Before he was the guardian of the Wi-Ghi in the Pillow District, Finnegan lived a life of quiet high-stakes. He used to wander the marble halls of a data center in Iceland, a ghost in the machine who occasionally dozed off behind the hum of a warm server rack.
He’s traded the sub-zero chill for the soft moss of Fluffelium, but he hasn’t lost his edge. When I asked him about our local security protocols, he just looked at his frosty laptop and muttered:
‘In this world, Leonine, only trees have root access.’
Fluffelium 
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