Reborn mosquito, wreaking havoc on your life!

After reading this part of the diary, Stein's scalp began to tingle.

He paused and took a deep breath.

With trembling fingers, he turned to the next page.

Stein didn't expect that the following content of Tao's diary would be even more explosive and refresh his worldview.

……

2016, April 8.

I have insomnia.

The question that has been bothering me for a long time seems to have found an answer.

Is it possible that I am also a character in a book?

The reason why my imagination is so different from that of geniuses like Newton and Euler is...

Because the author limits my imagination.

In other words, the imagination possessed by humanity's top mathematicians is something that the novelist cannot understand or imagine.

How powerful is a top mathematician in the world?

Ramanujan studied mathematics through dreams, a level that even novelists dare not write about.

Novels are supposed to be logical.

But reality is illogical!
The reason why ordinary people cannot feel the greatness of top mathematicians is that those are historical events.

It feels like it's no big deal, as it has already happened.

But if we bring the achievements of these top mathematicians into the present era, we can deeply feel the evil of these people.

If Newton's deeds are placed in a modern context, it would be that a peerless genius emerged out of nowhere and, with his own efforts, led the human race of Earth civilization to interstellar civilization in just one year.

Which novel dares to write like this?

In history, the year 1666, the most important year in human history, is known as the Newton Miracle Year.

If the world's top mathematicians were put into a novel, readers would criticize them for being too outrageous.

That is the pinnacle of human intelligence, an existence that no one can understand.

Including the author.

Thus, a contradiction was born.

Suppose there is such a book.

A novelist with average IQ who cannot understand the imagination of the world's top mathematicians forcibly created the most powerful mathematician in the world.

Then it seems that everything has an answer.

Hmm. Could that person be me?
……

"Well, that person wouldn't be me, right?"

Stein's eyes stayed on this sentence for a long time, unable to move away.

As his fingertips lightly touched the slightly yellowed paper, he could almost feel the confidence and self-mockery in Tao's writing.

He closed the notebook and pressed his palm against the cover, trying to calm his rapid breathing.

But the heartbeat still roars in my ears like a drum.

"2016, July 8."

Stein repeated in a low voice the last date recorded in his diary, which was only four years ago.

After leaving behind such incredible thoughts on that summer night, Terence Tao never wrote another word in his diary.

Stein slowly stood up and walked to the window.

The cold wind blew in through the half-open window, making him feel chilled to the bone.

He looked up at the night sky. The moonlight was cold and the stars were silent.

"What is the truth of this world?"

Stein whispered to himself, with a hint of fear and confusion in his voice that he couldn't conceal.

The information revealed in Tao's diary exploded in Stein's mind like a bomb, completely destroying his perception of reality.

This answer may subvert all cognition.

According to the diary, it was after Tao became the world's number one mathematician that he began to suspect that he was a character in a novel.

As one of the top mathematicians of our time, he is extremely mediocre compared with the mathematical geniuses in history.

Stein frowned, recalling the names listed in Tao's diary:
Newton, Euler, Gauss... every one of them is the pinnacle of human intelligence.

In Tao's view, the imagination of these geniuses is so powerful that it is beyond human comprehension.

Stein had to admit that Tao's hypothesis had irrefutable logical consistency.

An author cannot write a character whose IQ is higher than his own.

If the author himself does not have the IQ of a top mathematician, then the characters he creates will be limited by his own cognition.

If we forcibly create a character whose IQ exceeds that of Einstein.

Either the character collapses, or the character is actually a fool in a clever appearance.

Either the character setting is established, and the character will realize that he or she is a character in the novel.

Stein read these paragraphs over and over again. Every word seemed like a sharp blade, cutting his worldview into pieces.

Terence Tao's logic is rigorous, cold and impeccable.

But the problem is that if Tao's hypothesis is true, he is a character in the book——

Well, Stein has a few questions.

“If such a book exists, who is the reader of this book?”

"If such a book exists, who is its author?"

“If such a book exists, who is the protagonist of this book?”

Every problem is like an abyss, filled with unknown darkness.

Stein's heartbeat became increasingly irregular and cold sweat oozed from his palms.

"There's too much information. I need to slow down."

Stein decided to go out and relax.

He put on his coat, took the diary, and walked heavily out into the street.

He needed a quiet place to think.

As a Jew, he believed in God Jehovah since he was a child.

Stein chose to go to the synagogue to find inner peace.

Inside the church, the light was dim and the candlelight flickered.

Stein knelt before the altar, folded his hands over his chest, closed his eyes, and began to recite the Amidah:

“May God bless me, grant me wisdom, and help me to distinguish truth from falsehood…”

His voice was low and reverent.

However, while praying, the contents of Terence Tao's diary involuntarily emerged in his mind.

Those formulas and conjectures were like some ancient and mysterious symbols, striking deep into his soul.

Suddenly, his voice became trembling:

“God, if we are all characters in a book, are you the author?”

The entire church was silent, and his voice echoed in the empty space, seeming particularly lonely.

He opened his eyes and stared at the cross in front of him, trying to find an answer.

But the only response he got was his own echo.

After the prayer, Stein walked out of the church.

He was still unable to calm down, with Tao's hypothesis and his own beliefs over the years intertwined in his mind.

The night wind was cold and he walked on the quiet street. The street lights made his shadow long and lonely.

He held the notebook tightly in his hand, as if holding some unspeakable secret.

He looked up at the starry sky, his thoughts surging like waves.

He had never felt so small, as if he was just an insignificant ant in the universe.

"If we were really the characters in the book..."

Stein whispered to himself, with a hint of awe and fear in his voice that he couldn't conceal.

He knew that he had to find an answer, even if that answer might completely overturn his understanding of the world.

Under the night sky, Stein's figure looked lonely and heavy. (End of this chapter)