Ice age. During a natural catastrophe that appears to be permanent, I take refuge in my midtown office building. Many of my coworkers decide to do the same. Over many weeks and months of confinement, a small society develops with its own customs, division of labor, and taboos. We use the bathroom as a health clinic and the shelving to grow vegetables and herbs. Several years later the catastrophe subsides and we are given the opportunity to live elsewhere, but few of us leave the building. I have a child. Years later I die, content in the knowledge that my offspring will never venture outside the building as I once did. That given the opportunity they will invent a society even smaller than the one I had devised, and they will keep to it.