“Euler calculated without apparent effort, as men breathe, or as eagles sustain themselves in the wind.” ~ François Arago
The only sound apparent was the silvery, creek-like trickle of the fish tank.
And of course the scratch of graphite on paper, the rubbery pass of the eraser, the occasional puff of breath clearing the work area, and the rapid tap of keyboard keys.
I began again.
0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34…
Do you recognize this sequence of numbers?
Your eye knows and loves them well, even if your brain is drawing a blank.
All things are mercurial, leaving one to feel adrift. Subject to the whims of a capricious cosmos, we each dig our makeshift trenches, erecting defenses against the vexing volatility of the universe.
My fortification against this inconstant world is information.
I am the type of person that reads everything, all the time, everywhere. Border-lining on the compulsive, my constant acquisition of data feels like a fortress between me and the persistent winds of constant change.
My thinking is, if I can just know enough, I will be prepared for any eventuality. I will not be sucker-punched by the gods.
It sounds like a generic soda loaded with entirely too much caffeine.
It sounds like a description, given in jest, to a singularly nightmarish hair cut.
It could even be a new word to describe that tickling sensation that originates in your nose, but brings tears to your eyes when you drink soda to quickly.
What comes to mind when you hear that word?
The parallels are apparent.
Again I am in a Barnes and Noble, books surround me like dust motes in a sun ray.
Again I bypass the fiction, unknown characters beckon to me from closed covers begging to be cracked open, their stories set free.
Again I am accompanied somewhat reluctantly and again we head for the technology section.
Ostensibly the two moments in time are identical, but only ostensibly. A ocean of time, space and circumstance separate me from the last time I was in a Barnes and Noble searching for a book on programming.