You make your choice. Somehow it leads to you sitting in a very comfortable recliner with a warm drink in hand and a frankly unnecessary amount of soft cushions.
Someone drapes a blanket over your legs. Someone else fits padded headphones over your ears. A third person is enthusiastically adjusting dials on a remote that clearly has more settings than should be legal.
"Standard VIP reset," one of them explains. "You get relaxing sights and sounds, we get to calibrate how much chaos you can tolerate before your life flashes before your eyes."
A screen lowers in front of you, cycling through images: beaches, fireworks, mysterious doors labelled DO NOT ENTER, a button that just says DO IT. Every time a new one appears, a little meter on the remote jumps.
"Last chance," a voice murmurs beside you. "Lean back and enjoy, yank off the headphones and run, or ask very sensible questions about safety protocols."