How to describe the New Greenwich life of the once time-millionaire Philippe Weis?

He was surrounded by air-headed heirs, who inherited eons as the parents passed away of old age. Most people do not time out in New Greenwich as the conversion used to be cheap. In those dreadful decades of overpriced perfumes and salty caviar, Philippe only came close to respect with one heir, the one and only Henry Hamilton. Somehow when planning for the first battle against the council, he suddenly remembered Henry Hamilton - who left New Greenwich and died in Dayton.

People rarely know the true Henry Hamilton. He was an unorthodox heir and used to own a large security company. Henry would contribute to the council's decision, questioning Philippe's rationality and his math. Henry would not treat Philippe as if he was still one of their parents' aid and instead saw him as a "magnificent wonder," proof that people can make it. Then, Henry's contribution and appearance just got rarer. His sudden substance abuse.

Henry would come to anyone's party, drunkenly preaching about how their mind were all spent, how their extravagant lives were stolen from others. Anyone else stopped him from coming to their mansion after his 80 birthday when he liquidated all his real estate and firms. Only Philippe would let him in.

And Henry did not come with his hospitality. He took one drink too much, and Philippe got Henry on to his face:

"Who gave you the right to increase the tax rate and the price on the same day?"

Phillipe just sent him a lazy side eye, stepping backward.

"You did. You voted for the last three rounds of increasing the numbers by now, as our population is reaching the cap population of a colony. You would probably vote for the fourth round, maybe. But it was not definitely only my sole responsibility."

Henry shamefully stared into the void, his voice a mix of despondence and fleeting clarity.

"Philippe, my old friend, we've seen the world change yet stay agonizingly the same. You, with your indefatigable spirit, and I, with my... dreams."

Philippe clenched his hand with restrained frustration at Henry's slippering ability to hold a conversation.
"Dreams, Henry? Or illusions?"

"The world is stagnant in this status quo of removing more and more people... I would not vote for the fourth round of genocide. It is killing people, and it is killing my dream." Henry tearfully replied

"You speak of change, yet you drown in substances, watching the world from your ivory tower." Philippe could not hold his instant scrutinized clap back.

Henry sighed, and a tired smile briefly crossed his face.
" Perhaps you're right. But you see, Philippe, my dreams are all I have. The courage to cross the borders of this segregated world, to truly challenge it, escapes me. I envy you that."

Henry's shoulder lowered, and his frame retreated back into his own shadow of the last decent time millionaire.

"I don't envy your dreams, Henry," Philippe broke the silence, his voice softer, tinged with a sadness he seldom allowed himself to show and only show for the people he respected. "Dreams without action become prisons. You are trapped in your own disillusionment and trapped on your own way of being the center of the world." Philippe, ever the pragmatist, spoke with a hint of pity. "Henry, you speak of dreams as if they are the only currency worth valuing. But what of the lives that are squandered in pursuit of change? The people who will never see another day because they would not give us the two million years we need for our two million souls."

Henry's eyes, once alight with the fervor of his convictions, dimmed slightly. He took a deep breath, the weight of Philippe's words settling heavily upon him. "I know, Philippe. I know the cost. But isn't it a greater tragedy to live in a world where we've become so ensnared in the system that we can't imagine a life beyond it? Where our actions are dictated not by what's right, but by what's expedient?"

Philippe remembered he was so taken aback by Henry's conviction.

"You are saying that I am suffocating in my own complacency. Preserving the status quo is not my end goal; it's a means to ensure survival within our given constraints. Your dream of change, of a revolution that upends everything we know—it's noble but fraught with risk."

Henry's gaze flickered with anger; Henry must had so much boiling anger and sadness swirling inside him and outside at that time. "And what of the risks of doing nothing, Philippe? Of letting Michael dictate our fates, of living at the mercy of his whims? You know deep down as well as I do that this balance you speak of, it's an illusion. It could crumble any day, and I know that you would fuck off to your own safe place, leaving us behind."

Hearing Henry swear for the first time and his knowledge about Philippe's secret safe place stunted him.

"I don't want it to happen that way. That is why any action we take must be calculated..."

