Saturday, April 23, 2011
Given 1 stationary point A and varying another point B, we could define an infinite number of 1-dimensional lines intersecting A. There would exist lines that did not intersect A. Although these lines could be skew, we will call them parallel to the lines intersecting A or B.
Given 2 stationary points A and B, and varying another point C, we could define an infinite number of 2-dimensional planes intersecting A and B. There would exist planes known as parallel planes which did not include A, B, or C.
Given 3 stationary points, A, B, and C, and varying another point D, we could theoretically define an infinite number of spaces intersecting A, B, and C. There would also supposedly exist parallel spaces not containing points A, B, C. D.
Also, the intersection of any two intersecting lines is a point. The intersecting of any two intersecting planes is a line. The logical continuation implies that the intersecting of any two intersecting spaces is a plane.
Summary: Given n stationary points, and varying another point, we could define an infinite number of regions with n+1 dimensions. For any region, there are theoretically parallel regions with the same number of dimensions, which do not intersect the first region. The intersection of any two intersecting n-dimensional regions is a n-1 dimensional region.
Implications: Given the ability to move in a new direction, (such as an ant existing in a plane suddenly gaining flight), we could either 1) Move from our current n space to a n+1 space (i.e. higher dimensions), 2) Move from our current n space to an intersecting n region (i.e. an alternate dimension), or 3) Move from our n-space to a parallel n-region (i.e. a parallel universe). Note that in the cases of 2 and 3, we would not need to retain our newfound ability to move in a new direction.
And there you have it. That's my take on the science of science fiction.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
To the compulsory bending
Of the mind.
As the brilliant and the less-blessed
Still each racing heart within chest
While their crowded minds show progress
They attempt to prove on each test
That they take.
The students all are cramming.
Their heads they all are slamming
'Gainst their palms.
With red bull kegs
They stay awake
Praying for the Lord to take
Great care in making sure they make
A passing grade.
Every morn' of wretched week
An hour late, alarm clocks beep.
Tires squeal and brakes all squeak.
The college kids begin to weep.
They're running late again.
"Overworked" - an understatement,
Panicked feet all pound the pavement.
Grading curves anticipated
Never seem to help.
Three exams or more, per day,
Three hours long apiece, they slay
The sense of hope with quick decay.
The student's thoughts try not to sway
From task at hand.
But ink and white won't ever stop
They blur with every tear that drops
Til finally the time runs out.
Professors' hearts refuse to flutter,
But their TA's begin to mutter
Dirty words about the utter
Monotony of grading.
Finally, final grades deployed
Bring screams of pain or cries of joy
That mingle in the madness.
Throughout the halls and dormitories,
The long semester's pains and glories
Are retold in the countless stories
Of students, bold or broken.
Seniors wave a glad goodbye
While freshmen's mothers start to cry.
Sophomores, juniors, heave a sigh:
"Now, here we go again."
Monday, April 4, 2011
T-minus 12 hours until F-day. In the week since Sid had entered the Tulgey Woods, this would-be-warrior had managed in killing a total of two mosquitoes, three bushes, and a very sarcastic stick. Needless to say, he was getting discouraged. The severe lack of monsters was undermined by the even more severe lack of food. He had run out of hummus and pita bread earlier that day.
The absence of food wouldn't have been much of a problem except that after a few hours in the woods, Sid got hungry. That is to say, he wanted to ingest something of substance into his digestive system. In short, he wanted edible things in his mouth. In other words, Sid desired to fill the large hole in his stomach by means of nourishment in food form. Within Sid's mind, the only thoughts were of objects that possessed both eatable and edible qualities.
"Take berries for instance," thought Sid, "Berries are both eatable and edible. If I had a berry right now, I could do one of two things with it. 1: I could eat it, or 2: I could et it."
"And to be sure," he started to say aloud, "I would do one of those two things very quickly. This is for two reasons. 1: I am very hungry, and 2: I strongly wish to eat."
He continued while getting louder, "I may also, under certain circumstances, such as the one in which I now find myself, even be persuaded to look for a second berry after finishing my business with the berry of whose existence I hypothesized first."
His voice rose until he was shouting: "And I shall do to that berry as I did to the first! And if I find a third, like unto the second, I shall invoke upon that berry the fate prescribed by my treatment of that berry's predecessors! AND FURTHERMO...."
But that was as far as Sid got with his queer mixture of logic, fantasy, and madness. He had collapsed from exhaustion and understandably, hunger. Shortly afterward, Ishmael discovered the boy while walking home from work. Being the kind-hearted individual that he was, Ishmael delivered a nice sound kick to the head of the misplaced youth.
Sid woke up swinging his sword wildly. "What the cheesing father of Frankfurt!?!"
"Are you all right?" asked Ishmael calmly, "I saw you trip and hit your face. It looked pretty bad."
Sid rose carefully to his feet, "It feels like I've been kicked in the head."
