Startup_17

previous installment is here and the pdf of the entire text of Startup is here

--------------------------------------------------

Site visit

A big sign "WYSIWYG Institute" is the first indication that they arrived at their destination. The Program Commanders unload from a rented van and head towards the building.
"I am glad we opened this one," says Ris eyeing the surroundings, "we were getting quite a reputation for closing down these large facilities."

They head to a large conference room that is packed with people. A round of introductions reveals the presence of at least six provosts from the neighboring universities, a comparable number of deans, and two university presidents. A considerable number of administrators of various ranks complete the entourage.
Most administrators are accompanied by lawyers and a fellow with slicked black hair and italian suit is introduced as the  consigliere.

The site visit is focused on two areas: governance and mathematics,  and the welcoming team has a two-slide presentation addressing these topics. The hosts waste no time in getting to business.

The governance slide has a complicated graph illustrating how all six universities cooperate in managing the WYSIWYG Institute. It appears that even the simplest tasks require the involvement of four of them with the remaining two acting in the monitoring mode.
"Looks complicated," murmurs one of the GSA visitors.
"Because it is," the WYSIWYG director answers with pride and nods to  the administrators.
"The system provides employment and  job training for over two hundred employees and provides additional capacity for growth," all deans confirm happily, "this is a real job creator."

The mathematics is presented on another simple yet powerful slide.
"The focus of WYSIWYG Institute activities is centered on data," one of the provosts begins, "this is where the WYSIWYG aspect comes to full fruition."
He turns on the projector to reveal the slide. The bottom half shows an incomprehensible LaTeX page with long macros and unparsable formulas.
"This is mathematics - the old way," he explains chuckling.
The top part shows a font-rich Word document describing an algorithm for long division of integers.
"This is mathematics - the WYSIWYG  way," he announces forcefully.

One of the lawyers gets up to explain the details, The "WYSIWYG Institute is a bi-directional embodiment of the guiding principle. If you see it then you will get it, and if you do not see it then unfortunately you cannot have it."
Ris shifts in his seat uncomfortably, "what about the scientific staff?" he asks.
The lawyer's face shows a hint of annoyance, "as I was saying, if you do not see it..."
One of the presidents steps in, "We are the leaders in job creation and all administrators are materially present," he flashes a picture of a large group of people frolicking among the cubicles.
"What do you expect the mathematical deliverables will be?" Ris pitches a softer question.
"The WYSIWYG paradigm is not build around setting goals that are beyond the visible horizon," another university president pipes in, "but rather on maintaining full availability of what is already available."
There is silence around the table as the site visit team is taking it all in.
"Availability of what is already available," Ris murmurs to himself, "what a brilliant idea."


Win-win for everybody

"How exactly is the planet cloaked?" Zaph wants the details.
"Basically they use carbon dioxide and methane, and they have plenty of it," Ord explains.
"Carbon dioxide and methane?" Zaph is suddenly very alert, "this is pretty precious stuff."
"And they have more of it than they need?" he probes.
"By now they are swimming in it and it poisons them slowly," Ord answers.
"So if we get this mathematics shit from them and suck the carbon dioxide and methane as well it would be great for us and for them?" Zaph forms his plan.
"How is it great for them?" Ord is uncertain.
"They get rid of things that are bad for their planet!" Zaph is very pleased.
"And mathematics?" Ord keeps asking.
"Mathematics is just too much for them," says Zaph with finality, "too much for anyone in fact."
"And mathematicians will be viewed as the saviors of the planet. They will be revered forever," Zaph is quite confident.
"You are saving the planet on the back of their favorite activity. What will they be doing instead?" insists Ord.
"Oh, c'mon," laughs Zaph, "they will not feel a thing. They will be drinking beer and fishing for the rest of their days."

We owe it to them

Zaph and Ord are back in the methane lounge with their heads touching.
"You know," starts Zaph, "there is an alternative solution." He rolls his eyes and makes a squashing sound.
Ord is scandalized. "First of all it is not legal, and the second is that we brought it on ourselves."
"How come?" Zaph is curious.
"As I suspected, we had dealings with them in the past," Ord explains,
"they had an invasive species, rather cute reptiles, and they put them up for trade."
"Interesting. What did they trade them for?" Zaph asks.
Ord starts explaining. "As far as I see they wanted us to scatter a few gigantic tetrahedrons on a desert, they craved a recipe for a mild alcoholic drink  and a one-time trick of parting water of a small sea to be done at a specific moment."
"Did it all work?" Zaph is curious.
"I think so," answers Ord, "they miss the giant reptiles, are very fond of beer, and are really puzzled about the giant tetrahedrons. And they make a lot of movies about the Red Sea parting."
"So what is the problem?" Zaph wants to know.
"These tetrahedrons got them into thinking about volumes, areas and such. We gave them the wrong toy and they developed all this mathematics that is now menacing us."


Flip of a coin

"So there we are," Zaph describes the options, "we go with the deal or we kind of make the problem go away."
"Go away?" Ord is unsure if he got the thought correctly.
"Yeah, go away, as if something happened to their planet," Zaph says obliquely.
"Did we not talk about it already?" Ord is quite angry, "Obi-Wan will detect the change in the Force if you do it."
"But this is soooo much simpler," Zaph does not want to give up his morbid idea, "and there is not much Force with these guys."

They sit in silence until Ord pulls something from his pocket.
"Let's flip a coin," he says.
"What?" Zaph asks.
"It is a promotional coin from the dinosaur's sale, quite apropos," he says.
He shows it to Zaph. On one side there is a depiction of a dinosaur stomping out a small village, and on the reverse there is a pyramid and a mug of beer. Hieroglyphic inscription says "Do not be a dufus."
"Nice stuff," Zaph grabs the coin in one of his multiple hands, "so how you do it?"

Ord takes a deep breath, "If it falls on the dinosaur side we bleep them out, otherwise we buy all the math, suck up the excess carbon dioxide and methane, and make heroes of all mathematicians."
"Ok," says Zaph and he sends the coin up spinning.

              The end

Startup_16

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Workflow

Every Program Commander treasures some particular aspect of the job and for Thur it is compliance. The government has very specific rules on everything and grant proposals are supposed to use specific fonts, margins, have prescribed number of pages, prearranged sections, provide specific information on the investigators' mathematical activities and so on. Within days Thur has absorbed all this knowledge and started applying it religiously.
"I know that it is tough on everybody," he says waiving a font measuring gadget, "but this is the government. One day you screw up the font size and the next you will be bombing the wrong country."
"I am not bombing anyone and I am not checking fonts either," rebels Mek but the others are less certain. There is a powerful lure of compliance checking that resides in an odd combination of a mindless activity and a dramatic impact on the affected individuals.

Thur turns out to be spectacularly good at attracting Program Commanders to this nearly extinct art. A daily quiz called "Compliant or not?" featuring snippets of questionable proposals, font measuring workshops, compliance speed trials and so forth, is just a small sample of ways in which Thur engages everyone with his favorite activity.

So when the real proposals finally arrive Thur is ready.
"Out of over hundred submissions routed to me," he exclaims excitedly, "only three were compliant."
"So what did you do?"  Uce asks with morbid curiosity.
"I returned them all without review," explains Thur, "isn't this what we are supposed to do?"

Having 93% of his workload processed in just two days puts Thur on a path to become the employee of the year and the fastest Program Commander ever. However, the three compliant proposals turn out to be tough cookies.
"I keep reviewing them but there is no consistency," Thur is getting more and more depressed and complains daily.
"How many reviews do you have?" the Programs Commanders inquire helpfully.
"Over thirty for each but I am still lacking a solid statement indicating fundability," confesses Thur sipping his tea. "The ones that I returned without review were so much better," he admits with sadness in his voice.
The silver spoon of employee recognition is slipping out of Thur's grasp and out of desperation one day he declares, "Perhaps I will fund all three of them.  After all it is only 3% of my allocated budget."
These gutsy decisions pay off handsomely. By the year's end Thur is the most decorated Program Commander in the Mathematics Unit and the darling of the Government Science Agency higher administration.
"What do you think of the Program Commander Inutilis program?" Mek asks Chael on the side.
"The jury is still out," Chael replies, "but I have an idea about Thur."


Serendipitous conversation

One day Chael takes out Thur for coffee.
"How do you like the job" he inquires.
"It is interesting," answers Thus sipping tea from the cup that he never parts with.
"Have you ventured beyond the Mathematics Unit?" Chael asks.
"Is there anything else?"
"Let me share a secret with you," he says with a smile, "this building is like a spaceship."
"It needs fuel, engine, and whatever else," he says looking probingly at Thur.
"I know a little about spaceships," Thur says quietly and Chael relaxes as if suddenly his mind got a lot more clear.
"Well," he says confidently, "mathematics is also like fuel, nothing happens without it."
"Every funded mathematics project is read and digested somewhere in this building in a matter of weeks!" he whispers.
"Amazing!" Thurs exclaims. Then his face clouds, "But I have declined nearly all of them," he adds after a pause.
"Don't worry. Curiously, the declined ones are absorbed even faster," says Chael and stops as if he said too much.
"How can it be?" Thur is curious.
"Software," says Chael, "we call it Freejunket. It allows any scientist in the world full access to all of our resources."
"And where does all this mathematics go?" asks Thur.
"Everywhere," says Chael, "it underwrites every scientific project and brings it up to speed. It is the intellectual currency in our world."
"On a planetary scale," he adds, "and the biggest consumer is the Climate Change project."
"The Climate Change project?" Thur is clearly surprised, "what is it?"

