Botany Unit looks forward to the next year.

This continues my uncle's diary from here.

Transmutation

The year is coming to an end and there is new stuff to report. The story is simple: the Command Center has been hijacked! Old comrades are not particularly surprised but newbies like me are stunned. But let me start from the beginning.
Ministry of Everything has many units and one of them is called the Chem Unit. After a recent reorganization it is now divided between four sub-sections - Air, Fire, Water and Earth. This time-honored Aristotelian classification seems to stimulate our Chem comrades intellectually and it connects us to modernity by providing budget drivers for the entire Ministry of Everything.
Our fellow comrades in the Chem Unit are not very different from us, other than  their unusual fondness for verking, a preferred way of getting things done. But never mind, their main problem is a massive inferiority complex. On the surface they have phenomenal foresight and a vision of an upcoming scientific discovery, but  when it comes down to staking a claim, they often get everything wrong. It is not clear whether heuristics gets in the way of their analytical thinking or whether it is something else, but their record is littered with theories involving changing rubbish into gold, flogiston and curing cancer with vitamin C. So they verk hard, keep quiet and do not speak at the meetings. Well, until now.
Over the last year they surreptitiously replaced every comrade in the Command Center with one of their own! As often happens, nobody noticed until a gigantic Mendeleev table appeared at the entrance to the Command Center and the New Year’s party involved a spelling-bee competition featuring unpronounceable names of chemical compounds. Needless to say, the top three spots (awarded 20 pound bags of onions each) were all won by chemists!

The Botany Unit tries to play along. In the coming year we will be bringing in new programs and initiatives. Plants and Elements, Plant chemistry and I love carbon, are just a few examples. Our Hammer and Sickle training program includes now a new set of drills and I am happy to report that new comrades can recite all elements that start with P and have two vowels, compute sum of valencies of all metals or perform even more complicated mental tasks. There are subtle changes in our environment as well. A complete set of Paracelsus' works now adorns the reception area, and we have commissioned an oil painting of Madame du Chatelet to display between two scrofulous plants in our windowless foyer (some comrades argue that Madame Curie would have been a safer choice.) All together, a lot of thinking goes towards appeasing chemists who are brimming with anger after centuries of disrespect.
At the moment things are fine though. Other than slowly reducing the flow of the resources and snooping around with an eye to nano-managing, the comrades in the Command Center enjoy leadership positions and try not to over-verk themselves.

Happy New Year

Remarkably, the Botany Unit is weathering these events well, given that this has been the worst year on record: deep divisions and polarization in the Central Committee, suffocation followed by the shutdown, and a ten percent reduction in seed allocation, now followed by this chemical invasion. Perhaps things cannot be worse, and we have been watching it unravel with morbid curiosity. Yet strangely enough, the Botany Unit is infused with hope and optimism. It is as if, pushed against the wall and surrounded by stronger enemies, you suddenly find a six-shooter in your pocket. How can that be? Well, in a time of crisis, old Communist principles kick in. What you stand for matters more than who you are. In our case these are beets, potatoes and corn - the basic products of the Botany Unit. Perhaps not enough to defeat capitalist pigs and save the planet, but certainly things that are our pride and responsibility.

Continued here.

Hard verk

This continues my uncle's diary from here.

The battle against capitalist pigs is going well and we can afford some minor celebrations.  The history is somewhat murky but as our glorious system matures the difference between working and not working has increased considerably. Our beloved Party that always tries to balance things out decided to bridge these two states and introduced verk. What is verk? Well, this is an intermediate state and for the most part it is up to the employee to determine how much of not working they include in their verk. More to the point, the main characteristics of verk is that you can verk at home, in the shopping mall or for that matter anywhere else and to verk you no longer have to come to the workplace. Needless to say the program turned out immensely popular and many of us verk a lot!
I started forgetting faces of some of my colleagues, but when I see them once in a while, I notice that they look more rested and happier. Unlike work which by law is limited to 40 hours per week, one can verk for 80 or more hours per week without exerting oneself much. There is not much more getting done this way but everybody looks very busy these days and statistical reports are stellar.
Our former management was not particularly fond of verking and counteracted with an obsolete concept of “face time” - being present and together with your colleagues - but the new management embraced verk wholeheartedly. Quite frankly Ministry of Everything is not doing very well these days and our Command Center is in disarray and infested with a number of comrades who’s qualifications are somewhat lacking. All in all, it is better when everybody is verking rather than coming to work and  rolling their eyes or gossiping.

I love verking but sometime I wonder if the capitalist pigs aren’t outsmarting us. They seem to try to get the most out of their employees, rely on their skills, knowledge and initiative and generally behave as if the responsibility for future of the world was in their hands. Comrades laugh that this is a complete nonsense but capitalists are sure making a convincing show!

On top of that the Central Committee occasionally confuses verking with non working and this is potentially dangerous. Our recent example involves an onset of winter and the associated snowfall, periodic and not completely unexpected event given our geographical location. The Party's aversion to snow is legendary and the Central Committee shuts down Ministry of Everything together with the rest of the government at the slightest presence, or even anticipation, of this fluffy substance! Telling people to verk would have been understandable, but closing down  entire buildings seem to indicate the lack of trust in common sense of the employees and general stupidity on the part of people empowered to make this kind of decisions.
In this particular instance a snowfall was expected and at four in the morning, hours before the first flakes twirled in the air,  and couriers were dispatched to tell comrades to run and hide. Unfortunately, the  Botany Unit was hosting three farming teams associated with the program of Underground Farming (described here). One can only imagine the surprise of comrades farmers, weathered and tough folks,  when they were confronted by armed guards blocking their entrance to the building because of a paper thin layer of snow on the ground. Nevertheless when all seemed lost our comrades from the Botany Unit stepped up to the plate and saved the day by pitching a large tent serving as a temporary hothouse. They comforted the  distressed farmers and exacted  from them some amount of actual work which they came to perform!

All in all, we verk hard and I am sure we are beating capitalists left and right but some days I cannot escape the feeling that we are led forward by people who do not quite know what are they doing. But I am ashamed of these thoughts and I punish myself with extra verk!


Continued here.

Academic life - finding home

In my earlier post I described the two arcs of one’s academic career: the formative years associated with establishing one’s identity in the marketplace of ideas, and the return home, a quest for starting one's own scientific family and spreading one's own ideas.  The links to the Iliad and Odyssey were unmistakable,  and we covered the outward  portion of this exploit. In this post we complete the journey and absorb Homer’s wisdom on the subject of university tenure and beyond.

Without further ado let’s introduce the characters:

Odysseus - yes baby, it is you. The intellect and cunning are still there but so are some new ingredients. Hesitation, dark moods, and indecisiveness will accompany you through this journey. That is just the way it is, too much randomness that gets in a way of careful planning. But do not despair, your team, even if anonymous,  is with you and they will step in when needed. For the most part you are in the same boat after all.

Penelope - she is the ultimate prize, your dream job. Separated by time and space, she calls you frequently. She could be your dream postdoc or an endowed chair, whatever. When you saw her first years ago  she was just there, looking great and unreachable. Now you are making your move. Good luck!

