Nov 03 2008
Base 10: Log Heroes
Base 10 stood at the Equal Sign, unsure of where to go. He was tired of fitting in, of standing in the midst of the crowd. He wanted to stand out. E was at the other Sign, sitting down in a chair. Both of them had a huge choice in front of them: should they cross the Sign, committing to a life of work and prosperity, or should they hang back, wait for other opportunities to arise? Base 10 had always had his path painted out for him, but now he wondered. Did he really want to spend his whole life as a base? Sure, it was a steady job, a high-paying job. However, as he looked around him, he found himself desiring another life. Perhaps he could be a Coefficient, a Variable, or maybe…
No. He could never be a Log.
He knew he would just end up making the choice, being a base all his life; and then he would be Erased. Gone, forever.
E smiled grimly at Base 10, gesturing at the Equal Signs near them. Then, he took a deep breath, and ran towards it. LN, who had been hovering behind him like a ghost, disappeared quite suddenly, Erased by the godly Pencil above. The equation altered, and E knelt panting on the other side, holding up a 3X above his head. Base 10 gave him a brief thumbs up, and E shrugged modestly. A bewildered ½ scratched its head, filling the place where E used to be.
Base 10 was reminded of how quickly life changed. E had always been his friend, youthful at times, serious at others. He had always been different from the other special numbers. i was lost in her imagination; pi was too irrational. And the others were just boring. But E was faced with a new life now, a life that, in time, would also be Erased. Base 10 saw his friends moving forward, and again, he wondered what to do.
Above, he saw the Pencil moving down, and he thought to himself; was it his time to be Erased? Was the Pencil coming towards him, or was it simply writing a new equation? Either way, he knew he had to make a decision.
The Pencil above hesitated; faltered. The equation it was trying to solve was particularly difficult. It was:
3x=14
If it changed the equation into a log, the base would be 3, something the Pencil knew wouldn’t work. It knew this instinctively, because the Hand knew this. As did the Arm, the Body, and the Brain. The Brain knew it wouldn’t work because “3” wasn’t a viable base option on its Calculator. The Calculator knew it because it was not programmed into its code. And so on.
But Base 10 knew nothing of this genealogy of knowledge, knew nothing of the intricacy behind each decision. To him, the Pencil above was a divine being, deciding whether someone was Written or Erased. He knew and believed in his ability to make his own decisions. The Pencil was just a judge of those decisions, not the catalyst, nor indeed the actor itself.
In a flash, Base 10 realized his purpose in life. He could never be a Log; no, he was better than that. He could never be a special number; that was too limited. His job was to be as versatile as possible, fitting into each ideal Log equation. He was 10 now, not just Base 10.
All of a sudden, he felt himself rushing towards the Equal Sign, and then he was holding up a .004 with delight. The .004 smiled with pride at its exponentially more powerful position in life.
10 was content now, knowing that he had made a difference in this equation, and when the inevitable Eraser came descending towards him, he accepted his fate blindly, knowing that through his own free will, he had done something to change history.
Far above the Pencil, the Brain commanded the Hand to shut the math book. And if you looked closely enough, you could see almost invisible strings pulling the limbs of the Body. Above these strings were more strings, more hands orchestrating a massive puppet show, the puppet masters puppets to some higher power.
10 had lived a good life, had fulfilled his destiny. He was a hero.
