Chase Hatter's Origin of Pangaea

Chapter Twenty One

Later on in the day as Andrew put the finishing touches on the trademarked Grant & Grant Industries prosthetic leg, he noticed Dr. Pinch Sr. enter the lab carrying a newspaper. He seemed giddy. He smiled.

"Hello, Andrew!" Greeted Dr. Pinch. "How are things coming along?"

"Well, Doctor. I'm almost finished. Can I help you with something?"

"I'm almost embarrassed to say," the doctor admitted, "but I may as well come clean. A few months ago, you were on the frontpage of the papers as a Pangaean who had entered the country as an acrobat."

"One of my stops during my research." Andrew explained. "I helped a group of circus goers stay afloat while their acrobat recovered."

"Ah, yes, and that's what I wanted to speak to you about Andrew." Dr. Pinch said. "I know a lot about your people, your Complex Conjugates and your unique talents. And I know that Complex Conjugates share some skills unrelated to their talents, as well. Surely, Pangaea's Greatest Scholar has no use for any acrobatic skill. Could you tell me about your Complex Conjugate? Are they a man or a woman? What is their unique talent? Have you met them at all yet? And what use would either one of you have for such acrobatic skills?"

Andrew smiled. "What has you so interested in Pangaea, Dr. Pinch?"

Dr. Pinch took a seat on the other side of the worktable. "I want you to know," Dr. Pinch began, "that I've never held any contempt towards DeWitt. I thought he had an interesting concept and I thought he should be free to pursue it, but things don't always go as planned, especially in politics. We have a better chance at proving the existence of parallel universes before we'd ever see disagreeing politicians have a civil and productive conversation. But if I'm being honest, I never expected his little idea to thrive in the way that it has. And with the addition of that very unstable proof that Ethan and Elijah Grant published - no offense - I wondered how any real work was ever being done in that place. I thought to myself, 'these men are absolutely insane. They have no grasp of how to go about proving anything, especially mathematically.' But regardless of whether or not that's true, they've been able to compete with some of the world's most accomplished technology companies while still generating baseless - or seemingly baseless - proofs in the process. Their trajectory coupled with their questionable sanity have been strange to me. That's why I'm asking you so many questions. I'm trying to make sense of the strange phenomenon that is Pangaeans and their existence."

Andrew stopped working on the trademarked prosthetic. "No offense taken." Andrew began. "A lot of what happens to Pangaeans and in Pangaea needs to be observed to be believed. That includes the theorem of complex conjugates. Theo Sage determined that I was Pangaea's Greatest Scholar very early in my life. The definition is that I am a jack of all trades and a studious learner. I am sometimes an inventor and sometimes a soldier." Andrew got back to work, twisting in the final screws in for his project. "But, according to the definition, those very traits also define me as Pangaea's Greatest Enemy; a Pangaean patriot. But, Dr. Pinch, that's what Complex Conjugates are for. Their purpose is to balance their best friend and my best friend is very good at what he does. After all, he is a very, very funny man."

Just then, Dr. Pinch's son, Alan, came barreling through the laboratory doors.

"I don't want it!" He screamed at his father. "I don't want it, I don't need it. Not from them!"

"Alan, please." Dr. Pinch begged. "It will fix your limp."

"The one that they gave me?" Alan recalled. "Did you forget? What's more important? Your son or your stupid collaboration with these idiot, so-called scientists?"

"Alan?" Andrew called out. "If a Pangaean is responsible for the loss of your leg, then it is even more reason for you to accept it. Take it. Please."

"And what would you have given me if I had died?" Alan asked. "Would you have brought me back to life?"

"Of course!" Andrew promised. "As soon as the technology became available, we'd prioritize your resurrection." Alan rolled his eyes and glared at his father.

"They're still crazy." Alan told Dr.Pinch. "Am I supposed to feel better that you brought one of them here to give me a pity-gift?"

"It's a normal gift." Andrew claimed. Alan ignored him.

"Alan," Dr. Pinch began, "I'm sorry about what happened and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you and your mother when it happened, but I'm trying to make it up to you in the best way that I can. Grant and Grant Industries produces the best prosthetics known to man. And, yes, they are a Pangaean company, but they are still the best. That's what I want for you; the best."

"I should be going." Andrew interrupted as he scooped up the prosthetic blueprint and his Radio Cube. "But, Alan, you should listen to your father. If it helps you in accepting the gift, you should know that the Grant Twins are not responsible for a single death or injury that occurred in those years. They roamed the country, brushing up on mathematics and studying circuitry. They paired Pangaeans with their best friends at Pangaean soldier base camps and inspired many Pangaens to prioritize brain over brawn, regardless of a talent that would suggest that they do the opposite. You would be accepting a gift from two men who preach nothing but the pursuit of knowledge and peace. Please, reconsider."

"Thank you, Andrew." Dr. Pinch said. "I appreciate your gesture today. It's not something you had to do, but you did it anyway." Andrew nodded.

"Of course. I will see you again in another lifetime, Doctor. You as well, Alan."

Andrew made his way out of the lab. He heard as the discussion between Dr. Pinch Sr. and his son continued, but there was nothing more he could add to the conversation, especially as a Pangaean. The scholar jumped on his bike, cracked open his Radio Cube, and continued on his way as the voice of Axel DeWitt filled his ears.

"How simple can this be?" Axel asked himself. "We agree that we have unique talents, yes? But are these talents infinite? And how are they assigned? That is what we need to prove, Miss Watson." Pamela scratched her head.

"You're losing me." She said.

"Not me!" Ethan announced. "I believe I understand. While the unique talents may not be infinite themselves, it must always be true that someone possesses one at any given moment. So, what happens when Pangaea's Greatest Politician dies? Does someone else, a living person, take on his role? Impossible. We've already proved uniqueness. Is he reborn into a person with a different talent? Impossible. It would create a discontinuity because, once it comes into existence, a unique talents persists infinitely. Or could it be that his talent is reserved for him and only him? Two people with the same unique talent cannot exist at the same time, according to the results of the Color Wheel Interview, but there is also never a time when a talent is not occupied, it's infinite; another result of the Color Wheel Interview. So, it must be that this talent is reserved only for Mr. DeWitt. The same is true for all Pangaeans and their individual talent. Talents are reserved. The infinite existence of the points on the unit circle guarantee the infinite existence of the talent in question. Therefore, the infinite lifetime of a Pangaean. Does that make sense, Miss Watson?"

Pamela thought on it for a brief moment. "So, no one else can be Pangaea's Greatest Journalist except for me." She concluded. "And every time I die, I'll come back as the greatest journalist because the talent is mine. It's unique. It's infinite. Just like... a point on a unit circle."

Elijah's eyes teared up at the mention of his precious mathematical concept. "Yes." He agreed. "Just like a point on the unit circle."