A Turn-screw tlhImqaH

 

by: Mel-o-rama

 

“Who’s that guy over there?” asked Senator Bargas.

Senator Anthony responded, “Who?”

Bargas pointed across the busy Chamber. “The happy-go-lucky guy over there.”

“Oh, him? He must be the actuary from Social Security. He’s supposed to testify today.”

“Actuary? Hmm… Okay, what’s his problem? Why’s he so happy? What’s an actuary anyway?”

Anthony said with disgust, “Why, it’s only the number one job in the world.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Can someone really love their job that much?”

“It’s low stress – good pay. All you have to do is be smart.”

Bargas flinched. “Ouch!”

“Oh, sorry,” said Anthony. “I keep forgetting your wife’s accident.”

“Nobody should be that happy about their job!” Bargas said angrily. “Especially smart people! Look at him – all snug and full of himself! What – do they think they rule the world? Do they think they’re better than us? Why, I’d do anything to teach those guys a thing or two! I’d humble them – make them miserable like the rest of us! Why, if I ever get my hands on …”

“Hey, if you want to do something, I have a few connections. There have been … well … um … experiments.”

“Experiments?” asked an intrigued Bargas.

 

* * *

 

There I was, juppu’wI’, flying my shuttlecraft along the Inner Loop, watching out for Romulans. The Beltway was full of jerks – more than usual. One of them flew past and cut in front of me. I yelled out my window, “qoHHom!” as I fired a photon torpedo, and I gave him the finger. That showed him!

I was on my way to a better life. Best Job in the universe, and it was going to be mine! All I had to do was pass a series of nine simulations, and I would be a full-fledged member of the Federation. The first testiwest awaited me in just thirty minootas, and I didn’t want to be late.

I thought about the poor saps in the other shuttlecrafts. What purpose did they have in life? If you weren’t in the Federation, you were nobody. But it was as easy as anything to get in – if you were good at math.

I could never understand it. Why did people avoid math, anyway?

You see, I used to be a tutor. I tried to show others how easy it was, and how they could live the good life, but O no, juppu’wI’. They would have no part of it.

There was this pretty Betazoid, the wife of politick. I thought she would come around and be smart, but when I did the old in-out, that’s exactly what happened: in one ear and out the other. She just broke down and cried boo-hoo-hoo; and she ran out the door. Didn’t even pay Your ja’wI’nap. Word is: she went crazy cuckoo. If only she just listened to me.

“Whoa!” I said as I passed a Romulan. I slowed down real quick like. This one was cloaked!

Where was I? Oh yes – one day I just gave up on tutoring. I told myself: “That’s their life and this is mine. Yes – me and mine – that’s all that matters. I’ll join the Federation and bring in the dough. And all the others who won’t do math? They’re nothing but tribbles!”

I didn’t waste any time after leaving Academy Prep. I signed up for this first simulation, set up a job interview, and I even had a date lined up! O yes – life was looking up, and nothing could stop me!

Well, almost nothing. I got this communication just yesterday. Some Klingon chick said like, “We’re going to have to move your exam location. Your current location is full.” She wanted me to go to the other side of the galaxy!

I told her how crazy she was. I asked about my bud Sammy – did they move him too? She said No. I told her I signed up before he did, but she was a smart Klingon, she was. She told me my last name began with ‘W’.

She didn’t have to say any more. Alphabetical Discrimination!! va!! There’s no law against it, yet no reason for it. I was bumped because I was at the end of the line! But never you mind about it. In the end, it would be Qapla’! That is – after my testiwest, and my intervoody, and the killer date! Nice try, Alphabet Lady! She couldn’t stop me.

Which brings me to the beginning of my story. Remember me in the shuttlecraft? I didn’t know I was going to a remote asteroid, only to find a rusty garbage scow. It made me nervous – O yes! Was I in the wrong place? I checked my numbers, and sure enough, I was there.

I sang my favorite song as I approached the scow. It was a song my mom taught me when I was nothing but a little puq. You might recognize it from Danny Kaye:

 

Inchworm, inchworm,

Measuring the marigolds,

You and your arithmetic,

You’ll probably go far.

 

Two and two are four.

Four and four are eight.

