[IC} Monkeys, violins, and violence

You proceed to the Opera.

It's early in the morning. The Opera is deserted, save for a pair of cleaners shoveling manure from the street into a cart pulled by a horse. Sisyphean, the horse relieves itself between the cartpoles. One of the cleaners: "Merde!" The other laughs sincerely.

They glance at you with concerned expressions as you survey the chained doors of the Opera.

The doors at the front are well-chained. As you together inspect them, you notice the scraping of shovels has paused. Whoever glances back, you see the cleaners leaning on their implements, watching you with expressions of mild interest.

"Ah," says the cleaner, whose recently-laundered clothes are almost entirely free of grime. He wipes the back of his hand across his nose. "They start rehearsing for big shows right after breakfast. Maybe half an hour?"