She had to get up pretty early in the morning every morning. Each morning an exercise in survival of the mundane and the mundane needed to be exercised until she was tired again. Everything needed to be straight and even because without ratio what evidence was there that her life thus far had been equitable. Her children were on track; all their parts moving as they should, a pair of perfectly syllogistic representations of their parentage. Pretty early in the morning indeed if she was to keep pace with rambunctious boilermakers of children. A pox upon disarray in their home of aluminum and white. A pox upon clutter and asymmetry as ratio may be obscured by his peccant organizational tendencies. Put him to paces of penancial landscaping for the duration of the season to teach him the wages of obtusely abject household organizational habits. Plus he uses all the toilet paper and sits the new roll on top of the spindled empty cardboard husk out of some slothful spite designed to send her into a state of perpetual nervous breakdown.
An indulgence here or an indulgence there didn’t really do any harm. The florescent light rack she had installed in the garage for some barely explained art/modeling project was no longer enough. He would figure it out and then make her take it down. William or Ana would fall into it and be covered in carcinogenic phosphorescent death. It wasn’t so much a matter of pride than a matter of sense that was not to be had. The constancy of her ratioed face couldn’t last forever and he would see the way she looked at the new children, not unlike the way she looked at the old lost child, but he hadn’t seen that so was unblissfully unaware of her abysmal thoughts in the faces of her genetic yield. More oblivion was the only means of escape and she had ways of finding it anywhere anymore. Gaze gone dead, she looked ahead and saw the rising sun, the days they pass and more ahead until her day is done.
Sasha sits at a table in Burger King while her two children argue about whose turn it is to get in the ball pit
The building has sixteen apartments. There is nothing outside the building. Apartments can communicate with those above and below them, but can only look at the apartments beside them. Apartments being looked into do not know that they’re being looked into as the apartment that they look into is not the one looking in at them. Adding to the complexity is the movement of the apartments; apartments on higher levels can descend and look into the apartments below them without those apartments ever having knowledge and likewise those lower apartments can look in at those lower etc… This activity can result in having the highest apartment looking into an apartment that is observing another apartment that is observing another apartment that is observing another apartment. The difference with the last apartment being that it is unable to communicate with the four apartments who are observing it and its most immediate observing apartment is unaware that the apartments above are able to descend, as is the case with subsequently high apartments, although they, including the top-level, acknowledge the possibility that apartments higher than theirs might be observing them. The situation would deteriorate if someone in the apartments above was to tell a resident below that they were being observed. Another wrinkle is that the bottom apartment can change its perspective by moving to a different position on the grid which in turn changes the default perspective of all the apartments above it.