Eight and eight are sixteen.

Sixteen and sixteen are thirty-two.

 

That song always calmed me down, O juppu’wI’! It captured the essence of all mathematical thought, and it always helped me get my mind in order. It prepared me for the ordeal I was about to go through; or at least I thought it would.

When I got to the front door, this old fogey stood there. She looked like that girl in the Pilot episode with the brain people turned off – all hunched over and sores all over her face, only she was smoking a char. She asked without removing her smokes, “You Doug?”

I jaw-dropped her and said, “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

“The test’s over this way.”

As I followed her through the garbage scow, she smoked all the way. I asked her, “Are you allowed to do that?”

She blew smoke in my face and didn’t answer. Kirk wouldn’t have put up with that. O no!

She led me to a small room with one desk and an old ‘puter terminal.

“You’ve got to be joshing me,” I said.

The old scarface laughed. “You better get cracking. The clock’s ticking, and you only have four hours.”

“But the ‘puter isn’t on yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She went out and closed the door behind her.

“va!!” I yelled. “Aren’t you supposed to stay in here with me?” Was the world coming to an end?

No answer!

I had no choice but to turn on the ‘puter. It took ten minootas to boot up. “Barbarians!! This would never happen in the 23^rd century!!” The whole time I was planning my revenge. This qoHHom of a proctor had to be reported!

Finally, an icon popped up saying “Exam1.” I clicked on it. The screen went black and a cheesy trumpet fanfare sounded. The words “EXAM1” flashed across the screen in a large ASCII animation.

“Cool!” I said. That was being sarcastic, va!!

I could only imagine how Sammy was faring with his simulation. Would all the ‘puters in the room sound that stupid fanfare at the same time? And why couldn’t they fit one more terminal in there for me?

Question #1 came up on the screen. “X = 3 * 4. What is X?”

The choices were:

 

A) 7

B) 12

C) 3.4

D) 0.75

E) None of the Above.

 

“nuqjatlh?!”

I goggled the poser for a full two minootas. What was I missing? Was this the CFA simulation? I didn’t want to join the Ferengi Alliance! WWSD? (What would Spock do?)

I wanted to question the proctor, but she wasn’t back yet. I went to the door, and it was locked up tight. I jiggled the knob and knocked. “Hey! Is this the right testiwest?”

A piece of paper came from under the door. It said, “Leave the room and you FAIL!”

That was strange. I yelled back, “What if I have to wee?” No answer.

I had no choice, so I went back to the ‘puter. I picked the answer B, and the ‘puter cheered. The words flashed: “YOU GOT THAT ONE RIGHT!”

I waited for the next question.

“#2) A tractor is traveling 20 miles an hour through a cornfield.”

On the screen, a ‘toon farmer in a tractor bobbled up and down while tall corn moved past him. The farmer waved at me, and I waved back. Then I hit myself. What was I doing – waving at a ‘toon? va!

A minoota passed, and I realized, “Oh, there’s a question in this, right?” I didn’t understand what kind of answer they were looking for. “20 miles an hour – and then what?” Was this the Kobayashi Maru?

I asked the farmer, “What’s the stupid question?”

He frowned at me and the corn moved faster. I still didn’t know what to do. Then the vantage changed, and the tractor came directly toward me. It was like being in a holodeck. I couldn’t help but watch. Besides, I didn’t want to blink and miss the question.

The corn was rushing past my head, and the tractor was getting closer. It was making me dizzy.

The farmer just frowned at me and kept on coming. It was real horrowshow, I tell you!

Before I knew it, the tractor jumped out of the monitor and into my head. O juppu’wI’! I was not prepared for that! I screamed and my head exploded and everything went blacker than a hole!

 

* * *

 

I heard a clicking noise. When I opened my peepers, there it was: “FAIL” flashing across the screen.

“va!!” I yelled. “I snoozed off! Why did I do that? The ‘puter timed out and I missed it! I’m such a qoHHom! What time is it?”

There was no clock in the room. I got up, tried the door, and it opened. Old Charface was asleep at her desk – a half-smoked char smoldering on the floor in front of her.

I shook my head. “baQa’!! I’m complaining,” and I was out of there – just like Bones from a transporter room.

