There your brain simply stopped. It had to. It tired understanding all of what it saw, and had seen from the time it woke up till now, looking, hearing, touching, and smelling this world. It tried to think what your father was doing with the newspaper. Where the lunch box was. What the hidden eye of Bruce's father was looking at, and where Ping was, for that was the most upsetting factor in all this crazy uncertainty, which could not be the same place it went to bed last night in. Your brain was thinking, but couldn't think. It knew, but couldn't know. Because knowing, it seemed, was gone from everything.