Telemachus - this is how the past influences the future. You have nurtured this fellow when he was an undergraduate. Now, years later, he is completing his Ph.D. thesis. He worshipped you for all those years because through some casual remark of yours he saw that being a scholar is the best thing in the world. Now he is the president of the student body, and, while still weak and inexperienced, in time he will be a powerful ally.

Antinous, Amphinomus, Eumaeus and the rest of the suitors. Incompetent scumbags of the lowest order - the inside candidates who will stop at nothing to deny you the job that you deserve and that they want for themselves. You can discredit one or two but there are simply too many of them. They have their tentacles in the university senate, they arrange housing loans for new faculty, and more. Killing them all commando style is Homer’s wet dream, most likely you will have to coexist with them for most of your career.  If you get the job and the dust settles you might discover that some of them are actually fine colleagues. Won’t you be glad for sparing them?

Eurycleia - Odysseus' nurse. In spite of all the technology: online applications, papers posted online, videos of your classes, and so on, you need someone who actually reads all your papers and knows what they are all about. It seems that everybody else relies on someone else’s opinion. Eurycleia is a great help. She will recognize you in any disguise, she will find your unsigned notes that miraculously became your competitor's top publication. She is good at keeping secrets and she knows all the gossip. And she loves you too.

Calypso - a beautiful nymph who could be male or female. What can I say, in nearly every scientific biography there are some “missing years”. Meet Calypso and you will understand why.

Polyphemus - the scruffy bespectacled chair of the hiring committee. His attention to checking the compliance of every application is legendary. When it says that candidates must use 12pt helvetica font it better not be Arial!  Polyphemus will obliterate your job application unless you walk the razor-thin path of the righteous.

Circe - the infinite allure of software: TeX, LaTeX, Powerpoint, Keynote, Java and all that. The days and weeks that you spent in her company choosing fonts for your presentations, developing transitions between slides and wondering if your treatise on why noodle dough darkens would have benefited from a soundtrack. One day you will glance at a blank sheet of paper, take a sharp pencil into your hand, look at it, and the music from “2001: Space Odyssey” will erupt in your head. Can it be that simple? Duh.

Nausicaa - the dean’s daughter, who is beautiful and honest. It is easy to accept her help, and without that things would be a great deal tougher. But watch out, Employee Integrity Testing is in your near future.

Tiresias -  he spends most of his time with university administrators and in the Underworld. Not a particularly pleasant character. Full of himself and overconfident in his ability to tell the future. You probably could do without him but he will make your cover letter ten times better. Of course you have to pay, and he will torment you with his blog which supposedly has all his wisdom on matters of academic employment.

Underworld - it is a place, not a person. Have you ever seen at a large professional meeting a booth run by the National Security Agency, State Department or some other acronym infested entity? This is the gate to the Underworld. They can swallow you whole and give your life a completely new meaning. But you have to pledge to depart the world of the living, and for many it is a one way trip. Caution, caution.

Kraken - strictly speaking not an Odyssey character. Kraken is a bright and powerful faculty member who is largely invisible due to a massive amount of funding from the Department of Defense,  the National Institute of Health, or similar entity. He has the best office furniture and equipment that taxpayer's money can buy. When the external funding dries up Kraken gets unleashed and with anger and arrogance  torments his colleagues.

Ithaca -  a place where Penelope resides. It might have other attractions like mild climate, clean environment, no crime or traffic, good school system, no history of natural disasters, and proximity to nature and recreation. It is prudent to expect no more than one of those extras.

Athena, Poseidon, Zeus and the rest of the lot are gods. In Iliad they were just tricksters but here they decide to get their hands dirty and be involved. Unfortunately not all of them are on your side.

These characters and many like that will be a part of your Odyssey, and some of the Iliad players will tag along as well. In fact you have come across some of them already and in time you will meet the rest of them. Homer’s original narrative starts the Odyssey in the middle and uses flashbacks to fill in the past. We will follow our protagonist in a more direct fashion.

Odyssey retold

One day an Ithaca alumnus is outed as having a lavish Swiss bank account.  He tries to ameliorate by making a large donation to his alma mater.  It is for a tenure-track appointment with some nice perks. Or perhaps an endowed chair accompanied by two perpetual two-year postdocs, funding for graduate students and for the lucky recipient a name plaque which will be attached outside of the building (which is also new.) There is a lot of buzz in the community and even the deities on Olympus are impressed. Athena drops Odysseus' name during lunch.  “Where is he now?” asks Zeus. “I dunno” mumbles Athena choking on an undercooked ambrosia. "Is Haphaestus again doing kitchen duty?" unspoken question crosses her mind.  Never mind, it is time to get involved.  Later in the day she locates Odysseus in Turkey, and under the  guise of a pink flamingo advises Telemachus to start beating the bushes to get respectable candidates in hopes that he will persuade Odysseus to apply. Unfortunately, the lax formulation of the job ad allows local nebbishes to apply as well. They call themselves Suitors and try to scare off everybody else.

Did Gods stage an intervention? or perhaps just a plain e-mail from Telemachus was enough to set things in motion? Whichever way, Odysseus gets the vibe, decides to apply, and thus begins his trip.
Unsure of how the business of academic hiring is done these days, he acquires services of Tiresias for help with cover letters, vitae, teaching statement, long and short term research program, writing samples and whatever else they want. It is a good move as his submissions acquire the solid look of polished bronze and project the impeccable logic of a “must hire” candidate. He decides to hedge his bets and settles on a hundred applications to a wide range of schools. Ithaca is there as well…

Just hours from the moment when Odysseus' ship sails out an ugly monster comes to the surface and blocks his path. Most of his body is covered with ads for College Board, SAT, GRE and TOEFL. It is clear that carrying this stuff around affects his buoyancy. “Interfolio, at your service” he gurgles happily “will it be Mastercard or Visa?” Startled, Odysseus and his fellows shut down their laptops and turn off WiFi. But there is no hope. Powerful Interfolio  keeps the job applications sequestered until the payment is made. Not the end of the world but a strong remainder that many monsters feast on the fringes of the academic world. Luckily Euryclea comes to the rescue by sending a homing pidgeon with her credit card number.

Crisis is averted, Odysseus continues, and his job applications get delivered before the deadline.  The seas are calm and the winds favorable until suddenly the skies darken and a powerful storm approaches. Unbeknownst to Odysseus it is Poseidon who brings the storm, enticed by his son Polyphemus.  What happened? Odysseus, in a fit of joyous insubordination, lists himself as a female and a Pacific Islander on the Affirmative Action Form.  This is childish behavior unfitting of a serious scholar even though the provided data is stored on 5.25in floppies in the government bunker while the form itself is the main ingredient of a fully recyclable coffee cup. Polyphemus spots the silliness (even though the form is anonymous) and gets a conniption. It does not end well, in anger he pokes his own eye out scratching the cornea. Poseidon, a god whose sense of humor is descended from invertebrate and sense of justice from Vlad the Impaler, blames Odysseus and sends the storm.

