even bigger prime number. Every product of two prime numbers can only be factored one way. It has its own unique formula of prime numbers. That part is important because there can be only one solution for the secret encryption code. So the larger the prime number used, the harder it would be to break the code.” Slowly, he nodded, staring through her.
She
waited
for
his
expression to go vacant, or for him to say he had a headache. That was usually what happened when she tried to explain cryptology.
“Hmm,” he finally said.
“So, you basically solve really really big math problems?”
“Well, my computer does
and I write the code. But yeah, that’s the idea.”
“Okay. I think I get it.” He leaned forward and rested on his elbows. “You know, it’s not that different from composition. I solve puzzles too. But instead of solving them as numbers, I solve them as tones. You put numbers together to fit evenly into other numbers. I put tones together to sound good.
Actually, there’s something called Algorithmic Composition. It’s using math to write songs.” His eyes narrowed. “Hey, I bet we’d make a good team.”
“No way. Your work is
subjective. There’s no right or wrong answer.”
“Not technically, but there are pairings of notes that sound universally good together and ones that don’t. Finding those pairs is a lot like adding numbers. Think of a song as one big math equation. The more correctly matched groups of notes, the better the song.” He smiled at her. “What you and I do is not so different. Except I suck at math so I rely on my ear. But art can be created either way.” Before she could protest, he added, “Yes, math can be art, Emerson. Don’t be so narrow-minded.”
He winked and all she could
do was stare at him, somewhat awe-struck. Thoughts flew by like paper airplanes in the wind, but she couldn’t latch onto a single one.
And for a hyper focused math genius, that was disturbing.
***
A small smile settled on Emerson’s face as she gazed at him.
What was this mysterious girl thinking? Though she’d come off as an anti-social slightly cocky bitch in the beginning, now she was showing a different side of her. She could make eye contact, when she cared
enough.
She did have
meaningful conversations, when she was
interested
in
the
topic.
Emerson wasn’t a head case, or a mean girl, she was misunderstood.
Levi had been unraveling the puzzle that was her mind, and actually enjoying it.
“You said you’d tell me
everything if I got you a coffee smoothie thing.” He gestured to the cup.
“Frappuccino.”
“Whatever. I got it for you so now I demand answers.” With mock sternness, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me everything you know.”
“Pushy. No spotlight and
one-way mirror, Mr. Interrogator?” Leaning down, she reached for something by her feet then sat up and placed her laptop on the table.
“Do you bring that thing everywhere with you?”
“Yep.”
“Even on a date?”
Scowling, she opened it
then answered, “It wasn’t a date.
But yes, even on dates. If I ever had one.”
She
didn’t
date?
That
shouldn’t surprise him. But even the most hardcore shut-ins needed companionship. Emerson had a lot to offer, if only she’d open up more.
So focused on this prime number thing, she probably didn’t bother to try. The intense feelings that had scared him a few days ago, and made him run from her apartment guilty and ashamed resurfaced. She didn’t just need love – she needed someone to watch out for her, definitely someone to cook and clean, maybe even someone to listen to her. Deep proprietary feelings rose up inside of him. She wasn’t right for him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t care about her. He wanted to protect her, but like an older brother. Nothing more. Yeah.
Caring wasn’t so bad when he put it that way.
She
probably
wouldn’t
admit it, but she seemed
She
waited
for
his
expression to go vacant, or for him to say he had a headache. That was usually what happened when she tried to explain cryptology.
“Hmm,” he finally said.
“So, you basically solve really really big math problems?”
“Well, my computer does
and I write the code. But yeah, that’s the idea.”
“Okay. I think I get it.” He leaned forward and rested on his elbows. “You know, it’s not that different from composition. I solve puzzles too. But instead of solving them as numbers, I solve them as tones. You put numbers together to fit evenly into other numbers. I put tones together to sound good.
Actually, there’s something called Algorithmic Composition. It’s using math to write songs.” His eyes narrowed. “Hey, I bet we’d make a good team.”
“No way. Your work is
subjective. There’s no right or wrong answer.”
“Not technically, but there are pairings of notes that sound universally good together and ones that don’t. Finding those pairs is a lot like adding numbers. Think of a song as one big math equation. The more correctly matched groups of notes, the better the song.” He smiled at her. “What you and I do is not so different. Except I suck at math so I rely on my ear. But art can be created either way.” Before she could protest, he added, “Yes, math can be art, Emerson. Don’t be so narrow-minded.”
He winked and all she could
do was stare at him, somewhat awe-struck. Thoughts flew by like paper airplanes in the wind, but she couldn’t latch onto a single one.
And for a hyper focused math genius, that was disturbing.
***
A small smile settled on Emerson’s face as she gazed at him.
What was this mysterious girl thinking? Though she’d come off as an anti-social slightly cocky bitch in the beginning, now she was showing a different side of her. She could make eye contact, when she cared
enough.
She did have
meaningful conversations, when she was
interested
in
the
topic.
Emerson wasn’t a head case, or a mean girl, she was misunderstood.
Levi had been unraveling the puzzle that was her mind, and actually enjoying it.
“You said you’d tell me
everything if I got you a coffee smoothie thing.” He gestured to the cup.
“Frappuccino.”
“Whatever. I got it for you so now I demand answers.” With mock sternness, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me everything you know.”
“Pushy. No spotlight and
one-way mirror, Mr. Interrogator?” Leaning down, she reached for something by her feet then sat up and placed her laptop on the table.
“Do you bring that thing everywhere with you?”
“Yep.”
“Even on a date?”
Scowling, she opened it
then answered, “It wasn’t a date.
But yes, even on dates. If I ever had one.”
She
didn’t
date?
That
shouldn’t surprise him. But even the most hardcore shut-ins needed companionship. Emerson had a lot to offer, if only she’d open up more.
So focused on this prime number thing, she probably didn’t bother to try. The intense feelings that had scared him a few days ago, and made him run from her apartment guilty and ashamed resurfaced. She didn’t just need love – she needed someone to watch out for her, definitely someone to cook and clean, maybe even someone to listen to her. Deep proprietary feelings rose up inside of him. She wasn’t right for him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t care about her. He wanted to protect her, but like an older brother. Nothing more. Yeah.
Caring wasn’t so bad when he put it that way.
She
probably
wouldn’t
admit it, but she seemed
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