The universe was a disorderly mess, the only interesting bits being the 
organized anomalies. Hackworth had once taken his family out rowing on the pond 
in the park, and the ends of the yellow oars spun off compact vortices, and 
Fiona, who had taught herself the physics of liquids through numerous 
experimental
beverage spills and in the bathtub, demanded an explanation for these holes in 
water. She leaned over the gunwale, Gwendolyn holding the sash of her dress, 
and felt those vortices with her hands, wanting to understand them. The rest of 
the pond, simply water in no particular order, was uninteresting.