37: Ha-ha~
37: This new dish tastes wonderful. Why has no one thought of putting fruit in sour yogurt before?
Sophia: I'm glad you like it. I learned the combination before coming to this island.
37: If you ask me, the flavor tastes just like 143.
37: 11 and 13 are both good numbers, and together they factor into another excellent number!
It was an ordinary day in all respects. Sophia and I grabbed some food and lounged by the gazebo in the square.
210: Nice, another compliment true to your style.
37: OhâI didn't realize you were here too.
Of course, so did 210.
37: Keep your head down, 210.
210: Please, this is hardly an appropriate time, 37.
210: ...
Although I think the number 210 is significantly overestimated by the public, I wouldn't hate a walking grapevine stand.
37: Heh heh. It's been a while since I ate the grapes on your head. They're still so sweet.
37: I'm thinking of grabbing a few more to try them in this yogurtâ
210: Please, 37, we're not kids anymore.
210: No more leaping up to snatch grapes from my head like old times! It's undignified!
37: Oh, don't be like that.
I like grapes and other fruits. I like their blend of tart and sweet flavors.
37: Carrying around grapes is one of your few endearing qualities. Don't downplay it.
Sophia: ... Ha-ha.
37: Sophia? Why are you smiling?
Sophia: Oh, nothing, just feeling nostalgic. It's been ages since we've all been together for a meal like this. It reminds me of when we were younger.
Sophia: Back then, we had fewer responsibilities and more time to just be together.
Sophia: We'd meet up for meals now and then and even head to the beach for some fun.
210: As I recall it was that gift that first brought the four of us together.
Sophia: Right, the gift I gave to Atticus.
Sophia: I was new to the island then, and Atticus had been so helpful to me. So, I decided to make him a hat out of Anatolian fabric.
210: "It's because his hair has gotten so long, always falling over his eyes and getting in the way of his reading."
210: Our Star of Hermes gave us a great suggestion.
It's only when we look back that we realize how far we've come.
Talking about the past brings us some joy.
37: A scarf or hat is too plain, it fades over time and lacks geometric beautyâ
37: We should give him a diadem headpiece, a sturdy and slender one. That way, it won't be too hot in the summer or get damp in the rainy season.
Stretching out my hands, I make a fitting triangular shape with the index fingers and thumbs of both hands.
37: And equilateral triangles are the best shape! It would make a unique gift!
37: It's just a pity ... that the plan fell through ...
210: That's why I always say Atticus should thank me.
210 has begun to eat the grapes draping from his head as well, a sure sign that he's beginning to relax.
210: It was me who met you in front of the blacksmith's shop and reshaped the crown into a more angular circle.
210: Otherwise, he'd always hurt himself when he bumped into things.
37: No, not at all.
37: Comfort is pointless. The essential beauty of mathematics is far more important, like the clothes we wear!
Sophia: Regardless, he accepted my gift, and the crown indeed helped keep his hair in place.
Sophia: Maybe I can volunteer to deliver Atticus's meal today, bring him some fruit and yogurt, and have a chat with him.
37: Not today.
After finishing my fruit and yogurt, I have other things I must do.
I have planned it all out and set the time earlier.
37: That task has already been assigned to me today.
This is my first time on meal delivery duty.
Most of the time, I'm preoccupied with much more demanding tasks. It required me to spend some time explaining my reasons.
37: 6!
Atticus: 37 ... ?
He must be surprised by my arrival.
As surprised as when he first heard me call him 6 instead of Atticus.
37: I have something I want to talk to you about; you can eat while listening.
I cross the porch and then stoop to pass through the low inner door.
His retreat room is dim, cramped, and completely windowless. The floor is littered with books, some open, some closed.
Placing the meal on the small table, I sit down across from Atticus.
37: This is fruit with sour yogurt, a combination Sophia learned from the outside. It tastes very much like 143, in the best way.
Atticus: ... Thank you.
I scan the book 6 is reading; Euclid's "Elements", nothing more than a basic primer in our school.
A small hill of books lies beside him, their edges showing signs of having been turned. He must have read them all.
Atticus: But why are you here? Itâs not your job to deliver meals to those in retreat.
Atticus: Is there something you need from me?
He ponders, and seems to answer his own question wordlessly.
He seems different from usual.
37: I'm not good at debates outside of proofs, but you've always been so smart and precise. 210's reasoning is too absurd and flowery, and Sophia's answers feel too mild.
37: 6 is just right to answer such questions. The bigger 6 lacks spare time, always talking about the ship, too busy to even stop for a moment.
37: So, I came to youâthe smaller 6, as opposed to the bigger 6.
Atticus seems to have finally gotten used to me calling him 6.
But many people on the island still call him Atticus. They say there can't be two 6s on the island at the same time.
Atticus: She will make time for you. She values you all ... and she is better at exploring these kinds of issues.
37: You're just not one for talking, it's not that you're bad at thinking.
Atticus: She is the current 6.
37: It makes no difference to me. She is a 6, and so are you. You are the same in essence.
My questions are ready, but the path forward isn't smooth. This is a common occurrence in calculations, but I won't be discouraged by it.
If one path is blocked, take a detour; if all paths are blocked, climb through the bushes.
Bushes and walls of books aren't all that different; I know how to climb past them to reach my destination.
