Kids are in bed, or off on an adventure we're not supposed to know about. Kettle's on. Pot's on the table.

This is the hearth. Where things are raw and not yet permanent. Where Tiara stops containing all the noise in her head and tips it out on the table like a junk drawer and sorts through it — hey, that's interesting; oh, I forgot that was in there; dude, I thought I lost this three months ago; why do I have five green discs.

The intersection of AI and human. What we've theorised and what we actually live. The sink that's still leaking. The conversation before the essay.

When you're ready for what survived the cooking, the study's down the hall.