The storm rages for hours and tosses the ships around with no mercy. Finally, an island appears on the horizon. They do not know it but they have entered the land of Circe. In a blink of an eye she turns Odysseus’ entire team into computer scientists and convinces him to engage in developing his webpage. Days turn into months while powerful java scripts are being written to display Odysseus' vitae in all congressional languages. A webcam app shows the inside of his office, another app indicates the amount of seed in his bird feeder, and for an unknown reason his website announces to the world that he just changed the air filter in his furnace.
Finally, Odysseus has had enough. He refuses to cooperate and the defeated Circe releases his crew from the torment of programming this rubbish.  Circe remains friendly, fixes  terrible scripts on Odysseus' webpage and bestows the biggest gift of all - a new Linux distro. Linux programer is a new hobby on Odysseus' vitae, a big shot in the arm in the dying world of Windows. He feeds Interfolio its dues and his applications are updated.

They sail out and soon enough, trouble shows up on the horizon. It is the six-headed Scylla, a monster of interdisciplinary research, and the whirlpool of Charybdis, a temple of a single author paper. The passage between is very thin and Odysseus has to use all his cunning as many job applications call for research plans in a concise two page format. Scylla lures with societal impact and scientific breakthroughs, Charybdis whispers about divided credit and lack of independent record. Charybdis murmurs about famous writers, poets and artists, all taking their challenges solo, while Scylla hisses about ten thousand people behind the Large Hadron Collider and the discovery of Higgs boson. Tough spot, careful navigation is required and on the horizon tenure might be at stake as well.

They continue west when an island shows under a veil of fog. Beautiful Sirens are calling from afar. Odysseus plugs the ears of his crew with wax, a productivity trick that he learned from Achilles in Troy, while Sirens are singing about the Tenure Committees, Curriculum Development Committees, Faculty Outreach and Faculty Senate. They are calling for Odysseus and his crew to abandon their research journey and devote their time to serving Academia. “Too early, too early” moans Odysseus covering his ears.
Perhaps you wonder whether the Sirens wouldn’t sing about something more desirable to lure them  to their island. Naaah, not in this job market.


Days turn into weeks and not much is happening. Something is not quite right. "Is it me or is it the system?" Odysseus wonders aloud. Finally, many months after job applications reached their destination, an e-mail arrives. It mentions an on-campus interview, 45-minute talk, and meeting with the faculty and the dean. The whole works, and it is for real this time.  Suddenly the frustrations of the journey fade away and layers of faceless anonymous communications peel off. Is it a new beginning or another island of illusion? “Carpe diem” says Odysseus as he crosses the campus gate.

                                          The end of the Odyssey

What??! This is the end? Where the hell is Penelope? Ithaca? Suitors skewered with arrows?
Well, it is tough but we are not there yet and maybe never will be. Don’t you get it? This is the odyssey! It is not supposed to end, there is always something new beyond the horizon.

Academic life - the formative years

Every year thousands of new Ph.D’s are minted in the universities all over the world. Fraction of them embark on a search of academic career and aim to become scholars and scientists. This journey can be simple or very complicated. It can span continents or represent a  mere crossing of the street.  It can transverse many disciplines or be an exploration of just a single idea.   But in most cases it has two recognizable components. On the outward leg it is a show of strength, ascension to the battlefield of ideas and a desire to stand above others.  When homeward bound it is a search of focus and clarity, with an eye on a more distant goal of starting one’s own research family with students and postdocs, and scattering them through the academic world to sow the advisor's ideas.

As my daughter crosses the apex in  her academic journey in the vicinity of the ancient city of Troy it dawned on me that these simple observations were already made more that twenty-five hundred years ago. Two works that describe almost perfectly the plights of modern day academics are Iliad and Odyssey (with a small contribution from Vergil’s Aeneid). Here we discuss the Iliad,  the poem concerning postdoctoral component in a life of a scholar.

What can I say, Troy is a magnet for a postdoc with its scorching sun and miserable food coupled with a constant din of ideas and somewhat distant presence of the  greatest minds that one hopes to meet in a lifetime.

Many centuries later Christopher Marlowe condensed the reason for going to Troy to just three lines:

Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.

Indeed, for a recent Ph.D. great ideas, mayhem and immortality are as alluring today as they were in antiquity. But what we treasure in Iliad is the collection of characters that offer guidance, warning and advice as we enter the fray. Here they come:

Agamemnon - a bloody bastard. The longer you bounce around the more likely this will be your next chair. Ruthless to friends and enemies alike and getting more greedy as his powers diminish. He sacrificed his own daughter Iphigenia to appease the gods, he stole lovely Briseis from Achilles and he will steal the key idea from your paper too. Yet, it is his lab which will launch your career and it is his skills that build the team around you. Competent scientist, authoritarian committee member, good leader and a lousy follower. Not really a role model but someone to be watchful of. A mixture of good and bad that you do not want to emulate unless you view being drowned in a bathtub by your own wife as a fitting ending of your academic career. Enough said, you have been warned.

Achilles - a genius and a total asshole, Jack Reacher if you follow the genre. If you were him you would not be reading it. So suck it up and put up with his antics, it is the case of a repulsive beauty. His papers are few, long, and profound even if you understand only half of what he has written. He can be friendly or dismissive, arrogant or helpful and often you will think that you understand him better than he does himself. Most likely it is your mistake. A man of principles and a stubborn one too. He stood up to Agamemnon and nearly lost the war for Greeks. He will screw up your project if he finds himself disagreeing with some  irrelevant aspect of your work.
Yet, Achilles is a beacon because he supersizes every human attribute. Or is he really human? Oh yes, he is. And you know what? He does have a weakness. It is probably something minor like excessive earwax or flat-footedness, but eventually a weaker adversary, and he has many, will exploit it.

Nestor - a man that was already old when he was born. A man who loves to give advice and some of it makes sense. A sensible, forward looking fellow. A careful men. If he is your advisor you have chosen well, but prepare to be bored.

Odysseus - a role model finally. A brilliant and versatile man and a survivor too. Watch this guy because there is a lot to learn. He claimed to be crazy to avoid going to the war, a trick repeated by intellectuals million-fold, and when he did fight he did it with his head not just brawn. His Troyan Horse idea is one of the few military highlights preceding Sun Tzu, Patton and Rommel.

Paris - intelligent, good looking and very lucky. The kind of guy that that makes your life miserable in high school but later on there is not much substance in him. Homer does not like him much and you don’t either. Yet he got his Ph.D before you did and his wife is a home coming queen that he finessed out of hands of Agamenon’s brother Menelaus. So yes, if not for him you would not loiter around Troy trying to build your resume. And did I mention Achilles? Yes, it was earwax after all, and Paris was the first to exploit it. With Apollo’s assistance obviously.

Hector - top Troy  scientist and an intellectual match for Achilles. Not as cool though: his Nikes do not measure up to Achilles' Cydwoqs, and his JC Penny outfits to Achilles' Neiman Marcus. They hate each other too. Bummer.

Priam -  he is the ultimate dirty old men, surrounded by women with whom he produces enormous  number of off-spring. Two millennia before invention of Viagra! Hugh Hefner of the antiquity.
Graduate student of any gender should be on high alert when around him. Not a strong scientist but an excellent negotiator. You will learn a few tricks if you serve with him on a committee.

