Coherent Nonsense (A Parody on Science Talk) (A Short Story)

Warning: The following story contains sentences of highly incorrect science, designed to be a parody of the babel frequently found in TV and films.

“Activate the Portable Injector,” my director ordered whilst eagerly watching the experiment through triple thick glass. “We’re about to make an important discovery people,’ he smiled. My director was a middle-aged man in his forties, hell-bent on earning a Nobel Prize before he turns fifty. An achievement he would surely earn if this experiment is successful.

I’m only in my late twenties. I was brought in to oversee the maths, and that’s it. This experiment was so important, my director made sure that we had one person on each section only, so no one person was stretching their skills with two sections, and therefore reducing their concentration, subsequently preventing the experiment becoming a success. A tactic that most certainly worked up until now as no one became stressed. We were all allowed to focus on our strengths. A tactic that would be truly tested much the same as the skin cell that’s about to be penetrated.

The robotic arm swung round slowly, holding the needle that would transport liquefied Barium Hexaboride (BaB₆) into a human skin cell. The experiment is to see if the skin cell would become tough enough to withstand attacks. If this works, it would be the first truly indestructible cell, and would pave the way to making our bodies resistant to knifes, bullets, and other sharp instruments that one may come across during their day to day life.

I had been working on this experiment for months, calculating every minute detail, making sure it would work perfectly. We’ve spent an incredible amount of money on the trial runs, we cannot afford any problems during the main course.

My heart is in my throat, beating fast. If I have made one tiny mistake at any point during my highly complex math, this experiment would be a bust. A lot is riding on this very moment. I am confident it’s going to go well; I’ve double checked and triple checked my work, even constructed a specific software that’s designed to check through the maths a lightning speed and correct any mistakes. That cost a few thousand’s pounds, but it would be worth every penny if this experiment works. Of course, it might not be my maths that makes it go awry, but instead the equipment itself. Someone else could have made a mistake. Of course, if the experiment does go wrong, the first thing we have to check would be the maths.

The robotic arm finally stopped above the cell, ready to inject it with the liquid. This is it; make or break.

“When you’re ready, Simmons,” my director said, “push the button to activate the needle.” My director may sound cool, calm, and collected, giving off the impression he’s seen countless experiments like this being performed in front of him every day, but that small twinge in his voice subtly gives it away that he’s just as nervous as everyone else. He’s the director, so he must be professional, but at the same time, he’s the director, and so this experiment must work or he’s going to be shouted at by those above him.

Simmons was the same age as me, but and specialised in robotics. It was his job to make sure everything works according to my calculations. We spent so much time working together, we knew how each other think. I learnt an incredible amount of robotics and he learnt a vast amount of mathematics, and together we built a contraption that we were confident would not fail.

He pushed the yellow button on the console in front of him. We discussed creating a piece of software to initialise the specific sections of the experiment, but we settled on the fact it would be much more satisfying pushing an actual button, and Simmons didn’t have to rely on a piece of software making all the commands, when he specialised in making the commands himself. When to push the button, what button to push, and fix any non-working button, which we hope today there are none.

The room we were in wasn’t massive. It held only us three and a few computers that sat around the perimeter. Whilst we were given a grant of millions of pounds to conduct this experiment, we had only ourselves and not a massive head count of hundreds of personal. At times, we really wanted more people, but we managed to conquer those tough moments and carry on forward, toward what we believed was complete and total success.

As the needle descended toward the skin cell, the entire room was quiet. Everyone stopped breathing. All that could be heard was the silent hum of the computers surrounding us in our small room. The needle pierced the cell, and the liquefied Barium Hexaboride entered, spreading to the very edges of the cell. The needle retracted, and now we wait.

Every trial run before this was met with complications. The cell wouldn’t hold the liquid, the liquid damaged the cell making it weaker than before, and even when the liquid stayed inside, it didn’t do as planned. Millions of pounds later, many sleepless nights of furious number crunching, scientific explorations, it all comes down to these next few seconds. The liquid must remain in the cell, react with the chemicals in the cell, solidify without breaking the cell’s membrane, and hopefully create an indestructible cell.

Minutes went by.

“The cell’s holding steady, Sir,” Simmons said to the director, “we’re having perfect levels of solidity.”

“Excellent,” the director said. He was concentrating so intensively to react in any way. His face remained blank and neutral whilst he watched the experiment. I’m starting to genuinely believe time has slowed down. One eye is staying fixated on the clock on the wall, and the second hand is taking forever to tick round each minute. I’ve only just noticed how uncomfortable this chair has become – I must have sat here all day as I went over my maths for the umpteenth time – I may have worn out my processor just by making it run the calculations over and over again, just to satisfy your brain. It got to that point where I had to run the simulation and see it light up with green to indicate success just to satisfy my panicking brain. I’ve done this about twenty times today, and one more for luck.

