for breath in the cool night air.
* * *