They talk for  another half  hour and in the end Thur looks like he just drank a gallon of Red Bull.
"I can't believe it! This is amazing!" he keeps repeating.
"Sometimes you have to shit in your own nest," Chael concludes cryptically as they part.


A+ for humans

Back in the methane lounge on Kepler 438b Zaph and Ord are exchanging thoughts.
"Math is about understanding but only about understanding," Zaph concludes after probing Lander's brain. "To actually use it for anything takes quite a bit more, and these guys think that math is crap anyway," he thinks loudly, "It would take a great deal of effort  to conquer the Galaxy."
"What if we worry about nothing?" he finally poses a question that has been nagging him.

Ord, who was recently briefed by Thur, is ready with the answers.
"Yeah, math alone is not enough," he admits patiently, "you need to know how to use it and you need discipline. Unfortunately they have both."

"Let me tell you something," he begins to relate what Thur just leaked to him. "A while ago they discovered that their planet looks pretty good from far away and it scared them quite a bit."
"Yeah?"
"And you know what they did? They cloaked it!" Ord's tone is a high praise for human inventiveness.
"Cloaked it? How?" Zaph is also impressed.
"This is called the Climate Change project. They recruited every member of their species to burn shit and muck the atmosphere as much as they could. And it worked splendidly. The planet does look like shit now, and even they wonder if they did not go too far," Ord explains.
"Every member of their species?" Zaph is flabbergasted.
"Well," says Ord, "5% does half of the work, but everybody is pulling their load."
"And they use  mathematics for it?" Zaph brings back the main point.
"Without math they would look like an inter-species vacation destination within ten thousand parsec radius," Ord channels the revelations from Thur, "they gave all they got to this project!"

-------------------------

next installment is here

Startup_15

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Back on Earth

Ord spent many years on Earth and going back there has a tremendous sentimental value.
After the arrival he seeks out his friend Thur Ent.
"I am here on a mission," he announces almost immediately, "and I need your help."
Thurs sips tea in his dressing gown and mulls over the answer.
"How can I help?" he utters eventually.
"Well," Ord explains, "I would like you to become a rotator in the Mathematics Unit of the Government Science Agency."
"What?" Thur is beyond himself, "I am not a mathematician."
"So?" Ord is not easily persuaded, "It is a matter of life and death. You have a record of performing splendidly in such situations."
Thur swallows the complement and seems to accept his fate.
"Will they hire me?" he asks with a doubt in his voice.
"I think so," answers Ord, "they just started one of their broadening participation programs called "What You See Is What You Get"."
"Am I WYSIWYG?" ponders Thur.
Ord glances at him and says, "There is a guy there who has something in common with you. Seek him out, I am sure he will help you to get in. His name is Mek."
"What is that we have in common?" Thur asks curiously.
Ord pauses briefly as if he was unsure if this question should be answered at all, and then says, "You both do not know how to tie your shoe-laces."


Fresh blood


The first round of funding for the WYSIWYG projects is out the door.  In parallel, the lookout for a Program Commander Inutilis is gathering speed as well. One of the first interviews is with Thur Ent, a fellow brought by Mek.
The Program Commanders assemble in a large conference room and are joined by Thur who is dressed in a tweed jacket and has a portable tea cup in his hand.  Tor chairs the meeting and after a round of introductions, he follows with a list of scripted questions
"Why are you interested in being a Rotating Program Commander in The Mathematics Unit?" is the first question.
Thur sips his tea and says, "Good question. How would you answer it?"
"You work with really nice colleagues," answers Nna.
"You have a view of what is going on in mathematics," says Dy,
"Every day you make important funding decisions," throws in Tor.
"I could not agree more," is Thur's final answer.

"Are there any particular programs that you are interested in?" Tor asks his second question.
There is a bit of awkward silence but the Program Commanders step in.
"We have a nice selection of workforce programs," Man throws in.
"And of course all the disciplinary programs," adds Mek.
"And the Mathematics Centers program," reminds Nna, "as well as many interactions with other units."

"I like all your programs," answers Thur after a thoughtful pause.

"Do you have any administrative experience?" Tor continues.

"Did you have such experience when you came here?" Thur swiftly returns the volley.

"I was a associate chair of a math department," says Uce.
"And I was an executive in the Society of Mathematicians," someone adds.
"I was working in math publishing," another voice comes through.

"Very impressive," Thur summarizes, "I gather my own background is comparable."

The next day the Program Commanders meet to discuss Thur's application.
"He came really well prepared," says Dy.
"Nailed all the answers," adds Man.
"He really did his homework," concludes Mek, and by acclamation they decide to hire Thur in the Government Science Agency.

Core dump

"I probed Lander," says Zaph happily to Ord, "big head but full of junk."
"It figures," Ord is not surprised, "but what do you think about math?"
"The best stuff they ever came up with," Zaph seems genuinely impressed, "but they do not seem to appreciate it much."
"It is a smoke screen. And also," Ord explains, "people who are good at it are often assholes."
"Anyway," Zaph continues, "do we really need all of it?"
"Of course not," Ord replies, "but the stuff grows exponentially so it is a zero-one game. We have to get it all."
"But Lander had an agreement with Sas and he insists that we leave statistics behind. Isn't it risky?" Zaph inquires.
"Not at all," Ord rolls his eyes,
"So what is it that we really need?" Zaph asks with curiosity, "this stuff is quite different than ours."
"We do not care about what it is that they discovered," explains Ord, "it is all about the capacity to understand. Without math they will be just like any other living thing."

------------------------

next installment is here

Startup_14

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

North!

"This is good shit," says the Geometer, "I am not burning it down."
"You will get in trouble," murmurs the Number Theorist, "we have got to burn something. And soon," he adds pointing to first indications of incoming sunrise.
"Why exactly are we burning it?" asks the Logician.
"Because these were supposed to be in the Last Day Math," says the Algebraist.
"And they were all written by women," adds the Logician without any indication that she sees a problem with it.
"Praise the Lord, keep the books," the Applied Mathematician chants softly, "what if we put it back in the Last Day Math?"
"And then?" asks the Geometer. "And then burn the fucking building!" concludes the Applied Mathematician, "it is ugly as hell."
They peek outside to see the throngs of mathematicians carrying  books out of the library.
"So we were not the first to figure it out," the Number Theorist observes dryly.
"Some fucking riot," the Algebraist adds sarcastically.
"Where are you taking this stuff?" the Geometer asks a passing mathematician buckling under a ton of books.
"To the Vatican Library," he answers happily, "nobody will see it for millennia."
"I did not know that Vatican has a library," mutters the Algebraist.
"It does now!" answers the mathematician and moves on.


 What about the Gender Gap?

The Logician stands by the doorway watching the Geometer and the Algebraist load a small cart with books while the Applied Mathematician and the Number Theorist snoop around.
"And what about the Gender Gap?" she says blocking the exit.
"What Gender Gap?" the Geometer fires back, "didn't we add the works of Putyfurius, Phallus and the rest of them to the lot"?
"Oh, c'mon," the Logician is exasperated, "what work?"
Applied Mathematician raises a small manuscript.
"She might be right," he says, "this is a paper of Pretendus who claims that he can square a circle using common household tools."
"We cannot fix the past," says the Number Theorist somberly, "but this is only the third century. Now that Pathia signaled the problem it can be taken care of in the next 20 years. There is really nothing to worry about, in thousand years nobody will even know what a Gender Gap is."
the Number Theorist, the Geometer and the Algebraist are nodding vigorously, eager to move on.
"I wish I was as convinced as you are," says the Logician and she reluctantly opens the door.


Close encounter of the third kind

Lander suddenly wakes up in the middle of the night with a strange feeling of being in a presence of another being.
"What is going on?" he asks his wife who snores softly next to him and is out cold.
At this very moment Zaph is scanning his brain for information but as he comes through the fourth dimension this cannot be detected directly.
"Am I losing my mind?" Lander wonders aloud.
"Sit still!" a booming voice of Zaph thunders in Lander's head.
"If I start a conversation it will mean that I am a basket case,"
Lander reminds himself.
"No it does not," Zaph says emphatically, "just talk to me."
"Who are you?" Lander decides to take the voice in his head for real, "I will get the meds later," he reminds himself.
"I am your customer," Zaph explains, "I want to buy..." his voice trails off since he forgot what they were after.
"Oh my," says Lander, "we have been waiting for it for two thousand years."
"Let me get the contents of your brain," booms Zaph, "it will be faster this way."
"Ok," Lander agrees feebly, and as his mind is evacuated so are his bowels.
"This is the worst night of my life," he murmurs when all is over 30 seconds later.