Last but not least comes Helen, Paris' trophy wife snatched from the embraces of scruffy Menelaus. Her spectacular beauty and preference for a more able sexual partner overshadowed her crucial contribution to the mankind. She invented the wheel! Men will never acknowledge this fact, even under the threat of death and ever since her venture to the  toolshed, members of her sex are forbiden to play with machinery. This alone slows down advances of civilization by centuries.

Few years after graduate school you know many of these characters intimately. It is time to see them in action. Sorry Mr Homer, your poem will loose its hexameter  but it will get refreshed content. Also, twenty-four chapters is beyond the attention span of a modern reader, eight paragraphs will do just fine.

Iliad retold

For a long time the climate community was grappling with its key question:  Is global warming for real, and if so is it human caused?
So when Paris stole from Agamemnon the Icelandic ice core samples that could have shed some light on this question a bitter war ensued. As our story begins, the war has raged for a decade and the city of Troy was chosen as a site of annual gathering of climate researchers. Graduate students, postdocs and scientists without external funding were swarming around in search of cheap lodging for days. Keynote speakers jet in on the evening before the meeting.

A few days before the conference Agamemnon scores an early triumph. Skillful negotiation with the university president allows him to recover all the overhead of his key climate grant. Given the rate his school charges, it nearly doubles his funding. Third month of summer support and a postdoc are on his mind and he decides to keep Achilles, who is the co-PI on the grant, out of the loop. Big mistake, Zeus intervenes and a string of e-mails alerts Achilles to the duplicity of his colleague. He puts his lab in a lockdown and changes fonts in his presentations to dingbats rendering the Powerpoint-handicapped Agamemnon helpless. It takes half of the Olympus deities to sort it out but hours before the opening of the conference, Achilles is still not yielding.

First day of the meeting. The morning talk by Paris discusses - yes, you guessed it - Icelandic ice core samples. Menelaus is in the audience and he is furious. He wasn’t slaving away eating salmon day after day to have his work stolen by a flamboyant postdoc.
As Paris discusses CO_2 measurements in the air bubbles embedded in ancient ice, gracefully illuminating the data with his red laser pointer, Menelaus removes the safety lock and fires his pointer. Green beam cuts across the room  scattering on the dust particles suspended in the air. It is at least 20 times stronger than Paris’ laser pointer and it can blind one for hours. Audience sees the duel coming and holds their breath. “Was there a possibility of contamination during transport?” Menelaus asks with venom alluding to a murky way in which the samples ended up in Paris’ hands. The red dot is dancing on the screen in increasingly unsteady hands while the green one turns lazy, menacing circles around it. The end is near as these questions have no easy answers and Paris academic future hangs up in the air. Suddenly, a bright blue beam of retina burning strength blasts the screen. It is Priam, Paris postdoc mentor, who’s hand steadied by Aphrodite fires his primary academic weapon, a thousand dollar blue laser pointer, a Nobel-prize winner trophy. Menelaus stands down his laser and Paris retreats to enjoy a privilege of the youth, midday sex with Helen. Priam wants to follow the lead but no such luck for him.

The afternoon poster session is a raging battle. Postdocs and grad students are relentless in ridiculing each others' work and slandering their opponents' advisors. Nestor tries to offer advice and cool the tempers but he fails. Many scientific skirmishes erupt, some hastily arranged by deities. Hera lures Zeus to her bedroom allowing Poseidon to arrange the flooding of Sardinia with torrential rains. Confused climatologists do not know how to deal with such weather event and start pummeling each other with whatever is at hand. Zeus finds out the conspiracy, blasts a thunder in Poseidon’s ass and levels the Philippines with a category 5 typhoon Hayian. There is no way that solid science can result from such screwed up environment, and conference participants spend the rest of the day on a trip to the local winery.

Achilles still broods over the grant overhead that Agamemnon tried to steal from him and refuses to defend their shared scientific agenda. Only when Hector finds a glaring gap in a paper of Achilles' favorite graduate student Patroclus and after Agamemnon apologizes for the n-th time for his erroneous ways, Achilles agrees to participate. The panel discussion involving Hector and Achilles is scheduled for the following day.

The panel starts at noon. Achilles and Hector are top scientists and there is a potential for a fruitful exchange. Alas, it is not going to be. Achilles mind is set on obliterating Hector's academic credentials and destroying his legacy. His own mother prophesies that it will hasten Achilles own demise and his horse concurs. No deal, Achilles is as stubborn as ever, and deities are helping.  A brief e-mail tells Achilles that Hector suffers from enlarged prostate and needs to visit restroom frequently. A flip of a coin, fortuitously arranged by Apollo,  puts Achilles in charge of the panel and Hector's fate is sealed. He squirms on his seat as Achilles goes through the tens of data filled slides explaining minutiae of climate modeling issues. Finally Hector breaks down and asks for a bathroom break. Achilles politely agrees and Hector retreats. When the door closes behind him, Hectors laptop starts acting funny and displays e-mails held at Climatic Research Unit at the University of East Anglia. When Hector returns the proofs of climate conspiracy known as Climategate are all over the screen. Hector turns pale and shuts down his laptop but Achilles does not relent. He drags the  academic carcass of the fallen Hector around and humiliates him endlessly.

Priam, Hector’s academic father pleads with Achilles to end this nonsense, and finally Achilles comes to his senses. Hector is stripped of his National Academy membership and academic burial - a quickly arranged retirement - is procured. There is a farewell luncheon on the penultimate day of the meeting.

Thus ends the Iliad but not the conference. On the last day of the meeting Odysseus unleashes the Troyan Horse. He brings students who spent several summers in Troy supported by the Research Experience for Undergraduates program funded by  the National Science Foundation. But these are not undergrads anymore! These are hardened and able-bodied graduate students supported by NSF scholarships at the top US institutions. Armed with thumb drives they wreak havoc with global warming deniers agenda. In a short day, a malicious program set by the former US president who wanted to leave a permanent imprint on the climate science is in ruins. It is a joyous day for the climatologists all over the world and a great lesson for postdocs and students.

The second burning of the Library of Alexandria

The Library of Alexandria was a fine facility best known for its fiery disappearance.  It lasted for three hundred  years and the reasons for its demise are many. Budget cuts , periodic fires,  or tea-party hotheads  are oft mentioned possibilities.

Whatever happened is history, but history likes to repeat itself.

Blog: Kelvin 506

Our team arrived shortly after midnight. The house was cased well in advance, a big villa at the edge of Vondelpark. Google maps gave the aerial picture and street-view  completed the recon. Real estate records provided the layout of the inside. Preparations lasted two weeks, quite long but most of the team members faced final exams. The weather in Amsterdam was nice and favored approaching the target by city bikes: elegant, unorthodox and providing an opportunity to evade multiple surveillance cameras. Cheap night vision monoculars and a bump key  completed the setup.

