It's dark. Not much of anything that could be considered decor furnishes it other than a few simple articles. There's the computer, of course: a newer model by Apple. It was a recent gift from Bruce for his sixteenth birthday. Next to the monitor on the desk is a large cardboard box stuffed with various odds and ends--no doubt just in from some storage garage and about ready to be stored in another. Sticking out of the top of the box is a small 2x4 inch black-and-white photo in a dark, mahogany frame.

The photo is of a young, smiling couple: the woman, with pale skin and long, black hair and delicate features; the man, with a broad, handsomely square face and sandy hair. Sitting on a stool between them is a boy the spitting image of his mother: round-faced, thin and delicate build, and a gentle smile. There is no question as to the identity of the family, unlike the question that exists as to why such a photo is gathering dust with other keepsakes in the box.

However, as there is not possibiliby of this question being remedied any time soon, we leave the mysterious box alone and turn to the opposite side of the room, where the door to a walk-in closet is slightly ajar.

Copy after copy after copy of the traditional traffic-light uniform is neatly hung on hangers just inside the door. Behind that, though, are several stacks on shelves of brand new, crisp, never worn designer clothing--also no doubt also nary a dent from the Dark Knight's wealth.

The floor of the room is simply carpeted, and without the common layer of food or drink residue, scraps of pages of books, or anything else typical of a teenager's room.
All that can be seen in this carpet is dust. It's clear that the only thing the Boy Wonder does is sleep and change his uniform every day. No Internet surfing, no phone calls, and no lounging.

This room is sorely abandoned.