“So as some of you know,” Ryan starts, “it’s a tradition in my family to take on a project when we turn eighteen. Each of us is given a chance to prove that we understand how money works, and that we know what to do with it. That we’re ready to inherit our legacy.

“That’s a big word to put on a kid: legacy. My great-great-grandfather made a name for himself, and every generation since has built on that foundation. I’m grateful to be a part of the Riggs family tradition, but it’s also, you know, a little intimidating.” Ryan pauses for a murmur of laughter to ripple through the crowd at how charmingly honest he’s being.

“I was deeply inspired by my brother’s creation of Flash, which you should feel free to use tonight, by the way, hashtag TheFutureIsRigged”—another chuckle—“because it showed real vision, I thought. Roman didn’t just look at what our family’s past was; he didn’t do what we always do. He imagined, boldly, what our future could be. He radically re-thought what it meant to build something from the ground up.”

Ryan gestures to the space around them. “I went a more traditional route, obviously. I used to come here with my grandfather when he was still alive; the Aster had been closed for years, but this property was the source of some of his favorite childhood memories. I wanted to restore it to its glory days, even if he wouldn’t be here to enjoy it.

“But I also wanted something else.” Ryan scans the crowd. He looks at Cass, and then looks away. Lulu feels something cold start to settle over her, so faint at first that she mistakes it for the air-conditioning being turned on, or a breeze blowing through an open door. As Ryan keeps talking, the cold takes on weight, settling around her shoulders like a cloak.

“Because I was thinking a lot about that question of legacy, of what it means to build something that lasts. What can stand up to history? Is it buildings? Is it art? Is it family? The answer, ultimately, is nothing. A thousand years from now, probably, no one will remember our names. This hotel won’t still be standing.”

“I wouldn’t bet against the Riggses!” someone calls from the audience. More laughter; applause.

Ryan smiles and nods. “Thank you,” he says, “but the idea was actually freeing. I stopped worrying about legacy and started thinking, instead, about desire. What do I want right now? What do I want most of all? That’s the real genius of Flash. There’s nothing to it, really—it’s built on impermanence. It gets built and rebuilt every day, because people want to use it so badly.