De facto: eye contact is defensive but our strategies around it are consensual. Narcosis starts to drift toward humane sense that’s forbidden. (And all we did was tie up our shirts.) This is how contingency turns to prayer, making patterns to and from alterations sited within a figure/chicken-ground/egg round robin. 
At the same time I condemn and mourn meritocracy. For all men are servants (JC et al.) that nonetheless practice geometry to respect the brain. (I don’t think it’s called Trampoland for nothing.)