in random patterns (but were they? or just a little too fast for him to catch?), making its simple series of sounds again and again and again. It was running by itself.
No ... no. I hit a pothole, or something. That's all. Jogged its switch. Got it going.
But he could see the small black switch on the side. It was pushed to Off. But Merlin went on booping and beeping and buzzing. It reminded him of a Vegas slot-machine paying off a big jackpot.
The thing's plastic case began to smoke. The plastic itself was sinking ... drooling ... running like tallow. The lights flashed faster ... faster. Suddenly they all went on at once, bright red, and the gadget emitted a strangled buzzing sound. The case cracked open. There was a brittle shower of plastic shards. The seat-cover started to smolder underneath it.
Ignoring his stomach, Leandro got up on his knees and knocked it onto the floor. There was a charred spot on the seat where Merlin had lain.
What is this?
The answer, irrelevant, nearly a scream:
I WOULD LIKE TO GO HOME NOW PLEASE!
'The ability to isolate a simple mathematical series.' Did I think that? The John Leandro that flunked general math in high school? Do you mean it?
Never mind that, just bug OUT!
No.
He put the Dodge in gear and drove on again. He had gone less than twenty yards when he thought suddenly, with crazy exhilaration:
The ability to isolate a simple mathematical series indicates the existence of a general case, doesn't it? You could express it this way, come to think of it:
ax[2] + bxy = cy[2] + dx + ey + f = 0.
Yup. It'll work as long as a, b, c, d, and f are constants. I think. Yeah. You bet. But you couldn't let a, b, or c be 0 - that'd fuck it for sure! Let f take care of itself! Ha!
Leandro felt like puking, but he still uttered a shrill, triumphant laugh. All at once he felt as if his brain had lifted off, right through the top of his skull. Although he didn't know it (having pretty much dozed through that part of Nerd Math), he had reinvented the general quadratic equation in two variables, which can indeed be used to isolate components in a simple mathematical series. It blew his mind.
A moment later, blood burst from his nose in an amazing flood.
That was the end of John Leandro's first effort to get into Haven. He threw the gearshift into reverse and backed unsteadily up the road, weaving from side to side, right arm hooked over the front seat, blood pouring onto the shoulder of his shirt as he stared out through the back window with watering eyes.
He backed up for almost a mile, then turned around in a driveway. He looked down at himself. His shirt was drenched with blood. But he felt better. A little better, he amended. Still, he didn't linger; he drove back to Troy Village and parked in front of the general store.
He walked in, expecting the usual gathering of old men to stare at his bloody shirt with silent Yankee surprise. But only the shopkeeper was there, and he didn't look surprised at all - not at the blood, not at Leandro's question about any shirts he might have in stock.
'Look like your nose might've bled a tetch,' the storekeeper said mildly, and showed Leandro a selection of T-shirts. An inordinately large selection for such a small store as this, Leandro thought - he was slowly getting hold of himself, although his head still ached and his stomach still felt sour and unsteady. The flow of blood from his nose had scared him very badly.
'You could say that,' Leandro said. He allowed the old man to thumb through the shirts for him, because there was tacky blood still drying on his own hands. They were sized S, M, L, and XL. WHERE TH' HELL IS TROY, MAINE? some said. On others there was a lobster and the slogan I GOT THE BEST PIECE OF TAIL I EVER HAD IN TROY, MAINE. On others there was a large blackfly which looked like a monster from outer space. THE MAINE STATE BIRD, these proclaimed.
'You sure do have lots of shirts,' Leandro said, pointing to a WHERE TH' HELL in an M size. He thought the lobster shirt was amusing, but thought his mother would be less than wild about the innuendo.
'Ayuh,' the storekeeper said. 'Have to have a lot. Sell