The occupant of this room has been doing a lot of tedious things, recently.  Reading long, dry books out loud.  Pacing, shufflingly.  Thinking.  Worrying.

And drawing.  The lines come out shaky, always, but they always will if he doesn't practice.  So he does, nudging his hoverchair around the big table in his room, adding squiggly, awkward details here and there and over there, while he drones on about pre-Rusty economic systems from the book in his right hand.  After a while he finishes off this sheet, as he has with the last several, by trying to just hold the stylus steady while he kicks off the floor, letting his momentum do most of the work of making a circle for him.