The room Conroy entered was a perfect representation of minimal architecture: red-oak floor, raw plaster walls, and illuminated white ceiling. Every surface separated from its neighbor by a half-inch shadow gap, the dark lines creating floating planes of material. A table filled the center space, a triangle of low-iron glass held aloft on four cast-alloy legs. Three Mies chairs, chrome and black leather, faced each other. Two were occupied, the avatars matching their owner’s true appearance.