This, of course, is Combeferre's cue to press the tiny lumps repeatedly. He makes the rectangle get deafeningly loud and then whisper-soft. He brings back the picture of the singing men, and then changes it back to the laboratory filled with food, then to a couple locked in passionate embrace, then to two women in odd dark suits arguing in front of what looks vaguely like a judge, and then to men in blue chasing after another man and tackling him to the ground. The last picture he switches to has one man in yellow, a pointy-eared (like Elrond?) man in blue, an ordinary-looking man in blue, and a black lady in red, all standing about some important-looking gray machines.

Combeferre finally pushes the tiny lump that shuts off the sound and pictures, and turns to Enjolras. "Shall we, then?"

The next key is for Room 183.

Combeferre opens the door, only to be confronted with pink. Violent pink. Bahorelian pink. He shudders.