“Solidity completed,” Simmons said, breaking the illusion of time being stopped.

“Load up the gun and fire when ready,” the director breathed outward, trying not to show his nerves, but paradoxically, him blocking his nerves allows everyone to read his body language and decipher that he’s absolutely bricking it. My heart’s beating almost unbearably fast, I can only imagine what his is like.

Simmons pressed a button on the console in front of him, releasing a vice holding the bullet, which dropped into the gun. It was a specially modified gun that didn’t need cocking to fire, but instead was just a simple barrel with gun powder at the end. When the trigger was pulled, the bullet would be released at the cell, and hopefully bounce off. That’s why we have the tough glass in front of us; we’re expecting ricocheting.

“Testing skin cell loaded up with liquefied Barium Hexaboride indestructability in 3… 2… 1… he pushed another button, the gun fired. In that split second, our eyes closed as our entire bodies reacted to the sound. We wanted to watch as the bullet hit and failed to penetrate the cell, but instead we only saw the inside of our eyelids. When we opened them, we saw a few remnants of smoke floating upward, and there, in front of us, was a fully intact cell. When we checked a computer screen that had readings specifically dedicated to telling us if the bullet had hit, we discovered that it had done so, which meant the cell was indestructible. The experiment had worked.

The entire room’s atmosphere went from tense to disbelief to happiness in seconds. We stared at the cell, not entirely sure we should be seeing it still intact, but realising that it truly was, and we smiled. We smiled broadly.

“Congratulations, team,” my director said, breathing a sigh of relief. “A successful experiment. You’re earnt yourself a few rounds of drinks at the bar, and I get to say to my superiors tomorrow that it worked. They’ll be delighted with the news.”

After the congratulatory part is over, we can focus on stage two, and that’s expanding the research. If we can make more cells bullet proof, hopefully we can make the entire human body bullet proof. That would be a wonderful life-time achievement.

I can only imagine what can stem from this success. Given enough time and patients, now that we have the calculations in front of us, other groups can use them as a template to work with and develop their own experiment and concoction. If they do it right, the possibilities are endless.

However, for tonight, we celebrate at the best bar in now. That bar is where all the scientists go to have a drink and a chat. As sad as it sounds, it’s the only place for us scientists to meet someone who’s interested in our work, instead of going to a random bar in town and only see blank, vacant, uninterested faces as all they want to do is dance, drink, and sleep with you. Nothing formal.

Although, occasionally there are a few people at the bar do only want to go there for the chance of creating havoc, but that’s rarely the case. We go, we drink, we dance, we celebrate our victories, we mingle with fellow scientists about the work we’re conducting and share our work if viable. What is said in the bar usually stay in the bar, unless given permission to take what was discussed back with them to their experiments. It’s a strict rule and anyone breaking that will always be found out, so never attempt to steal people’s research. It can lead to a permanent banning of the bar if caught, but that does depend on the severity of the crime committed.

I cannot wait to tell them that we successfully made a skin cell invulnerable to bullets. I’m practically jumping up and down with excitement at what their expressions will be, especially when a fellow mathematician, Dr. Law, firmly believed that you cannot make a skin cell impervious to bullets. Boy am I going to revel in his shocked expression when I tell him he was wrong.

***

The bar was packed and the counter was heaving with people trying to get served quickly enough so all the seats aren’t taken by the other people. It’s a mad rush, but if I wait a few minutes, it will die down. There has never been a time where all the seats have been taken up. There will always be one available, and that’s because not everyone will sit down. A few people want to stay standing by the counter, because that’s where they’re most comfortable at. Others prefer sitting at the back of the bar, and a decent number of people will venture onto the dance floor, and dance the night away, or until they get exhausted, whichever one comes first.

This bar defeats people’s natural stereotyping. We’re looked at as introverts, who prefer sitting at home with a book, or play a board game instead of a computer game, or search the web for ‘interesting’ facts. Just because we’re scientists, mathematicians, and engineers, doesn’t automatically disallow us from having fun. This place is amazing.

I can understand that a lot of people naturally consider us as boring, because they only see those type of people, because this bar is strictly a secret location. A place where everyone can unload their stress, talk about everything and anything and dance the night away. It’s complete freedom, and that’s why it’s secret, and that’s why people naturally consider us allergic to fun.

The three of us were standing by the entrance, studying the area. Simmons saw someone he is good friends with and signalled that he was going to split and spend time with them. My director headed straight to the counter for a celebratory drink, and I was practically walking on his heels.

