Math is turning bad
Psst, cmere, said the shifty-eyed man wearing a long black trenchcoat, as he beckoned me off the rainy street into a damp dark alley. I followed.
What are you selling? I asked.
Geometrical algebra drugs.
Huh!?
Geometry drugs. Ya got your uppers, your downers, your sidewaysers, your inside-outers…
Stop right there, I interrupted. Ive never heard of inside-outers.
Oh, man, youll love em. Makes you feel like M.C. ever-lovin Escher on a particularly weird day.
Go on…
OK, your inside-outers, your arbitrary bilinear mappers, and here, heh, here are the best ones, he said, pulling out a large clear bottle of orange pills.
What are those, then? I asked.
Givens transformers. Theyll rotate you about more planes than you even knew existed.
Sounds gross. What about those bilinear mappers?
Theres a whole variety of them. Heres one youll love — they call it One Over Z on the street. Take one of these little bad boys and youll be on speaking terms with the Point at Infinity.
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