Old One #4


Nothing but algebra equations. I am dividing the world into halves; I am giving everything a number, a fraction. I am taking away names and faces, I am taking away random chaos and I am forced to assign numbers to everything.

A nightmare.

Wesley calls me up and says "like a cheese grader was being drug across my eyes" and this is something I can actually feel for a brief moment as I hang up the phone.

Later on, submersing myself in algebra, I discover the mathematical expression for you soul; it all comes to me while sitting on the toilet. I begin a long tedious task of mapping it out and double-checking my calculations. Because of this discovery, theology is able to prosper again, and for the first time in a long time, there is a happy marriage between religion and science. For there first time in a long time there is hope.