“One Gin and Tonic, please,” my director said once he had finally fought his way through the crowd and caught the attention of the bar lady, who, despite the tense atmosphere, and is getting about fifteen different orders thrown at her at any one time, is remaining calm and getting on with it, one order at a time, one drink at a time.

I had considered waiting until the main rush was over, but I unfortunately found myself in the area where, with people moving this way and that, drinks in hands, you will get sucked into the stampede, and all you can do is one of two things – either gradually move towards the bar and place your order, or attempt to move away. Well, since I’m now in the middle of the crowd, and I am here for a celebratory drink, I think it would be a problematic outcome if I decided to wait until the density of the crowd started thinning.

“Coke with ice, please,” I said to the bar lady once I had finally reached the counter. She grabbed a glass from under the counter and a bottle from the fridge behind her, popped the cap off with the bottle opener attached to the side and poured the drink into the glass. She handed me the glass and, said my thanks and went to find a place to sit.

No one has to pay for drinks or food. Everything’s free. I was highly surprised the first time I was told that, and wondered how on Earth this place can keep going without any income from customers. It turns out, this bar is funded by a percentage of the profits made by the many laboratories, telescope centres, and other advanced scientific research centres. Whenever they make a break through and sell it onto whoever can afford it (the price varies depending on what is discovered at the time) and the profits are split between the research centre and this bar. That way, everyone is happy. A decent system, everyone says.

I was able to finally find an empty seat, but it was next to a group of people who were in what appeared to be a deep conversation. I didn’t want to disturb them, but when a woman noticed me out of the corner of her eye, she turned to face me and recognised me.

“Hey,” she said, bringing the sentence the man was saying to a temporary halt. “How are you?”

As much as I want to say I know who she is, I have no clue. If we’ve met before, I cannot remember. Or she may have mistaken me for someone else.

She stood up and beckoned me over, and when she saw my hesitancy, she stepped over to me and introduced herself followed by a question.

“I’m Rebecca. Rebecca Thymes, PH.D, specialising in chemical compounds.” She noticed my confusion and tries to elaborate by explaining when we first met. “Don’t you remember? We were in the same class together at high school, we worked together on a project about mathematical equations. I wasn’t that good at it, but you were, so you practically done all the work.” I was still unsure who she was. She’s putting a lot of detail in front of me, but my mind is still blank.

“I spilt spaghetti down my front when you shouted Eureka upon discovering the solution to the mathematical equation associated with Isoperimetric Dimension in Euclidean Space.”

Oh now I remember.

I unintentionally smiled. “That was rather funny.” I admitted.

“I’m sure it was,” she smiled back, “but I rather liked that spaghetti. My mother made it using her usual method of growing it by cloning the cells. A method only she knows how to do. She still hasn’t told anyone how to clone food. Technically she’s keeping the recipe, you know.” She realised she was going off on a tangent and swerved back to me, “anyway, how are you?”

“I’m good,” I answered, with a smile, catching the eye of the man who was still sitting on the couch behind Rebecca. She noticed and then realised she was leaving him out and so turned back around to introduce him to me and me to him.

“Michael, this is Zack.” She gestured from him to me with her hand, “and Zack, this is Michael, my husband and fellow co-worker.”

“Hi,” Michael said with a subtle nod of the head. He was neither pleased that I can come along, nor disappointed. He remained neutral, but I think he’s mainly trying to remember where he was in the sentence he was saying to Rebecca for when she eventually resumes the conversation, or if not, then he’s going to at least finish what he was going to say, anyway.

“Please sit,” Rebecca pointed to the seat beside Michael. It would be rude not to, but at the same time, awkward. Well, it is awkward for me. Not because of anything that happened during high school, we literally were only workmates on a project and nothing more, but instead that part of my brain that deals with social awkwardness is attempting to overthrow the part that will help me enjoy the situation.

I sat down and took a sip of my Coke. Rebecca sat back down on the seat she was and caught me up on what they were saying before I came along. She spoke with such enthusiasm and excitement it was a wonder she was able to stay coherent throughout all that she wanted to say.

“We were just discussing our recent breakthrough that happened last week. We successfully integrated the chemical compound, Potassium Hexacyanoruthenate(II)hydrate (K₄Ru(CN)₆^.xH₂O) with Tetrabutyantimony(V)bromide ({CH₃(CH₂)₃}₄SbBr) and froze it to minus two-hundred degrees to fuse them together and create a metal that is completely impervious to all temperatures, and is light enough and can be manipulated in various ways, even making thin clothes out of it. Basically, people in artic conditions would never have to worry about the cold ever again, because they would never feel the cold, just warm, comfortable heat. You see, the compound never stops reacting with each other, and constantly gives off a small amount of heat. Call it a heater, if you will. Not harmful in any way. We were just discussing how we can expand on our research from this project and maybe create something even better. Michael was just saying something before I rudely interrupted him. What were you saying, babe?”

