Harrison was quietly pleased with his designated Hot Home: it was close to where he’d finished up work and was located on the south-facing side of one of Frankfurt’s older towers, a beautiful redbrick building crowned with golden turrets. It looked like an art-deco castle and was the type of building that the Coalition tolerated but wouldn’t allow to be built anymore. The building had been a hotel and residential complex before the Filter War, before the Coalition and before RACHEL, a place for wealthy people to claim and show their ownership of things.
Harrison could remember when he had seen it for the first time: the train journey from Munich to Frankfurt, him a small boy evacuated from the chaos of what had happened in the Bavarian mountains. He’d been shipped quickly per train to the city that would eventually become his home and the capital of The Coalition. It had been the blocks of gold on the roof that had caught his eye. Chunks of gold, sitting on top of a building! Such luxury! Such ignorant and arrogant waste! Tonight, and for one night only, it would be his designated home, and it delighted him.