Numbers Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
The order was what mattered. Or perhaps it was the repetition.
There was a sequence. It was either the order or the repetition or perhaps
there was a ratio. She hadn’t figured it out yet. But it was there. It was
important. It was the answer. It would unlock everything.
She wrote the numbers over and over. She couldn’t get them in the
right order. She knew she could. She knew it. She believed she could do it.
Deep inside, she knew it was the answer and she knew she held the key, if only
she could find it. If she just had enough time. If she could just write them
enough times. She could get the order. She could unlock it, solve it. She had
the answer. It was just a matter of time.
The numbers spiraled outwards; they were a solution, an answer to
an ancient riddle. There was symmetry, even if it was undetectable. It was an
ancient fix, to be revered and followed. Some thought it had the answer to
existence. Some believed it was truth, that it had all the answers – that it
was divine.
There was no evidence of any of that. There were only those that
believed.
She wrote down numbers. She had lots and lots of numbers. She saw
numbers running around inside her head. She didn’t know the order. She didn’t
know what they meant or what they were supposed to determine.
She wanted the answers. But more than that, she wanted the numbers
gone. It was exhausting. It was all-consuming and she wanted it to be over and
done. She knew the numbers were slowly driving her mad, but she couldn’t stop,
not until it was finished. Not until the right order had been found. Then, and
only then, would she be able to rest and recover. Until then, the numbers would
drive her, and she would be obsessed.
She knew she was close. She felt it. She knew it. She almost had
the numbers and the order and the repetition. She almost had it all. She
believed it. The numbers told her so.
All she had to do was write them down. One more time. And then one
more time. And then once again. It was always just one more time. Each time she
did it though, she got closer.
Just one more time. One more and it would be right.
And then? And then what? She wasn’t sure. She would have the
answers. They would be unlocked. That was the answer. Right? But what if it
wasn’t? She didn’t know. She couldn’t be sure. Not until she had the numbers.
Something couldn’t be something until it was something. And once it was
something it would be too late to change it.
That didn’t matter. The answer mattered.
She tried again. She wrote the numbers down.
One more time. One more time.
She wrote the numbers one more time. And then?
And then--
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