“I was just saying that if we had the compound Barium Chromate(V) (Ba₃(CrO₄)₂) it should increase the toughness and help its durability, and maybe increase its possibilities tenfold.”

“I can see that,” she said thoughtfully, “but won’t it create an instant reaction with CH₂; it could make the entire thing blow up.”

“Huh,” Michael said. “Yeah, I guess it would, and he went quiet whilst he thought about it some more.

“So how have you been since the last time we met,” Rebecca asked me now Michael was distracted.

I explained about the successful experiment that was conducted in our laboratory this afternoon, which made her eyes light up with excitement.

“I can see many potential opportunities to expand on that,”

“I’m hoping so, too,” I agreed. “I put a lot of effort into making the maths correct, and burnt through a few processors checking it thoroughly. I’m hoping that software will come in handy for another experiment in the future, because it’s rather powerful.”

“Oh, what software is it?” she asked, intrigued.

“it’s one I built myself. It quickly scans over the maths and inputted and highlights any problems or incorrect equations, stuff like that. You could say it’s just a fancy calculator that automatically solves anything, but those pieces of software are designed for one specific section of maths, whereas mine can incorporate every method into one calculation.”

“So you can come up with some weird and wonderful equations,” Rebecca stated. I nodded, but her curiosity and self-admittance of not having the mental capabilities to fully understand everything mathematical, asked, “Correct me if I’m wrong – and I probably am and this may be a stupid question, but I thought all maths was the same, if you boil it down to the basics.”

I had to think about my answer. It was an interesting and fair question, because, “if you break it down, then yes, all maths is just adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing numbers. However, depending on what you’re thinking about, and what you need to focus on and work out, you do need a different set of equations and symbols. You see, I can write one line of maths only, but it would explain so much – if I were to break each symbol down, I could be taking up many pieces of paper, running out of ink. Those symbols are there just to clarify, not really make things harder. So, yes, in a way, maths is maths and if you break it down, it does become as easy as one plus one.” I was happy with that answer, and so was Rebecca.

“Yeah, well, I was always the type of person that would have to write it all down whilst you flew ahead and solved it in one sentence. That’s why I explored compounds and discovered a talent. Do you have any more experiments lined up?” she asked.

“Not at the moment, but now that I’ve got my software up and running and after I’ve built a working system capable of running it without dying in matter of minutes, then there will be plenty more experiments along the way. How about you, I heard you’re hoping to expand on your recent breakthrough with weather proof clothing, if I understood that correctly?” I asked.

“Yes, we are…” but Michael cut in by offering up another suggestion.

“How about if we dilute the compound created by the isotopes of Potassium and Radium. Surely that would create a specific spark, spreading throughout the material, electrifying the atoms and locking them together tighter than before.”

Rebecca thought of that, and quickly shot it down. “Yes, that may work, but you’re forgetting Radium’s Isotopes mixed with Hexacyanoruthenate’s Isotope, Hexacyanoruthenate(III)hydrate (K₄Ru(CNN)₆^.xH₂O), which is the natural remnant from the reaction of the two main chemicals we used would ignite a nearly impossible-to-extinguish fire.

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said, going back to the drawing board in his mind. He looked happy that he had figured out a potential solution, only for it to be shot down in flames – and I think quite literally would have been shot down in flames, if I understood that correctly, which is kind of funny if you think about it, and considering I just know he’s trying to show off in front of me, because he’s the husband.

Rebecca had finished her drink and put her glass down on the table.

“Would you like another one?” I asked, but Michael stood up, grabbed the glass and said.

“I’ll get it.”

I stared at him as he walked away, a little perplexed. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, specifically, but Rebecca reassured me that there wasn’t anything to worry about.

“He always gets like that. He likes showing off, and when I shoot him down like I did just now, he gets in a huff. When he comes back, he would’ve calm down.”

Oh, OK.

And sure enough, when he returned with two new drinks in his hand, he sat down with a lump in between us. I’m glad that Rebecca thinks he would have calmed down, but I’m not too convinced. He handed Rebecca her Coke, and sipped from his pint of beer and banged it down on the table as if he was in anger. However, considering he does appear to have a surprised look on his face, I think that was an accident. I think.

During that brief interlude, the sounds from the background started back up again. The DJ’s choice in music was the standard disco tunes to get the partying people in the zone. A recognisable beat so they can dance joyfully, without distraction from an unknown song. The current song playing is Time Warp, which comes with a dance that literally everyone on the dance floor is doing the moves to, and the lights surrounding the dance floor were flickering artistically, to the beat, creating a complete atmosphere, one that got Michael tapping his feet.

