Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I sling my eyes to the left when a grumbled voice roars, “The sum of the positive integers is divisible by n, so the answer should be…” A man I’d guess to be in his late fifties tosses a table on its end before attacking a chalkboard with the tenacity of a bull shark. He drags the tip of the chalk over his findings until they resemble an infant’s drawing. “The answer is wrong. It’s wrong!”
His tantrum stops when he spots our shadow on the board now free of chalk. When he spins to face us, I take a step back. His beard is scruffier than my father’s, and his eyes are wild, but his face is so gaunt it appears as if he hasn’t eaten in days.
Although his eyes drink me in, he acts as if I’m not a part of his world when he shifts his focus back to Cash. “Not now, son. I have a problem to solve.”
Ignoring Cash’s gaped mouth, he spins back to the board and scribbles an equation from a sheet of paper in his hand onto the chalkboard in front of him.
σ (n) ≤ Hn +ln (Hn)eHi>
When he sets to work on solving it, incoherent mumbles trickle through the quiet. It isn’t chalk scratching across the chalkboard nor Cash’s father rambling to himself. It is Cash’s lips smacking together as he strives to end his father’s manic episode by solving the puzzle for him.
Unlike the time he nosedived my attempt to learn how to give blow jobs, he doesn’t jot down his calculations. He mentally assesses them, which showcases his brilliance in a way you could never comprehend if you didn’t witness it in person.
He is smart. I just have to pray his brilliance doesn’t dampen his ability to understand that errors are a part of life.
Cash’s dad only makes it through four sequences of analysis before his anger gets the better of him again. This time, he attacks a workstation under an old library lamp instead of a freestanding desk. “The sum of the positive integers is divisible by n, so the answer has to be…” Once his office is trashed, he tears at his hair, leaving it on ends. “It is…”
His eyes shoot to mine when I say, “There is no answer.” As he stares at me with bewilderment in his narrowed gaze, I explain, “That’s the Reimann Hypothesis. An unsolvable puzzle. People have been striving to answer it for years. Except…” My heart beats at an unusual rhythm when I realize there’s something wrong with his formula. “You’ve jotted it down wrong.” It takes me retching my hand out of Cash’s clasp to be able to approach his father, and even then, it isn’t done without a heap of nerves shuddering my steps. “Can I?”
His eyes grow even more wild as he darts them between Cash and me, but eventually, he hands me the stick of chalk he’s clasping as requested.
“This is the Reimann Hypothesis.” I rub out his calculations and jot down the formula correctly.
σ (n) ≤ Hn +ln (Hn)eHn>
“You had an extra I instead of an N.” When Cash’s dad snatches the chalk out of my hand, I say, “But it is still unsolvable.”
Once again, he ignores me.
I understand why when ten minutes later, he says, “Done.” He places the chalk onto the holder, flattens the hair he made stand on end, then twists to face Cash and me. “Juice?”
Not waiting for us to answer, much less take in my shocked face, he zips past us, then bolts up the stairs at a million miles a minute.
Silence reigns supreme for almost a minute before my brain eventually kicks back on. “That can’t be right.” I walk closer to the blackboard, incapable of looking a gift horse in the mouth. “His formula looks right, but the Reimann Hypothesis has never been solved. The Clay Mathematics Foundation is offering a million-dollar prize money for anyone who solves it.”
That snaps Cash out of his trance, but not in the way you’d expect. “Can you keep that between us?” He lifts his eyes to the roof. “If she knows she can milk him even more than she already has, his breakdown eleven years ago will stretch to centuries instead of decades.” He waits for me to nod, his eyes begging, before he collects the chalk stick from my hand so he can fix a minor error in his father’s equation. “Now it is done.”
Chapter 33
Cash
Think of the most brilliant person you know.
Now times it by a trillion, and you still won’t be close to my father’s brilliance.
He was the man they raved about, a genius above all geniuses.
Then he solved one too many riddles, and his brain turned to mush. His psychologist called it a breakdown. My mother said it was because he gave all his smarts to me.