Dexter and Chen had no clue where to even start. Everything had been studied extensively by armies of geniuses, with millions if not billions of dollars to throw around. Climatologists, economists, historians, political scientists, biologists, mathematicians, religious leaders, and physicists. Even the strangest of patterns were covered by tarot readers, Feng-shui, astrologists, magicians, and UFO watchers. Who are Dexter and Chen to find ground-breaking, world-awakening patterns?
“Maybe no one is looking at the right place…” Dexter said, tired. It was several days after they started looking for evidence of world-controlling patterns. Chen had basically given up, and was only doing a half-ass job of whatever Dexter asked him to do while counting down to the end of their worthless pursuit.
“You know, everyone is so used to this world… or I should say, everyone is living because of this world. How can you find the falseness of the world if your life depends on the assumption that the world is real?”
“Dude, we are not finding falseness, right? ‘Patterns’ is what you sold me. Money-making patterns,” Chen objected.
“Right, patterns. Things that show the basic level of control of this world,” Dexter said.
“Which has been found thousands of years ago, mate. It’s called gravity. And…”
“’…and what do we know about gravity that the physics nerds don’t know?’, right,” Dexter finished the sentence and fell silent. Same thing can be said for everything else. He knew that life is governed by genetic evolution, which was governed by chemical reactions interrupted with probabilistic anomalies, which is governed by physics, which can be reduced to mathematics.
And the only place claiming one plus one equals two would make any money is in between cartoons, in a children’s math book.
But why gravity? Why are protons positive and electrons negative? Doesn’t the fact that these laws exist prove that there’s an element of control in the universe? The world seemed more like a computer the more Dexter thought about it: the particles in the universe were its bits. Molecules, bytes. Physics, semantics. Math, logic. Cells, programs. Animals, software.
Dexter buried his head into his palms, and delved deeper and deeper into philosophy, which, sadly, was also studied to the death since the time of Socrates.
As yet another day was drawing to a close, Dexter received a message on his computer.
“You want to know the real patterns?”
Unknown sender. Strange, messages from strangers were usually blocked. Dexter and Chen exchanged a look.
“Spam?” Chen asked.
“I haven’t received spam in 15 years,” Dexter said, but with uncertainty in his voice, not pride. “Should I reply?”
“Sure, whatever,” Chen shrugged.
Dexter typed, a little shakily:
“Who is this?”
”Survivor from the real world.”
Whoever it was, the sender’s reply was fast.
“What’s your name? How did you find me?”
“Too many questions. Bye-bye.”
Dexter panicked: “Wait!” and noticed Chen’s growing interest, bit his lips and paused for a moment,
“I do want to know.”
“Come to where you met Florene tomorrow at midnight. Bring trusted friends.”
And the connection ended.
“Dude, what the hell was that?” Chen exclaimed. “How did he… who… where…?”
Dexter gavehim a weak smile. “Trusted friend, I guess we will find out tomorrow.”
By comparison to Chen, flushing slightly with excitement, Dexter was as pale and sick as a piece of crumpled tissue paper after someone blew his nose into it – white with a hint of yellow.