mathematics – Page 8 – A Piece, of the Sky

The switch from the ’90s to the 2000s was like the switch from the ’70s to the ’80s. Science to emotion. 1984. That’s the tonal shift that goes through all of Lost – science to faith and spirituality. From the science of the Vietnam War, back to ancient Egypt, Sumer and Mesopotamia.

In 1984, the world didn’t end – but the world as we know it ended. In string theory, there are 11 dimensions. In 1984, something came through the veil, something so terrible and vast, that even the two Cold War enemies could be united against it. [Fictional references – Watchmen, Akira, FullMetal Alchemist, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Stranger Things, Hellboy, Gravity’s Rainbow.]

People called in the 1920s, and something answered in the 1940s. People called in the 1970s, and something answered in 1984. Heck, some calls in the 1920s, didn’t come through until 1984. What was called to in the deep? It’s all very Lovecraft. That’s the kind of stuff I liked about Lost.

There are more irrational numbers – that can not be represented with fractions – than rational numbers, and even more transcendental numbers – like pi, that can’t be the solution, in an algebraic equation – than even those.

Maybe Lost is secretly on a good exoplanet, with Earth-like oceans and a stable atmosphere. Minecraft and Lost aren’t After the End; they’re new beginnings. After Earth. But in a good way.

I like the idea of the smoke monster appearing differently, to every person. The smoke monster is whatever you want it to be. And, of course, for someone who so desperately needs to believe, like Locke, the smoke monster would be beautiful.

Alli was sitting at the house in the field, burnt out, twisted out, more than thirty years ago. The moon floated overhead; the flowers tossed in the evening’s gusts. A little lantern sat on the porch between them. Page, the Thunder Avatar, sat in the adjacent rocking chair.

She was dressed like a young professional. Her tall, lanky frame was graced by a slate pants suit and an obsidian blouse. Her raven hair flowed like silk and caught the deep blue of the sky, the spinning, sparkling stars – like a kindly, modern Morgan le Fay. Clear water had nothing on her almost translucent blue eyes, bright and burning in the dark.

“Aro didn’t tell me you would be this humble, this small,” Page began.

“Well, I am very short,” Alli admitted, embarrassed.

“So, you went to Dartmouth,” Page said, leaning forward, peering at her in the darkness.

“Well, you did go to Yale,” Alli answered, heat rising in her cheeks, a substitute for a blush.

“Yes, I went to college around the same time as you,” Page said in a soft voice, turning her drink on the armrest of the chair.

“Your mother served as the Lightning Avatar, the diplomatic head of the Atevars. What was that like?” Alli wondered, in awe.

Alli heard her smile, “It wasn’t that immense, really. I thought about going to the State Department, in this world, but I just became a lawyer.”

“This is the first time anyone in my family has even heard of Atev, much less became any of the Three Avatars,” Alli confessed, spreading her hands wide – a placating gesture.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Page murmured, reaching across the divide – the gap between their wooden chairs – her hair falling into her face, her right hand sporting a gold Yale ring, “You’re not going to be out of your depth. And I am sure your parents knew about how permeable this world is with Atev.”

Alli sighed, with Page’s hand resting on hers, breathing in the Thunder Avatar’s perfume – a heady feeling. The woman was a snowy pale, accentuated by her bright, red lipstick. Alli, by contrast, was folded into a warm, comfortable, pearl fisherman’s sweater.

She glanced up and knew Page was looking into her eyes, in the night. She squeezed Alli’s hand, “I know it sounds trite, but whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together.”

Wind rustled through the grasses and crickets chirped in the underbrush. The odd firefly winked in and out, working its way back to the main road. The two held hands, staring out into the void.