Professor Quirin looked out of his laboratory.
Winter in Cambridge. The snow piled on the tree branches was trickling down little by little in the wind.
Clink.
A coffee cup was in his hand.
It had already been a month since he had begun searching for a counterexample to Seoha’s 13-Stage Hypothesis. Yet, to an astonishing degree, there had been no results whatsoever. It had taken him three days just to acknowledge that fact.
Ngh.
But he could not give up so easily.
Nearly fifty years spent alongside mathematics, his pride as an Abel Prize laureate, and the weight carried by the name Harvard all made him hesitate to retreat. Even so, he could not simply let time pass like this forever.
He moved his reluctant hand and called Dean Whitman.
* * *
The dean’s office of the MIT Department of Mathematics.
Quirin bowed politely and greeted him.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Come in, come in. To think it’s this hard to meet when we live right next door!”
His voice was excessively bright. Even his skin shone smoothly, as if he had grown young again.
Quirin furrowed his brow slightly. It was something he had expected even before making the call, but meeting him in person was still unpleasant.
“I came today because there is something I wish to discuss.”
“Wahahaha! What’s the rush? Have a cup of tea first. As it happens, I have some fine tea leaves brought in from Korea.”
Without waiting for an answer, Whitman rose from his seat and walked toward the cabinet.
Quirin preferred coffee, but with the other man already showing him his back, there was nothing he could do. He carefully stepped inside and leaned back on the sofa.
“Have you heard of a region called Boseong?”
“…I have not.”
“They say it is the largest and most famous green tea-producing region in Korea.
That rascal Seoha, really! I suppose he remembered my tastes, because he said he went all the way there on purpose to get the finest tea leaves. He sent photos as well. Would you like to see them? The tea fields run in rows along the mountain slopes, and from far away, they look like green waves rippling. It’s an area where fog often settles, so the growth is slow, and that, in turn, gives the leaves their aroma…”
At the unending praise of green tea, Quirin felt his mind begin to grow faint.
Drip, drip.
Perhaps he had learned properly, because his handling of the leaves and tea utensils was quite skillful.
“…Seoha sent you tea?”
“He said it was a Thanksgiving gift. Most agricultural cultures have holidays celebrating the harvest. They say in Korea, people exchange gifts with those close to them.”
Was it his imagination?
It seemed as though Whitman had put particular emphasis on “close.” Quirin’s mood soured. Pretending not to have heard, he slowly looked around the dean’s office.
The first thing that caught his eye was a glass case containing the first edition of Seoha’s paper proving the Riemann Hypothesis. Judging by the binding, it seemed to be a limited edition specially produced by the publisher.
Beside it were framed copies of the other difficult problems he had proven, as well as patents and letters of appreciation related to the Minimum Energy Theory, Utopia, and Oracle.
When he turned his head, the bookshelves along the wall were packed not only with academic journals like Science and Nature, but also major weekly magazines such as Time and Newsweek. Naturally, they were all issues reporting on the achievements of MIT and Seoha, with the titles printed in different languages over the face on the cover.
Quirin had no choice but to admit it.
The two schools may have once held similar status, but that was absolutely no longer the case.
Now, when people spoke of mathematics, MIT was the first name on their lips. At conferences, in the media, even in conversations with the young scholars who came to visit Quirin’s laboratory, the order in which names were casually mentioned had changed.
“I came today because of this.”
Slide.
He pushed a book he had brought onto the table.
Seoha’s 13-Stage Hypothesis.
Whitman looked down at the book and gave a bitter smile.
“I have a copy as well.”
He rose from his seat and walked toward the bookshelf. His hands moved with a familiarity that suggested he had taken it out often. When Quirin saw the state of the book Whitman pulled out, he was at a loss for words.
Every page was filled with notes.
“When did you begin reading it?”
“From the moment the photographs first began circulating, I suppose.”
“Have you made any progress?”
“Progress…”
He stroked his chin and fell into thought. The excitement had disappeared from his expression.
“None, aside from the fact that I have not found an error.”
“I am in the same situation.”
“Quirin, I will speak frankly.”
“Please do.”
Whitman said with a serious face.
“I find it deeply regrettable that Seoha’s sketch was exposed. You could call it a kind of unfortunate accident.”
“It seems that book is not to your liking either, Dean.”
“It is far more than that.”
Tap.
He set down his teacup and continued.
“At first, it was not something worth paying much attention to. But now it has gone too far.
Look outside. Whenever the students gather, all they talk about is the 13-Stage Hypothesis. They carry the book around like a fashion accessory and open it now and then. They seem to think it makes them look impressive. Shall I say it is a similar sensibility to placing a complete set of Shakespeare they will never read in the most visible spot in their home library?”
Bang!
Quirin struck the table.
“That is exactly what I mean. Vexingly enough, that thing is stimulating the intellectual vanity of young students with high egos!”
“Calm yourself. The person most troubled by this right now is likely Seoha himself.”
Now that he thought about it, that was true.
“Hmm. It must indeed be a difficult situation, though unintended.”
“Even Seoha cannot make an impromptu sketch perfect. What do you think will happen if it is later revealed to be full of errors?”
“Ah!”
He understood what Whitman was worried about.
“Given that the students have such high noses, they will feel tremendous shame. That negative emotion will be directed straight at Seoha. Even though he did nothing wrong.”
