written by chatgpt, from conversation just attached to gpt-4 thread wrapped to 80 characters in vim might be improved by replacing the equations and such The Last Equation Ardin sat hunched over his desk, his eyes tracing the familiar curve of an equation he had known since his early studies: y = x + 2. It was simple, a foundational truth from a time before the war over time itself. But that was the past — or at least, one of the pasts. Now, the future bent back, weaving through the present like a twisting vine, and the constants he had once taken for granted flickered in and out of focus. He pressed his stylus to the holo-pad, redrawing the curve for the hundredth time. As the line etched itself into the display, the symbols pulsed. His heart sank. The number had shifted again. The "+ 2" was no longer a fixed point — it had become + 2.54, a ripple from a future event that hadn’t yet occurred but was already sending shockwaves back through the math. A tremor of frustration ran through him. Ardin wiped the pad clean and started again, his mind racing. "Constants must hold. They must." He had dedicated his life to finding something immutable in this fractured existence. If he could just anchor one equation — one simple truth — then maybe he could prove that reality hadn’t completely fallen apart. He scribbled again, working faster now, his fingers tapping equations faster than he could think. y = x × 2. No, that was off. The multiplication shifted. y = 1 / x. It fractured. Even the concept of division had become unstable, flickering in and out like an old transmission. The universe was shifting beneath him, rewriting its own rules with each moment. He sat back, pulling his hands through his hair. How could he hold onto anything when time itself was liquid, reshaping events both before and after? Constants like gravity, Planck’s constant — they were suggestions now, whims of a universe rewriting its own programming. Ardin glanced at the clock. Its hands spun wildly, flickering through different times, some stretching years into the past, others skipping ahead to points yet to come. He closed his eyes, feeling the ache of defeat. His equation, once as solid as stone, was becoming a ghost. And yet, somewhere deep in his mind, a thought stirred. Maybe this was the challenge. Not to hold onto the past, but to find the hidden logic within the flux. He opened his eyes, his focus renewed. The numbers might shift, but if they were shifting predictably, then maybe — just maybe — he could find a new constant. One that lived in the chaos. One that accounted for the bends and folds of time itself. Ardin picked up his stylus once more, this time tracing an equation not from memory, but from intuition. y = x ± ∞. It wasn't elegant, it wasn’t final, but in this world of shattered timelines, it might just be the closest thing to truth. The timestamp for this reply is: 2024-10-22T21:27:28.783249.