------------------------

next installment is here

Startup_13

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Projecting strength

The Program Commanders are sitting around a small table and sipping coffee.
"We have a problem," starts Ris with an unequivocal statement, "we can raise money for mathematics by slowing things down, and we can hide good stuff in the Last day Math, but how do we  demonstrate to Zaph that math is really a powerfull stuff?"
"Good point," says Ank, "we certainly have not been very convincing on this planet."
"It is not clear that convincing aliens is necessarily harder," Ris jumps in, "if their information is sketchy."
"I bet they will try to get their spies into the Mathematics Unit," muses Chael.
"Spotting them should not be hard," Mek steps in, "The Hitchikers Guide has only two suitable characters and one is a woman."
"Our broadening participation efforts are pretty weak," says Lor, "they will try to get the guy in."
"So how do we help them?" Dy asks and everbody turns to Chael.

There is a bit of silence and finally Chael says, "How about a Program Commander Inutilis hiring initiative fashioned as the extension of the WYSIWYG program?"
"This could certainly broaden up the search," Uce agrees easily, "but what do we do once we have him hired?"
"Let's jump from that bridge once we get there," Chael wraps it up.


Library of Alexandria

The preparations for the  burning of the Library are going well. There are over a thousand mathematicians that travelled to Alexandria to use the library and under the leadership of the Society of Mathematicians they are divided into the riot units.

They assemble at the outskirts of town and the newly elected President of the Society greets them.
"It is a fucking bummer," he starts, "and many of you are disappointed."
"But it is an important task," he continues, "and it has to be done."
"The target is the women's section of the Mathematics wing of the library but to cover the tracks we have to go after the rest as well."
There are many boxes of graduation togas and wooden crosses stacked on the side.
"We will come as Christian fundamentalists," the President declares, "with such accelerated schedule there is no time to have this done by Vandals, Vikings or Tatars."
"And the graduation togas?" someone inquires.
"Standard pilgrim stuff, just remove your school logo," the President answers.
"But this place is run by Christian fundamentalists, this will look weird," a voice objects.
"No, it will not," the President cuts in, "they have schisms all the time."
"You will be divided into five person riot groups," he continues, "but utmost secrecy is paramount."
"Good luck," he waves, "go burn, pillage and chant."


Riot group number 13

Five mathematicians gather in a side room. Given the need for secrecy, introductions are minimal.
"Geometer," says the first, "Algebraist," the second, and the remaining three declare themselves to be a Number Theorist, an Applied Mathematician and a Logician.
They look at each other uncertain what to do until the Logician takes the lead.
"Don your robes, collect crosses, and take any weapons that you might have," she starts, "we will proceed to the west wing of the library at MMCCC hours."
"Fuck roman numerals," Algebraist murmurs, "useless shit."
The Logician glares at him briefly and she says helpfully, "we'll go in an hour."

An hour later they sneak stealthily until they spot a real Christian fundamentalist guarding the entrance. The Number Theorist swiftly renders him unconscious with a blow of an abacus to the head. Moments later they reach their target.
"What are we chanting?" asks the Applied Mathematician.
"Praise the Lord, fuck the books," the Geometer proposes quickly.
"Should we start to chant now?" asks the Algebraist.
"It is still very quiet," answers the Logician, "let's scout the place out first."
They spread among the book stacks and start browsing.
"Check this out," says the Geometer, "this is called "On the persistence of numbers"."
They bring the book closer to the olive lamp, "what does the abstract say?" the Applied Mathematician asks.
"Not much," says the Logician "there are several pictures of a sphere divided into triangles and the number two below each of them."
"Looks like rubbish," says the Algebraist.
"Wait a moment," the Logician gets curious, "so what are these persistent numbers?"
"I guess that it is the number two," says the Applied Mathematician.
They move closer to the wall and someone pulls a piece of chalk from the pocket.
"So how do you get these numbers out of these triangles?" the Algebraist asks.
"These are not even triangles," the Geometer corrects him, "they all have  one face, three edges and three vertices, but all is crooked."
"Maybe if you count faces, edges and vertices some pattern emerges?" ventures the Logician.
"Fuck these pictures," says the Algebraist, "there is nothing special about them. I can draw my own."
They draw in silence for some time counting the bits until the Number Theorist says, "I think I got it."
They look up and the Number Theorists explains, "just take the number of faces, subtract the number of edges, and then add the number of vertices."
"And?" the Applied Mathematician gets impatient.
"And you get two," the Logician states the obvious.
"Always?" the Applied Mathematician is quite doubtful of such flimsy evidence.
The Geometer and the Logician look at each other and say simultaneously, "Always."

------------------------

next installment is here

Startup_12

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

How do they do it?

After Ord's safe return from Earth, he and Zaph are having their usual brain storming session in the methane lounge.

"Tell me more about these humans," Zaph begins.
"Like what?" Ord is uncertain where to begin.
"How do they communicate for example?" Zaph is trying to be more precise.
"Oh, this is a mess," Ord begins, "entire physics is involved. They convert thoughts to electric impulses that trigger various chords in their heads to produce sound waves that hit membranes in another individual's head to produce electric signals that produce thoughts."
"Holy cow!" Zaph exclaims, "does it work?"
"Not really," Ord admits, "perhaps 5% of the info makes it through accurately."
"So maybe we do not have to worry that much?" Zaph enquires.
"Not quite," Ord answers, "they have developed what they sometimes call The Method, and other times Mathematics, and this can be communicated with almost 100% accuracy."
"I see, and this is what we are buying?" Zaph guesses.
"That's the plan," admits Ord. "I want to get Thur into the Government Science Agency and I already established a contact with the Society of Mathematicians," he explains.
"Given these communication issues perhaps I should get involved directly?" asks Zaph.
"I do not see why not," Ord answers, "the fellow to probe is named Lander."

It is The Method, stupid!

The Program Commanders sip their coffees except for Ris who prefers tea.
"If someone is buying math, what are they after?" asks Man.
They sit in silence because promoting your own program and putting down others' is a bad etiquette. Eventually Dy says, "We know a lot about numbers."
"What numbers?" Uce and Mek ask simultaneously.
"Natural ones," Dy answers quickly and after prolonged silence he looks at Uce and adds, "and real and complex ones as well," and glancing at Mek he corrects himself, "and also cardinal ones."
"This is surprisingly hard," comments Nna, "we are getting nowhere."

"Maybe it is not about what we know or do not know but about what we can get this way?" Ie tries to clarify.
"You mean like Euc's Elements and all that shit?" Mek asks with a spark of excitement.
"Exactly, it is The Method," says Ie.
"But anyone can have it for free, it is not a fucking secret," Nna states what is on everyone's mind.
"Well," explains Ie, "it is not that someone wants to have it but rather does not want us to have it."
"You mean like US Congress," Mek cannot resist a stupid joke.
"Funny," says Ie sourly.
They sit in silence until Uce has epiphany, "This really means that we are onto something."
"With math you are always onto something. It is just not clear what it is," Tor dampens the mood.

 Everybody is jumpy and nervous.  "Let's go and decline some projects," Mek proposes and they all rush to their offices to ruin someone's day.

The biggest crisis in the history of mathematics

After the departure of Pathia the executives of the Society of Mathematicians sit in a stunned silence. "Was she stoned?" someone finally asks, "but if so I want the stuff that she is smoking. Pretty gutsy."
"And these papers that she put in the Library," another adds, "are not so bad. The one by Lapundia and Lafirynda unites geometry and algebra. Pretty heady stuff."
"This is it!" roars the presiding mathematician, "I am the Acting President as of now, and here is what we are going to do. As far as Pathia is concerned, it is over. She is going to work for the Last Day Math exclusively to undo the damage. I hope she is really as good as everybody thinks. And stoning is a good idea. Tomorrow we will announce that she was stoned by the library mob."
"Library mob?" somebody expresses doubt.
"Have you seen it lately? The place looks like they have a fire sale there," he pauses and is silent for a long while.
"I think we have to burn it. There is no other way," he makes up his mind.
"Burn what?" someone says incredulously.
"Burn the Library! Yeah, burn the fucker down. This work by Lapundia and Lafirynda is at least thousand years ahead of its time and this is just the tip of the iceberg," the new Acting President screams stomping his feet.
"What is an iceberg?" someone asks in the back.

-----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_11

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Who is Zaph?

