Numerical Perplexity

The opened book lured him with its golden glow.

He imagined himself as a student in the day. Calculations done by mind or slide rules. No electronics to verify answers. Would he have had a good friend to ask for help? Were teachers stricter?

If it was a book of literature he would have fully appreciated it. But math? None of it made sense to him. The only value of the book, he determined, was its artistic calligraphy.

“Excuse me,” someone interjected. “Are you soon finishing your observation?”

He relaunched into the present, moving onwards to the museum’s next exhibit.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

What In Hell Is A Soul?

The super highway of data flowing back to the Dyson Sphere brought several questions to mind. Are all the math numbers being crunched supposedly from bitcoin to dogecoin just souls caught in the Mandela effect? Seemed illogical. And yet?

The more one reviews the simulator of life. The more questions one has to think about. Does thinking make anything right? No.And often times thoughts bring about new ideas. The question is any of this real?

Then the realization even if this was not real. Here I am today. And here you are too? Which begs the question in hell.

From Guest Contributor Clinton Siegle

Them Big Oak Trees

At first, her followers thought it was intended as a metaphor. Every acorn is a big bang all its own. Every tree the mother of countless worlds.

But the famous scientist was not speaking metaphorically. She'd cracked the greatest secrets of the cosmos. Our universe was born inside a tiny seed, bursting into life, which in turn gave birth to more trees and more universes. The math was both terrifyingly simple and unfathomably beautiful. The world no longer required religion and, without Gods, there was no more war or poverty. Peace and love reigned.

Until a giant squirrel ruined everything.

Let's Stay Focused On The Good News

HUBRIS CONTEST:

Gerald raced home, test in hand, too excited to look both ways as he crossed intersections. There was never any traffic anyway, and this news was too good to wait. He only paused at one point to pick up the books that had scattered on the sidewalk behind him because he'd forgotten to zip closed his backpack.

He sprinted up his driveway and burst through the front door.

"I am the GOAT!!!" He threw the paper towards his mother, who looked up in bewilderment.

"A B+ on your English exam. I'm proud of you. Now what about your math quiz?"

From Guest Contributor Breanne Nyhoff

Three Imaginary Boys

Three imaginary boys followed her everywhere. The one she called Whitey was the nicest. He would help her with math and comforted her when she was sad.

Churchill never had anything nice to say. He criticized her for crying too much and called her stupid whenever she made a mistake. He said the reason no one loved her was because she was a girl.

At least Churchill never hurt her, not the way Stephen did. He pinched her, or burned her with cigarettes. Sometimes worse.

She knew all three boys were imaginary, but the scars Stephen left were frighteningly real.

The Vigorish

Sal lurked in the hallways of the gambling den, all greasy hair and cigarette stench. No one acknowledged his presence, not even the proprietor who employed him. He was considered a necessary evil by some, the angel of reckoning by others.

They called him the Vigorish. His job was to calculate and collect the interest. He wasn't the muscle--he was too much of a worm to behave violently. He was just the one doing the math.

If he came to your table, you knew you'd been cut off. If he came to your home, you knew you were dead.

A Dinosaur's Life

He had a huge family. They only hung out in large groups. He wasn’t very handsome but he was extremely smart.

In school, he hated math and science but he was very good at art. I guess you could say he was the creative sort.

He wasn’t the type that ate meat, in fact he ate none at all. He never played on mountains or climbed trees, I guess he was afraid he’d fall.

In the summers, he’d wake up, eat his breakfast, then take a nap. In winter, he just slept and slept.

That’s the life of a dinosaur.

From guest contributor Zoey Zozo