37: Yes, this proof is flawless, and even better. It's correct!
37: Why didn't anyone on the island realize there was another way? I need to note this down. 6 will definitely want to know about this.
Mesmer Jr.: Hello, 37. Sorry to interrupt.
37: How regrettable. This hypothesis was so intriguing, yet ultimately untrue. It's always a heartbreak to disprove an elegant theory.
37: The conjecture regarding planets and Platonic solids was similar. It was so perfect. Everyone wished it might be true, but it wasn't.
Mesmer Jr.: ...
The girl beneath tangled hair is absorbed in her own world.
Perhaps it is just her imagination, but there is a trace of melancholy in the girl's voice. But who could feel sad over a mathematical proof?
37: There must be some perfect order, a function through which all things can be predicted. We just haven't found it yet.
37: Error, then, doesn't really mean failure. Within each failure may lie the key to the Truth.
37: Yes, that must be it, ow!
A dull thud. An expected result.
X: That is why children are usually not permitted to play underneath tables. Perhaps you should consider utilizing your chair for its intended purpose, 37.
Mesmer Jr.: I probably should've asked before, but why exactly did you follow me in here?
X: Oh, don't be like that. I didn't say anything about carelessly abandoning my previous intention of extending an invitation to our computational celebrity to partake in spectating a muscle-bound sparring competition.
When it comes to X, the more long and nonsensical words he puts in a sentence, the more likely he's trying to hide something.
But prying the truth from him would be effort she'd rather not waste. She's better off ignoring him.
He's one small spore of gray mold left in the room, that's all.
Mesmer Jr.: Are you okay?
37: Ugh, I'm fine.
37: If we consider my head to be a circle and the edge of the table as a straight line, then no matter where I actually hit it, at the moment of collision, my head was only briefly tangential to the table.
37: Not intersecting, not separate, but in tangent. This is a very good positional relationship. From the center of the circle—my head's ideal model center—a line through the tangent point must be perpendicular to the table.
37: The sine of 90° is 1, the cosine is 0, and the tangent is infinity! There's no better angle than 90°.
37: So, I'm totally fine. It doesn't hurt at all.
Mesmer Jr.: Fine.
In truth, her peculiar explanation, coupled with the tears welling in her eyes, is not all that convincing.
37: Hmm? You're a new face.
It's an odd way to get across the question. Most might say "who are you" or some other politesse, but then this girl is not "most people."
37: What numbers have you brought me? Let's have a look at your problem.
She extends her hand to the therapist. It appears this is the protocol she has established with the Glawackus from earlier.
Mesmer Jr.: The number I've brought is "6."
She places the papyrus letter in the girl's palm.
37: 6 ...?
37: Yes. Hmm, 6 is a good number. A familiar number.
37: Hmm, what kind of proof do you wish to make with this number?
The girl's mathematical babbling slows as she gazes deeply at the papyrus scroll in her hand, lost in contemplation.
Mesmer Jr.: I don't have a problem.
Mesmer Jr.: This is a letter from someone named "6." Vertin asked me to give it to you.
37: Vertin? And 6!
Her eyes light up. She grabs the outstretched scroll and unties it in a flurry of movement.
37: Let's see what 6 wrote. Hmm, first question: Are you getting used to life over there?
37: I am indeed. Meals are delivered to me daily through an intriguing pneumatic tube system, and they don't serve me any beans. This allows me to focus on my research without any distractions.
37: Second question: Have you gotten sick? No, I'm in good health. Though, without Sophia to comb my hair, it has gotten a bit matted. But that's alright. I just cut out the parts I can't untangle.
37: Have I learned anything new? Yes, I've learned so many new things and built up a collection of newspaper clippings I plan on sending back to the island.
37: My research? Well, I've gathered a lot of numbers, and solved many problems, and ...
37: And ... hmm.
The girl stares at the letter in her hand, falling silent.
Mesmer Jr.: Is something wrong?
37: To be honest, I don't think my research is going well at all.
37: My hypothesis was that if I ventured to the world beyond the island, I might encounter many more numbers than before.
37: I theorized that so long as I obtained enough numbers, no matter how complex the function, I could graph it and calculate its formula, or at least obtain the clues necessary to solve them.
37: Numbers are the keys to the Truth. I must decipher them.
The girl says the word with absolute conviction.
Mesmer Jr.: The "Truth"? Is that the topic of your research?