Program Commanders are lining up to get their coffee and debrief. Zaph is not exactly a household name and certainly it is not one of their Principle Enquirers.
Just as they settle Mek announces that he knows one Zaph.
"It is a character in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The President of the Galaxy in fact," he adds.
"That would be fitting except that it is not a real person," Nna tries to stay out of nonsense.
But Mek is not giving up, "I do not know what a real person is and I do not think it matters. Unless you have another Zaph I propose to assume that this is the right one."
Nna who was trained in conflict resolution at the Government Bureaucrat Institute infuses the dispute with positive thinking.
"So what are you proposing to do?" she looks at Mek inquisitively.
Suddenly Mek starts looking completely reasonable, possibly a result of the new meds he just started taking, and describes his plan.
"First everybody reads Douglas Adams' books starting with the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. If Zaph is involved, other characters are also not far. Next is to understand  why are they buying mathematics? what is the price? what parts are they most interested in? How did they find out about the sale, and about the Earth for that matter? and so on."
In spite of the original absurdity this does not look completely unreasonable. Reading the Hitchhiker's series is a minor time commitment, and the rest are questions that have to be answered no matter what.
It feels like a good resolution. The Program Commanders rise slowly and head to their offices to decline proposals.


Swap

Pathia is facing the governing board of the Society of Mathematicians and the atmosphere is tense. They are all hooded and only a few keep their hands on the table, and this fuels her worst suspicions.
"We have the reports that you have raided the Last Day Math," presiding mathematician opens the proceedings.
"The works of Livia, Lucentia, Livonia, Lucretia, Lenora, Lapundia, and Lafirynda were moved to the Alexandria Library," he drones on and suddenly stops.
"Holly fuck!" he exclaims, "and this is just the letter L. What have you done??"
"I am tired of this Gender Gap," Pathia stares at him coldly, "I did not just move these papers to the Library but also moved the works of Pretendus, Phallus, Pincus, Pimpelius, Putyfurius, Pompus, and Pinoccio to the Last Day Math. It is a fair trade."
"Far trade?" someone says, "what has Phallus or Putyfurius done?"
"I don't know," says Pathia, "they publish in the Bulletin of Sahara."
"This is not a refereed journal," expert librarian pipes in, "but it is open access."
"Fuck this," presiding mathematician loses patience, "since these changes Library of Alexandria has doubled the number of customers and there is a surge of mathematical productivity. This has to end now!"
"The cat is out of the bag," Pathia teases the board, "put the work of your Phallus in the Last Day Math!" She storms out of the room.
"What a bunch of wankers!" is the last they hear from her.


WYSIWYG goes live

"What You See Is What You Get" program gets of to a good start and hundreds of proposals are submitted in response to the  WYSIWYG call.
The submitted projects are divided thematically and the panels are set up to review them.  The first two concern Simplistic Topology and Leisure Number Theory and the Program Commanders are stunned by the submissions.
"I have not seen anything like this for a long time," says Ris going through simplistic topology portfolio.
"This is unbelievable!" exclaims Dy after scanning the Leisure Number Theory submissions, "where were these guys hiding?"
Indeed, the level of novelty is mind boggling and Program Commanders feel as if they entered a new territory.  All is well until Lor who heads the Diversity Committee examines the submissions.
"I am worried," he says, "every simplistic topologist and leisure number theorist seems to be a man."
"Could it be a coincidence?" Mek inquires.
"It probably is," they conclude, "unless WYSIWYG is not gender neutral."
"It is math that is supposed to be WYSIWYG, not people," Ris comments.
"But what if they take it to themselves? Do women want to be WYSIWYG?" Uce inquires.
"I don't!" says Nna.
"Likewise," say Man and Nifer, and so it seems that no woman working in the Mathematics Unit wants to be WYSIWYG.
There is a moment of awkward silence and then someone says, "But you do not count. You are one of us!" and the Program Commanders relax seeing that everything is fine after all.

-----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_10

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

The truth, finally

Chael's presentation is greeted by profound silence and Lander sits absolutely still with his eyes closed. Several minutes pass and there is a growing discomfort and tension building up. Finally Lander opens up his eyes, looks around and says, "Allow me to level with you."
"Mathematics, was offered up for sale practically at the moment of creation," he continues, "already Euc felt that the power of what he called The Method, increases exponentially in a way that is difficult to wield."

"Do you remember the last Indiana Jones movie?" Mek whispers to Ie, "if he says that we have to choose wisely I am going to hurl."

Lander is irritated by the whispers in the room and he wraps it up.
"A while ago we have finally received an offer," he says as if it was stirring a painful memory.

It has been less than a year since Ean mentioned such rumor and now it is confirmed.
"Offer of what?" Nna tries to get the details straight.
Lander looks up, "offer to buy all of mathematics including the Last Day Math."
"What the fuck is the Last Day Math?" Uce's voice rises above the noise.
"Yeah, right," says Lander, "Last Day Math is roughly what we do not know but have a good sense of. This is where you will bury most of your good stuff from now on."
"Bury?" someone asks, "aren't we supposed to be open access?"
"Fuck open access!" Lander is exasperated, "you need to show that math is as hard as chemistry or neuroscience."
"How?" someone asks.
"By making baby steps. Just take it easy and make sure that all the serious work is done under the table."
"I do not even begin to understand what it all means," Man says to herself.
"Let me give you an example," says Lander, "40 years ago so called Regularity Lemma was proved. We thought that it was very nice but all the subsequent work on it was until recently put in the Last Day Math."

"Holy crap," moans Mek, "is this why everybody is working on it decades later?"

They go on for a while until Dy finally asks, "Who is buying?" and the room goes silent. Lander goes into his stupor again and after a long silence he says, "Have you heard about Zaph?"


Kepler 238b

Zaph and Ord are sitting in a methane lounge with they heads gently
touching to facilitate communication. They appear as if they are asleep but in virtualization this is what is going on.

"What's up buddy!" Zaph puts his third arm on Ord's back and shakes his
hands with the remaining two.
"Oh, just work, work, work. I am finishing the Guide but it is a long slog."
"You still are hanging out on this dumpy planet?" Zaph enquires.
Ord does not answer and instead he says, "Do you know what is Kepler 438b?"
"Huh?" in spite of being on top of most things Zaph has no idea.
"Well, it is us," Ord answers.
"Us? You mean our planet?" Zaph is curious.
"Yes, and they say that it is habitable," Ord explains.
"Habitable?" Zaph laughs loudly, "who are we? chopped liver?"
"They discovered hundreds of planets recently," Ord decides to unload his
knowledge of humans.
"What about their planet?" asks Zaph with a glint in his eye.
"It was a plum," answers Ord, "but now it is pretty banged up."
"Is it possible that they will entertain the idea of, er, inhabiting
our planet?" Zaph looks at the political angle, "if so we have to deal
with it."
"Not at this moment," answers Ord, "but they have just one thing that can make it possible."
"Whatever it is, just take it away from them," concludes Zaph and disconnects their brains.


Gender Gap

"They try to slow me down!" Pathia talks to Xenia, her favorite graduate student.
"It is a big honor, being the President of the Society of Mathematicians," Xenia says softly.
Pathia is pacing angrily, "Isn't it curious that this happens just when I figured out how the planets move. And now they will put it in the Last Day Math."
"So what?" Xenia is trying to be rational.
"So what?!" Pathia is taking off her sandal and throws it against the wall, "Nobody will see it for centuries. And you know what, I looked at the Last Day Math. Nearly all  of it is the work of women."
"Of course," says Xenia, "this way anybody can see that we are holding back on half of the stuff."
"You think so?" yells Pathia, "what if someone thinks that women cannot do math."
"Oh c'mon," Xenia is laughing, "you are being paranoid."
"I am not paranoid," insists Pathia, "half of the board of the Society are some teenagers. I suspect they masturbate under their togas when I talk to them."
"Now you are really paranoid," Xenia is rolling with laughter, "they cannot be all jerking off."
"Maybe not all," Pathia admits exaggeration, "but some of them are breathing funny."
"Because they have open mouths most of the time," Xenia explains, "many of them are savants, you know."
"Anyway, the optics is bad. It looks like women are missing in action," Pathia repeats stubbornly.
"Because we work for the Last Day Math. The stuff is better anyway," Xenia says unyieldingly.

----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_9

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Name change

"The name change was a horrible idea," Uce brings up the ghost, "and I bet Sas was behind it."
"You mean adding "statistical sciences" to the name of our unit?" someone asks.
"Yeah, this one," Dy sighs, "what the fuck are statistical sciences?"
"Well," Ris says resolutely, "the name change is not necessarily a bad idea. It is just that they have chosen a stupid name."
"Really?" Mek takes the challenge, "is there a better one?"
"Let's see," Ris is warming up, "forget our unit. Take the name of our organization: Government Science Agency. Can you change  these words so that the new name is more helpful to mathematics?"
"I would get rid of "Government"," says Ie, "it is way too political. How about "National" instead?"
"National Science Agency? Not bad," says Ris.
"It's about grants and funding, so how about National Science Fundation?" proposes Nna.
"We are getting somewhere," says Ris, "but what is special about mathematics in relation to the rest of the science?"
They sit in silence for a moment.
"I got it!" says Ie, "math is the foundation of all science. So it should be the  National Science Foundation."
"Isn't it a good pun," says Ris, "too bad this name change will never happen."
"Why not?" Uce asks, "this would be a great."
"Yeah, good for us and bad for them, that is exactly the problem," Mek explains, "Government Science Agency can study any crap some politician chooses like computer security, climate change or how to build a faster car. National Science Foundation would be limited to mathematics and theoretical physics, for everything else you would really need to make a good case."
"Still," sighs Ie, "it is nice to dream that our life could be a bit easier."