"For what?" Henry yelled in frustration at talking in the circle for all those years, and the sheer number of words spoken in those decades weighed on his resignation. "I suppose that's where we differ, Philippe. I'm tired of calculations, of playing it safe. I'd rather risk chaos for a chance at true freedom than continue living in this gilded cage." He quickly heaved, trying to hide his own nervousness. He softly speaks in between his breath, "When the time comes, Philippe, when the world is ready for that change, promise me you'll be there to lead it. Promise me you won't let my dreams die with me."

"Don't die, and your dream won't die." Philippe coldly answers, still grumpy from his closest acquaintance planning to unalive himself. "I would be busy running away, staying away from the fall down if it happened."

Henry's laughter, bitter and tinged with irony, filled the room, a stark contrast to the somber tone of their conversation. "Run away? That's always been your solution, hasn't it? To flee when the going gets tough. But you know, Philippe, there comes a time when there's nowhere left to run. When the world you're trying to escape from catches up with you, you have to stand and face it . And the revolution against you, the greatest risk that ever happened to you, would once again force your hand, your best hand, to fight Michael."

"I hope I'm there to see it, Philippe. I hope I'm there to see you turn those dreams into reality. You always win your fight as the underdog. But you would not prepare for it.. so I would prepare your fund, buy you sometimes."

By that time, Philippe did not want to listen to his mumble again and walked out. But at this moment, he suddenly understood. Henry Hamilton left something for him, even though he was not able to wait for Philippe's change of heart. Philippe spoke with Raymond.

"Raymond, about Henry Hamilton's death— it was in New Dayton, and you mostly patrolled there. I did not have the courage to pull out the record about his death. Could you please tell me?"

Raymond professionally talked about how they found his body, how they checked the camera and saw Henry fall down from the bridge, then saw Will Salas running toward the bridge and becoming the suspect. Philippe closed his eyes in pain and mumbled, Henry's words circling his head.

"It was not Will Salas. Henry was open about his intention for decades. Will was just somebody there when he chose to do that."

Raymond paused, processing Philippe's words. "I mean, it is the case that starts this revolution. It was unsettling. We never considered... that it might have been Henry's choice. We were so focused on the theft of time, on tracking down Salas. But if what you're saying is true, then we might have misunderstood the whole situation."

Philippe nodded, "Henry always talked about wanting to break free, about not wanting to be part of this system anymore. He was alienated and alienated everyone from him. Well, not like New Greenwich's elite circle was any fun. But yeah, he was an ex-councilor for LA, the most decent and ready to help until the burden of his own decisions became too heavy for him."

"You two were close?"

"Kind of. He had no next of kin. He was tired of mansion dwellers. But after all, he is just another scared person trapped in this system."

"Aint we all?" Raymond's expression softened, a rare glimpse of empathy crossing his professional demeanor. "It is a paradox. He saw the cage but couldn't find his way out."

"He kept thinking that I was his way out." Philippe smiled in bitterness. "But he got what he wanted in the end, a revolution, a potential of change, and finally crossing the border. I remember he said that he would leave something for me. His liquidated assets were over a million years, somewhere."
Raymond raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A million years? That's not a small sum to leave around. Did he ever mention where he might have kept it?"

Philippe shook his head, his mind racing with the possibilities of where Henry could have hidden such a significant amount of time. "He never mentioned a specific location, but knowing Henry, he would have chosen somewhere meaningful, somewhere that symbolized his dreams and his frustrations with this world."

The two men fell into contemplative silence, each lost in thought. The revelation of Henry's hidden cache of time not only provided a tangible link to the man's legacy but also a potential resource for the revolution Philippe was now committed to leading.

Finally, Philippe spoke up, determination evident in his voice. "We need to find it, Raymond. Not just for the resources it represents but also to honor Henry's memory. He believed in change, in a better world, and if his time can help us achieve that, then it's our responsibility to find it and use it wisely."

Raymond nodded, fully on board with the mission. "I agree. Let's start by retracing his steps, looking into the places he frequented and his properties before he liquidated them. And Philippe, maybe it's also time to dig into his past personal letters, words, messages, and gifts for you. There might be clues we've overlooked."