Quirin furrowed his brow.
“It is humanity’s weak yet wicked side, I suppose. They will feel more at ease if they blame someone else… It may even become a subject of ridicule.”
“For Seoha, who is already building an immaculate career, such gossip can only be harmful. It would be best to resolve the situation as quickly as possible.”
Quirin looked puzzled.
“Couldn’t he simply step forward himself?”
“That is a bit…”
Whitman looked troubled.
“It was not a formally published paper, so there is nothing to retract. It would also be strange to simply call it scribbling.”
“…He did personally claim that the Turing machine is not complete. He would have to retract that statement as well…”
He would become a laughingstock not just in the world of mathematics, but throughout the entire scientific community.
Whitman let out a deep sigh, as though the ground were collapsing beneath him.
“So you see how much of a headache this is for me.”
“I understand.”
He sincerely consoled Dean Whitman.
But at the same time, this was also an opportunity. As if doing him a favor, Quirin hinted to him.
“In the end, there is only one most certain method.”
““Verification.””
The same word came from both their mouths at once.
“If you wish, the Harvard Department of Mathematics will lend its assistance. It will be a good experience for everyone.”
“Do you truly mean that?”
At the look on Whitman’s face, which seemed to brighten, Quirin smiled in satisfaction.
“If the result is something verified by Harvard and MIT together, there will be no room for people to talk afterward. This bizarre trend will soon die down as well. Young Seoha will be able to focus on his research in peace.”
Whitman clasped his hand.
“Thank you. I am indebted to you. I will never forget this.”
“Hahaha! There is no need to go that far. Are we not colleagues walking the path of mathematics together?”
A Harvard chair professor and the dean of MIT; the two of them had sufficient authority.
Scale, budget, and even the scope of verification. The discussion was settled on the spot.
“Then I will see you again soon.”
Unlike when he had arrived, Quirin left the dean’s office with a much lighter expression. After confirming that he had left, Whitman let out a long breath and leaned back comfortably in his chair.
Knock, knock!
An assistant opened the door and entered.
“Dean, the bindery contacted us again. It seems they want us to increase the number of copies even more this week. They say the book is selling too well. It feels a bit of a waste to sell it at cost, doesn’t it?”
“Tell them we will add three hundred more copies. And tell them not to be greedy and to charge only that exact price.”
“Understood!”
His gaze turned toward the desk.
Seoha’s 13-Stage Hypothesis.
It was a book whose title he had personally chosen, and whose proofreading and editing he had completed himself.
Swoosh.
The dean stroked the cover of the book as though touching something precious.
The book was made so well that one would not think it was merely a bound copy. Of course, that was only natural. It had been printed through the university press.
A strange document had been circulating on campus.
Whitman had been greatly enraged that Seoha’s formulas were being printed and passed around on shoddy paper. Missing pages were common, and perhaps because the PDF images had been copied repeatedly, some sections were blurred.
“A book ought to be like this.”
On the day the formulas spread, Whitman had hurriedly called Seoha. It was purely because he was worried about him.
“In your opinion, how accurate is the hypothesis you wrote on the wall? This is important, so tell me clearly.”
To Whitman’s question, Seoha answered without hesitation.
—Within my mind, one hundred percent. But I think I will need time to prove it rigorously. Still, I don’t think it will take ten years… The more I wrote, the more complicated it became.
Ten years!
That meant it was a proof that was by no means easy, even for Seoha’s mind. It might be a difficult problem on the level of the Riemann Hypothesis, or perhaps even beyond it.
After hanging up, Whitman remained deep in thought for a while.
The leaked formulas could not be taken back.
Because the conclusion was so bold, the backlash would also be fierce. Many thoughts flashed through his mind.
Transformation across the nation and across all industries was essential.
Even if the proof was properly completed, academia and society would need time to accept it. That was the conclusion he reached.
That, at least, was the positive assumption. The worst-case scenario was that it failed to attract attention.
For a theory to be applied to reality, active research had to arise in every field. The tremendous amount of data and critical review produced in that process would create the social soil for the theory to be accepted.
“It would be better to add firewood and let it blaze.”
He decided to make use of academia’s conservatism.
Self-verification was easily suspected of lacking neutrality. But what if Harvard, with its sense of rivalry toward MIT, led the verification? It might be difficult for them alone, so it would be good to provide manpower as well.
A proof that even Seoha had said might take years. The message Whitman expected from them was simple.
“No errors or counterexamples can be found.”
An authoritative group such as Harvard and MIT failed to find an error?
Seoha’s hypothesis would immediately be placed on the list of unsolved problems. And because mathematicians were, by nature, seekers of honor, this would draw even more attention.
Ultimately, his goal was to draw in every field that made use of Turing’s theory.
Thinking of Quirin, he muttered to himself.
“Let us not feel too hurt. It would not be bad for Harvard to become the main base of research on Seoha’s 13-Stage Hypothesis. I am sure it will be a very honorable position.”
This was something Whitman could do because he trusted Seoha completely. Since Seoha had said it was one hundred percent, there was no need to hesitate in his actions.
“Academia is about to grow noisy.”
Thirteen difficult problems that could neither be proven nor denied. And at the end of them awaited a conclusion that could turn heaven and earth upside down.
Among mathematicians, who could possibly endure that?
With a joyful heart, Whitman decided to enjoy this chaos.