01-09-2015, 12:40 PM
The lesson had gone on for a while. All of them held the Force at some point. And while not the quickest or strongest, he was impressed by the Indian man's ferocity and willingness to keep trying until sweat poured off him.
Sanjay Ramanujan. He couldn't help but smile at the name and what it seemed to portend. Once again, it seemed the universe was bending to him. The legendary savant mathematician, Srinivasa Ramanujan, discovered by the brilliant G.H. Hardy. A man who, despite little formal mathematical training and no rigor, on his own discovered thousands of theorems and truths and opened up entire new realms. The notebooks he left behind were still being studied and new discoveries were being made all the time. He had an almost mystical connection to numbers, every bit as much as he did to the goddess Mahalakshmihe to whom had been dedicated to at birth. The story of Hardy's taxicab came to mind. He'd been visiting the sick and bedridden Ramanujan and the from his bed the man curiously asked what his cab number had been. 1729 came the answer. "A boring number," said the eminent mentor. "No," came Ramanujan's reply. "Not boring. For it is the smallest number that can be expressed as the sum of two cubes in two different ways."
There was something about this man, this Sanjay Ramanujan. At Michael's order, though, he just looked at him passively, irritation surging to the surface. No one told him when and where he would use his power. That one time with Ascendancy had been his own choice, a means to an end, a demonstration.
He calmed himself. He understood that it was Michael's job to train them. He wouldn't assent. But would keep that in mind. The men were going back to their rooms. He'd have opportunity to talk to Ramanujan at some point. He could be far more useful than Pyotr.
"I think will speak with the doctors."
He went to the door Dr. Weston had gone through and entered. An army of men and women in lab coats were looking at monitors and equipment. He stood there, observing for a bit, trying to understand what they were monitoring. It seemed each of the men had biometric readers implanted on them, giving back valuable physical data. Their rooms were set up with various sensors for across the EM spectrum. There were other view-screens that showed what appeared to be DNA sequences.
He stepped closer. His knowledge of microbiology was really only what he had learned in high school. But this intrigued him. Was there some genetic component to their power, the connection to the Force? The discovery of the sword came to him again. Matter and the Force. A connection. He looked around the room. He needed to find Dr. Weston. He stopped a passing man. "Is Dr. Weston about?"
Sanjay Ramanujan. He couldn't help but smile at the name and what it seemed to portend. Once again, it seemed the universe was bending to him. The legendary savant mathematician, Srinivasa Ramanujan, discovered by the brilliant G.H. Hardy. A man who, despite little formal mathematical training and no rigor, on his own discovered thousands of theorems and truths and opened up entire new realms. The notebooks he left behind were still being studied and new discoveries were being made all the time. He had an almost mystical connection to numbers, every bit as much as he did to the goddess Mahalakshmihe to whom had been dedicated to at birth. The story of Hardy's taxicab came to mind. He'd been visiting the sick and bedridden Ramanujan and the from his bed the man curiously asked what his cab number had been. 1729 came the answer. "A boring number," said the eminent mentor. "No," came Ramanujan's reply. "Not boring. For it is the smallest number that can be expressed as the sum of two cubes in two different ways."
There was something about this man, this Sanjay Ramanujan. At Michael's order, though, he just looked at him passively, irritation surging to the surface. No one told him when and where he would use his power. That one time with Ascendancy had been his own choice, a means to an end, a demonstration.
He calmed himself. He understood that it was Michael's job to train them. He wouldn't assent. But would keep that in mind. The men were going back to their rooms. He'd have opportunity to talk to Ramanujan at some point. He could be far more useful than Pyotr.
"I think will speak with the doctors."
He went to the door Dr. Weston had gone through and entered. An army of men and women in lab coats were looking at monitors and equipment. He stood there, observing for a bit, trying to understand what they were monitoring. It seemed each of the men had biometric readers implanted on them, giving back valuable physical data. Their rooms were set up with various sensors for across the EM spectrum. There were other view-screens that showed what appeared to be DNA sequences.
He stepped closer. His knowledge of microbiology was really only what he had learned in high school. But this intrigued him. Was there some genetic component to their power, the connection to the Force? The discovery of the sword came to him again. Matter and the Force. A connection. He looked around the room. He needed to find Dr. Weston. He stopped a passing man. "Is Dr. Weston about?"