37: 26 thinks I shouldn't overlook the process of proof.
37: I know that. My mother taught me the same. Steps should be imprinted on paper and actualized to give more meaning to the results.
37: But 26 believes that even proof leading to a wrong result should be documented. To me that seems ... inexplicable!
37: Everyone knows that the result of a proof is what matters most. A proof that's wrong shouldn't even exist from the start. Like your "Elements," it wouldn't include false theorems.
37: I think he's wasting time. Focusing on such trivialities only distracts from our judgment of true essence.
37: But I can't decide whether I am right or wrong. I need your help.
He closes "Elements" and turns towards me.
I suddenly realize it's been a long time since we last met. His blue eyes are becoming more like those of 6. Yes, as they should. 6s are the same in essence.
Atticus: You mean 26, the sincere man who, in his youth, led the children of Apeiron in their training, including you and me.
Atticus: 37, why do you need to know the right or wrong in this?
37: What kind of question is that? Everything ought to have an answer; I just want to know it! That's all.
He smiles and shakes his head.
Atticus: Words kill the essence. I think 26 just wanted to keep a record of your trials and errors to inform future seekers. He's always valued the passing down of knowledge, and you were always the trailblazer.
Atticus: He's sincere but also clumsy. He probably quickly forgot his original purpose when it came to you.
Atticus: Perhaps you both lost sight of each other's motives in the argument. Did you quarrel?
37: ... Hmm.
6 is right. It wasn't a pleasant debate between 26 and me. Since Sophia's arrival, I've not seen anyone give me that kind of look.
37: Alright, I understand about 26's mindset. But I still want to know, is there any value in a proof with a conclusion that turns out to be wrong?
Occasionally, such questions would cause 6 to ponder briefly, but now, his response is swift.
Looks like I'm in luck.
Atticus: 37, value is relative.
37: Well it shouldn't be! People ought to only value a proof because it's correct!
37: If there's no measure for judgment, why do we distinguish right from wrong at all?
Atticus: ...
I actually don't care about the answer to this question. It's irrelevant to mathematics.
But debates over definitions are always my weakness. Though I'm convinced that I'm right, I fail to convince others.
Numbers are solid and reliable, while language is vague and unclear. People argue endlessly over rhetoric and semantics, shifting focus away from the essence of things.
6 is the best of us at these questions. He always finds a fable that makes things simple and understandable.
I wait for 6 to tell me a fable so that the next time I get into a debate, I can come up with a perfect example.
Atticus: I'm sorry, 37 ...
Atticus: I can't help you with that right now.
6 shifts his gaze away, turns a page, and adjusts the angle of the crown pressing on his head.
It looks like it would make a fine paperweightâthe metallic triangle is certainly more ideal than fabric in that role.
37: I can wait for you to finish your page.
Atticus: No ... it's not about the page. I truly don't know how to answer your question.
Atticus: Or maybe I'm searching for that answer too.
I watch him close the book, sliding it back into the mountain of others.
37: So when youâre done reading all these books, will you have the answer?
Atticus: ...
Atticus: I don't know.
Atticus: But it's better to try something than to do nothing at all.
37: Hmm ... ?
That doesn't sound like his usual style. And I feel like I've heard it somewhere else.
He really has changed. It's strange; can appearances change so noticeably while the essence remains the same?
There must be a key to this.
37: So ⌠Is this a proof you have to give?
37: One that requires a room full of books and a long retreatâthe ultimate proof?
37: Then you should've told me earlier. I don't want to be taken by Abraxas, and be tied to a rock to have my eyes pecked out by vultures!
Atticus: ...
Atticus: No, it's not that serious. I'm just contemplating the nature of "6".
Atticus: ... Maybe this is indeed a proof, one about my own number.
37: Hm? But you already know the answer. What's there left to prove?
6's answer seems to wait on a breath. He flips through the book with a faint smile.
Atticus: ... In that lies a whole other question entirely, 37.
Atticus: Does a proof with a correct conclusion have any value?
In that single phrase 6 has utterly bewildered me.
I am 37, he is 6, right from birth. Neither of us ever proved our numbers, but we simply know the answer to be right.
It's enough; the essence cannot change. So why would 6 ask such a question?
It's a needless worry, a waste of effort.
But I suddenly feel I shouldn't disturb him anymore.
The work of a proof mustn't be interrupted or hindered; that's a rule everyone knows.
He escorts me to the door of his retreat room, and I stoop again to pass through the low inner door.
This door, obstructing vision as well as movement, makes it feel more like a cave than a doorway. It makes the retreat seem even more sealed off.
37: Heyâokay, I'm out!
I can't clearly recall how I bid farewell to 6 or whether he cautioned me to watch my step. I know I didn't get a straight answer from him; only another question was tacked onâone that left me confused and a little dizzy.
Fortunately, just as I leave the cave and feel the night sea breeze, a solution that I had disregarded earlier comes back to me. A perfectly timed epiphany.
I hurry home to write it down.
On the way, I cross paths with Sophia again, she expresses some concern for 6 and asks me about him.
Does he read a lot? Is he still in good health? Is he working on a proof? What kind of proof is it?
He's read many books, as many as a small mountain.
His health is fine. He eats well and breathes evenly.
I know nothing of his proofâbut in any case, it seems to be a proof about himself.
