chapter eleven

Major Majors had been sitting in his tiny office for the last hour realising how insignificant the human mind is when it came to brainstorming the required details and theories that were involved in combining seemingly random patterns and events into a coherent whole. Now, if x happens, that leads to y and z... but, if x happens and y doesn’t, call it x and a half, then y doesn’t necessarily lead to z, but it could come out on the other side as a, or even b, which may lead to c... or not. He was getting a headache just trying to make his mind pull the ole donkey cart at a donkey cart’s pace. It was impossible, but the supercomputers at NORAD and NOAA had put it into place with a 97% certainty that x would lead to a and then maybe jumping to g and then all the way to l or maybe back to z with a quick dropped by to just say hello to z again or maybe it would just stay put at a or b for the next hundred thousand years and that was something that the supercomputers couldn’t predict. His headache began to encircle the soft lines of furrows in his brow and he knew that he would have to begin staring at the oil paintingesque print hanging on his wall for some time before the self imposed meditation began to take effect and assuage the aches out. He could hear surf some thousand miles away as he sat and thought. The room seemed very empty and large.