Breakfast was up. I heaped his plate with eggs and bacon. Pancakes on a second plate. Had a smaller portion for myself. Had to watch the weight. It wa... getting harder and harder to keep off.“Eat the bacon first. That’ll help, too. Lots of butter on the toast. That’ll help. Fat helps hangovers.”He listened, soaking up the lessons of a practiced alcoholic, then inhaled the three pieces of bacon, using half a stick of butter for the toast and his pancakes. He even dolloped some on the eggs which. Most of the gear was as expected. Streamlined, minimalist, functional.Except for one bizarre behemoth in a far corner. “What is this contraption?” I giggled at what looked like a deconstructed chair with a black stack of rectangular weights next to it. “It looks like some medieval interrogation device.”“Leg machine of a more ancient generation. Monstrous, isn’t it? It came with the house; that’s how old it is." He let me go and gestured toward it with a flourish. "Care to try it? Find out how. More

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