The Tweet

Five seniors hanging out in the school's science wing. They're smoking. Bong rips.

"What if humans are the earth's electrons?"

His friends laughed and teased him. He laughed too. Mary goes round, he grabs his phone and tweets it. Chuckles.

"Janitors back," says one of them.

They flee the scene.

* * *

In his home office. A celebrity scientist browses Twitter. He sees the tweet and chuckles to himself. Then he starts to actually think about it. He walks over to his board. He starts doing math. At first it's slow. Curious. Then it's quicker. Excited. Things are falling in place. The numbers speak for themselves. They speak for him. For everyone. He sits back. Looking at the numbers. He stares in awe and disbelief. Then, he moves to another white board and starts plugging in numbers in different equations. His jaw drops. He keeps writing. The marker eventually runs dry, but he keeps going. His eyes become glossy and his movements start to become broken. There's blood dripping from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. Even in death he keeps producing numbers. Eventually he stumbles back and lays bloodied, broken, and unresponsive. For a second before his death, his understanding of the universe expanded further than he ought to. Further than we ought to.