I got in my shuttlecraft, and got myself away from there – real quick like.

As I went into warp, I noticed a headache coming on. It was going to be big, O yes, juppu’wI’! But I had no idea. On the Beltway, I noticed several shuttlecrafts stopping in front of me. A traffic jam! I looked at my navigational systems to view how fast I was going, and it hit me. The headache exploded again. In fact I exploded. I barfed the passenger’s chair. At least I think I did. Before I knew it, there was a tree through my vid screen – then blackness again. O sweet darkness!

 

* * *

 

When I came to, I was tied up in a chair on this stage. All these people were viewing me from the audience. On stage with me were four people sitting all panel like. One was the simulation fogey smoking her char.

Some loD in the panel spoke to me. I had no idea who he was. “I must apologize,” he said. “We should have caught you before you left the examination room. But Suzie over here fell asleep.”

Suzie said sarcastically to Your ja’wI’nap, “Sorry.”

The loD went on to the audience, “Behold our subject! As you can see, he had a little difficulty driving home. He left before we could warn him.”

“What did you do to me?” I insisted.

Ignoring my question, he asked, “What did you in, may I ask? Was it the road signs? The mile markers? Your speedometer? Another car’s license plate?”

“I have no idea what you’re going on about!”

“Here, answer me this.” He flipped a switch and these lights came on. “How many lights do you see?”

va! What a simple question! I answered, “There are f…” Well, I tried to answer. I tried again. “There are f…” There it was – that terrible headache. I wanted to barf the audience, but that would be bad. I had to answer the question, but I couldn’t get the words out. I couldn’t even look at the lights without my head throbbing. “I can’t!” I yelled.

“You can’t what?” asked the loD.

“I can’t say it!”

There was thunderous applause from the audience. “Bravo!” they all yelled. “Hurray!”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry boo-hoo-hoo! I finally chose the latter.

“Inchworm, Inchworm. Measuring the marigolds…” Was that me singing? O yes, strange it was – it shut them up quick like. I sobbed, “What did you do to me, qoHHompu’?!”

“What’s the matter, Dougie Boy? Did you lose the ability to count? Let’s hear it. Count to ten.”

I tried, “wo…” but it was no use. The headache was just too much.

After more clapping, they finally filled me in. “You see, Dougie, we planted a math inhibitor chip into your brain. You are no longer able to perform math functions without getting deathly sick.”

“nuq?!” I yelled. “When did you do that?”

“In the examination room. Don’t you remember?”

“When I fell asleep?”

“This young man is so smart,” he said followed by a few audience laughs.

“You can’t do this!” I yelled.

“It’s too late. We did.”

“But I didn’t give you permission. I’m going to sue!”

“Whoa,” said the loD. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Senator Anthony, your chosen representative. You can’t sue me. Even if you could, how much would you ask for?”

Even the question sent my head spinning. It wasn’t fair, O juppu’wI’!

“Cheer up, Dougie. Look on the bright side. You’re one of us now. Hey, we can’t do math either.”

“Is that what I’m to be, then?” I asked. “Your turn-screw tlhImqaH? How will I navigate? What about the Federation? How will I survive?”

“Oh, cry me a river!” replied this sorry qoHHom of a politick. “If you’re so smart, you should know the answer by now. Avoid math! You’ll figure it out.”

The audience laughed again, and I said no more. There was nothing I could do.

 

* * *

 

Next thing I knew, they untied me and left me behind. I was free to go. I found my shuttlecraft docked – all fixed up like new. It was difficult to navigate home, but I found a way.

The intercom was on NPR, the only open channel that would survive WWIII, but I winced when they began the financial report, O juppu’wI’! I heard, “Let’s do the numbers …” and the headache started. They were playing that happy moolah music, but I wasn’t taking chances. I cut off the intercom and thought un-mathy thoughts. I was going to have to learn how to ignore numbers!

When I got home, I turned on the view screen, but I muted it so I wouldn’t hear any numbers. I found out it was Thursday. Tomorrow was the big interview. “va!!” I said. “What am I going to do?

“Can I really join the Federation in my condition? Surely there has to be a way to do it without doing any m…. Besides, isn’t that what ‘puters are for?”

