One of the good things about the basement on E Street is the peace and solitude it affords those who seek escape from the vibration and blinking red lights on their hips that harasses them throughout the day. Everyone that is, except the Emperor.
The Emperor has a new problem as of Jan 17. Now, during the Monday morning telecon with the center directors (of which we believe there will be few following Jan 20), he will not be able to just pull his glasses low, type a message on the small keyboard, and turn to his side to Queen Shana. No more will she have to leave the meeting with his little black device to jog upstairs, out of the insulated cavern, where Maxwell's equations provide it with a conduit to the rest of the minions, only to return the device to his side after it has pumped its bits into the ether.
With but three days to spare, before she would look into the fine wicker herself, she will take leave of the Emperor's derogatory bidding. We look forward to reading her aftermarket blog, and the stories which no doubt she has been saving for her re-entry into the real world.