Red Daubed 63

The paper was still in his hands when he walked out of the classroom. He slowly walked down the stairs, a narrow passageway through the doors that followed to the road. He felt ever so great thinking of freedom from school but maybe he did not think that it was just momentary, for two days. He knew he would again have to suffer, and be scold by his parents because had again failed the mathematics test. But maybe he did see something change this time, a spark of light in the darkness of his mind, followed by a enormous chill of yell, of pain.

He knew mathematics was not for him, maybe because he felt that mathematics was finite. It was not that he hated finite beings but that he did not connect with those finite beings, though they would claim infinite and imaginary. As he rode on the bus, he grabbed a sit and thought why it would be called "imaginary number", a number that is ought to be imagined or maybe it was just that one did not imagine just as anyone else.

"Does that mean we have to lose our identity?" As he questioned himself, he did not realize that he was speaking aloud, quite clearly for the other rides to understand his words. But he felt that he had no existence just as anyone and that everyone coincided in their own locations, immovable. He did not want to believe that at all. Then he started to reason with himself, complicating the matters even further.

Mathematics was finite, too narrow for anyone to say that was that would bring humans happiness and joy. He reasoned because of mathematics, we know the difference between less than and greater than, causing panic among us when we learn that one gets more points that another. Do we not see a difference among ourselves because of these, and do we not feel jealousy when we see that? He asked himself why one was one, and why would one be considered less than two but the only thing he could think of was that it was how the human race perceived these. Maybe because one might reason that one has to be greater than the other, only that way there would be a "balance in the universe". But again he could not think what "balance" actually would be, and what "balance" would actually form into shape. He wondered upon his own self if he could ever find the answer to the question why one was one and why two was two and why two would be called greater than one. He needed to find the answer and prove to his parents that he had gotten a better grade, and that he had passed.

Maybe he could not, maybe we were ourselves programmed that way, programmed just as the numbers were or just as the imaginary number was.

"Why do they call this number imaginary when it is not what I imagine? Yes, yes I imagine it to be less than hundred whereas the student recognizes it as square root of -2. It is imaginary, then where is the imagination? He wanted to know why his answers were wrong, but contracted his heart every time he thought about asking the question aloud. It was all because he was full of fear, mixing himself with the ordinary world and how they would perceive the existence itself. He saw numbers differently because he saw how he was different from his mother, then wouldn't there be difference in the views also, in the different numbers that everyone tried to call the same.

The bus stopped as an automated motion, he walked out of the bus. He walked out quickly from the bus, swiftly amongst the other passengers that were leaving off the bus. Then he realized the mistake he had done himself and autonomously waved the bus again before it started to leave off from the bus stop. The bus driver would not stop and casually thought the student was trying to attain the attention of others in the street. As he started to pull away, the student started to run towards the bus, with his school bag fastened to him, onto the road. The bus driver immediately cautiously stopped the bus but the student did stop.

There laid a red daubed 63 laid on the road.