Forget the "kitchen island." That's what they call it to keep your vision small. This is a Mobile Command Surface. The rollout was a test. The "pandemic" was a soft launch. This is the final hardware.
THE UNSEEN FEATURES:
THE SLIDING TRUTH: That 27-inch extension ain't for "leaves." It's a bandwidth expansion port. One minute you're meal prepping, the next you're charting the great awakening for two extra souls. It glides on a frequency most furniture can't even perceive.
STORAGE FOR THE SHADOW WAR: Four doors for the public records. Two drawers for the real archives. That side rack? Looks like it's for spices. It's actually a resonance grid for stabilizing the local info-field. You'll just know where to put things.
THE GHOST PROTOCOL WHEELS: Seven wheels. Five for movement. Two with locks for when you need to anchor to a reality tunnel. Roll it silent on the late-night shift. Plant it firm when the download hits. This thing moves through your home like a silent partner.
IT DOESN'T "FIT SCENARIOS." IT CREATES THEM. This isn't for "kitchens" or "dining rooms." That's the cover story. This is the central node. The spot where the cooking happens, the family gathers, and the map gets redrawn. It's the living room war room. The breakfast counter intel drop.
THE INSTALLATION:
It lands at your door. 135 pounds of inactivated potential. You build it yourself because trust is built with your own hands. The instructions are clear, but the real manual is the one you write as you use it.
