The escalator carried us to the museum’s centerpiece: a chocolate factory sealed behind walls of glass.

Chocolate blocks disappeared into the first machine. A second ground them into flakes. Another melted them into a glossy stream before piping it into rows of plastic molds.

They rattled to shake out bubbles, disappeared through a cooling tunnel, then emerged upside down, where rubber suction cups plucked each chocolate free with surprising delicacy.

Corbin planted himself against the glass.

Every minute, the line produced two trays of six chocolates. Half never made it. Misshapen pieces rode a conveyor belt back to the beginning, where they disappeared into the grinder and became chocolate again.

Five employees waited at the end of the line.

One folded foil.

Another straightened it.

A third applied a sticker with solemn precision.

The others waited.

Corbin watched.