Change of guards

One day Sas announces that he has found another job and in a short time he is gone. His replacement is Chael, a fellow known to be a tough negotiator. There is little doubt that something has to be done quickly, and few days later Chael presents his thoughts to the Mathematics Unit.

"There is compelling evidence that mathematics and the rest of science is coming to an end," he starts, "and although this whole idea of a sale is a bit speculative, there is no harm to assume that this is true as well."
The Program Commanders are sitting at the edge of their seats. This is clearly the most exciting moment in their professional careers.
"To prepare for what is coming it is paramount that we become a part of the solution rather than a part of the problem."
"This will be costly," he continues, "and raising money these days is hard."
He takes a sip of water and goes on.
"For millennia we were telling the deciders that when they halve the resources for mathematics it will take twice as long to reach the same goals. Unfortunately," he sighs, "they finally figured out a thing or two about the exponential growth."
"If you cut the funding by half, you only delay things by a day," he states the obvious, "and this may easily lead to a conclusion that even if you eliminate the funding completely, it would be like a small bump on the road."
"This is the curse of exponential growth and the first step is to deal with it," he hammers his message, "we need to slow things down quite a bit."
"Quite a bit?" someone repeats,
"Well, a lot," says Chael, "we want it to be fucking polynomial, not exponential."
"At the same time, if indeed there is a sale of mathematics, we have to have a strong package, and most likely the exponential growth is the key feature," he brings the second point.
"Somehow we have to sort it out," he ends with a hint of optimism, "I hope the Society of  Mathematicians has some ideas."


Joining forces

A few weeks later when Lander shows up, things are a bit different. The Society of Mathematicians wants help and cooperation, and Chael is ready with a suitable package.
He steps up to the lectern and describes his offerings.
"For a distraction," he says, "we propose to close no less than three math centers of international caliber. This is guaranteed to make rank and file scream bloody murder and not pay attention to anything else."
There is profound silence as the Program Commanders are stunned by the audacity of this plan, even if some of these centers outlived their usefulness a while ago.
Chael waits a few seconds and continues, "For a slowdown, I propose generous support for Mathematicus Inutilis program, under the new solicitation called "What You See Is What You Get." We have just released a proposal call."
Again, a bold plan as Mathematicus Inutilis, even though supported rather generously in the past, is generally a nasty complainer making the lives of the Program Commanders miserable.

"However," Chael concludes, "in order to get these things started we want a seat at the table."

----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_8

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Jubilation

It is late fall of 1940 and the Battle of England has just been won. The weather is bad, as often in Cambridge at this time of the year.
In an oak paneled room and behind the closed door there is a small ceremony going on. Har is sitting in the first row and he is about to receive a medal from his colleague Lewood. Lewood gets up and begins his presentation.
"Fellow mathematicians, scientists and colleagues! It has been many centuries since  Archim has put mathematics on the path toward the completion of its mission. We believe that we are approximately 100 years from accomplishing this goal. The need to hide, evade and obfuscate has never been greater.
So it is my honor to present "The Medal of Deception" to my dear colleague Har for his book "Mathematician's Apology.""
There is prolonged ovation and Har gets up and bows toward the audience, while Lewood continues:
"This book is a bulwark against probing eyes, it shrouds mathematics in a dense fog of irrelevance and frankly, it sets us back by hundreds of years. Its growing popularity is a guarantee that fellow mathematicians will be regarded as feeble-minded dreamers, unable and unwilling to make  real contributions to the world. Har's opus cloaks us from unwanted attention in this final century."
Har is beaming happily as he accepts the medal. "I hope I did not fuck it up," he whispers to himself, "writing this rubbish was harder than working with Nujan."



Mathematicus Inutilis

The second retreat topic is the support of mathematical sciences. Man, who recently returned from Germany, presents her findings. While visiting Gottingen she came across some notes concerning a conversation of Uss and Mann concerning Mathematicus Inutilis.
"It is a worthwhile topic for discussion," she begins.
"What is Mathematicus Inutilis and why do we care?" Dy cuts in unsure if this topic is worth investment of anybody's time.
"Well, a good question," Man is unfazed, "and certainly Uss thought such creature is worth supporting."
"By beating up everybody else," she adds.
"I am not sure what Mathematicus Inutilis exactly is," Ie says quietly, "but they seem to write better proposals then the rest of the bunch."
"Good observation," says Man, "in fact in my program we had such a hard time with the most original and productive mathematicians that we focused entirely on incremental work."
"But I would not call any one of them Mathematicus Inutilis," she adds nervously.

"I can see a solicitation coming," says Nifer. "Can you capture the essence of Mathematicus Inutilis in a positive and endearing way?"
"How about "What you see is what you get"," Nna throws an idea.
"Excellent," Nifer agrees after a moment of thought, "it has a strong positive connotation, at least among Microsoft Word users, and it is unlike everything else that we support where you are after things that you actually do not see."

Everybody has lingering doubts about the whole idea but Uss' endorsement makes it a lot more legitimate.


Grievances

"The time is now!" echoes faintly as Lander steps down and heads to the exit.  There is a stunned silence which only gets interrupted when Uce angrily asks, "And you motherfuckers knew about all of it for hundreds of years?"
Lander is not a bit insulted. He puffs up his cheeks and in a voice imitating Jack Nicholson in "A few good men" he answers, "You wanted the truth? But can you handle the truth?!"
He relaxes and continues, "When Mathematics Unit of GSA was created 60 years ago we had hoped that you will help us to slow things down. After looking at your Project Guide we trained the most talented and productive mathematicians to write their proposals to guarantee that they will not get funded."
"Not funded??" interrupts Dy.
"Yeah, not funded," confirms Lander, "as in tiny fonts, no margins, text full of gibberish and in some cases a mere three pages worth of crap."
"And?" asks Mek.
"And you idiots funded it all;  it seems that all you care about is the resume."
"Is this really a problem?" asks Nna.
"Yes it is," answers Lander raising his voice, "because until now you were a bunch of fuckers who played for the wrong team."

----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_7

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Mathematica Inutilis

Ler and Noulli stroll around the snowy St. Petersburg. Noulli holds Ler's elbow to guide him around the obstacles but Ler is surprising agile in spite of his age and blindness. It is a bitterly cold, windless day as they head toward the Academy.

"I am working on Mathematica Inutilis," starts Ler, "but it is not as easy as it looks."
"For example," he continues, "I was sure that the fact that one cannot cross all seven bridges in Konigsberg without crossing one twice would clearly be in that category. But I am not so sure anymore."
"Hmm," Noulli is not certain either, "remember this cute observation that was made 100 years ago, that for a prime number p and any positive integer a, a and a^p, give the same remainder when divided by p?"
"Oh, yeah, what about it?" Ler gets interested particularly that he has discovered this fact himself as well.
"Well, this clearly belongs to Mathematica Inutilis, hundred years has passed and I see not much use for it."
"Maybe, maybe," says Ler slipping on ice and cursing Russian winter.
They walk in silence until Ler finally confesses, "I have a feeling that developing Mathematica Inutilis will be my utter and complete failure."
"Then you will have to recon with these fuckers from the Society of Mathematicians," warns Noulli, "remember what they did to Wton."
Ler becomes more distraught and miserable. "Can't they see that I have a disability?" he moans.
"I am not sure that your disability explains why you singlehandedly uncovered more mathematics than the rest of humanity in the last hundred years," Noulli explains patiently.
"And why is that?" says Ler defiantly, "I am old and miserable," he goes on and on, "why don't they cut me some slack?"


Retreat

Every fall the Mathematics Unit of the Government Science Foundation has a daylong retreat and this year it is devoted to the revelations from the Society of Mathematicians.
Mek volunteered to give a presentation about the Flat and its consequences for science. Program Commanders are a bit worried since Mek usually turns serious matters into nonsense and rarely gives a return ticket. These worries are partly confirmed when Mek demands that they all meet next day at the Panda exhibit in the local zoo.
Nevertheless when they all assemble in front of the Panda enclosure he is professional and serious. On the other hand, both pandas are dozing off and snoring loudly after having consummed a large amount of bamboo.
Mek looks around and begins, "Current world population is a little over 7 billion and it has doubled in my lifetime. However, it is not going to double in anybody's lifetime again."
"We are at the inflection point predicted by Wton," he continues, "and various models posit that in a hundred years there will be a 50% growth, a 15% decline or that the world population will reach a constant and stable level, The Flat in Archim's terms."
"It is a good guess that Archim was right," he concludes with grim satisfaction, "and we should anticipate it."

