Part 7: Sand and Gold

Sophia: This island holds so many quirks ...
Sophia: ... and 37 possesses the greatest of them all.
Sophia: She was born with her own set of numbers, always clear about where she's headed.
Sophia: When she speaks of those never-ending numbers on the beach, those beautiful proofs ...
Sophia: It feels like coming face to face with eternity.
Sophia: At the same time, I deeply understand my own simplicity and ordinariness.
Sophia: There's nothing wrong with letting the stars shine where they should, and those who look up will continue to look up.
Sophia: Tidying the lab, managing her hair, listing supplies, receiving guests ...
Sophia: There's no need for these little things to occupy 37's attention. Her time should be spent on more significant research.
Sophia: But beyond all that, 37 is like a bright star, newly born.
Sophia: She disregards conventions, is curious about many new things, and has a playful, carefree spirit.
Sophia: ... Just like any other childhood friend.
Sophia: 37 has her own pursuits ...
Sophia: And I have a task to complete—verify the answers 37 gives.
Sophia: ...
She touched her father's notebook, closing her eyes.
She remembered many vivid fragments.
Sifting sands on the beach, the sting of her fingers as she polished his lenses,
the fragrance of cinnamon and chickpeas lingering in the air.
A ship cleaves through the water's surface, approaching the shore, before disintegrating amid fading cheers.
Then, everything moved forward. Beyond the surging waves, back to humble streets.
Memories from beyond the island that belonged exclusively to Sophia, reaching back to her blurry childhood impressions.
She was different from that lone star, suspended in the sky. She was born to the tangible and belonged to this dim world of phenomena.
She rummaged through her jar of memories, in search of some trinket worthy of trading for a coin.
Indeed, she was a diligent, serious girl.
And so, after examining every small stone in the jar, she finally found a satiating answer.
Sophia: ... I understand now.
Sophia: 6333434533.
Sophia: This isn’t just a string of numbers, a sequence, a proverb, or some new truth we've yet to comprehend ...
Sophia: It's a musical score.
37: ... A musical score ... ? What's that?
The word wasn't within 37's scope of thought.
She widened her eyes in surprise, showing her curiosity plainly.
Sophia: People often use this method to notate melodies. This musical score is the beginning of a song.
Sophia: It's quite a popular tune in my hometown, one which my father loved to hum ...
Sophia: ... He must have poured his heart into these questions.

If she could just recall the initial notes, the subsequent phrases would naturally follow.
At first stumbling and hoarse, soon the song became fluent, resonating across the quiet beach.
37: I knew numbers could be music, but why didn't I think of it earlier—I was so close!
37: A musical score ...  but I've never heard of this notation method!
37 didn't stay low for long; she quickly perked up, genuinely praising her companion's revelation.
37: That's a lovely song; and you sing it well, Sophia.
210: I suppose everyone got what they wanted.
210: You've solved the puzzle, Sophia uncovered the song her father left behind ...
210: ... And I won.
37: Why?! My initial theory was correct; this string of numbers did have a deeper meaning after all!!
210: But you glossed over the musical score.
210: As I foresaw, this had nothing to do with you from the start.
210: It's just a distant hometown ballad that a father left for his daughter, with no profound meaning, no wonderful wisdom, no transcendent truth.
210: But you just had to whimsically stir things up again to satisfy your curiosity.
210: Everything tilts around you, regardless of whether it gets disturbed, shattered—or at times accomplished.
210: That's the genius the people talk about.
210: But don't worry, my words are just inconsequential grains of sand compared to you, the Star of Hermes, the golden treasures are buried in this endless beach, aren't they?
210: Everyone's willing to play along; after all, flocking to a genius is much more interesting than following an ordinary person.
37: But I played the game and verified it ...
37: And I told Sophia there must be a secret in the notebook.
37: I ...
This was a rare moment—37 was at a loss for words.
Bewildered, she looked at Sophia with a furrowed brow, hoping to hear a judgment strong enough to defeat 210.
Sophia: I agree ...  210 has won.
37: ... ?!
37: Ah ... alright.
Her shoulders slumped as all the inspiration that had driven her thus far vanished in a breath.
This time, 37 didn't perk up again.
Instead she hung her head and kicked at some sand, before burying her head in her robe like a seabird.
Sophia: It’s true ...  This notebook doesn't contain the wondrous wisdom of the scriptures.
Sophia: The string of numbers could only be solved by me, because others didn’t know Hugh.
Sophia: 210 was the first to predict this result, that's undeniable.
Sophia: —But I still believe that 37 achieved her goal too.
Sophia’s words spared 37 from sinking deeper into the shallow holes she’d already made in the sand with her feet.
She froze, waiting to hear what Sophia was going to say next.
Sophia: No matter what you think, it was 37 who first uncovered these numbers, bringing this memory back to me.
Sophia: If it wasn't for her determination, I wouldn't have had the chance to hear this song again.
Sophia: ... I still remember what 37 told me, about the proof of the existence of infinite prime numbers.
37: Hmm ... ?
Sophia smiled at her, as 37 nodded both enthusiastic and confused.
Sophia: My father, Hugh, was a Corrector like me. He was the previous person responsible for handling matters off the island.
But over time, his name faded into obscurity, leaving behind only a sharp-edged cube, a dusty notebook, and a pair of broken glasses.
Sophia: Like the formula 37 once etched on the beach, his memory has long been washed away by the waves.
Sophia: Although Hugh’s spirit has returned to its source ...
Sophia: We can still hear the melody he left behind.
Sophia: Perhaps the one who first sang this song has been swept away by time, faded into nothingness ...
Sophia: But his notes still echo into eternity.
Sophia: Just as we recall the proof Euclid penned over two thousand years ago.
Sophia: Like 37 said, the power of proof lies in its simplicity and universality.
Sophia: This tune holds a certain universality too.
Sophia: Yes, it's not a mathematical theory in the truest sense, and it doesn't speak to the essence—
Sophia: It’s only a gleaming shard left by Hugh like grains of sand reflecting faint light on the shore.
Sophia: Yet, this universality allows it to persist through time, crossing vast spaces, and arriving at this moment and place.
Sophia: Let's take a moment to listen to this song.
Sophia: To simply listen.
The disputes and differences dissolved in the soft breath of the breeze.
The beach returned to silence; and only the melody lingered.