He is not Christopher Johnsen.
Which means he isn't Oliver. They have names, yes, true identities... but they don't mean much here. This isn't what his father wants for him.
He wants seven moons for his son, and here he can only give him one.
His child can't remember his home. All he knows is this.
He wants give him more, if only to show him that he must answer to no one, MNU or otherwise. A world with no eviction. And Father can tell that Son misses that world, though he does not know it. He longs for the idea of it, the simple promise, and calls it Home.
And it's that, and not the men with the rifles, than very nearly kills him.
Slowly, he stretches out and switches off the hologram, naught but a cruel, hollow mirage. There is but one oasis in this desert.
His son blinks in the sudden darkness, then cocks his head at him. "Can't we watch it for a while longer?"
"Why?" There it is. It's that pique, that questioning that will save them.
"We have work to do, little one."
And it begins.