He pauses briefly, and continues emphatically, "Archim had predicted that such scenario spells the end of science, and unfortunately he was right."
He pauses, points towards the pandas, and says accusingly, "They do not fuck!"

There is a great deal of confusion among the Program Commanders. Someone suggests a discussion that might clarify these comments, and Mek decides to unpack his message.
"This enclosure," he starts, "contains two pandas of opposite gender, and there will always be two pandas here although not the same ones. This is The Flat in miniature."
"In such environment pandas not only lost interest in procreation but they seem to have lost the knowledge how to fuck. The technical term is sexually incompetent," he adds after a pause wanting to sound more professional.

"Have you lost your mind?" Uce is completely exasperated with this gibberish, "what does it have to do with science?"
"Well," Mek announces somewhat pompously, "if a panda can unlearn how to fuck then we can certainly unlearn how to do mathematics."

The point is well taken and the Program Commanders slowly head towards the exit leaving barmy pandas behind.


Breakthrough

"Poor Ler", Uss murmurs to himself looking at the giant pile of mathematical manuscripts, "he really messed things up."
He looks up and faces 27-year old Mann who is fishing for a project, "You have to promise me that you will be more responsible," he says in a fatherly tone. Mann is flabbergasted and does not know what his master is talking about. "I will be responsible," he promises in order to get things going.

"It is about Mathematica Inutilis," Uss starts, "Ler failed to develop it, and frankly I have my doubts that it exists."
"Mathematica Inutilis?" Mann muses trying to remember his Latin, "isn't this geometry project that we were talking about a good example?"
"Perhaps," Uss concedes, "but perhaps not. I am starting to have doubts about the whole concept."
They sit in silence and Uss looks like he dozed off, while Mann is getting more and more restless. Suddenly Uss jumps up with energy unusual for 75-year old scholar, "Fuck, I think I got it."
Mann perks up and looks with expectation in his eyes.
"Perhaps there is no Mathematica Inutilis but I am quite convinced that there is Mathematicus Inutilis," he announces.
"Am I a Mathematicus Inutilis," asks Mann with certain level of indifference.
Uss looks at him appraisingly, "you could be," he says slowly, "even though you are most likely my best student."
"So what should I do?" Mann warms up to the idea.
"Just make sure that nobody can understand your work for the next hundred years," Uss says solemnly.
Mann ponders briefly, and smiles happily. "I think I can do it, yes, I am sure I can do it," he promises.
He looks at Uss and suddenly feels the warmth of the master's praise.
"But you could not do it, could you?" he asks as suspicion suddenly dawned on him.
"I could not," Uss admits sadly, "you would not believe the stuff I gave up."


----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_6

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Ler and Noulli

"What the fuck are you doing?" roars Noulli after kicking the door open.
Ler raises his head, "I am blind but I am not deaf," he replies with dignity.
They are both aliens in the snowy St. Petersburg, and over time they became close friends.
"You have been writing one math paper a week for the last two decades," hisses Noulli, "have you lost your mind?"
"Really?" says Ler, "it felt like someone is cleaning up my stack," he says resignedly, "but it gives me something to do."

"Well," Noulli calms down a bit, "we had a plan."
"Archim had a plan," replies Ler angrily, "I am doing good stuff and I cannot pack it in the drawer for 200 years."
"Besides, I have never signed on this plan," he threatens.
"Fine, but can't you do something less useful?" negotiates Noulli. "At this rate we will travel to the moon in twenty years and this is only 18th century!" he adds exasperated.
"Less useful?" Ler is dubious, "what you mean? How can math be useless?"
"Obviously you need to invent the right kind," Noulli challenges him, "there's got to be useless mathematics and we need it now!"
"Mathematica inutilis," whispers Ler clearly looking for the right name, "I think I might come up with something."

Getting the timing right

Dark clouds have been gathering over Wton's head for quite some time. The Society of Mathematicians was livid about the publication of The Principia and his laissez-faire attitude towards the distribution of knowledge without the slightest attention to its impact. It was time to make amends.

So Wton is pacing back and forth waiting for his audition and when the door finally opens he is filled with dread. Society of Mathematicians is not known for their sense of humor and seeing a row of hooded nerds is not a confidence instilling experience.
"I was walking in the garden and saw a falling apple," Wton starts quietly.
"Fuck your apple," a hooded gnome with a voice of a teenager cuts in.
Suddenly Wton becomes defiant, "I hope this creep Bnitz is not behind it."
"Bnitz has nothing to do with it," comes a booming voice, "you just gave too much too early."
"Just one small equation," Wton is not giving up easily.
"Yeah, right. And 400 pages of explanations," squeaky voice cuts in, "this is it for you. You will be a religious scholar from now on."
"Religious scholar?" Wtons repeats absent-mindedly and starts sobbing when the realization of what it means hits him. His eyes are open wide in terror and he is beginning to feel desperate.
"I can help you with the exact timing of The Flat," he tries to bargain.
"Really?" hooded teenager asks with curiosity.
Wton takes a deep breath and begins his explanations. "I have mathematical formulas for all these things," he begins. "When a real change occurs the first derivative is zero. But some time before it happens, the second derivative is zero, and this is when you should be on a lookout."
"Inflection point," says hooded teen, "I have read the Principia. You can't sell what you gave away, dickwad!"

But other members of the Society are uncomfortable, and decide to sweeten the pot. "You will be a religious scholar and an alchemist," the presiding mathematician announces.
"Fuck you all," roars Wton seeing the last decades of his life heading for the dustbin.


Newsflash

It is several weeks later that the Program Commanders of the Mathematics Unit meet again with Lander and his goons from the Society of Mathematicians.
Meantime the name change has been announced and the shit storm is gathering strength. The official line is that the idea came from a high level idiot fishing for a next job after GSA. At least seven distinguished committees are trying to figure out what statistical sciences are, and there is a great deal of commotion.

Lander takes to the podium, looks around, and begins. "The End of Mathematics may be coming and with such an event we should always ask: What? Why and When?
As it turns out these questions were considered by our Founding Fathers: Euc, Archim and Wton. Euc created the Method which gave the seeds of math as we know it, Archim predicted that math may come to an end, and Wton told us when to start preparing for it."

He pauses, looks at his watch and says, "The time is now."

----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_5

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

In the headquarters of the Society of Mathematicians

Lander is not an unknown quantity to the Program Commanders of the Government Science Agency. He is a fine mathematician and the head of  the Society of Mathematicians. He is the person that can confirm the rumors leaked by Ean, although everybody doubts that he will because he is not a particularly easy going individual. Clearly the conspiracy must have been going on for a long time. Furthermore, the relationship between the Mathematics Unit of GSA and the Society of Mathematicians, never really warm and friendly, is at a low point.

In spite of this,  delegation of seasoned Government Science Agency employees led by Sas goes to the SM headquarters to poke around.
Ie, Dy, Nna, Ris, Ank and Man are all included and they decide in the last moment to leave Mek behind because of his unpredictable behavior.
Lander greets them at the entrance to a big conference room. Lavish furniture and top of the line audio visual equipment are a stunning contrast to the spartan and crowded facilities of the Government Science Agency.
"Welcome, welcome," Lander says sourly, glaring at Sas whom he profoundly dislikes.

They sit around the table and are about to start when Lander asks "You do not mind that these proceedings are being recorded?"
"The Dude abides," says Sas trying to break the ice, but Lander is unfamiliar with the phrase.
"How can I help you?" starts Lander even though he must be well aware of what this is all about.
"We have been worrying lately about the productivity in mathematical sciences," Sas begins slowly and stops seeing Lander clench his teeth and appear as if someone poured a glass of lemon juice down his throat. So he momentarily changes his tack and quickly cuts to the end.
"But you must be aware of it," he says, "so we would really like to know how can we help?"
This is a first promising step since at this moment Landers' face relaxes and he stops looking like a vulture waiting to feast on a carcass.
"Well," he says, "the next few decades will be critical for mathematics." "Absolutely critical," he repeats sternly". "And unusual," he adds after a thoughtful pause.
"A distraction of some sort would be helpful," he says signaling that it is all that Program Commanders are going to get.
"A distraction?" asks Sas, "what kind of distraction?"
"The kind that takes attention away from the things that you are noticing," Lander says with irritation and points at his watch indicating that the meeting is over.
"Think about it and have your people talk to my people about the follow-up meeting," he speaks into space on his way out.