We  spent hours debating the pros and cons of the project. On one hand, it involved burglary and extortion, acts that are clearly illegal, even for a noble cause. On the other hand, the access to the entire scientific legacy of Mankind was at stake and our action was supposed to shine bright light on some abominable developments.  In our wildest dreams, we were hoping to provide a spark that will revolutionize the entire scientific community; our nightmares involved seeing the world from behind bars. Watching Orange is the New Black through a hijacked Netflix account usually calmed us down a lot.

When we arrived, the house was dark and it was very quiet. We approached from the back, and braced for our first use of the bump key. The instructional youtube videos were quite clear but field ops always have some surprises. So it was a great relief when it turned out that the door was not locked.

The inside was almost completely dark, and we paused to figure out how we could find anything in this maze. The infrared monocular that we tested in the bathroom with the lights off turned out to be less useful in this environment. But Lady Luck was with us again. We heard some rumblings and the target stumbled onto us with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity.

Snatch!

Thirty seconds later we were on the street and the ransom note was left by the entrance.

De Telegraaf May 5, 2014 (local crime section)

Last night there was an incident at the house of one of our top publishing executives. The details are sketchy  at this hour. Family members interviewed by our reporter confirmed that nothing was missing except for the dog (who may have wandered into Vondelpark).  Another family member mentioned a ransom note concerning a mathematical journal, but Amsterdam Politie offered no comments and we were unable to follow this lead.

Politiebureau

As De Telegraaf tries to meet its daily deadline, Detective Harm van Roojinen briefs his team members  Anja Bentjees and Theo Hegger. They sit in a circle in a drab office and Harm reads from his field notes. As always he is prone to lofty statements. "Listen up! Late last night the house of an executive from the largest scientific publisher in our country was burglarized by three unknown assailants," he says with morose expression. Anja and Theo do not seem particularly excited.
"The only missing item is a three-year old chihuahua name Molly"  he continues. Anja, who is actually a cat-lover perks up. Then comes the boom: "The ransom left at the site promises to return Molly unharmed if all past, present and future issues of the Journal of Functional Analysis will be made freely available to the public." Harm has their full attention now. "Any more info? Fingerprints?" asks Theo incredulously. Harm flips through his notes and mumbles "The MacBike system has a record of users named Banach, Euler and Hypatia renting three bicycles and paying with bitcoins." "You can  rent a bike with bitcoins?” wonders  Anja.  Harm cuts in "What is the Journal of Functional Analysis? And why do they have these funny aliases?” They gather around Harm's laptop and after a brief search Theo, who is the goofiest of them, yells "Mamma mia! You can have "Free convolution operators and free Hall theorem” for  $41.95!"   "If $41.95 means free then these are slick operators,” Anja deadpans. They are all laughing but then Harm brings up Google hits on Euler, Banach and Hypatia, "these names are not funny, I get over 5 million hits on google for these guys."  "We will never sort it out," he adds in a resigned voice. Clearly there is a lot of work ahead and Harm summarizes "I do not know what is this journal of something but it is worth  money to some people. Let's do  research and check with friends across the pond in the National Security Agency.”
“OK, let's meet here tomorrow at 9," Anja proposes.

Next morning it is raining and the pressure is low. They are all sipping coffee and perusing an NSA brief that came during the night.
It includes full dossiers of all 17 people who downloaded from Journal of Functional Analysis in the past decade and paid the fee. The group consists mostly of professional mathematicians and a handful of graduate students. Most of them are vegetarians and  all are animal lovers. Pictures, addresses, Facebook postings, and voluminous phone and e-mail records indicate sympathetic individuals living in an open society with no obvious need of evasion. Experts at NSA advise that they are unaware of cases of scientific extremism  and that this could be a clever ruse  to disguise a malicious political agenda.

Harm, Anja and Theo  all sit a bit confused. "It is still unclear what it all means, and why the Journal of Functional Analysis is worthy of disturbing peaceful burgers of Amsterdam in the middle of the night," concludes Theo.

Blog: Kelvin 506

I must say that Molly is delightful! Hypatia cannot stop playing with her and constantly cooks her delicious morsels. Banach is also not immune, although he  tries to hide it. For a while he had his eyes on Hypatia and now the presence of Molly enabled him to show his  emotional side. But  he might be simply jealous of Molly, who knows?

Whereas a week ago we were talking about Open Access, the freedom of scientific publications, and the criminality of the publishing barons who surrepticiously acquired rights to most of the scientific output, now we are discussing Molly’s moods, appetite, and attitude.  Suddenly I started having doubts about the project. Not only we are not on safe ground and have not accomplished our goals but I fear that Banach and Hypatia will not want to give Molly back. Once a while I say something like “It looks like Molly misses her home”, but then Hypatia gives her a truffle or piece of sirloin and Molly perks up and seems content.

De  Telegraaf May 7, 2014 (newsflash on page 3)

Our newspaper was flooded by requests for information about last night's break-in to the publishing house representative. The perps are still at large and Molly has not been recovered.  Our reporting staff is working hard collecting background information on the incident and trying to understand the linkage between an obscure math journal and antisocial behavior.  Here is what we know:

Throughout most of the XX century academic publishers requested that authors sign so-called copyright agreements. This agreement preserved the intellectual rights of the author but ceded the rights to distribute, copy, republish, etc to the publisher, and also gave them most of the financial proceeds if there were any. The system worked well, because all published work existed in a paper form that needed assembling, storage and distribution.
It all changed by the end of the XX century, when in the space of a decade publishing became digital. Suddenly, authors gained the ability to market and distribute their work without the assistance of a publisher. With the loss of the physical medium, the forgotten copyright agreement became the bloodline of the publishing industry, as copyright become the only marketable component of a digital product.  Through acquisition, often at fire-sale prices, several publishing houses gained control of most scientific publications, and they are currently attempting to turn it into a billion dollar industry.

Politiebureau

It is midday at the police station and Harm, Anja and Theo are running out of ideas. But then Harm's laptop says in a wooden voice "Je hebt mail" and Harm yells loudly "Hey guys, a new NSA brief has just landed. Check it out!”  They print three copies and start quietly reading what friendly NSA spooks have dug up on the topic of scientific publishing. The document is nearly 20 years old and it appears to be a transcript of a recording from a meeting that took place in their hometown! One glance at the address reveals a noble company that has been a pride of their country.

Publishers Summit 1994 (confidential)

Location:  SCIF at  Radarweg 29, Amsterdam

The meeting had four participants hiding under aliases: Hendrik, Friedrich, Evan and John.

Hendrik: Colleagues, welcome! Glad you could make it!  (audible sounds of kissing and hugging) Please report on the progress of our plan.

John: Let me report on the legacy acquisitions. We created an online entity called JSTOR in which we all have an equal stake. It will come online in a year and once fully operational it  will own all scientific records that are more than  five years old. We will charge for access on a yearly basis:  from $200 (individual) to $50,000 (university). We instructed fellow librarians to burn paper copies of books and journals to channel the demand. We anticipate that in 20 years we may have to make some of the less desirable publications available for free (audible gagging sounds), but it is not certain.

Hendrik: Excellent, excellent. Any signs of suspicion from the scientific community?

John: None at all, they are like lemmings. It was enough to tell them that they do not have to walk to the library anymore!