Rebecca noticed Michael’s want for dancing.

“You can go and dance if you want to,” she said.

“But I thought we were having a decent conversation,” he defended his tapping of the foot. I don’t think he’s much of a dancing man. I think even he was surprised at his foot tapping.

“Yeah, we were, but that doesn’t mean we can resume later on. In fact, we can forget about work for tonight and just focus on having fun, if you want,” Rebecca pushed. “Come on, I’ll come with you if you want,” she said, just to get him enjoying himself.

“Well,” I’m sensing that was his plan all along, and now has to try and mask that with hesitancy, but at the same time accepting her offer without ruining the moment, “if you want to?” he asked.

“Yeah, come on,” and she stood up. So, they were just going to leave me sitting here. Not that I minded, but it was as sudden shift from conversation to dancing; it did catch me a little off guard.

Rebecca turned to me and said, “We’re just going to dance. Michael needs to get it out of his system, then I’ll be back to catch up some more.”

“OK, sure,” I smiled.

Rebecca took Michael’s hand and dragged him away to join the masses on the dance floor. I watched as he was rigid with his moves, and Rebecca had to encourage him to loosen up.

Which left me on my own. That wasn’t a subtle transition, but an awkward one, especially for me. We were in the middle of a casual conversation when suddenly, we’re not. I guess I’ll just have to wait here for them to get back, or go and try and mingle with someone else, something I don’t really see myself doing, not because I’m incapable, but because there’s a small part of me that’s believing it would be rude to leave before they get back. I’m stuck in a situation I really wasn’t expecting to be put into, and one that I shouldn’t really be subjected to.

I took a sip of my drink and placed the glass back down next to Michael’s and Rebecca’s.

“Hi,” a woman’s voice came from the side of me. I turned and saw a stranger standing there, smiling. She was wearing a red dress and was holding a matching purse. Her hair was done up in a bun at the top to bring out her glowing facial features, especially her also red-coloured, semi-thick rimmed glasses, which in turn brought out her green eyes.

“I saw what happened there,” she said, “and I have to say that was rather rude of them. Not that I was watching you or anything,” she quickly clarified in a hurried voice that was drenched in worry, “I just caught a glimpse of you looking perplexed at the sudden transition, that’s all. I came over to ask if you’re alright.”

She seemed nervous.

“Urm,” was all what I could muster through my confusion. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on here.

“Sorry, I’ve made the situation worse, haven’t I?” she asked me, going red with embarrassment. She was stuck between two decisions. I think her brain is telling her that she should go to avoid worsening the situation, but at the same time she wants to remain here, because… again, I’m not entirely sure, but it was nice of her to come over and ask if I was alright, which did brighten my mood, so I shall reassure her that everything is OK.

“No, you’re not worsening the mood,” I said, “and to answer your question, I’m OK. A little shaken from the sudden change of atmosphere, but overall in a good mood. How about yourself?”

I’m not sure she knows how to answer that. I also think she’s struggling to process the fact that I talked to her… Oh.

Does she have a… I think she does… Wait… what’s going on again?

The longer she stood there the more awkward-looking she became. She really wanted to leave, but she also really wants to remain. I think I had better invite her to sit with me before she hurries off and regrets it later, if I’ve understood that correctly.

“Would you like to join me?” I asked.

She went bright red again. I think that confirms exactly what I think it confirms. She appeared to practically force herself forward and sit down beside me, and also gave the impression she was concentrating hard not to lose balance, almost as if she’s a naturally accident prone and doesn’t want to show it, but unintentionally showing it anyway.

“Sorry,” she said, “I should have said something before just moving forward like that,” and gave the expression that she’s not handling this well. She then appeared to want to say something else, but was unable to, due to worrying about it being the wrong thing.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Ah, yes, my name,” she smiled, “I should have started with that, shouldn’t I? My name’s Annie. Your name’s Zack,” she found herself blurting out before I could introduce myself. I was a little taken aback that she knew who I was, but at the same time, as I know what’s going on here, it does make sense.

I just smiled which accidentally turned into a chuckle. Annie believed that chuckle was intended at how absolutely horrendous this entire meeting was, but instead it was at how… Oh…

I stopped chuckling as I realised how quick that was.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have startled you like that,” Annie said. “I gave away too much information there, didn’t I?”

How do I play this one? Do I agree with her, or do I say that I had already figured it out? Or I could remain quiet, but that would only make things worse, so I don’t think there is a valid third option, and only the two that are available aren’t exactly the best.

