The room with bodies variously disposed alone or in discrete groups, sitting, conversing, fidgeting with their phones or staring idly apparently lost in thought, one of them yours - this is the theory of the thing, that it takes place in a space that could be plotted by vectors, and you have access to one corner of it, neatly triangulated by others and everything that has been and is and is to come. Your mind is in the room and the room is in your mind, and both are in the theory of it together with all the spatial and temporal and intentional vectors extending, wriggling like lively worms into the unknown, defining distance which is all in the theory, including the errors and the unknown and unknowable, that belongs to no mind because it contains all the space and all the relations that could ever be and you are the theory and the theory is you.