1-2-3-4 → 2-1-3-4 → 3-1-2-4 → 4-1-2-3
A child in a room with three lamps—big bright bulbs in each—sits on the floor before a video game. On screen, a car zooms around corners faster than the eye can process, but the child takes control and passes a big blue bumper car. A young girl walks in with a teddy bear clutched to her chest, fiddles with her long brown hair. The boy shouts across to the girl, his sister? Could be: “Get out, I’m trying to concentrate!” The girl, to her brother? “Can I play?” A car streams ahead as the track straightens out towards the finish line. The race ends, the boy seems distraught and throws down the pad.
He’s furious, kicking his legs and shouting. The girl backs out the door, upset but gone before the tears start. A minute later a tall mother(?) in a business shirt and skirt towers over the boy, switches off the console and wags her finger. The child sits and sulks, the mother repeats a question: “Is that clear? Do you understand me?” A little nod of the head. The mother leaves, he sprawls across his Spiderman bedclothes and buries his head in the pillow. Is he sad at being told off or upset that he didn’t save the game?