Annie saved me from choosing by continuing, “Sorry,” she winced at how many times she’s apologised. It’s a spontaneous reaction to anything awkward. “I really should stop apologising. Although, that can be interpreted as me apologising for saying sorry too many times, or you hadn’t done that but now I’ve pointed out to the possible allusion to an apology, you’re not thinking it as such.” All of that came out fast and she breathed in deeply to restore all that lost oxygen. She was going to apologise once more, but held back.

I chuckled again, which made her go bright red once more. I could feel the heat she’s generating through awkwardness from here.

“Would you like a drink, Annie?” I asked.

“Urm, yeah, sure, OK,” she said, now realising that she hadn’t prepared an answer and was now worried that she would spend too long thinking about what drink she wants.

“Coke?”

“Thanks,” she said, relieved. “No ice.”

“Coming up,” I smiled.

I was about to stand up and make my way over to the bar when a waiter came over holding a tray with two glass of Coke on, both without ice. Huh. Almost as if that was prepared beforehand. Intriguing. Was this a set up? Not that I have a problem with Annie being here, but judging by Annie’s social awkwardness, I think she has had a crush on me for some time and Rebecca has set things up so that Annie can finally come over and talk to me.

“Annie,” I started. She acknowledged my tone of voice by being taken aback. “Has Rebecca set this up for you?” I don’t think she could have gone more red – her face was on par with the red strobe lighting that’s currently engulfing the dance floor, where Rebecca and Michael are still dancing – Michael was getting into his grove, but not entirely.

Annie just sighed with defeat.

“Yes. Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” I said, which took her by surprise.

“Nice to meet you, Annie. My name is Zack and I specialise in Advanced Mathematics. What is your name and what do you specialise in?” I asked, starting from the very beginning.

“Oh, urm, my name is Annie, and… urm… I also specialise in Advanced Mathematics.”

“Awesome,” I said, which made her smile.

“I recently discovered that if you pour liquefied Barium Hexaboride into a skin cell and wait for it to solidify, the cell can become bullet proof. What have you discovered lately?” I asked. I’ve gotten the ball rolling, all I need to do is keep it going.

“Urm… Hyper Dimensions,” Annie said excitedly, before elaborating. “Dimensions between dimensions. Little pocket of dimensions.”

Now I’m intrigued, and Annie knew that I was, so she continued.

“You have your regular dimensions, width, depth, and length, time, space, and the rest. Well, after many hours of number crunching and analytical work, I discovered Hyper Dimensions, a place where paradoxical sections of physics sit. Such as movement.”

“Movement is a dimension? Sorry,” I quickly corrected myself to show that I was listening, “a Hyper Dimension.”

Now that I’ve gotten Annie talking about what she likes, there’s no stopping her. She answered my question with speedy enthusiasm.

“Yes. Movement is a paradox. Take an arrow, for example. The archer let it go from his bow and it’s flying through the air. If you stop time, it goes nowhere. And if you think of time as a flipbook, where each flick of the next page keeps the image moving, but stop in the middle of the book and you’re only left with a still image. If you stop time, that arrow is stationary. Skip time forward by one page – slash – frame, and it jumps forward by an amount of distance. That jump forward is determined by the amount of energy is transferred from the archer to the bow to the arrow. Kinetic energy is what is keeping that arrow moving.”

She was sitting bold upright as she continued forward with her explanation.

“Once time has stopped, that arrow does not move. Movement can only occur once time restarts again. Movement is relative to Time and Space, which are two dimensions that are always working in tandem with one another. But my question is, when time is stopped, what happens to the energy that’s propelling it forward? Does the energy stop, too? Yes, because the energy that’s being expelled from the arrow as it flies through the air, is also moving, and if time is stopped, then it can no longer move.”

She was building up the big reveal.

“My maths has proven that movement is a Hyper Dimension, a small pocket dimension that is linked with the two dimensions, Space and Time. Movement can only occur when those two dimensions are active, thus creating that paradox and that paradox is effectively saying movement doesn’t exist, but I’ve just proven that it does via my maths.”

Annie let out a massive sigh of relief that she was finally able to get that off her chest. I think I had the privilege of hearing about her discovery for the very first time.

“What do you think, and be honest, please?” she asked.

I had to take a minute or two to process what she had said.

“Well, I think you need to work on your presentation, but other than that I would say you’ve made an incredible breakthrough that certainly deserves a Nobel Prize.”

“You think so, and yes, I have never been good with presenting my ideas to anyone.”

“I do think so,” I said, knowing how broken that English is, but it conveyed what I wanted to say which is all that matters.

“Thank you.” Annie took a satisfying sip of her Coke. “Yours is a good breakthrough as well,” she attempted to make my revelation be on par with hers, but I outright denied that.

“My revelation is nowhere near yours. Yours leads to a better understanding of the universe and physics and can be explored and built upon for years to come. Your name will be the textbooks and in documentaries…”

“Whilst yours is saving the lives who can build upon those ideas,” Annie said with a confident smile. I went silent.