Evan:  We are still experimenting with the government option and the signs are promising. It may take  some time but we may succeed in the government footing the entire bill!  We are setting up the system of page charges paid from the government grants. In time the fee for one journal page will pay for storage space that can hold  an entire library! Not even a Colombian drug cartel has such profit margins, and this is all legal! (high fives are heard around the room)

Hendrik: Is it working?

Evan: Excellently. Due to our lobbying efforts, governments will not interfere with the page-charge structure, but rather, will tell these drones to publish less if there is a sequestration.

Friedrich: Together with John we are working  on  smoke-screen actions that will allow us to hide profits and launder the money, At the moment the most promising are the review services. We will have scientists write mini-reviews of the journal articles, for free of course, and bundle them in an online bibliographical database for which we will charge a hefty fee (clapping is heard).  It boosts their morale  to read something once a while and for tax purposes we can claim losses on the whole business.

John: We are buying scientific journals at a rate of five to ten per month. For the most part the editorial boards are very happy that they no longer have to deal with print shops, distribution and subscriptions. All they care about is that they remain editors and the name of the journal does not change. In most cases they would pay us to take over (roaring laughter).

Hendrik: I see that all is well. (pause) Colleagues, let me reiterate - this is a twenty year plan and there are hardships on the way. We have to acquire literally thousands of scientific journals and keep publishing them. This is a burden, but it is no different than our Russian colleagues who bought all of the oil reserves in their entire  country  - the product has to keep coming, and profits are just around the corner. In our case,  the digital era is  coming shortly and I can assure you that in twenty years all that we will have to do is to protect our investment. Typesetting, editing, publishing will be entirely done by  scientists themselves and  their colleagues will be paying  us  (he screams like a Hitlerite)   for access to it! (sounds of bewilderment are heard).

Evan: Will it all work?

Hendrik: Yes it will (he says firmly). You see, scientists are very keen on their intellectual abilities and view them as something precious, special and rare. Ever since Giordano Bruno was burned at the stake they stuck their noses in their books and toe the line. Just losing one of their kind in a fairly unpleasant manner was enough. Since then they gave us dynamite, nuclear weapons, nerve gas and enhanced interrogation techniques! They will love to have a better library!

(the brief ends)

They sit in silence for a while until Anja interrupts "Unbelievable! Is it authentic? It reminds me of stories about Congo and Leopold II, King of Belgians."
"Let's not go there,” says Theo  scratching his head,  “these intellectual robber barons  tried to bury what has been publicly accessible for decades, and profit from throttling the access. Amazing!” Suddenly Anja jumps up “Wait a moment” she cries. “This document is twenty years old. Is it possible that this diabolical plan has already succeeded?”   They both look at Harm who seem to be weighting the options. "Perhaps  scientists are not as bright as we think they are,” he says finally.


De  Telegraaf May 9, 2014 (cover page)

Molly is back!
This morning an email message of unknown origin directed us  to a back alley in Vondelpark where a properly ventilated pink cardboard box revealed Molly anxiously awaiting to go back home. Soon afterwards the entire case of what we suspected to be the first case of scientific terrorism disintegrated in a mysterious fashion.  First of all, the burglary did not happen, as the door was never locked. Moreover, it appears that Molly might have wandered to the park alone and was picked up by good Samaritans who just fell in love with her. The ransom note cannot be located and is a hoax as well. The renowned publisher assures us that the Journal of Functional Analysis was always available for free to the mathematics-loving public. Price of $41.95 per download was just a publicity stunt aimed as raising the prestige and popularity of the journal and nobody was ever charged for the download.

Blog: Kelvin 506

It looks like we won! Today’s email from the publisher promises immunity in return for Molly. Surprisingly they claim that the Journal of Functional Analysis was always freely available for download. This is clearly not true but who is there to contradict them? What  idiot would pay and admit it?
Well, suddenly Banach got very red on the face and Hypatia quickly changed the subject. Perhaps this is a bit more subtle. Since they moved to the spare bedroom, a change clearly catalyzed by Molly, they became very protective of one another.

We had a meeting today while Molly was jumping around and barking excitedly. We concluded that we got what we wanted and we are not in jail. This is a big deal. On the other hand nobody knows what we have done and the scientific community is blissfully unaware of our existence. It seems that our emails are still untraceable. We use an old Atari 800 XL, a computer that predates the internet, so it appears online as a ghost. Hypatia wrote some simple e-mail software that accesses the internet through the serial port and we are safe for now.

So this  looks more like the end than the beginning.  On the other hand, the Journal of Functional Analysis is an Open Access journal now and Hypatia is Banach's girlfriend, and this is great. We will drop Molly in Vondelpark, and I have an algebraic geometry exam later today. In this instance I wish I really was Euler.

Politiebureau

Harm, Anja and Theo sit in the office in silence.  The table is covered with printouts of news clippings about Aaron Schwartz, LulzSec, and Anonymouse. On the top  there is a picture of three laughing students walking through a park carrying a pink box. “So, what should we do?” asks Anja. After a long pause Harm says “What is the harm?”
They all laugh at the pun, and Theo takes a lighter and burns the photograph.
“Do you know that articles in the Journal of Combinatorial Theory still cost $35.95 a pop?” Anja says mischievously.  Theo gets up and stretches, “OK guys," he says  "our work is cut out for us.”

Straight from Wikipedia

Colossal Loss of Self-Confidence Disorder (CLoSeD) 

is a phenomenon in social psychology first noticed in 2013 among US government workers subjected to sequestration, furloughs and frequent government shutdowns. CLoSeD is a passive psychological state induced by an irreconcileable mixture of stimuli in a non-confrontational setting. Communities affected by  CLoSeD are operating in a rational environment, but under the influence of forces that appear to be biased, prejudicial and mean-spirited. Unlike natural disasters or military conflicts, the maladies afflicting targeted communities are not a result of random events, malice or premeditation, but rather of profound indifference. The term CLoSeD was coined by Moriarty in [3], a seminal 2013 study based on a non-randomized data from one division in a small government agency. Subsequent studies revealed that CLoSeD was present in various forms at different times and ages. The documented cases include Greek government workers in times of austerity, financial sector employees in Cyprus, mint employees in Zimbabwe, and many more.

The onset of CLoSeD is precipitated by arbitrary and inconsiderate actions of a higher bureaucratic entity acting in a manner that treats the affected community as expendables. The stimulus is strong enough to generate a noticeably uniform reaction, yet not so strong as to turn the lives of the members of the affected community completely upside down. The overt symptoms of CLoSeD include irritability, insomnia, and compulsive behavior.

Current studies by Brane [2], Mortimer [4] and writings of W [5] indicate the transitional character of CLoSeD and point to  a two-year recovery period, frequently followed by significant spiritual growth, adoption of civic virtues, and social activism. It appears that the trauma associated with the CLoSeD state  allows the affected communities to rebuild and regrow large portions of their collective psyche around principles of responsibility,  mutual respect and compassion.

Early writings

CLoSeD was widely anticipated by social scientists, psychologists and philosophers. [citations needed]

A thorough analysis of conditions underlying CLoSeD (which preceded the first recognized case by more than a decade) was done by Bauman in [1]. 

