“Psst, c’mere,” said the shifty-eyed man wearing a long black trenchcoat, as he beckoned me off the rainy street into a damp dark alley. I followed.
“What are you selling?” I asked.
“Geometrical algebra drugs.”
“Huh!?”
“Geometry drugs. Ya got your uppers, your downers, your sidewaysers, your inside-outers…”
“Stop right there,” I interrupted. “I’ve never heard of inside-outers.”
“Oh, man, you’ll love ‘em. Makes you feel like M.C. ever-lovin’ Escher on a particularly weird day.”
“Go on…”
“OK, your inside-outers, your arbitrary bilinear mappers, and here, heh, here are the best ones,” he said, pulling out a large clear bottle of orange pills.
“What are those, then?” I asked.
“Givens transformers. They’ll rotate you about more planes than you even knew existed.”
“Sounds gross. What about those bilinear mappers?”
“There’s a whole variety of them. Here’s one you’ll love — they call it ‘One Over Z’ on the street. Take one of these little bad boys and you’ll be on speaking terms with the Point of Infinity.”
Please vote for this page:
