He was attempting to lighten the atmosphere by telling tall tales that normal people could enjoy, but Saeko couldn’t help wondering what it was that had got him so caught up in his thoughts earlier.
“So, what’s got you so preoccupied anyway?” Presumably it was something fascinating enough to make him completely forget himself.
Isogai’s expression changed immediately. Saeko got the impression that whatever it was, it was pretty important. “Actually I find it a little hard to believe. Apparently, the value of Pi has changed.”
Pi. Saeko knew the basics; it was a number that continued randomly and infinitely beyond the decimal point, never revealing a pattern.
3.1415926535897932384626433832795028…
Had he meant that some new discovery had been made about the number?
“A colleague of mine called Cyril Burt — good friend, actually — was given a report by another mutual friend I used to work with at the facility, Gary. He researches number theory at Stanford.
“Just three or four days ago he was running some generic tests on some new computers they were having installed. One of the tests was to have the computer calculate the value of Pi to 500 billion digits. It’s a relatively standard computing test to check for errors in logic. We already know the value of Pi to a trillion digits, so it’s easy to tell if the calculation goes wrong on the way.
“Now, the value of Pi is such that no matter how long we were to run a computer, we would never be able to finish the calculation. Pi is an irrational number and can’t be represented as a fraction. Each number below the decimal point will be a number from 0 to 9, and at no point will anything resembling a numeric pattern appear. This has already been proven using mathematic theory.
“Anyway, Gary had set up the computer to sound an alarm if the calculation didn’t produce the expected numbers. As I said, a simple test to check the computer’s processing ability.” Isogai paused for a moment, eyes unfocused as though he were lost in thought.
“So the alarm sounded?” Saeko prompted.
“Exactly.”
“Meaning, a pattern emerged?”
Isogai shook his head, looking genuinely disturbed. “As I said, I find it hard to believe, but after a certain point, the numbers stopped. The computer just produced a succession of zeros.”
Saeko recalled part of her father’s writing — he had also written about Pi:
Irrational numbers continue ad infinitum as a chaotic concatenation of numerals with no point of destination. Imagine if I were to suddenly find a repeating pattern in a number that had heretofore been defined as irrational!
“That must have been pretty terrifying for Gary.”
“Terrifying, yes … That’s exactly what it was. He wasn’t afraid at first because he didn’t believe the results for a moment. I guess he swore at the computer for coming up with an error and set about reinitializing the test.
“But he couldn’t find any errors in the program. He called on some friends to help. Pretty standard researcher thing, always trying to remain objective. He wanted a second opinion, probably thought he was just missing something obvious.”
“But they didn’t find anything either, right?”
Isogai smiled a little, looking pleasantly surprised that Saeko was following the conversation. “Do you want to see it? I’ve got the data from the test in my laptop.”
Isogai stopped suddenly and pulled his laptop out from his shoulder bag. He sat on the edge of one of the steps and booted up the computer. Saeko sat next to him and watched as a succession of numbers appeared on the computer’s display. The stream of numbers quickly filled the screen. At a certain point, the numbers became a succession of zeros.
… 053944282039301274816381585303964399254702016727593285743666441109625663373000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 …
Beyond the decimal point, some numbers reached a point where they became periodic, endlessly repeating a given digit or set of digits. For example, 17 divided by 7 yielded 2.428571428571428571 … The 428571 pattern repeated endlessly. Numbers that terminated in a repeating decimal pattern were classified as rational. By contrast, numbers such as Pi or the root of 2 were defined as irrational since their decimal representation went on forever without ever terminating in a pattern. Yet, the number on the screen devolved into a clear pattern, a never-ending line of zeros.
Saeko scanned through the numbers on the screen. As she did so, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the dividing zone between the random numbers and the succession of zeros represented an abyss, something beyond the realm of her comprehension. It seemed like a dividing line between life and death. The random numbers were life, dynamic and vibrant. In contrast, the procession of zeros brought to mind a frozen world where all forms of life were precluded by a boundless emptiness. The random numbers were full of color and variety, the zeros monotone and dull.
Is it an omen?
She felt awe, sensing a will that pervaded the universe. If it was the will of a god, though, what was this saying? Was it a positive message? Or a warning? Saeko couldn’t believe that it was the former. She felt morbidly certain that this was not a good sign for the universe.
“Is it possible that the random numbers return later?” Perhaps it was just some astounding coincidence. Perhaps things just returned to normal.
“They thought of that and pushed the computer to continue the calculation. The zeros just went on and on, and the random strings of numbers never recurred. That was when they started to really worry.
“It wasn’t a problem with the machine. They had professionals check it and nothing was found. When the results of the objectivity tests came back, confirming that the pattern of zeros was real, Cyril said he started to shake.
“It’s happened everywhere, this is universal. Computers all over the planet are coming up with the same result once they hit 500 billion digits. The same pattern of zeros.”
So computers throughout the world were coming up with the result after exactly the same number of decimal points. Saeko tried to gauge the implications, yet each time found herself returning to the same basic question. Wasn’t Pi just a value? Did the change have any impact for the everyday world?
But she knew better than to ask. From all that her father had taught her about math and physics, she already knew the answer. Pi was fundamental in a number of equations used to describe various phenomena of the universe. If the value changed, then it necessarily followed that there would be real-world impact. When numbers went awry, when mathematic theorems failed, it was nothing less than a sign of a collapse in the laws of physics. But even with that understanding, it didn’t quite feel real. She had no yardstick; there were no precedents to help her contextualize it.
A chill crawled up her spine as she slowly became cognizant of the ominous threat. The revelation was so massive that it was simply impossible to process it all at once. Bit by bit, her physical reactions began to catch up with the information her mind had already processed, and she felt the hairs on her arms begin to stand on edge as fear began to penetrate the core of her consciousness.
Isogai closed the lid of his laptop and put it back in his bag, and they resumed climbing the steps. For a while neither spoke, concentrating only on the task of walking. A gust of wind blew across the path, strangely warm for the time of year. The wind died down as suddenly as it came, leaving the branches still and quiet.
There was a faint sound coming from above, like crumbling earth. The high sun was beginning its descent towards the west. Over the past few days, the dryness of the air had seemed to amplify the sun’s light, making it sharp and blinding. Today, however, the light seemed strangely muted, although it was still too bright to look directly at the sun. Scattered and diffused, different somehow from the warm glow of dawn or a dusky sun, it broke through the canopy in mixed shades of orange and crimson.