 Archim's death

The Second Punic War comes to an end and Syracuse is about to fall. Archim sits in his office working. Suddenly Pat and a Roman soldier come in dragging a body of a dead civilian.
"What's up?" Archim asks without looking.
Roman soldier removes his helmet and looks around the office and Pat waits patiently until Archim's attention is on them.
Finally Archim raises his head and notices the soldier, "Who the fuck are you? Have we lost yet?"
"No Sir, not yet" answers the soldier, "I am on a mission from the President of the Society of Mathematicians."
He points at his military gear and shrugs, "A fellow mathematician, not a fighting man really."
"I am the President of the Society of Mathematicians," says Archim with annoyance.
"Not anymore," replies the geek, "we need you to start working for the Last Day Math program."
"But this is a secret program," exclaims Archim, "nobody will know my work!"
"That is exactly the point," says fake soldier, "you have been too busy lately."
Archim is perplexed by this news and he paces around the room thinking.
"The relocation package is good and we can take our toys," Pat whispers to Archim just before sticking his warm tongue into his ear.
"And I can make you more productive than ever," he promises in a voice laden with certainty.
"Ok, ok,"Archims surrenders trying to hide a bulge that suddenly appears in the middle of his tunic.
"I am glad that we came to an understanding," says the fake soldier, "we will only need your last words for the biographers."
Pat embraces Archim and sneaks his hand into the opening of Archim's toga.
"Do not touch my balls!" exclaims Archim with embarrassment.
"Oh, that is a good one!"  the soldier says happily, "it will do splendidly."
They leave behind the dead citizen who looks remarkably like Archim, and head to the waiting chariot.

Lander's gambit

Few days after the meeting in the headquarters of the Society of Mathematicians  Sas and Lander secretly meet again in a coffee shop.
"I do not want to probe," starts Sas looking at Lander, "but assuming that the rumors are true I wonder if statistics is a part of the sale as well."
Poker face of Lander brightens with a smile and he charges into the opening.
"Statistics is far too important to be sold," he says quickly while crossing his fingers.  "Please mind that I do not confirm anything," he adds right away, "but statistics is a pillar of modern society and we cannot live without it. Under no circumstances we are putting it on the table."
He ponders momentarily and adds, "Abstractly speaking."
With math out of the way statistics will be the only game in town, and Sas could not be happier.
"I think I can live with it," he says meekly, "let's talk about a distraction."
"How about a name change?" Lander suggests relieved that he does not have to lie anymore, "Instead of Mathematics Unit of the Government Science Agency we would have the Unit of Mathematical and Statistical Sciences of the Government Science Agency."
"After the sale we would drop "Mathematical"," he adds after a pause.
"Is there such a thing as Statistical Sciences?" Sas asks suspiciously.
"Exactly!" exclaims Lander happily, "this alone can take years to figure out."
"Hmm," murmurs Sas who loves statistics just as she is, "this may require some new ideas."
"Which your community has in abundance," Lander rushes to close the deal.

----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_4

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

What is going on?

It is Wednesday and Program Commanders head to the pub in the nearby mall. Furthermore, Ean is supposed to join them and everybody is happy since they did not see him for a long time. Ean was one of them until he started advancing through ranks and moved out of the Government Science Agency. They order beer and soon the conversation shifts to the usual topic - mathematics.

"Sas suspects that mathematicians are hoarding their stuff and quite frankly there is something to it," starts Mek.
"Really?" Ean sounds quite surprised, "is there any indication of any of this?" he adds a bit too quickly.
"Well, there seems to be not much going on, we get crummy reports, empty abstracts, and people look at their shoes when they talk to us," Uce give the laundry list of hints they unearthed so far.
"That is not much evidence," says Ean showing some signs of relief, "mathematicians look at their shoes a lot."
They chat and gossip and order another round of beer. Ean talks very little and appears to be pondering something. After a while, he appears as if he made up his mind.
"This is just a rumor," he begins, "but I heard from Lander that math is to be put up for sale."
Absurdity of this sentence is obvious but Ean is quite credible and Lander is the president of the Society of Mathematicians. Consequently, this has the effect of a hand-grenade exploding in a small room.
"I do not know much," continues Ean, "but there is an ancient plan predicting that math will become useless at some point, and the Society of Mathematicians wants to take care of the community just before all  mathematicians join the ranks of unemployed."
"And that is why they hide the best stuff from everybody?" someone guesses.
"Most likely", says Ean, "this is really a standard scenario of a startup. You give away the stuff for nothing and develop product in wait for the big fish to come and buy you out."
"It is just that in this case it took several thousand years," he adds.

There is a great deal of commotion and an avalanche of questions. Eventually simple logic prevails and Ie says, "Well, it still does not make sense. Who would buy mathematics? Why would you pay for what you already have?"

Ean smiles easily, "Good point," he says, "but this is all I know."


S and M

It is early evening and Pat is working on a surprise for Archim. He puts on a tight outfit made of  soft black leather and guides Archim to a secret room that he spent days remodeling and stocking up. Archim is curious and interested although he exhibits his usual absent-mindedness. Together they enter the dimly lit room whose center is occupied by a large contraption with several moving parts, restraining belts and a number of oddly placed protrusions. Archim is pleased to see several of his inventions utilized in the design but he is not fully grasping the device's purpose and potential.
Yet there is something in the atmosphere of the room that makes his sexual and intellectual bits go into overdrive.
"We will have more fun if we deal with math first," Pat says with a smile.
"Oh, thank you," answers Archim barely holding his excitement down.
"So where were we?" asks Pat and picks up a small whip and a stubby paddle.
Archim glances sideways at him and stutters, "If mathematics has an expiration date then it needs to be managed."
"Hmm," says Pat, "managed by whom?"
 "Some secret community," Archim says with hesitation, "A Society of Mathematicians, for example"
"So how would it work?" says Pat slowly while blindfolding Archim with a silk veil.
Archim becomes a bit disoriented and distracted but does not lose his train of thought.
"The Society of Mathematicians would have a public side and a secret side," Archim begins to describe a scheme that ever since became a standard operating procedure for any organization with an ambition of exerting influence over human affairs.
"The secret part will manage the pace of discovery, while the public part will keep the societal interest at an appropriate level," Archim continues while Pat removes Archim's toga and straps his arms and legs to the contraption.
"I think this will work," Archim concludes suddenly realizing his vulnerability.
"We should agree on the safe word," says Pat.
"Eureka," whispers Archim offering his body for a full examination.


What happened to dinos?

Another lazy mid-day coffee at the Government Science Agency, and after a short time Program Commanders drift to their recent topic, wholesale of mathematics.

"Was there ever a sale of assets of comparable size?" asks Ie.
"It is hard to say," answers Mek, "once the stuff is gone it is almost like it never existed."
Now everybody is wide awake and the questions are coming.
"Are you serious, how can mathematics be forgotten?" Nna wonders.
"Well, it is like the Beethoven Fifth, after you get rid of a CD or mp3, you can hum it in the shower but this will not be the same thing," answers Uce.
"Holy crap," someone moans loudly.
"But going back to your original question," Mek begins slowly "I think that it is reasonable to suspect that dinosaurs were put up for sale."

Mek is the only creationist in the Mathematics Unit of the Government Science Agency but still the statement catches Program Commanders by surprise.
"Haven't they been gone for like millions of years?" someone mumbles, and Mek smiles happily seeing an opening for one of his excruciating lectures.

"Well, the fact that we peddle convenient scientific theories should not make us blind," he begins, "we like the Universe to be billions years old because it makes our leaders look like hyperactive busy-beavers. But in all likelihood the dinosaurs were around a mere few thousand years ago, and the universe is 6000 years old just as the good book says."

"I would get them for pets if they were small," says Dy ignoring the incoming tsunami of absurdity.
"Exactly," says Mek happily, "whoever got them must have been at least an order of magnitude larger."

"Are you talking fucking aliens?" Man asks. She is a mathematical biologist and this might be a fruitful direction for her discipline to find a better foothold among sciences.

"It is just a guess, I do not see local buyers really," answers Mek, and since everybody is struggling to process these theories, he continues, "my guess is that Moses was involved in all this, and poor creatures were traded for pyramids and beer."
"Pyramids and beer?" someone asks.
"It is a guess," Mek explains, "but they both appeared just as suddenly as dinosaurs disappeared."
"Anyway, it does not look like a good deal," Dy says.
"It is a fantastic deal. Have you seen Godzilla or Jurassic Park?" Mek is quite serious, "you do not want to have these fuckers anywhere near you."

Everybody gets up and slowly heads back to work. It is completely clear that dinosaurs are indeed gone and these revelations seem to disrupt the existing theory.
"It is a toss-up between large asteroid wiping them out, or Moses selling them to the highest bidder," says Dy, "fifty-fifty, I guess," he adds to his own surprise.