“Well, when you put it like that,” I said casually contemplatively, which made Annie chuckle for the first time, which made her snort, which made her go bright red again, which made me look at her with a stunned expression that suddenly turned into a laugh, which made her laugh, which made our connection grow stronger.

We eventually calmed down. A particularly bright strobe caught my eye and when it died down, I saw Rebecca and Michael dancing together. I turned to face them, and I saw Rebecca watching us with a huge smile on her face. She saw that I had spotted her, but instead of turning away in an attempt to hide the fact she was watching, she winked at me, as if to say that her work was done.

I turned back to face Annie and continued the conversation

“Why have you called them Hyper Dimension?” I asked.

“I’m not entirely sure. I mean, I came up with a reason when I first discovered them, but I can’t remember what that reason was, and I can’t come up with a better name for them, plus I want to remember the reason,” she explained.

Unfortunately, my attempt at continuing the conversation further was interrupted by the arrival of a worn out Michael who, as he was sitting down, grabbed his drink and gulped it down. Rebecca was following closely. She had that look about her that told me she wanted to leave us alone longer by ordering a drink at the bar, but it appears Michael didn’t want to waste the drink he had ordered ages ago. When he finished, he put the glass down and immediately let out a grotesquely loud burp.

“Michael!” Rebecca protested.

“I was extremely thirsty from all that dancing. I couldn’t help it.”

“You most certainly could have drunk that slower.” Rebecca said, angry at Michael for disturbing our piece. She threw an apologetic look at the both of us, which we responded the only way we could, with the look of “don’t worry about it, we’ll just sit here and wait for it to end”.

“Come on.” Rebecca said, grabbing Michael’s arm and dragging him away.

 “What?” he said, “that burp was a product of my body needing hydration. There was a drink I wasn’t going to waste and it so happened to be fizzy.”

“Don’t try and defend that burp. It was rude and completely uncalled for,” Rebecca shouted as they walked away, their angry voices blending in with the music as they made their way to another seat.

“That was awkward,” Annie said.

“It couldn’t have been more so,” I agreed.

We went silent. Uh Oh. We’ve reached that point where we’ve come to the end of one topic. Sometimes the end of a topic comes naturally or unnaturally, and this time it was the latter, and that has made this moment that much worse. Usually, when a topic ends naturally, there’s still an inkling of what to say next, but when it’s forced to end, we’re just sitting here in silent, practically looking for stuff to talk about, and that’s incredibly awkward, and can ruin the situation.

I can’t even ask her if she would like another drink, because she hasn’t even finished half of the one the waiter brought over earlier. This place does food; I guess I could lead with that.

Oh, I know exactly what I can lead with. I am taking a bit of a risk, but it’s the only way to keep things moving, and maybe, hopefully, it will progress to a different topic so we’re not trying to scrape the bottom of the barrel with this one.

“What what other experiments Hyper Dimensions do you have are there planned in the future?”

We talked over one another. The beginning of the end.

We went silent again.

Should I ask the same question? I think I should wait for her to ask hers, but if she’s waiting for me to ask mine, then we may be in stalemate for some time. OK, I’m going for it.

“What what other experiments Hyper Dimensions do you have are there planned in the future?”

We did it again. We went silent again. We both went red.

“Sorry,” we said together. We both smiled at each other. I think that interaction just now has made our connection stronger. I came here just to celebrate my recent discovery, not meet anyone, but here I am, talking to Annie. I like her, she likes me.

We could attempt to ask our questions again, but we can’t risk talking over one another. I do have a plan to break this mirrored speech.

I reached into my trousers pocket and pulled out a pound coin. Annie figured out what I was doing.

“Heads,” she called. I flipped the coin. I tumbled through the air for about half a dozen seconds before landing in the palm of my hand, where I tilted it over and slapped it onto the back of my other hand.

“Heads it is,” I said. “You get to answer my question first.”

“OK,” she accepted. “Area is a Hyper Dimension. Area is linked with length, width, and height. In a two-D shape, or a three-D shape, four-D or more, there is an area. You can use maths of the length, width, and height to figure out the area, and you can manipulate that area by adding more lines in the middle – diagonally, more lines going up, or across, or as many lines as you wish. You can increase the length, width, and height infinitely if you so wish, which in turn makes the area infinite. However, in a finite shape, the area is still infinite. You can add an infinite amount of lines within the area of the shape, you just have to make them smaller and smaller, thus, mathematically, the area of shape must be counted as a separate dimension, or rather a Hyper Dimension.”

I never thought of it like that, but Annie saw slight confusion on my face and elaborated even further.

