I drove down a street in the North Hollywood area. The buildings were a non-descript industrial façade with no brands or company names whatsoever. Just a row of street numbers making it possible for the acolyte to find the destination. The lobby was a cramped space, with a friendly greeter, but the walls did not make right angles. “We have your NDA, so I just have to verify that you are a U.S. Citizen.”

A bearded mage with a sparkle in his eye appeared, and gestured to the open door. It led to a dead-end closet of a room, with barely enough space for both of us if he were to follow me in. The rear half of the room snugly fit a red phone booth, and he told me to carry on and say hello. So I went to the phone, lifted the handset to my face, and said hello. The entire back of the room swung open to the view you see here.