----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_3

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

Fair deal

Euc and Proc are sitting around the table staring at the nearly finished Elements.
"12 books," says Euc, "that is a lot."
"It is," says Proc, "but I am thinking of something extra for the ending."
"Are you sure?" Euc is clearly not excited about more work.
"I will sweeten the deal for you," says Proc and she gets up and moves closer.
"See if I am wearing any underwear," she asks.
Euc puts his hand under her toga and after a moment announces surprised, "No, you don't!"
"Aha, you are wrong," says Proc, "I am wearing something called a thong."
"It is rather minimalistic," she continues, "and I thought I would let you explore it in detail."
"I see, so the new book is one of those things that you were not planning to put there," Euc says after a pause.
"I did not mean it as a metaphor," Proc is taken aback by Euc's comment, "I just thought of enhancing our lovemaking."
"So what is this minimalistic thing?" asks Euc.
"It is a narrow piece of cloth that barely covers my pussy," Proc explains.
Euc waves his hand indicating that his mind seems to be stuck in a rut, "I meant in the additional book of the Elements."
"It is about breaking numbers into primes, more precisely that there is only one way to do it," Proc explains and takes off her sandals.
"You can get all numbers by simply adding one," she lets her hair loose, "or by multiplying primes," her breasts show up in the toga's opening. "There is a curious connection between these two ways and it involves infinity in a very substantial manner," lastly her toga comes off.
Euc looks a bit like a fish that was too long out of the water. His mouth is open and he seems to have trouble breathing while looking at Proc standing in front of him.
"Aha, and this other thing is what they call a brazilian," Proc adds lightly, "I wonder if it is worth all the suffering."
"It is, it is!" cries Euc and starts ripping off his clothes.
Proc smiles sweetly. "My love, for a moment I thought I lost you to mathematics," she says tenderly as they embrace.


Archim's plan

Days pass and Archim is getting depressed and unhappy. Pat is sex starved and miserable too, and one day he has had enough.
"I need some horizontal boogie," he says to Archim, "tell me what is on your mind."
"Scientifically," he adds knowing the effect on Archim's libido.
There is a spark in Archim's eyes indicating that something is missing from his life as well.

They lounge on a sofa and Pat begins to massage Archim's feet, hoping that this will open him up.
"It is about the Flat," starts Archim, "I am certain now that when the Earth population goes flat this will be the end of science, art and everything else. But I am also certain that most people will not realize it until just before it happens."
"And why does it matter to us?" asks Pat puzzled, "this is still many centuries ahead."
"Because we are the only ones who know it so far in advance," Archim answers angrily, "we could prep mathematics for it."
"How?" Pat is still quite unclear where it is going.
"Well, what do you do with something just before it becomes worthless?" asks Archim.
"You get rid of it?" guesses Pat.
"Exactly! Math will tell you what and when will happen, and if you manage the pace of discovery, we will know quite precisely," says Archime and suddenly there is a hint of sexual tension in the room. "And then we will sell it!"
"We?" doubts Pat.
"Fellow mathematicians. Do you know that they fed two of them to the lions yesterday because they were reading Euc's book in public?" Archim says with agitation.
"Sell it?" Pat sounds skeptical.
"This idea is in the private appendix to Euc's book and it is called "Last Day Math" says Archim and adds, "unfortunately it is impossible to tell how can it come about so many centuries from now."  "The point is that it is up to math to become a bargaining chip in the time of need, and I am sure all ingredients are there," he suddenly seems more relaxed and glances at Pat with a hungry look in his eyes.


Sex and discovery

Pat is floating in the large bathtub filled with hot water.
"I added Dead Sea Salts" he says and motions towards Archim, "it feels great."
Archim paces back and forth naked and says nothing.
"What is it?" Pat inquires, as this behavior slowly becomes a pattern.
"Well, it is about the Flat. If there is no growth we need no science," Archim says sadly.
"Are we talking about it again?" asks Pat exasperated and then decides to throw Archim a bone, "clearly questions will keep coming up."
"Everything in human nature is tied up to growth. People do things for future generations," Archim says with conviction.
"Clearly there will be future generations, people are not going to live forever," says Pat stubbornly.
"These will not be new generations! Just new tenants moving into your house and replacing you. It is terribly demotivating," he says oozing depression.

"Why don't you hop into the bathtub with me? I will find a way to cheer you up," says Pat in a husky voice.
Archim looks up. "The tub is almost full, it will overflow," he says.
"Do not worry, you are smaller than me so less water will spill," Pat says with a laugh.
Archim stops suddenly as if struck by a thought. "Holly Molly!" he exclaims and starts jumping up and down with his suddenly erect penis bobbing happily.
"I was trying to understand how things float and I got it," he jumps into the bathtub with a big splash, "the King wanted me to check if his crown is made of pure gold and now I know how to do it."
Pat starts caressing him and asks "How long were you working on it?"
"Since this morning," says Archim with a sigh, "and if not for your lewd behavior it would have taken a great deal longer."

----------------------

next installment is here

Startup_2

previous installment is here

--------------------------------------------------

The Pitch

Archim sits at the desk deep in his thoughts, oblivious to the noisy gladiator show going on in  downtown Syracuse. He stares absent-mindedly at Pat who tries to get his attention. It is not working and Archim seems to be drifting away.
"Do you want me to oil you up?" Pat says and reveals his cleanly shaven calf, "or would you rather oil me up?"
Archim looks up, "I promise that we will fuck tonight dear, but I have some urgent work now."
"Work, work, you always work," Pat teases him.
"I have a presentation for the King in weeks' time, and this is rather important. The future of mathematics may depend on it," says Archim seriously.
"What is the presentation about?" asks Pat curiously.
"Well, that is the question. I have two choices and I wonder which one is better."
"Ok, try it on me," says Pat temporarily suspending his sexual urges.

"The first one concerns my formula for the surface of the sphere," starts Archim, "but what matters is that this number is not infinite. Since Erat showed that the Earth is round, it means  that there are only that many people, horses, and other stuff that can fit on Earth."
"I have been wondering what will happen when we reach that limit, and it is not going to be good," he continues.
"And why would the King want to listen to this?" asks Pat, "this is just going to annoy him."
Archim sighs and murmurs "yeah, right, clearly you are right." But after a pause he adds, "but I cannot stop thinking about it. I call it The Flat - this is when the growth stops. It is like death, but more abstract."

Pat is beginning to get impatient, "Death it is, but surely yours if you continue with this crazy shit. What is the second thing?"

Archim shakes his head, "The other thing is called Sand Reconer, it is a mathematical way to compute very, very large things."

Pat smiles broadly, "this sounds much better whatever it is. You ought to project your skills not your anxieties."

"But enough of this," he says sternly "you have been a bad boy," he motions to Archim to come over and as if by magic a large dildo appears in his hands.


The Flat

Archim and Pat are lounging in the bedroom. Pat is lying on his belly and Archim is holding some manuscript in one hand while kneading Pat's buttocks with the other.
"This erotic massage is harder than I thought," he says consulting the notes.
"Hmmm, it feels fine," purrs Pat, "do not stop and go around a bit."
Archim obliges but his motions become more mechanical and he appears deep in thought.
"What is going on?" Pat is getting suspicious.
"Every time I see you naked ideas come to my head," mumbles Archim.
"Good, this is the way it is supposed to work," answers Pat.
"Well, these are scientific ideas," whispers Archim.

"Darn," says Pat, his erection gone, "what is it?"

"It is about the Flat," says Archim, "that there will be a constant number of people on Earth."
"You mean that the sphere has finite area so when people cover it three layers deep they will be stomping each other," he recalls his version of the argument.
"Ha,ha, very funny," says Archim, "it is more complicated." "I think it is a natural law, people simply will stop having that many children at some point."
"You mean like us," jokes Pat.
"You are intolerable," Archim is clearly annoyed, "I mean humanity will stop growing and this will happen naturally."
"You know," says Pat resolutely, "the same number of people does not mean that these are the same people."
"Well, that is exactly the point," says Archim and looks at his engorged penis with surprise, "how different is it?"

"I am glad to see that you are getting ready to change the subject, this deep thinking is good for our sex life," Pat says with a smile and rolls over.


Communication

The writing is progressing well and Proc is in a good mood.
"The special thing about the Method is that it can be communicated so well. With mathematics you can share your exact thoughts with another person," she comments.
"You can do it about almost anything," Euc replies.
"Try to do it without talking," says Proc, "can you tell what I am trying to communicate now?"
Euc looks at her flabbergasted. "I do not have the faintest idea," he admits.
"See," says Proc as if this closes the case.
"Wait a moment," Euc does not give up, "try me."
He stares at Proc for about 30 seconds and then asks her whether she got it.
"You want beer and pussy," she admits grudgingly.
"At least one of us is a good communicator!" Euc exclaims triumphantly.
"This is so very basic," Proc mutters.
"Wait a moment," cries Euc, "I was quite descriptive about the second item, wasn't I?"
"I am not sure," Proc blushes slightly but seems very pleased.
"Let's have a short break," she announces heading towards the bedroom.

---------------------

next installment is here