“Las Vegas is our town. There’s a lot of good in it, in its families, in its workers, in its unions. But its industry is sick, colleagues—outdated, dying. It is a cancerous incarnation of an old perceived notion of what entertainment is, and … and I would add male entertainment … yes … and it needs to change. And they know it too. But instead of changing their product, the people in charge look for new customers who will like the product they have already. New markets to—”

“Isn’t she great,” said Erica, with a nudge.

“She … she is,” whispered Mary Ann.

“She’s my friend,” said Erica. “Maidon. Told you you should meet her sometime.”

“—so that domination can perdure. Look around,” the girl said, gesturing with a hand at the artificial spectacle of the Cavea, as if to encompass the entire city. Her plumes now trembled with confidence as she turned a smiling face to both wings of the auditorium. “We cannot let ourselves be fooled. All of this is just a show. It is … superstructure. Beneath it all, always, are the forces and relations of production. Money, my colleagues, and power. It doesn’t matter that we make ‘good money,’ it doesn’t matter at all. Besides the fact, I mean, that not all of us do, to be honest, like, speak for yourself, right? But every time we allow complacency to distract us, every time we let our anger be redirected toward someone other than the real culprits, we are just helping the rich maintain the status quo. And of all places, we cannot let that happen in Las Vegas, a town where we have to smile and look pretty as ninety-year-olds gamble a year of our rent on the spin of a wheel.”