Qapla’! I could fake it!

That next day, I arrived early. I couldn’t rely on coordinate numbers because they’d make me crash! Planet names were no problem – thank the Almighty Bog and his angels! When I got closer, I landed on a moon that looked like the right place. And yes, it was the right place!

They led me to my future boss. I hi-ed him, and he hi-ed back. When I overheard my future peers going over some numbers, my eye twitched from the pain. Mr. Thacker – that was the interviewer’s name – asked me, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lied.

We went into a conference room and he asked me questions.

“I see you’re fresh out of college. You were a math major? Tell me about it. What was your favorite math class?”

va! There went my twitchy eye again.

“I liked all of them.”

“Oh come on, you’ve got to have a favorite.”

I couldn’t even say ‘math’. This wasn’t good. You tell me – what class could I tell him that wouldn’t make me barf him? I knew what to say: “History.”

Mr. Boss-man gave me a Spock eyelift. “That’s interesting. Math History? Why?”

“You know. It’s about … well … famous … people.”

“I see,” he said as he wrote some notes.

Then he continued, “I see that you took your first actuarial exam this past week. Can I assume you passed?”

Ah! Could I answer that question truthfully and still get the job? O yes juppu’wI’, I could. The Federation hung in the balance!

“Um, I haven’t gotten the results back in the mail.” That satisfied him, and boy was that close!

“What do we have here?” he went on. “It says you speak Klingon. Is this for real?”

I couldn’t lie to him, especially since it was on my roster. “Fluently,” I answered.

“No way!! Well, I’m a Trekkie, too. I’ve seen every episode!” He held up the Vulcan sign and said, “Nanu-Nanu!”

I suppressed a sigh, smiled, and continued on with the interview. We talked about my people skills. Lucky for me it wasn’t about math. We were hitting it off pretty well, and I thought the job was mine, but va! was I wrong. In the end, Mr. Boss-man stood up and said, “Well great. It’s time for your math test, now.”

“A testiwest?” I asked in fear.

“Sure. We’ve got to make sure you can do math,” he answered with a laugh.

I had no choice. I had to at least try. It was multiple choice. “I could fill in random answers, and get some of them right. Maybe enough to get the job,” I told myself, but there were numbers all over the pages. It hurt to look at them. But why? It was only scribbled symbols on a page – hardly anything to give a loD a headache! Nevertheless, juppu’wI’, it came. I couldn’t mark any random answers without looking at the page, and I couldn’t look at the page without seeing the numbers, and I couldn’t get the job without marking answers. The Federation was falling away from me! It was a vicious circle and it was spinning in my head until darkness overcame me.

When I came to, I was lying face down on moon rock next to my shuttlecraft. People were laughing at me. I ran away, boo-hoo-hooing, “I guess I didn’t get the job.”

 

* * *

 

Distraught, I went to the food repository. Cooking a good lunch for myself would cheer me up. I went to the low maintenance isle. I looked at the pasta. There were so many choices. “Which one should I pick?” Then I remembered. I used to compare prices!! It was always different. Sometimes there was a sale, and one would be cheaper, but now I couldn’t tell! va! It wasn’t fair!! I grabbed a random pasta.

It was like that throughout the repository. I used to go for the best deals, but no more. Now I had to rely on the luck of the draw. I asked myself, “Is this how other people do it?”

When I got up to the cash register, the loD said, “That’ll be fifty four sixty two, please.”

I heard the words, but it didn’t make sense. I stared at him. He stared back, until he asked, “Are you going to pay me?”

Oh yeah – that moolah thing. They didn’t use it in the 23^rd century, but I needed it now. I opened my wallet and realized my situation. If I had a credit card, I could just give it to him, but I never believed in them before. I always paid with the shiny stuff.

I flipped open the cash part, and the headache came pouring out like butterflies. It didn’t go away until I closed it back quickly.

“Come on!” said another loD behind me.

I had to give some moolah. I opened the cash flap again, but there was nothing but that headache. va!!

I yelled, “I can’t do it!”

“What?”

“I can’t count it!” I was sobbing boo-hoo-hoo. O, I was a pity sight!

