Part 3: Deviation

X: And now, lucky me, I'm honored to serve as the escort for you two ladies.
Mesmer Jr.: You're late.
X: Sorry, but at least I'm not the last one we're waiting on.
The fourth chair at the round table is pulled out. The young researcher seats himself with his characteristic smile.
X: Sounds like you're expounding on our recent narrative. Ezra, my friend, can you deduce our current destination?
37: The question is simple, but as usual, we'll need a hint: we are currently within the domain of this function.
Ezra: Haha, I think I'm beginning to understand Miss 37's—I mean, 37's sense of humor.
Ezra: It's here, isn't it? The Laplace Museum.
37: Correct!
37: I've heard of "museums" before.
37: This place is like a number line marked with important points. We can't mark all the good numbers because they're infinite.
37: But we can still pick some representative ones, so when we look at this number line, we can see their progress and relations. It's a good approach.
37: What's in this glass case? Is it some kind of metal ore?
X: That's lepidolite. It contains metal, but we typically classify it as a rare earth mineral. People often confuse it with zircon, but I must assert there is a substantial difference.
X: But I thought you'd be more intrigued by the azurite adjacent to it. See that ethereal blue color. It typically captures the eye before its neighbor.
37: All the crystals inside have three axes perpendicular to each other, but the lengths are not the same. It's not a perfect shape.
37: This one is different. Look closely. If we took a cross-section, it'd form a perfect square. The four faces of these crystals are symmetrical ... Wait!
37: Look at this, the crystals. There's no mistaking it. They're made of dodecahedrons, and regular dodecahedrons at that! This mineral has the most perfect shape in this display case!
X: Then allow me to thank you on behalf of this garnet. In fact, I also have a fondness for this stone.
X: An endearing appearance paired with peerless practicality. Have I mentioned I possess many small spheres of this mineral, of varying sizes and cuts?
X: I often select one based on my mood. Observing those exquisite little objects roll on the tracks is a real delight.
37: You mean, you have lots of perfect spheres? May I see your collection?
X: Absolutely. I'm glad we share a similar interest in them.
The smiling researcher looks at the young mathematician, pondering over her for a moment.
X: You've got a unique perspective on the exhibits here, but I think there are some others you'll find even more fascinating.
X: Are you interested in the insect exhibition?
37: Do they have any weevils? I've heard that they contain a perfect representation of the golden ratio!
The girl bounces toward the insect hall like a mint-green balloon.
Mesmer Jr. doesn't take part in their animated discussion about minerals, bugs, and geometry. She remains, as ever, a model visitor, quietly appreciating the exhibits and offering only occasional whispered thoughts.
Mesmer Jr.: This place has changed a lot since the last time I was here. I don't remember any of these exhibits.
X: After our mutual friend Ezra took over the mantle of curator, he has exerted considerable effort into this place's development.
X: He reconfigured the layout of the halls, increased the number of exhibits by nearly half, and greatly expanded the range of the items on display.
X: Check out this golem dung, for example. Before Ezra, you'd never see something like this here, and at most, the exhibit's description would merely state that "over 90% of rock golem dung is composed of rock."
X: Not to disparage, but the old curators were the type to say, "Oh, no, we can't have this sort of thing here. It's entirely inappropriate. Get that out of my display!"
X: But here it is: rocky golem dung, displayed in the world's finest museum.
Scanning over the new exhibits, Mesmer finds herself agreeing with her colleague for once.
Mesmer Jr.: I heard the Laplace Museum's workload has doubled since the "Storm" began. So much for a cushy, prestigious job. Now, it's a real challenge.
Mesmer Jr.: Each time the "Storm" approaches, the museum's exhibits must all be moved to a safer location. Then, once the "Storm" passes, there's the tedious task of taking inventory.
X: Everything devolved into chaos after the "Storm."
X: Painstakingly achieved results obliterated overnight ... After living through it several times, it's difficult not to lose hope.
Mesmer Jr.: But this place has been restored to life.
Mesmer Jr.: Ezra is passionate, inclusive, and pragmatic. Appointing him as curator was the right deci—
A loud explosion interrupts her praise.
37: Huh?
Mesmer Jr.: What was that noise? What's going on here?
In the office area at the rear of the museum, thick smoke billows from a room around the corner.
37: Was that explosion part of an exhibit? I don't like it!
Mesmer Jr.: No. I'm certain it wasn't.
