For three days, the Freeman house was packed. Riley started charging guests for "certified street wisdom," which mostly consisted of him reciting lyrics from rappers who were currently in jail. Tom joined in, offering "legal thrill-seeking tours" of the local courthouse.

As the bulldozers rolled in, the tech-bros fled, complaining about the lack of high-speed Wi-Fi in the "authentic" experience. Granddad’s "Italian leather" shoes melted in the sun as he chased after a fleeing influencer who hadn't paid for his lemon water.

"For now," Huey said, turning a page in his book. "But the bank just sent a notification. They've updated the Terms and Conditions."

"Actually," Riley interjected, sliding into the room while filming himself on a new smartphone, "it ain't quiet no more. Look at the street."

Huey walked in, not looking up from a book titled The Illusion of Ownership . "You spent it all on those 'Italian leather' shoes that turned out to be made of recycled tires and spray paint, Granddad. Also, property taxes went up."

"Huey! Get in here!" Granddad hollered. "Why does the 'Internet' say I’m broke? I just got my social security check!"

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