Yet, dear Henerey, my Brain is such a terrible force – picture it as your awful Chancellor Rawsel, if you will – that I can only keep its anxieties in check when I have precise control over my surroundings. When faced with the unexpected, I flail and lose my way, and find the trifles that once did not trouble me – such as whether I remembered to check the airlock or the details of troublesome conversations I had ten years ago – have suddenly become the most unfortunate calamities.
