We ascend to heaven—Rebecca Davis’s The birds are here. I hear them.—in the Chocolate Factory’s upper room where origami party favors, Hershey’s kisses, and gift bags stuffed with hug-eager teddy bears await us. Dancers press themselves into aerodynamic forms held aloft by partners as fans provide rushing wind. But rapture deflates fast: We’re told we must leave the bears behind. We line up for the single bathroom, then guards guide us by flashlight to seats in the pitch-black lower room for Ursula Eagly’s Nobody Try to Be a Hero–hostage pen, Gitmo, Halloween fright house, and hellish family rolled into one. Guards chant orders and insinuations and whisper interrogation questions to selected detainees. Shadow puppets hiss “Die! Die!” at each other, and we’re forced to touch and be touched and pass cold, wet “body parts” to our neighbors in the dark. I want my bear!!!