[b]November:[/b]

Dad is [i]old[/i]. 

I mean, you were ready for that. He was already looking older when he dropped out of public view. Like Ferris, he’s kept in shape. Unlike Ferris, it’s a completely different shape. 

He’s got pudge in awkward places. Skinny around the shoulders, but a bowl belly that kind of hangs loosely in front. The fishing tackle vest he’s wearing doesn’t flatter his shape any, adding weird bulges and lumps in odd places. The same goes for the cargo pants he’s wearing, full pockets of jingling metal. Like he’s carrying the equivalent of a full janitor’s keyring in every one. He walks with a cane, but he doesn’t seem to put much weight on it. More of a just-in-case? 

His glasses are clear. He moves through Thrones as it really is. There’s a glow around the rims, they’re AR tech, but you can see his eyes through them. He must be only using it for the HUD. Maybe cybernetic eyes? Who would get cybernetic eyes with untreated cataracts. 

He looks kind. 

But isn’t that the trap? Thrones is filled with people who pursue their demented libertarian dreams here out of a paternalistic charity. Every ‘disruptor’ talks about the social impact of what they’re doing, cares about it, but eight months later they’d give all of it up to put spyware in your toilet, if it meant another round of investor funding. 

You found the place, you managed the break-in. Did this place have security? Yes. Did the away team have Black and Green on it? Also yes. 

Here’s the layout. Dad’s place is huge by Thrones standards. Two stories, with the living room and open plan kitchen on the bottom floor. Upstairs is a master bedroom, a study, and a large bathroom. A narrow corridor runs along the right side, connecting the three rooms. This is a two person apartment, for one person. Someone else used to live here, no longer. 

If 3V were here, she’d be able to point out how similar it is to Ferris’, even if everything else is completely different. 

You couldn’t break into the study. All the security of the place went Fort Knox for that room, which probably makes sense. The rest though?

It’s easy to hide things. The house is a mess. Lots of furniture that’s ‘old’ not ‘antique’, covered with [i]things[/i]. Electronics, tools and half-finished projects, some games consoles. There are doubles of things too, e-readers and laptops and dongles. Educated guess? Stuff that was lost for long enough to become a problem, found in the mess after a replacement was bought. 

No food containers, empty wrappers, no garbage. A pile of unsorted clothes in the bedroom, but laundered. Dirty clothes piled in an overfull hamper, but nowhere else. 

Two big framed pictures on the wall, usable as props. In the living room, framed in brushed steel, stylized blueprints for an early super heavy launch vehicle, the kind put in service before the space elevator. In the narrow upstairs corridor, framed in gnarled wood, an oil painting of a dragon in a cave. The cave ceiling glows with fireflies like stars. 

There’s a huge wall-sized mirror in the bathroom, on the wall backing into the built-in closet of the bedroom behind it - a killer place to keep the electronics you’d need to make the mirror into a smartscreen. Easy. 

On the one hand the place is pure tripping hazard. On the other hand, there’s not enough space to get up to a run. Beside that, he’s got a cane to steady himself. He’ll be fine. 

Cupboards on both floors big enough to hide in, but there’s also just piles of stuff big enough to cover you. Room under the bed, too, and in one of the kitchen cupboards if you’re motivated to squeeze. 

What’s the show?