Amidst the confusion, a familiar figure emerges from the smoke, and Mesmer Jr. instantly sees red.
Medicine Pocket: Damn it! I knew the data was way off! Those dumbasses must have volcano ash for brains!
Medicine Pocket: Fortunately, I came prepared. Try this on for size!
The instigator mutters while pulling out a terrapin bulb, roughly stripping its leaves before tossing it into the smoky room.
In a matter of moments, the room ceases to spew smoke into the air, much to everyone's relief.
Medicine Pocket: I'm so done. Couldn't that heat-resistant layer have lasted just a couple more seconds?
Mesmer Jr.: You're not done with me, you aren't! How about you explain why you're here and just what you think you're doing?
Medicine Pocket: Isn't it obvious? I'm making cupcakes, of course.
X: Cupcakes? I do love cupcakes, especially with a cup of fresh-brewed coffee.
Mesmer Jr.: Stop joking around, Medicine Pocket. What were you thinking, bringing your insane experiments here?!
Mesmer Jr.: Does Ezra know about this? How in the hell—I just can't believe you!
Mesmer Jr. has no patience for Medicine Pocket's less than reasonable excuses today.
She feels the need to retract her praise for the new Laplace Museum curator. It's clear to see that the young man's overly generous attitude has opened the door to certain shameless individuals.
Mesmer Jr.: Fine, you know what? Do whatever you want.
The therapist makes her decision. A wise, rational, responsible decision.
Mesmer Jr.: Let's keep moving, 37. Just ignore this person, and this unpleasant little episode, and continue our tour of the museum.
Mesmer Jr.: Of course, if the "cupcake lover" wants to stay behind, he's more than welcome to.
Mesmer Jr.: After all, sometimes you need to be careful about the company you keep. Right, 37?
The mint-green balloon she reaches for is gone, having floated over to the beagle.
37: You mentioned the data being off. What data? May I examine it?
A variety of horrible scenarios flash through Mesmer's imagination. Of course, anything to do with "numbers" seems to carry a special allure to her companion.
Medicine Pocket: First of all, who the hell are you? And second, what's it to you—wait.
They sniff the unfamiliar balloon up and down with curiosity.
Medicine Pocket: Oh, you're the one with numbers for a name. I've heard of you.
37: That's totally inaccurate. There are infinite sets of numbers in the world, but I'm 37—just one number.
Medicine Pocket: Uh, fine, whatever, just show me what you can do, Number Brain! Come on over here, and take a look at this for me!
37: Wow!
The mint-green balloon is whisked away by the beagle. The horror begins to feel real.
Mesmer Jr.: I think it's about time you answered my question: What exactly are you researching?
The therapist's question is directed at the late-arriving last participant of this ice cream roundtable.
But the individual being questioned merely pulls out a chair, sits down, and starts devouring their ice cream with gusto, clearly unfazed by the accusation.
Medicine Pocket: Why don't you exercise that big brain of yours and take a guess? If you can't figure it out, well, I guess you're gonna have to settle with the "cupcakes" explanation.
37: I looked at Medicine Pocket's data; it seemed to be concerned with some kind of plant or maybe an insect? Sorry, I was only paying attention to the numbers.
Ezra: Medicine Pocket is trying to find a way to artificially cultivate Ophiocordyceps Icarus, a precious herb that only grows in extreme volcanic environments, with very limited annual yields.
Ezra: Local legends say it boasts miraculous effects, and can even bring the dead back to life. Obviously, that is likely to be an exaggerated claim.
Ezra: But after examining the related records, we believe the herb's ethanol extract may have powerful neural repair properties.
Ezra: If this can be confirmed, there may be a path to a cure for many presently incurable neurological diseases. Think about the hope that could bring to people around the world.
37: That sounds like a wonderful thing. I didn't know Medicine Pocket was doing such important research.
Ezra: See, you misunderstood, Ms. Mesmer. This isn't just some featherbrained scheme; it's a meaningful project with real value to civilization. That's why I allowed Medicine Pocket to perform their work here in the museum.
The young museum curator is known for his sincere virtue. It is hard to remain indifferent when seeing things through his young eyes.
Mesmer Jr.: But that's still no reason to allow explosions in the museum.
Medicine Pocket: First, don't misunderstand my intentions. I don't give a crap about some miracle cure. I just want to find out if this thing is as amazing as the legends say.
Medicine Pocket: And as for this little incident, you can blame those incompetent Sasquatches responsible for producing the local environment data. Their records are a mess!