37: Yes.
The response comes without the slightest ambiguity.
37: Last time, I failed. I got the answer, but I was too slow, and it wasn't enough. It wasn't complete. And ... bad things happened.
37: That's why I need to find a better answer.
37: A more complete Truth, then the bad things won't happen again, and everything will function as it should, in the most ordered manner.
Mesmer Jr.: Is that so?
She says it all with such sincerity that, as bizarrely grandiose as it sounds, Mesmer knows the girl is completely serious.
But how could she even begin to evaluate such an overly ambitious goal?
Before she can respond, the girl lowers her head.
37: I've run into a problem.
37: I've encountered many more numbers, but I still can't decipher the functions at work behind them.
37: It feels like ... Oh, are you familiar with "hopscotch"?
Mesmer Jr.: The kids' game?
37: Yes. Sophia taught me how to play it. I think my situation is a bit like hopscotch.
The name is totally unfamiliar to her, but the girl seems unaware even of the need to explain that much.
She lowers her gaze and takes a step forward on the laboratory floor.
37: Heh!
37: See? Numbers can be found within all things. So now, I'm currently in this square.
Mesmer Jr.: Sure ...
As far as she can see, there are no squares on the floor. And what does she mean by "numbers can be found within all things"?
37: And behind the numbers lies the path to the Truth. But ...
The girl looks at the floor in front of her, shaking her head.
37: I can't see where the next square is drawn, so I'm stuck here, unable to move forward.
Mesmer Jr.: I understand.
She doesn't understand at all. A part of her wishes she could say, "Well, keep trying! I'll be leaving now."
But as she watches the girl, who was so exhilarated reading that letter and now appears so despondent, she cannot bring herself to say it.
X: You see, that's the "why" of it.
The therapist's glance signals for the mold behind her to remain silent.
Mesmer Jr.: I'm not sure of the specifics, but it looks like you've hit a block.
Mesmer Jr.: This is very normal. I'm sure nearly everyone in the computing center has been in your shoes before.
37: Do you mean it? Everyone here has been through the same thing? This is the first time I've felt so hopeless. Up until now, even if I didn't have the answer right away, I never felt upset about it.
37: I don't really understand it.
Mesmer Jr.: ...
The experienced artificial somnambulism therapist needs only a glance around the room to identify the problem.
Closed windows, dusty corners, disorganized files, a blanket thrown on the sofa, and stainless-steel pneumatic food delivery cans scattered all over the place ...
Mesmer Jr.: When was the last time you went outside?
37: Uhm, that's strange. I can only provide an approximate value. Nothing precise.
Mesmer Jr.: I thought as much. Listen, maybe you could go out with your frie—
Mesmer Jr.: ...
Mesmer Jr. holds back the second half of her sentence. She knows something of the girl's background; she left her home and came to the computing center alone to carry out her research.
With everyone from Team Timekeeper preoccupied with other tasks, 37 most likely doesn't have any friends to "go out with."
37: Perhaps I could?
Mesmer Jr.: Perhaps you could go out for a walk or something.
Her professional ethics demand that she offer this non-committal, all-purpose suggestion.
37: A walk?
The girl thinks for a moment, then nods.
37: You make a good point. A walk might help me to progress my research. It is a solid hypothesis, at least.
37: Previously, when we needed inspiration, we might take a walk on the beach or calculate the trajectory of seagulls while relaxing in the sun.
The suggestion is accepted, but the girl still appears hesitant.
37: Perhaps I shouldn't let such trivial worldly concerns hold me back, but I've discovered that there are no beaches nearby, and no seagulls either.
37: So that's why I'm not all that enthusiastic about going out for a walk.
Mesmer Jr.: ...
Some people are blind to their own emotions. They disregard their own feelings and immerse themselves in solving other people's problems.
This is true of one of her classmates and of the girl standing before her. Mesmer Jr. doesn't know much about 37, but she surmises the problem is not just an absence of sand and seagulls.
Her work was over. She shouldn't even be here anymore.
Mesmer Jr.: Maybe you could go somewhere else?
37: Do you have any suggestions?
Mesmer Jr.: Well, you could try ...
A blind spot emerges. Mesmer is not quite skilled at "relaxing" either.
But by luck, the mold still growing silently in the room happens to be quite an expert in the field.
X: Ladies, it appears you might require some advice. Would you like to hear my two cents?
