Breaching Reality

"And what does Greg think?" The eyes of Math 418 - Advanced Concepts in Abstract Patterns - followed Professor Phillips to their star pupil. Greg looked up to give the chalkboard his full attention.

"I think the second half of your proof is unnecessary. You are trying to correct for what could easily be demonstrated in a more elegant way. I would try using recursive summation." The class muttered to themselves as the professors' eyes narrowed. None of them were surprised by his flippant answer. Greg had gained the reputation as a savant with problems such as these. Being a Freshman in a senior-level class added to his notoriety.

"Do you think so? Then maybe you should flesh out that proof yourself? The rest of you, please complete the normal homework set for Thursday. Class dismissed. Mr. Singh, please stay for a minute."

A year ago, Greg's plan for after high school was working at his parents' store. This was before he took an obscure math aptitude test as an excuse to skip class. His score must have been something special because Dr. Phillips had flown all the way from New England to speak with him. The professor explained to his parents that Greg had some special qualities that their math department was seeking. Yes, it was true that he was no model student, but they would make special provisions for him as well as a full scholarship to a prestigious University. His parents' enthusiasm gave him little choice, so he apathetically moved to Massachusetts and enrolled in Miskatonic's mathematics program.

College was not much of a struggle. He could see problems in ways the other students (and professors) couldn't. Mathematical logic made an innate sense to him, and he enjoyed the awe of his peers when he showed up the teachers.

Dr. Phillips loomed over the desk. "Greg, clearly you are ready for more challenging work. I have a special problem for you. One that no student or faculty member as been able to solve yet."

This piqued Greg's interest. Maybe if he solved this, they would give him his degree early and he could quit these silly classes. Dr. Phillips showed him a half page of mathematical notation: a stew of operators and Greek letters.

"Ha ha! Are you kidding me?" Greg could not believe the ridiculous problem handed to him. "This is all nonsense. It's a simple divide-by-zero mistake."

"Is that a problem for you?" Dr. Phillips raised an eyebrow.

"Of course it is. Everyone knows you can't divide by zero. It poisons the whole equation."

"Ah, I see Greg. Because some stodgy old secondary teacher told you you can't divide by zero, then you can't. I am surprised at you. I have never known you be this complacent."

Dr. Phillips had pushed the right buttons. "Well, um, I don't know. I suppose it's not that different than working with infinities."

"That's that Greg I know! Think about this for a while. If you come up with anything . . . interesting, please call me right away." He turned the page over to show a hand-written phone number.

It took many restless hours for Greg to succumb to sleep that night. He could close his eyes but could not stop focusing on the equation stuck in his mind, as if it had been tattooed on the inside of his skull. When he finally drifted off, it was in a swirl of symbols arranging themselves into a frame for a missing puzzle piece.

3:23AM - Something in his brain shifted sideways and snapped. He awoke violently, gasping for air. He fell out of bed, fumbling his pants pocket for his phone.

"Dr. Phillips? Something happened. Something is wrong."

"Can you meet me outside in 20 minutes?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Good. Try not to think about it. Hold on until I get there. I can help."

When the sedan rolled to a stop outside the dormitory, Dr. Phillips was not alone. Greg vaguely recognized the two men in back. One he was pretty sure was another math professor. The other he had seen around, but had always assumed was homeless. Was he the same crazy guy preaching doomsday around campus?

Dr. Phillips leaned over and unlatched the passenger door. "Get in. We need to get you somewhere safe."

Greg wondered what he needed protecting from but decided it didn't matter. He needed help. There was a pin prick in his mind around which all of his perception was being twisted. White flashes of pain alternated with waves of nausea.

"Hang in there Greg. Try not to think about it. We'll be at my place soon and we can help you."

The apartment was not what he expected, though he wasn't sure what to expect in a math professor's apartment. Certainly not this. In the middle of the room there was an office chair, a nice one. Around that three simple wooden chairs were evenly spaced, facing each other and touching the outermost of several concentric circles on the floor. Was it just the pattern of the carpeting or were those lines deliberate? Greg was instructed to sit in the middle chair and his arms were strapped in. "For your protection." smiled Dr. Phillips.

The three men sat in the surrounding chairs and Dr. Phillips began to speak. "Greg, I want you to listen to me carefully. Do exactly as I say and everything will be fine. We believe that you may have created a mental singularity."

That made a twisted sort of sense to Greg. The pinhole in his mind was shining brightly now. To focus on it burned like staring into the sun. But there was something there. Something behind it. Something forbidden. The more he concentrated on it, the more it wrung his mind, tearing his thoughts, but hadn't destroyed him. How close could he get without getting burned? Moving closer, the pain changed into an almost euphoric sensation. Even closer, and he could begin to see the other side.

"Greg, I want you to look into the point, but from a safe distance. I need to ask you a few questions. Can you describe what you see? Please, we need to know. This is the only way to help you. Greg? Greg! Stop!"

The homeless man rose from his chair and entered the circle. He snapped his fingers an inch in front of Greg's eyes with no reaction. "He's gone. He must have walked right into it. Reckless."

Dr. Phillips stood and kicked his chair over. "Shit! We almost had it!"

The homeless man peered up at the professor through his matted hair. "Settle down Howie. You'll need to get rid of the body yourself this time."

"I fucking know that. Shut up."

Finally the quiet professor nervously spoke. "People will be suspicious. The police will want to investigate! That's two students in as many years!"

"Bullshit. He was a weird loner. Nobody will be surprised when he shows up in the river." That thought calmed Dr. Phillips so he could think more rationally. "This was not a total failure. We learned. I learned. We need to be more clear with the instructions to stay away from the rift, do it earlier in the process. That's all. This will work. The next time, we'll get our data."