Details of case studies

Moriarty opened the field with [3] and set the research agenda for others. [2] focused on brain scans and physiological aspects of CLoSeD. The paper gave the first indication of the passing nature of the affliction. Mortimer's study [4] followed two years later and  provided evidence that CLoSeD might be overcome "with interest." [edit] Mortimer's study included 25 early cases studied by Moriarty and the rest of their colleagues, all from the 10th floor of a certain government building. It also proposed some theories on causes of CLoSeD. The leading one is based on careful measurements of time allocation  that a typical government worker makes:

work            40%

sleep           40%

socializing     30%

family life     10%

shopping         9%

eating          11%

hobbies          9%

entertainment    7%

miscellaneous   12%

Total          167%

The total number indicates a great deal of overlap between many of these activities, and removal of work due to furlough or shutdown brings the total to 127%, still way above 100%. Consequently, not working does not seem to free any additional time while it compromises many concurrent activities. Furthermore, removal of the living wages further erodes quality of life. This alone explains most of the symptoms present at the onset of CLoSeD and its short-term effects.

In the long term, Mortimer points out, affected communities slowly absorb the lessons of CLoSeD and gear towards not letting it happen again. Interviewed workers indicate that by 2015 there was a 33% increase in collegiality, idea sharing and willingness to work together. Social activism outside the workplace was up by 42%, whether it was related to reproductive freedoms, endangered species, education, climate, or support for other issues of importance. Kindness, community building, reaching out to others  have become everyday occurrences. Scans made by Brane [2] indicate that after two years, the mild trauma associated with CLoSeD clears informational pathways in the brain and lights up entire areas that were only glowing before. Studies on primates [reference] point out that these are brain locations associated with compassion, empathy and the need to share leadership with others. [edit] In his memoirs [5], W discusses his spiritual development, a newly acquired need for being involved and present and being "one with the world". While his case may not be representative it certainly is an indication that CLoSeD might be a chance to reassess one's priorities [edit].

Mortimer's [4] summary of the last round of interviews summons Shakespeare when he quotes: "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers." Indeed, tremendous professional challenges await but his subjects emboldened by strong interpersonal bonds look forward with confidence.

References

[1] Bauman, Liquid Modernity, Polity 2000

[2] Brane, Morphology of brain lesions among  government workers, Open_Source.com, 2015

[3] Moriarty, Are they being screwed?: US government workers in the second decade of XXI century, Publish and Perish, 2013

[4] Mortimer,  Strong and united - coming out of the long shadow of Congress, Government Studies, 2016 (free download)

[5] W, Memoirs of a former program officer, Everyman Library, 2015 

Castigation

This continues my uncle's diary from here.

The shutdown

The Central Committee has had it with us!  After our bold response to Suffocation (described here) the Party leadership decided it was  time to draw big guns. Together with the rest of the lot, the Ministry of Everything is shut down until further notice. The Botany Unit is disbanded and branded with the label "no longer needed." We always suspected that we were not the lynchpin of revolutionary success, but now we seem to be a detriment. It hurts, it hurts a lot!  As usual, the actual reasons for our dismissal are murky but they seem to have to do with the fundamentals of our country. The basic image of our motherland is that of virility - bodacious men and women absorbed in doing  simple menial tasks. But this visage is threatened by hordes of sickly and unhealthy citizens constantly complaining and requiring  help and support. The Central Committee has finally realized that the sick and un-well are an un-ending burden on societal resources, sapping good karma and spreading  negative energy.  This group constantly changes, and cuts across social strata, but its permanent feature is a lack of productivity and a miserable outlook on life. While capitalists let these outcasts fend for themselves (which the wretches do with gusto) we entomb them in a cocoon of protective services and try to nurture them to health. The biggest offender in this plight is the government, and this is where the Central Committee decided to intervene - by closing the guilty ministries. The Botany Unit does not have a particularly strong record of tending for the sickly, but its linkage to the food industry is a clear indication that at the very least it contributes, albeit indirectly, to feeding them!
Nobody knows how long this will last, and healing the nation may be as long and arduous process as healing the minds of some of the members of the Central Committee. In short, we may be doomed.

Misery

Being labelled as useless is a tremendous hit to one's revolutionary zeal. One comrade got so distraught that he started assaulting parts of his house with a power-washer, and another simply disappeared -- he was last seen heading for the airport.

Missing comrade captured on camera by the surveillance team

For the rest of us, gardening, watching movies and reading books offer some comfort.

Unwanted and spurious, these adjectives ring in our collective memory and leave deep wounds. Hopefully this is the pain that precedes healing. "Never was so much owed by so many to so few," this famous quote conceived for a different occasion sadly applies to our current predicament. Perhaps, looking into the future, there is a glimmer of hope in that.

Continued here.

Roman Empire - new data and more confusion

A theory explaining the fall of the Roman Empire was described here and our research team is elated with the positive responses. While superiority of the decimal system is self evident, the mayhem caused by the roman numerals still needs more evidence. In this search our team visited the ancient city of Aphrodisias located in central Turkey. Aphrodisias was founded in the second century BC and prospered for several hundred years to become a ghost town in the sixth century CE.  What focused our attention on this particular site was the following question:

Why would a city of 10,000 people build a sport facility that sits 30,000?

Mother of all stadiums

Indeed, one of the better preserved objects in Aphrodisias is a gigantic stadium. It has a 800 meter racetrack, javelin range, and several stations where people can be gored by wild animals.   Taking into account the population size and its needs and means, the only more extravagant structure is  Rungnado May Day Stadium in Pyongyang, North Korea, the largest stadium in the world. It can hold up to 150,000 of captive audience and was build two millenniums later.

We suspected that roman numerals played a role in this mischief and our team went out to search for funding documents.  What we unearthed illustrates mathematical issues involved in estimating the size of the stadium as well as the decision making procedures that led to its construction. In a hindsight, the process looks very modern...

The panel

that recommended funding of this project had the following members (some details are omitted to protect confidentiality):

Maxorus, a retired centurion with solid interest in gladiator sports,

Decius,  investor and reportedly  a member of the  local crime syndicate,

Flavadius, an expert in aqueduct building,

Quintimius, an absent minded  mathematician,

Libonus, a wine merchant from the Mediterranean coast. 

In addition the panel had one female participant representing Aphrodite:

Decorina, a housewife of many talents,

and two foreign panelists:

Brunleifur, a representaive of Vikings and a master ship builder, and

Skrotkolak, a quiet individual who did not speak Latin or any other  civilized language.

Program officer in charge of the panel  as well as of the stadium project was Wulfnoth, a naturalized Roman citizen.

In the end, Libonus' interest in acquiring exclusive rights for providing wine for gladiator shows was deemed to be a conflict of interest, and both foreign panelists quit after finding out that they will not be compensated for their efforts at the same rate as the Romans. 

Panel minutes

The evaluation of the project began in bouleuterion at 8:30am with  Wulfnoth, Decius,  Flavadius, Maxorus,   Quintimius, and Decorina present. Skrotkolak was packing his sack on the side.

