An up-and-coming artist is shanghaied by a slick benefactor into an ultra-luxe version of a forced-labour camp.
Strong opening, crackling dialogue; this capital fizzes like fine champagne. I enjoyed the counterpoint of the two characters' perspectives. I was hooked by the growing sense of creeping dread. This cap writhes and howls with Goodstuff.
But it ain't perfect. The good far outweighs the bad, but I agree with my eminent Floorite colleague that the ending seems rushed. Less critically, there was a missed opportunity to reflect on the extent to which extreme methods might ever be justified if they enable an artist to create genuinely great work.
Nevertheless, I would be remiss if I didn't heartily recommend this piece. It's a joy to read.