“Here,” said the loD. “I’ll do it.” He took my wallet and he took the green out. There was nothing left, O juppu’wI’! He gave me back my wallet and said, “Thanks for the tip.”

The people round me laughed and cheered. I beamed out of there quick like.

Sure, I know what you’re thinking. I could have complained at the customer desk, but what would I say? How could I even claim how much moolah was in there? You see – Your ja’wI’nap had no other choice.

I just went home.

 

* * *

 

It was a lousy week, O juppu’wI’. First I failed my testiwest; then came the lousy intervoody! And finally, that cashier stole all my moolah. What was next?

I hit myself in the head. The date! va!! “There’s no way I can see her in this condition!”

I picked up my communicator and got out the piece of paper that had her num… Aw ghay’cha’! How in the universe could I contact her? I stared at the communicator keypad and nearly fainted. The buttons were insurmountable hills with taboos written all over.

“Hey! I could contact the operator. That’s just a button, right? But which one? If I look at the numbers long enough to tell, I’ll barf the floor. No – this isn’t going to happen.

“I going to have to stand her up, but can I afford to?”

She was hot! Uhura’s skirt had nothing on her!

“If you stand up one hot chick, she’ll tell other hot chicks – and no more dates.”

va! I had to stay with the date.

I needed moolah, though. With my eyes closed, I reached into my drawer and replenished my wallet. va! – was that hard!

When to show up? Turns out I was early – super early. When she opened the airlock, she was nowhere near dressed, and she said, “Huh? I thought you were picking me up at 7.”

I winced at the number, but kept my cool. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

She blushed and said, “You’re two hours early! Did you really want to see me that badly?”

“Oh yes,” I said without missing a beat.

She smiled and said, “Okay then. Just give me a few minutes and we can go eat.”

Yes, I was too early, but I was surviving. There was hope for me yet. When I escorted her to my shuttlecraft, she gasped.

“What’s that all over your dashboard?”

“Oh nothing,” I answered nonchalantly. “It’s just cardboard.”

“How can you see how fast you’re going?” she asked as she tried to take it off.

I stopped her, “Oh, please leave it. I like it there. The stars tell me how fast I go.”

We had a pretty good time at the restaurant. Evidently there was no math in the language of love. We were doing great and we almost made it all the way through dinner. That is until she brought up Victor Borge. Yes, you heard me right.

“You should have seen him last night. He’s so funny on the piano!”

“Yeah,” said I. “I’ve seen him before.”

“Can you believe he really plays the music upside down?”

“Yeah – and that crazy routine with the Hungarian Rhapsody! He sure showed his partner!” For the first time in a week, I was actually laughing.

She went on, “You know he doesn’t just do music. Last night he talked about his phonetic punctuation.”

“Oh, I remember that. Hey look! Here’s a question mark. Squeeeeelch ponk!”

She was laughing, too.

“And then there’s his Inflationary Language,” she said.

I stopped dead in my laugh. I didn’t know why, but there was something I couldn’t quite remember. Inflationary Language? va! What was that?

“You know,” she said. “Inflationary Language?”

“Um – what’s that again?”

“That’s when you add one to each word you speak.”

“You add wo….?” Of course, I couldn’t finish the word. Numbers!

“Oh, you’re so funny! You know: It’s Two-derful three see you three-day.”

“nuqjatlh?”

She frowned. “You know Victor Borge, but you don’t know his Inflationary Language? You’re starting to creep me out here. It’s not really that hard. Just take a word like ‘wonderful’, and you add one to the number part. That’s how you get ‘two-derful.’”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “There’s no number in wo…; in wo…”

O Great, juppu’wI’! It was another word I couldn’t say – just because it started with a number sound!

“What’s your problem?” she asked. “Here, let me hear you say ‘two-derful.’”

“Tw… Tw…” I just couldn’t do it, juppu’wI’! I must have looked like a qoHHom. Plus, I could feel the sickness coming on. She just stared at me – open jawed.

That was when the waiter came to present the bill.

“Well, look at that,” said my date. “It’s time to pay!”

I cringed, but why? She didn’t say any numbers. But wait! She did. She said that one common word that sounded like a number. Qu’vatlh!! She had broken me!

The waiter asked me, “How would you like to pay, sir?”