"Yeah, that happens sometimes," replied Ishmael, "You're lucky that you're still alive. Not everyone survives the Tumtum tree." Ishmael pointed upwards.
"Tumwhat huh?" asked Sid. He looked up to see the branches, leaves, and fruit, of an enormous tree. At least, he thought that it was a tree. But it didn't touch the ground. The trunk was about 15 feet off the ground.
"Tumtum tree. It possesses magical powers. If you stand beneath its branches, your thoughts become focused on the most trivial of things possible. I once spent 4 hours thinking of ways to improve my wife's eggplant casserole. I was so wrapped up in trying to decide between adding paprika or serving it with potatoes. that I almost forgot to keep breathing."
"What'd you do?"
"I ended up sneaking it one bite at a time to the family cat. I would have gotten away with it too, if the cat hadn't died."
"That's not what I meant," said Sid, tiring quickly of the pointless conversation, "Anyways, it was slightly bemusing to meet you. I guess I'll see you around." Sid made a motion that suggested that it was time for Ishmael to leave.
Ishmael obligingly turned and walked away with the parting remark, "I wouldn't hang around here for long. I hear Mr. Wellkey will be by any moment."
Sid's heart skipped a beat in excitement. He looked down to the sword in his hand. The blade gleamed in the bits of sunlight that escaped through the leaves of the Tumtum tree overhead. The sheer vorpality of it was enough to make a grown man cry.
"It won't be long now," thought Sid nervously, "Time to be a hero."
Don't miss Chapter 4 - "Mortal Combat" or "From Whence Cometh the Whiffling?"
Friday, April 1, 2011
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch" - Lewis Carroll
T-minus 1 week until F-day.
It was the kind of morning in which it seemed like something should happen. And indeed, "happen" was exactly was something did. And that something was this:
The day broke.
And on this especial morning, the day broke with an excessive amount of noise and commotion. The Royal Guard of Those Individuals Who Possess a Certain Knack for Fixing Things Which Break was immediately summoned to the scene of the supposed accident.
"First the suicidal Dumpy fellow and now this," muttered the first guard, "I need a raise."
"Well, look at it this way, First Guard, we did get to sharpen our 3d puzzle skills" said the second cheerily.
"That's all well and good, Mr. Second, but look at this mess," said First while pointing at the ground where the wounded day lie, "This is isn't a normal daybreak. This day actually broke!"
Second quickly acknowledged First's point and phoned his counterpart: Corporal II of The Royal Guard of Those Individuals Who Possess a Certain Knack for Fixing Things Which Broke. By the time the corporals arrived, the day was quite dead and forever broken beyond repair.
First Guard was rather angry after wasting his morning on something so far out of his jurisdiction. He had missed his favorite morning routine of watching his elderly father balance eels on the end of his nose and had also forgotten to arrange for a ride to school for Sid, his son. It didn't much matter though. Sid played hooky with the wild abandon of someone playing Russian Roulette with an empty gun.
The rules of hooky are simple. It's a sort of hide and go seek with the exception that if you're found, you must lie your face off until the seeker goes away. This game is played as sort of a warm-up to Cops and Robbers, which is then followed by Let's See How Many Times I Can Bang My Head Against the Prison Bars or Batman and Robbers depending on skill level and the severity of one's crimes.
When First got back to his house, he found that Sid had gotten a head start in the endless, pointless game of Hooky. First headed straight to The Hummus House. There he found Sid.
"Sid! I knew you'd be here!" exclaimed the worried father.
"How'd you find me?" asked Sid calmly. "Was it the note I left that said: 'I'll be at the Hummus House.' that clued you off?
"Well, yes....partially that," First coughed nervously, "but it was mostly father's intuition."
"Anyways," he continued, "You should come home. It's dangerous to be out on a broken day. Anything can happen. There are bandersnatchs and Jubjub birds everywhere!"
Sid put all his effort into looking as bored as humanly possible.
"Keep quiet, father dearest. I've decided to go have some fun with this." Sid unsheathed an impossibly large sword with a thousand pointed rivets. It looked more like a chainsaw or cactus than a sword, yet Sid tossed it from hand to hand with ease.
First looked a little surprised, "When I was a boy, I asked permission before I bought some piece of vorpal junk on craigslist. Now put that thing away before you poke someone's face off."
"Please, Dad? What if I just go and kill some monsters real quick?" asked the innocent little boy armed with the weapon of mass destruction. "I promise I'll be back in time for dinner."
"I suppose that's fine...but try not to get into trouble."
"Bye! Thanks, pops!" And with that Sid left, and skipped bravely into the woods with his meat cleaver in hand.
First started to order some hummus to-go, but then remembered something. He rushed out the front door of the Hummus House and called into the distance: "And stay away from Esquire Wellkey!!!
But it was too late. He had already gone.
Up next, Part 3 - "The Thrill of the Hunt" or "Here Wocky, wocky, wocky..."