Mesmer Jr.: You could have done all this in a lab.
Medicine Pocket: You think I didn't want to? I submitted my application, but that miserable old man's bureaucratic processing has requests piled up to the Foundation's ceiling!
Medicine Pocket: Ophiocordyceps Icarus only grows for a few months. If we miss this chance, we're gonna have to wait a whole year, and I won't wait that long!
Medicine Pocket: So I kicked open the old man's office, and then—
X: And then you got kicked out. I happened to be passing by and witnessed the entire episode.
X: I must concede, Mr. Hofmann had a point: if everyone stormed into his office claiming their matter was more urgent than everyone else's and demanded his immediate assent, there'd be no end to the chaos.
Medicine Pocket: Tsk, that old geezer looks like a wilted gray knotweed, but he's pretty prickly.
X: However, as I recall, he did grant you permission. He said, "Figure it out for yourself."
Medicine Pocket: Exactly. So I figured it out.
Medicine Pocket flashes a mischievous smile.
Medicine Pocket: When you make it big, you have to help out the little guys. That's what good friends do, right? Besides, this museum is huge.
Mesmer Jr.: I maintain my opinion.
X: Anyway, just look, our narrative's protagonists are now all present.
X: When young researchers congregate, we envision it to spark some kind of chemical reaction, a guarantee of a bright future.
X: But there is a minor issue: our two friends here appear to have made a slight divergence in their problem-solving philosophies.
Concern appears on the young curator's face.
Ezra: What happened?
37: This is the answer. It doesn't match the numbers you entered into the device, so it went wrong.
37: You need to adjust this number, and you will reach the correct solution.
Medicine Pocket: What? That's impossible!
The draft paper is snatched away. This genius biological researcher who has produced several groundbreaking results in the field of arcanum is no ordinary individual. After a moment, they look up.
Medicine Pocket: Guess what? You were right.
Medicine Pocket: However!
A word indicating a turn, spoken with a particularly firm tone.
Medicine Pocket: You can't just say "adjust a number" and be done with it. The problem isn't solved yet.
Medicine Pocket: How do we actually make that change? This isn't just some adjustable parameter. It's the real world, kid!
37: You mean it's a dependent variable in another function? No problem. Show me the formula.
Medicine Pocket: No, that's not what I mean. Come on, you can't talk about hard numbers and say, "Just change it!"
37: Why not?
37: During my time at the computing center, many people came to me saying, "37, I don't understand why the data is like this. You understand the language of numbers. Tell me what they're saying."
37: They were confused by data anomalies, but there are no "unknown exceptions" or "inexplicable errors."
37: No number is "wrong." It's just that you simply haven't discovered the appropriate theorem to include it.
The girl's face has no hint of pride. She says it as if stating an undeniable fact.
37: If you're confused, then it's because you haven't yet discovered the real pattern.
37: I'd be happy to help, just like I helped the others.
All present in the office hold their breath for a moment.
Medicine Pocket: Wow.
Medicine Pocket: You sure have a big mouth for such a little girl. You think all the puzzles have answers, and you can solve them, just like that?
37: Yes, and no. There are so many puzzles in the universe. Even if the first challengers couldn't solve them, their attempts became the foundation for future attempts.
37: I just think the problem at hand isn't so difficult that we need to leave it to our successors.
Medicine Pocket: Ha! I gotta say ... I haven't come up against a challenge quite as interesting as this in a long time.
The situation seems to be veering toward the chaotic, until someone realizes it is time to intervene.
Mesmer Jr.: Perhaps you two could calm yourselves and be a little more rational in your discussion. Especially you, Medicine Pocket. You know that 37 didn't mean it that way.
Medicine Pocket: What do you mean, especially me? You were standing right here! You heard what she said, right? She started it, so don't go picking on me.
The intervention has little effect, and the conflict seems to be escalating.
Fortunately, there is another participant who has long been skilled at mediating conflict in his own way.
X: Attention everyone! Who would like some ice cream?
All eyes turn toward him.
Mesmer Jr.: You can't be serious, right?
Medicine Pocket: Get bent. Do you think I'm still in kindergarten?
37: What's ice cream?
His initial attempt ran into an unanticipated challenge, but he knows how to regain control.
X: There's a shop in the refreshments area over there.
X: My treat.
The last two words have a predictable effect.
Medicine Pocket: Now you're in for it. I want the full works.
With the first breaking of the ice and the first scoop of ice cream, things become easier.