I happened upon a Rubiks cube in my house today. I hadn't really given a Rubiks cube a true look since maybe 2004, so I figured it might be a better puzzle than I remembered; something to sink my teeth into. And anyway, I'm unemployed for the moment, and this seems like the kind of diversion unemployment was made to indulge.
So, it's 6:00 and I sit down with some dinner. I finish dinner fairly quickly and get into fussing with the cube. An hour or so in, my partner comes down from the bath and says hello. I think I gave a hello back. I definitely explained that I was really giving thought to the spatial relationships of each square on the Rubiks cube. Each center piece was immutably opposite one center piece of a particular different color. Each corner corresponds to three colors. A good start, if somewhat trite.
My partner makes some food. Asks me a question or two. Again, I think that I responded. I definitely explained that I was applying a utilitarian calulus to my shifts:
Each potential twist represents a repositioning of 12 cube faces (not including faces orthogonal to direction of motion. Yes, I absolutely *should* have included faces orthogonal to direction of motion). Of these colorful faces, 4 colors will move closer to, or further from, the cube in the center of a given face. The Rubiks cube itself has 6 faces ((duh)) and each one is made of a 3×3 set of cubes. the cube 2,2 is immutable more than the rest, and so I consider it to define the color of the whole 3×3 grid. So there's a red face opposite an orange face, a green face opposite a blue face, and a yellow face opposite a white face. For each of those 12 faces which move with a twist of the cube, I assign a 1, -1, or 0 depending on whether the move would progress the face towards its like color center, progress away from its color center, or not progress in either direction (because its color center is on a parallel plane). I then sum all those numbers. If the sum is negative, I do not perform that twist. If it is zero or positive I twist.
Some time elapses and my partner offers me some food. A couple mini quiches from Aldi, to the freezer, to the oven. I accept. I announce to the cat on my lap that I'll be getting up shortly.
An hour certainly passes and my partner announces that she'll be putting away the food and would I like some. I say yes, I'd love two. She brings them to me because I am both very lucky and clearly mentally unwell. My attention is out of reach--for myself, my partner, my cat, the car I said I would charge, the bidet I would adjust. I'm just so focused on figuring out the Rubiks cube, understanding and unraveling its mysteries. I am unraveling.
I'm shocked to learn it's 11pm. My partner announces that she will be going to bed. I have not moved. We chat a bit. I have the brief presence of mind to put down the Rubiks cube. My attention holds, somewhat. She does not seem to resent the cube (and certainly not me) and I am pleased. Before she goes, she asks if I need help not doing the Rubiks cube. I respond that I'm still enjoying it, and that if she wakes up in the night (as she often does around 2am) and I'm still on the couch, then I need help. She has a laugh, knowing that this is 100% a joking-not-joking situation; I very well could be consumed by this toy. I check the time on my phone, but it has run out of battery, and I still don't have a watch. I'm officially in the land of no time and all cube.
I continue to work the cube, reaching a point with the utilitarian arithmetic where the cube is not solved, but the math says DON'T TOUCH IT. "You may not like it, but this is what a solved Rubiks cube looks like," says the utilitarian [pan to Rubiks cube with 0 completed faces). I spend some more time here working with the approach from the start of the puzzle, trying to uncover the fundamental truths of the Rubiks cube.
As I spend time thinking about how to get face 'A' to line up in spot 2,3 and face B to line up in 2,1, I begin to reach the point of intuition with the Rubiks cube. In my hands, the motions are semi-automatic, semi-voluntary. I execute the intended motions increasingly successfully. I think back to my lunchtime acquaintance in high school who did not take the AP test because "No Ms Jones, I went to prison." (Accidental school shooting threat, you know how it goes.) Anyway, he was always fuckin around with a Rubiks cube. He was a "cuber" and would solve in under a minute. I never understood it, and I still don't, but I do understand how your hands can get so fluid with the cube. It's like playing the guitar or the flute, but 1000× more mechanistic.
My eyes are dry. I have to pee. I realize that I cam essentially will any given face into a new position. If I just think about where I want a cube, it'll go there. I complete an entire face, and then a second one. I thought I remembered hearing once that completing any two faces would necessarily complete the cube... oh well.
I still have to pee. I lose progress attempting the leap from two faces to three, I end up on zero. I know that I'm close but far. But then I solve a face and it looks good! The other faces seem pretty conducive to solving. I try to solve one. I fail. I try to undo my failing. I fail at that. I know that I'm so close, but far. I should probably wrap it up because I probablt just can't get it tonight. But it looks like this attempt is going well! I continue on. I crash and burn again. I should go to sleep because I know my partner would want that for me. I know that I'm close but far. I'll just leave the cube with one face solved. My partner will like that because she'll be proud and impressed--while she juggles like a seal and makes profound art, a puzzler she is not. But this particular attempt seems to be going well and it would be so much more triumphant if I managed to solve the cube. I fail and lose progress. This repeats and repeats. It's why I sing about lack of self-control.
I have to pee. I leave the cube. I pee. I return and gather my belongings for bedtime. I also take the cube upstairs. I managed to stop without aid from my partner. Success? I look at the phone clock when I plug it in. I know, I know, it must be 1:30 4:30. 4:30? 4:30? 4:30? 4:30? 4:30? Woah. Sometimes I stay up this late. But I usually have some idea it's happening. And never is it because I've been working on a toy puzzle for over 10 hours.
I'm ok, I promise. This is a reminder, though, that the world is weird. I'm weird. And I better not pick up the Rubiks cube tomorrow (or even right now. I am exercising restraint).