He said it, also! Didn’t they know I was getting sick? I protested, “Stop saying that word!”

The waiter stared at me. “Um, what word, sir?”

“Never mind, here you go.” I pulled out my wallet, hoping I could open it this time, but it just didn’t work. I couldn’t get myself to open it. I had no idea how much to give him. Plus, how could I calculate a tip??

“QQQuuu’vvvaattttttlllllhhhhh!!!!!!!!”

O, that got everyone’s attention. I asked my date, “Why don’t you pay?”

She got all indignant like. “What? Are you asinine?”

Groan! Another number at the end of that word! I wanted to barf!

She got up, saying, “What would I do that for?”

Another one! va! “Make the headache go away!”

“Don’t expect another date.”

It got even worse. “What? O, don’t tell me. ‘Date’ ends in …” I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

I barfed. Big time! As my date walked out, she slipped in it. This got her barfing. And that got the next guy barfing. And, well – you get the idea. It was like those Barf-o-ramas you see in the movies, only grosser. Before I could even think to apologize, I blacked out.

 

* * *

 

When I awoke, much to my dismay, there was that Senator Anthony qoHHom looking over me. I was lying on this couch in some big mansion of a cargo hold. It seemed familiar, though – as if I had been there before, but couldn’t quite remember. Something just wasn’t right, juppu’wI’.

“Oh look,” said the politick, “he’s coming t..”

“No!” urged someone else gently. “No number words. Remember?”

“Oh yes, sorry my Dougie boy. I would like you t.., um… Here – meet Senator Bargas. You’ll be living with him now. It appears you have gone a turn to …”

“Aagh!” I yelled.

“Sorry – a turn … on the worse side. Is that better?”

“Why did you do this?” I moaned.

“It was f.., um… your own good. Oh, I almost missed that one,” said this Senator Bargas.

I groaned again at the last word.

“This is going the difficult way,” said Bargas. “We feel bad that the chip seems going way far in the wrong direction. You can stay with me, and I’ll take care of you. That way, no … body can take advantage of you. I’ll see … on your every needs.”

“Qapla’!” said I, wondering if they could sense my sarcasm. Bargas did look at me funny.

That night, after Anthony left, it was just me and old Bargas. As he fixed dinner, I kept trying to remember why the cargo hold looked so familiar. Why couldn’t I remember?

“Are you ready … on the dinner?” he asked me.

“Sure.” He sat me down at a table. He put a plate of roast beef in front of me and an empty wine glass.

“Would you like some wine?” he asked.

“Sure.” He poured me some, and stared at me while I ate heartily. It was making me a little nervous. Why wasn’t he eating?

I finished my wine, and he insisted, “It’s good wine, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you like some more?”

Okay – the guy liked his wine. I couldn’t turn down his hospitality, so I said, “Sure, top me off.” He poured me some more, then slammed the bottle flat on the table. It made me jump. He stared at me while I kept on eating.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I asked him, “So, it’s just you and me, right?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I couldn’t help noticing – earlier this morning, you said Qapla’. Not many people know what that means.”

“It’s only Klingon,” I said nervously.

“Did you know I used to have a wife?”

I stopped eating, because he said one of those number words, and he didn’t even try to stop himself. I answered, “You did, huh?”

“Dang right I did! You want to know what happened to her?”

He was still saying that word. I was getting dizzy.

I answered, “I think you’re telling me.”

“She died!” he said with emphasis. “She was very depressed, you see. She was never good at math, and she took this class in college. Some brat tutored her and made her feel stupid. He was a Trekkie, just like you. He thought he was flying through space!”

The word ‘tutored’ starts with ‘two’!

Bargas continued, “She cried for weeks until she couldn’t take it any longer. She killed herself, all because a cocky smart kid wanted to show how smart he was. He brought my wife down to lift himself up.”

Lots of number words! And that wasn’t all. I was starting to remember. Yes, juppu’wI’, I was indeed in that cargo hold. I never met the politick, but I knew his wife. Those memories were returning – all those weeks we would sit at this very table. I would show her math formulas, and all that. But I couldn’t think about it - what with all the number words going on! How could I have inflicted so much torture on anyone? Did I really do that? Va! It couldn’t have been me.

