Beds. She keeps saying they are unnaturally solid, have rounded edges, and if necessary they should compensate for the spiritual stress. If everyone joins in, it would be worth something, at least visually. He is unceasingly aware that it might mean involvement, a car chase, spasm, or else a measuring rod. This, she reminds him, is the aboriginal nature of peripheral science. And, yet again, she tells him about the time travel she has undertaken in the name of forgetfulness. In the black van, among the internets, on the consultation forms – all these shadowy places. He usually brings his mother into it at this point, just as she returns neutrally to the afterlife, just as she puts on her cell-free make-up.