Chapter 57
Frankie stared at his phone, the words familiar yet strung together in a that seemed to mock his understanding.
Lost in thought for too long, his thick framed glasses slid down his nose before he caught them with a single hand, nudging them back into place with a practiced push. Squinting, he looked at the screen once more.
Frankie, a znan in his sixties, face etched with lines of time and fingers trembling slightly, deleted his meticulously typed message to replace it with a less certain reply, âAre you pulling my leg?â
An eighteenâyearâold girl proving Batraâs Conjecture? It seemed about as likely a piglet winning at the Kentucky Derby
LearnLover replied, âWhat?â
LearnLover continued, âWhatâs your email?â
Frankie composed himself and sent his email address. Then, setting down phone, he waited in silence.
Patience, he reminded himself.
Over the years, there had been many claims of proving Batraâs Conjecture, only to fall apart under scrutiny. riddled with errors. Perhaps this girl just another wild goose chase.
He took a deep breath. About five minutes later, a reminder from his computer announced the arrival of an email, his phone lighting up in tandem.
LearnLover said, âI sent it. Did you get it?â
Frankie asked, half in disbelief, âDo you even know what youâve proven?â
Perhaps she didnât understand the magnitude of the conjecture in the mathematics.
LearnLover replied, âBatraâs Conjecture. It was tough, sure. I had it half done when you first reached out. With this last week, it took me about twenty days total.
Frankie was dumbfounded.
Did she have any idea how many had spent their lifetimes without cracking it?
With
dwindling hope, Frankie replied, âAlright, Iâll take a look.â
After sending the message, he downloaded and printed thirtyâsome pages of draft proofs, binding them in order before turning to the first page. Once he started reading, he couldnât stop.
Cordelia waited a bit longer, noticing Mathster had yet to reply. With ten minutes left before class ended, she pulled out a set of math Olympiad problems to pass the time.
Hanley, also in the math club, watched her with a mix of curiosity and concern. Heâd been researching Batraâs Conjecture and realized sheâd attempted to prove it. She must have given up by now, he thought.
When class was dismissed, Hanley approached her with a brotherly tone, âBatraâs Conjecture isnât kidâs stuff. You shouldnât bite off more than you can chew Better to focus on the National League, huh?â
She glanced at him, indifferent, and quickened her pace to leave.
Hanley thought Cordelia had listened, he explained to her, âYou canât underestimate others in the National League. Do you know the first place in the Galaxy Math Whiz Competition last year? He got 270 as a sophomore last year! Moreover, he won the first prize in the National League last year. If he hadnât had a physical problem and didnât go to the winter camp, he might have been accepted by the Top Crest Academy now, and he would be Keen of our province. And donât underestimate Jake. Although he didnât do well in the Galaxy Math Whiz Competition, it doesnât mean that his results in the competition are worse than yoursâ
Cordelia thought he was noisy, picked up her books quickly, and walked out with her arms.
Hanley was still following her, still trying to ramble Juliana came out of physics class. At the sight of Hanley. she hastily came after him, âHanley!â
Cordelia was already downstairs and out of earshot as Juliana caught Hanleyâs attention. He turned to her, sheepishly shifting the conversation, âI heard Mr. Stanton visited you for an assessment. With your skills, you mustâve impressed him, right?â
Juliana forced a smile, her voice a whisper, âNoâ
Hanley was taken aback, âBut why? I heard Stanton took on a new student. Not you, then Cordelia?â
Juliana shook her head. âItâs Jay She seemed so lonely and never had proper schooling or friends. I let her have the chance.â
Feeling relieved, Hanley accompanied her back to class, murmuring, âJust as I thought, Cordelia, raised in an orphanage, wouldnât know how to play the piano..â
Juliana tightened her fingers around her physics workbook, but she kept silent, letting Hanley stick to his
assumptions
Back in the classroom, a classmate waved phone, Hanley, do you think will take the top spot in the National League? Keenâs leading the polls, then some guy from out of the province Jakeâs third, and Cordeliaâs fourth! Does Cordelia stand a chance for gold?â
The notion of being the national champion made Juliana scoff, âNational champion is not a title easily won. Cordeliaâs too green. What do you think, Hanley?â
Lost in t
in thought, Hanley glanced toward the last row where Cordelia packed her bag. Memories flooded back when he was the math wunderkind. Now the talk had shifted to national glory.
He turned back, âTd say itâs a long shot.â
As Cordelia left the room, her bag heavy with books, Hanley couldnât help but watch her go, a flicker of doubt in
his mind.
Maybe, just maybe, she could surprise them all.
The stakes couldnât be higher for the statewide math competition. Only the top whiz would be plucked from the ranks to compete in the National League showdown. Everyone else, despite being dubbed firstârate, might as well have been runnerâups. What did it matter if you werenât the one crowned champion?
Cordelia, however, couldnât shake the tension even after returning home. She pushed through dinner, blitzed through a barrage of practice problems, and finally flopped onto her bed. Yet, there she was, under the soft of her bedside lamp, her gaze flickering to her phone with an almost religious fervor,
Why hadnât Mathster replied to her message?
Meanwhile, at Ontoky Cityâs Superiority College, nestled within the labyrinth of the mathematics laboratory, a graduate student was making his evening rounds.
The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of Frankieâs office light.
The mentor was known for his relentless pursuit of numbers and theories but this late hour was unusual even
for him.
Curiosity piqued, the student nudged the door open, intent on flicking the switch off, only to freeze at the sight. There was Frankie, glasses in one hand, the other quivering as it hovered over a sheaf of paper, his eyes devouring the contents with an almost manic intensity.
âProfessor, why havenât you gone home yet?â The studentâs voice was tinged with concern. It was midnight and todayâs problems didnât warrant burning the midnight oil, did they?
Startled back to reality, Frankie snapped up his gaze from the answer that captivated him. He surged to his feet, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. âYes, itâs right! Sheâs done it!â
11:16
Chapter 57
The mathematical conundrum that had stumped minds across the globe had been unraveled!
Chapter 58