“For example,” she looked around and saw the six glasses on the table. She grabbed two and placed them at equal distance apart, one by her and one by me. “Take these two glasses. Imagine you’re standing on here,” she pointed to the glass by her and you start walking forward. When you get in the middle, you place a marker,” she placed a third glass in the middle. “Then you set off again, and when you get in the half way between the marker you placed and the end point, you place another marker,” she placed a fourth glass in between the third and second. “And you set off again, placing another marker half way between the fourth and the second, and you keep doing that, each time half way between the last marker you put down and the end goal, and because you can always half the distance you have left, you won’t ever reach the end goal – you’re effectively proving there is an infinite distance between these two points,” she pointed at the glass by her and the glass by me.

“So, when you take a shape…” I began, and she continued.

“A shape is a closed loop, but there is still an infinite space between the lines, because all you have to do is draw the exact shape in the middle, half the size as the original, and because you can always half what you have left, there is an infinite area within a finite space, thusly, it must be concluded that Area is a Hyper Dimension.”

“Half the distance. I get that, but you will eventually get a shape the size of a Planck Volume.”

“Mathematics state it’s always possible to decrease the size by half no matter the size you have. Our brains may not be able to imagine or contemplate even a Planck Volume, but maths is a way to simplify the incomprehensible.”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” I smiled.

She continued. “Whilst this may sound as if I’m trying to force it to be a Hyper Dimension, mathematics proves it is one. Perspective. The way I see things, and the way you see things, are completely different. From my angle, from your angle, from Rebecca’s angle, and from Michael’s angle, perspective changes the way you see the world, and we only see from one at any one time. Ours. Yes, we can move into the same spot as the other person just was to see what they were seeing, but are you truly seeing what they saw, or has it all changed from the moment they moved from their spot to when you stepped into it. Perspective is a Hyper Dimension because it’s linked with all dimensions at once. Length, width, and height – how far away the thing you’re seeing is, how wide it is, how tall or small it is, what time you’re seeing it in, and where about in space you are seeing it in, because the Earth has definitely moved since the other person was looking at the supposedly same spot as you. My maths proves, with all the data in a state of constant flux, just like all the other dimensions are, perspective is a Hyper Dimension.”

“That makes sense,” I said, processing it all.

“OK, now your turn to answer my question.”

“OK. Well, with a bullet proof skin cell, we can start figuring out how to make the entire body bullet proof. That’s going to require a lot more advanced mathematics. Once we’ve successfully made a person bullet proof, we can focus on making other stuff invulnerable, too. Houses that are bomb proof by manipulating the makeup of the bricks, cement, glass, wood, and they would remain together for much longer. Basically, as well as making ourselves bullet proof, we’ve also decreased the degrading time of each cell as well, essentially increasing our life spans by a considerable margin, effectively making ourselves immortal.”

“Huh,” Annie responded thoughtfully. “Immortality.”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

“I know.”

The DJ ended his song. The entire place went quiet, along with us for what I think might have been the fourth time, I wasn’t really paying attention to the gaps, just the words in between.

This place is open seven days a week, from evening to early morning. I checked the time on the clock above the bar now that I was able to see it without the threat of being blinded by the bright strobe lighting. It was half-past eleven at night. I don’t know how long we’ve been talking for, which is a good sign, I guess.

The DJ’s next song, Annie sighed at.

“Not a fan?” I asked.

“My brother used to play this on loop all the time, I just got bored of it,” she explained.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” I asked, whilst we wait for the song to be over.

“Actually, if it’s alright with you, I wouldn’t mind getting home. Sorry, I didn’t mean it as if I disliked this evening, it’s just I’ve got a big day tomorrow and I don’t want to be too tired for it, you know.”

I just smiled. “I know,” I said. She just smiled at me.

“Care to walk me home?” she asked.

“If you don’t mind,” I casually asked.

“Wouldn’t have asked if I minded,” she joked, making me realise what I’ve just said.

“Good point.”

The two of us shuffled out from behind the table and stood up, making our way towards the exit. I wanted to see if I could catch Rebecca’s eye for a brief wave goodnight and a thank you, but she was nowhere to be seen. I’m sure I’ll catch up with her later on down the line.

I opened the door and stood to one side, allowing Annie to step out first, where she breathed in deeply to allow that fresh air to wash away that of what was inside the bar. When I joined her by her side, she was taking her shoes off, an action that appeared to be that of immense relief.

“Remind me never to wear these shoes again. They are absolute killers.”

“Remembered,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said, rubbing the bottom of her foot.

Once Annie had massaged her feet so she could feel them again and they were back on the ground, we set off slowly but surely in the direction of her home.

Tonight’s gone well, hasn’t it?

THE END