Mostly Elizabeth felt grateful for their life. Jobless, she had managed the retrofitting and renovation of their Portland house, bringing all her idle scrolling on TikTok and in Meta rooms to bear on the selection of tiles and wallpapers along aesthetic lines, but applying her fluency to securing the house, thinking about their individual energy future and availing herself of some of the innovations that had come about in the last decades. They were fully solar, built on a relative of the same perovskite technology Phil Miles had doggedly pursued in the early years. Often in the reno she found herself in a room full of men, dealing with engineers, contractors, plumbers, electricians, and she smiled to herself at the way the conversations re-created themselves throughout time. She deferred, she wheedled, she flattered, she played dumb, all to bring them around to her view, and if she couldn’t, she fired them. Francis ceded the project to her and was grateful that she did such a good job.