“Yes,” said Bargas, “If I ever caught that kid, I’d grab me a two by four and show him a thing or two!”

“Noooo!!!!!” I yelled. It was just too much. I had to beam out of there, but it was no use. I blacked out again.

 

* * *

 

I was alone in a room when the music began. It was in that same mansion of a cargo hold. Looking out into space, I saw I was on the third floor. It was strange to hear music, and it was getting louder.

Then the song changed and got even louder.

 

Inchworm, inchworm,

 

“Qu’vatlh! Not that one! He knows who I am!! My favorite childhood song turned against me!!”

 

Measuring the marigolds,

You and your arithmetic,

 

“Danny Kaye was a Cardassian!!!!”

 

You’ll probably go far.

 

“Here it comes! I can’t take it!!”

 

Two and two are four.

 

“va!!! The pain!! The pain!!”

 

Four and four are eight.

 

It was too much! The music was so loud! I tried the doorknob. It was locked.

 

Eight and eight are sixteen.

 

There was no escape! I dropped to my knees crying boo-hoo-hoo, praying to Bog or God and his Almighty Angels for gracious deliverance, but it was no use!

 

Sixteen and sixteen are thirty-two.

 

O, the Humanity!! I wanted to die! I wanted to end it all and release myself from this cruel world!

That’s when I noticed the chorus was in an endless loop.

 

Two and two are four.

Four and four are eight.

…….

 

Yes, juppu’wI’, there was no escaping my destiny. That politick was killing me. It was revenge – all because I killed his wife. Yes, it was me! I tutored her to death! I’m so sorry! I wished I could take it all back. There was only one way out – only one form of retribution.

The door may have been locked, but the window wouldn’t stop me. I jumped and broke through the window, rear first. Then I tumbled. O how sweet it was! No more music! No more pain! No more math!!

 

* * *

 

I don’t know how long I was gone, but as I stand before you today, you can see that I lived. For what seemed the longest time, I dreamt strange dreams. People were doing strange things to my noggin, and I was writing figures on a chalkboard while people stood up around me and cheered me on.

When I finally returned to the real world, I opened my eyes to a full room. I was all wrapped up in casts, lying in this sick bay bed. All these people were standing around me. I recognized one of them: Senator Anthony. Not the one whose wife I killed, but the other one.

He smiled at me. O, juppu’wI’, it was a fake smile – just a façade as he was surrounded by his fellow constituencies. He said to me, “Good, good. You’re awake. Did you sleep well?”

I wanted to tell him what I really felt – after all he did to me with that chip. But I was like the politick. I could only smile in front of those people and say, “Fine, thank you. Where am I?”

“I fear you have taken quite a fall,” was his reply. “That Senator Bargas turned out to be quite the little murderer, didn’t he? Well, don’t you worry about him anymore. He’s in a place where he can no longer harm you.”

“So, what will become of me now?” I asked, knowing that I still had my terrible life to live. If I couldn’t do math, I just wanted to be dead, and they took that away from me.

Anthony smiled again and said, “That’s what we intend to find out. Here, look above me and you’ll see some lights. Tell me, how many do you see?”

I saw the lights. It was the same array of lights he told me to look at so long ago. Before, I couldn’t answer, and I didn’t think I could do so now. I started feeling sick as I counted the lights, but it felt different. I had to say it out loud, just to prove once and for all that I could beat the chip within my head. Just once!

I said laboriously, “There … are … f … our … lights!”

Everyone gasped. I waited for chunks to fly. But nothing happened.

NOTHING HAPPENED!!

Anthony clapped his hands and said, “Well done! It seems the operations have been a success.”

“Operations?” I asked.

“We have removed your math inhibitor chip, and you should be able to do math again.”

nuq? Was he serious? After going so long without math, could I really start doing it again? I imagined the possibilities. I could get back to the testiwests and join the Federation! I could date again! But more importantly, I could wa’, cha’, wej, loS, vagh, jav, Soch!

O yes, juppu’wI’! I could do math again! My eyes rolled back in my head as I imagined the sweet beauty of the integral of “e” to the “x”. O, Great Ecstasy! I was cured, Qapla’!

 

THE END

Klingon Glossary