All In The Numbers

In some strange way Will Davis always suspected a moment like this was coming. Indeed it was difficult to remember a time when it wasn’t on his mind. From playful jokes on childhood playgrounds, to boasting, if insecure, displays of masculinity as a teenager, to contemplative sessions over bottles of cheap wine in college dorm rooms- usually followed by brief sessions of insomnia caused by the idea that it might actually feel good.

     However at this time there was no room for lofty thoughts about pleasure or horrid shame. Now it was all about money, only money. Neither the stench of a very public bathroom, nor a day’s worth of detox were enough to make Will lose focus on his monetary considerations. Such being the case he approached the unknown with determination.

“Could you hurry up sir?”

“Easy does it young man”, the slightly overweight gentleman in an Armani suit with a heavy British accent said with two light pats on Will’s back. “After all, you’d want me to proceed gently.”

     With his pants around his knees Will couldn’t find a good rebuttal. His nerves began to assert themselves.

“Yeah please be careful but please finish as fast as possible”, Will responded noticing a possible contradiction of hopes.

“Just relax now, I’m an old hand at this. Of course it won’t take long; I’d like to get back to my wife. The American dinners she cooks up are always sp charming. Still I have to be sure to get my money’s worth. Our price was a generous one.”

     Faced with that Will’s nerves surged further. As he heard a belt unbuckle behind him he tried to decipher when money became so critical. What ever happened to love, knowledge, and philanthropy? Was it Oscar Wilde who said ‘When I was young I used to think that money was the most important thing in life. Now that I am old, I know it is’?

“Ok, brace yourself mate.”

     Will closed his eyes with frightened stoicism. The Brit’s hand gripped his shoulder tightly. The next instant was an indescribable blend of pain, shock, and awe. So this is what it feels like?

“How we doing there my boy?” the Brit whispered into Will’s ear. “Not too bad is it?”

     Afraid of what his voice would sound like Will could only shake his head in resigned agreement. There was money to consider.

“That’s the spirit, you’re doing fine”, the Brit’s voice becoming ever more sensual. “Here it is.”

     Suddenly Will only felt excruciating pain, a unique, all encompassing pain that he never conceived before. A scream was out of the question making his mind reel even faster…

“So you’re the William Davis”, said the elderly professor peering over his glasses.

“Yes sir, I’m William.”

“Valedictorian at New York Technical, perfect math SATs, working on Set Theory at 14, some even suggesting I’m looking at the next Perelman or Veovodsky.”

“Yes but I don’t know about the next Perelman; I try to avoid all such talk professor…”

     Will tried to calculate how long this type of pain could last. Certainly it wasn’t subsiding. In his ears he could make out hushed moans that spoke volumes. It’s just the money; it was always inescapably money.

“You’re turning down Lockheed?”

“Yes Dean Harris.”

“William is unprecedented for them to offer someone your age a guaranteed position after graduation. You’ve just started your junior year. I fear you’re being to non-chalant.”

“Just keeping my options open Dean Harris.”

“The CIA has been sending out feelers for weeks. We’ve been sending updates on your progress. “

This got old very quickly. “Dean Harris, I believe we’ve been over this. I have no interest in the CIA.”

“Yes William but to have a young alumni in such a position could do wonders for recruiting and-

“Fuck the CIA Dean Harris! Fuck Lockheed! Should I use math as a means to advance death? Code busting, weapons design: preparation for murder. Fuck it!!”

     There were worthier causes to consider: the Riemann hypothesis, perhaps Yang Mill’s mass gap. Here it was love, just Will and his passion, and, of course, the haunting specter of millions of dollars. The oasis took the form of a distant, windowless office at the university reserved by the department. This was the island in the center of the universe.

     A sharp elbow to the stomach seemed to succeed in getting the Brit to ease up somewhat making the pain more bearable. However with the slight reduction of physical pain Will’s mind was more focused, enough to feel the wet drool on his shoulder. Perhaps pain was better; pain always brings extreme focus…

     “Will you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” Stephanie, Will’s college girlfriend with a vogue figure and rock star wealth held his face tightly in her hands. “You’re destroying yourself over this.”

     By now the routine was set: waking up early, a bagel with cream cheese, arriving at the office to a few shots of Virginia Gentleman from the plastic bottle of it kept within reaching distance. From there it was face to face with beautiful complexity interrupted now and then with further from the plastic bottle of bourbon. He threw himself into practically everything: the Hodge conjecture, the Poincare conjecture; but it was the Riemann that was the Holy Grail: probably the most famous, the choice of true mathematicians.

“You’re not eating enough!”

“Steph I had a burger yesterday. I’m getting tired of your lack of understanding. I feel like I’m getting there. I prove the hypothesis and it’s set. All those fuckers could melt away. I won’t be their fucking lab rat.”

“Being a lab rat? That’s what you’re afraid of? Look at yourself Will!”

     It was hard to argue; by now shaving had become a largely avoided inconvenience, not to mention sex. Perhaps Steph was frustrated. Conjectures and rocket fuel liquor aren’t aphrodisiacs. It took only one instance for Stephanie to get the point. Waiting for Will to arrive at her apartment one evening she decided to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse: strawberries, honey, whipped cream, and her nudity sprawled across the king size bed. Only Will refused; not harshly- instinctively Will accepted, even got into position, but it was no use. A minute later as they look at each other they both new it wasn’t happening. Will tossed one strawberry in his mouth before rolling over with indifference. Stephanie didn’t bother trying again.

     Meanwhile it was the hypothesis, the overall distribution of prime numbers. It works for the ten trillion (1013) nontrivial zeros. But still with the actual proof, weeks fade like seconds. Administrators in neighboring offices had become accustomed to hearing makeshift objects slamming against walls. What began to startle them were the incoherent shouts. Stephanie was gone and even though class attendance was always spotty, and unnecessary, Will’s GPA was in tatters. Even the CIA’s interest slacked off.

“It works GOD DAMN IT; they’re all on the critical line”…soon bourbon wasn’t strong enough.

     For a moment Will felt himself to be in mid-air. Just as suddenly he felt his back crash hard to the ground. The strong aromas of the Times Square bathroom, that urban smelling salt, presented themselves to his nostrils; he again realized where he was.

     “Ok, kiddo, that will just about do it.” Out of the corner of his eye Will noticed the Brit buttoning his pants. “I must say that was quite pleasurable.”

     Will was hesitant to turn around. As he stood up to fix his pants he felt the pain he was expecting. He leaned against the stall to balance himself, hoping the movement wasn’t too embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about that mate. That’ll go away shortly. Just as I promised: no blood, nothing squirted up there. Here’s your wage on a service well rendered.”

Will turned around to see the well dressed man holding out their agreed upon price: the money of course. He took it.

     “If you fancy another go next week we can arrange it now, same time and place.”

Staring at the money Will couldn’t answer fast enough.

“Well think about it mate. Can’t keep my wife waiting.” He slapped Will on the shoulder. “I bid you good-bye.” With that Will was alone.

     It only took a few steps to realize he’d have to walk with a serious limp. For the first time in several weeks Will had enough money to ponder several options. Two slices of pizza or a diner meal. Both were within walking distance of his preferred stairway with the bright lighting. There were a few hours of work in front of him. The proof was still out there waiting. He’d have time to contemplate his next meal. First he was off to score.