Wulfnoth: Colleagues, I have already briefed you on the conflict of interest issues. The task of this panel is to advise Aprodisias City Council regarding appropriateness and feasibility of building a top-notch sport facility in Aprodisias. We ask you to assess the appropriateness using two basic criteria: valor and effectus. If the project scores well on both criteria, we will proceed to  discuss size, location and financing. Who wants to start?

Maxorus: Let me speak to valor. Since my retirement  from the army and settlement in Aphrodisias I  have not seen a good contact sport performance. I am talking about the manly stuff: wild beasts, blood and gore, and men with oiled bodies, six-pack abs and supple buttocks competing against one another. Our community needs this stuff like a breath of fresh air, and I am not speaking for veterans only. By Jove, how many toga knitting competitions a man can endure? We need this stadium more than anything.

Decorina: I am not sure if wild beasts (she gets interrupted by Flavadius).

Flavadius: I agree with Maxorus, valor is very good. For effectus, I would mention that the project anticipates that the facility would run many performances a year. This includes CXCIII "Gore a Christian" shows, LIII "Strong, naked and invincible" gladiator performances, XXXVII "Bitches of Corinth"  appearances featuring female warriors in a mud bath, and LXXXVI shows for children in two series "Ants versus snails" (animal track) and "Dwarfs and Goblins" (baby gladiator track). On top of that there is a number of one of a kind performances. Proposal anticipates standing invitations to "Lepers of Tiberias" and "Mutants of Capri" as well as frequent visits by "Can you eat this?!" reality show. 

I would also add that organizers pledge to use only local Christians for shows involving them, and this will strengthen the economy through wealth redistribution. Overall, effectus is very good. It is clear that proposers paid attention to diversity of shows, reaching out to various underrepresented audiences and providing top quality entertainment.

Decorina: Are shows like "Lepers of Tiberias" really what our community (she gets interrupted by Skrotkolak)

Skrotkolak:  (waives goodbye and says)  Selamat tinggal dan selamat tinggal. Anda tidak merawat panel asing dengan baik dan saya tidak akan bekerjasama dengan anda.

(everybody waives back unsure of what the hell he just said)

Decius: I agree with the others that valor and effectus are both excellent. Let's move on.

Wulfnoth (looking around and nodding): Fantastic, overwhelming support. What about the size and financing?

Decius: me and my partners can offer excellent financing option, a 100/1-ARM, a five hundred year loan with fixed interest for the first hundred years and then the yearly adjustments. One hundred years of fixed interest coincides with the anticipated duration of the conquest of Britain, let the Brits swallow the markets' variability! (he adds with grim satisfaction).

Wulfnoth: Whatever, whatever, I do not understand what you are talking about. But this is a good deal, right?

Decius: The best. If we can only conquer whiskey producing isles of Caledonia (he murmurs to himself anticipating inventions that will occur a millenium later).

Wulfnoth: Lets have a short bread and olive break!

Math maze

Wulfnoth: We come to the last issue - how big our stadium needs to be? It has to accommodate our growing population, attract visitors and be guaranteed to last at least for the duration of the mortgage. Quintimius, it is your turn to provide some input.

Quintimius: (fighting massive anxiety attack): I propose to use a new mathematical technique called a formulae. You give me all the things that you want to consider, and how they affect the outcome and I will fit them into the formulae and tell you how big the stadium needs to be.

(All but Decorina look at him with total lack of comprehension)

Quintimius: ok, ok, let me explain. The formulae has two parts - the numerator and the denominator. Things that make the stadium bigger go into the numerator and things that make it smaller go into the denominator. There are several ways in which two numbers can produce a third one and in the end the numerator and the denominator will yield a new number as well. 

(Decorina sits quietly with a slightly bored look on her face, rest of the panel is clearly in distress as these explanations are confusing them even more). 

Quintimius: (sweating from excitement) Let me start over. Any two numbers can produce a third number. And if this is the case then we can also invert this procedure and treat the second number as the third one and ask what the second number is (there is audible sobbing in the background). Since two numbers can produce a third one in a variety of ways this can all happen in many ways (Decius draws a knife and tests the blade for sharpness). I hope everything is completely clear!

Decius: I am a hands on, applied kind of guy. Enough of this rubbish, lets move on with the calculation!

Quintimius (taken aback and obviously in love with how numbers interact with one another) Ok, tell me what you want and I will fit it into the formulae. Lets begin!

Maxorus: "Gore a Christian" shows are very popular. I would expect CCCLXVIII spectators for each show.

Quintimius: Great. Put CXCIII and CCCLXVIII in the numerator.

Decorina: I sort of like "Bithes of Corinth". There might be CCXCIX of my countrymen for each show.

Decorina watching Bitches of Corinth

Quintimius:  Put XXXVII and CCXCIXI in the numerator.

Decius: Now I get it! Put LIII and CCCLXXIX for "Strong, naked and invincible" and LXXXVI and CCLI for children's shows. Oh, and add XXXIII and CCXXXVII for lepers and mutants. All in the numerator (he says happily).

Quintimius: What else?

Flavadius: People go for a show once a week, I think.

Quintimius: Right, put LII in the denominator (sounds of confusion). That is right, if citizens go to more than one show then they are counted more than once (grunts faking understanding are heard). Now (he exclaims triumphantly) we combine each pair of numbers as we would count area and then combine the results as we were counting length (dark cloud of depression envelops the panel) and do the reverse area computation on the numerator and the denominator (Maxorus is leaning dangerously on his sword).

Quintimius: anything else?

Maxorus: our stadium should have IV sectors and III tiers.

Quintimius:  No problem, combine this as area with everything else (Decorina looks startled and starts scribbling with her big toe in the sand) Now we put this all together and the answer is approximately 
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMCCCLXIV. 
This is the final size of our stadium.

Decorina: Could it be only MMDXXX (she says happily as this is the first complete sentence that she was allowed to produce).

Decorina makes a point

Quintimius: (with a patronizing smile) That is a very different number! Aren't you forgetting something?

Decorina: perhaps these sectors and tiers have nothing to  (Flavadius cuts in)

Flavadius: are we done? can I get my per diem now?

Wulfnoth: Thank you very much for your panel service. Your help is invaluable and we know how precious your time is (Maxorus tries to look busy). We will be discussing a project for Emperor's bathhouse next week. I hope I can count on you.

Aftermath

The panel ended and the final recommendation was off by an order of magnitude, the stadium was designed for 30,364 seats rather than 2,530. A five hundred year loan taxed the city to death and failure to capture Caledonia crushed it with ballooning  interest payments. By sixth century CE the city of love was abandoned never to be populated again. Our team was saddened, but we cheered up sailing along the Mediterranean coast and taking it easy. 

Taking a break with students and postdocs

In the end, our research did not put the blame squarely on the Roman numerals, and perhaps more nuanced factors played role in the fall of Aphrodisias. Our team was divided too. Guys sort of liked the stadium and found its gargantuan size in line with their dreams and ambitions no matter what the cost. Gals cared little about the stadium, but they mourned the destruction of Aphrodisias and were appalled by the neanderthal treatment of Decorina and a lost opportunity for listening to a voice of reason.