UniteDead Kingdom. Stuart Irving Irving
and now the entire Mediterranean is being over-run. It’s just one disaster after another! So, pretending that life can be described statistically is a joke! It's nothing but deeper and deeper crises, again and again and again …”
“Clive, no one is saying that we can use statistics to accurately predict complex behaviour and socio-political events. But we have to start somewhere. Statistical distributions can be illustrative and very useful for simple processes, later on we'll learn …”
“What’s simple about life, sir? It’s the most complex thing there is. We think we’re smart because have created it in a lab, yeah? But we still can’t forecast the next terrorist attack or which part of the Internet will fall to the Caliphate. In fact, let's take your field. No-one knows what type of investment will suffer the next financial meltdown. Why? Because of peoples’ greed. You of all people should know that!”
There was a room full of “oohs” from the class on his zinger. Then there was a pregnant pause whilst Clive beamed smugly and Zan considered how to respond. Why is this fucking kid so goddamn insightful in class but in constant trouble for being late or never returning homework?
“Clive, in fact, everyone … do you remember when I was introduced to the school at your assembly at the beginning of term?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, do you also remember the reason given for me being your new maths teacher?”
“Because you were semi-famous for a short while last year, sir?” one girl answered. Some nervous laughter.
“Not just because of that, Karen. It’s that I have seen the very worst of situations right in the epicentre. And because these situations are driven ultimately by the intersection of maths, science and human … frailty … it gave me a unique insight into how maths can affect all of our lives. Now, Clive is correct in saying that we cannot predict human crises. Very well done for that timely insight, Clive, it’s true; the worst events in the world cannot be firmly predicted. For example, who could have predicted you wearing such feminine socks?” There were a few gasps and shrieks of laughter at this and immediately Clive's face went bright red. They all moved to look under the table to see what Zan could see and the laughter grew. His socks were mauve with a yellow butterfly. Clive looked down at them in disbelief.
“AWWW no way! That was my sister pranking me. IT WAS! She knows I just wear the same socks every day so I don't look. They're her socks!”
“We all know it Clive, you love gaying it up in your sister's socks, homo!” shouted Ralph, the dim-witted class bully at the back.
“Yeah, Clive you cock-socker!” another kid shouted. It was Derek, his face beaming with pride at his crude pun.
“Right everyone that's enough! Ralph and Derek get out! Stand either side of the door until I came out to have a chat. A joke's a joke, but that again, is unacceptable language. Now, on with the lesson.”
Clive glared at everyone, still red-faced. He’s some sort of burgeoning computer genius apparently. Well, nothing wrong with being taught a lesson in humility.
“So yes,” continued Zan, “part of maths is starting with what we DO know and seeing if that can help with stuff we don't. We don’t necessarily know that taking certain illegal drugs harms us … calm down, stop sniggering, this is serious … unless we collect the evidence and use the statistics.” Am I right though? How did my advanced degrees help when it came to my final trading blunder? I didn’t see my last tumultuous day coming or how to cope with it when it did. My new career should be easier now that I’m no longer chasing money. But shouldn't I be chasing
[the truth about my Dad]
at least something?
Zan felt out of sorts the rest of the day. He couldn't let himself think that a seventeen year old boy had gotten to him. It felt like he bested Clive at the time. But afterwards the victory felt hollow at best. He barely looked up from his feet walking to the car park to go home, a caricature of a man down on his luck. Only once did he, to glance over to see a beautiful pond in the school grounds he hadn’t noticed before. Why do swans always looks so graceful and yet haunting? he thought morosely.
When he got home he felt drained and ill-at-ease. He started to doubt his change of career was going to work out. Later that evening, he still felt groggy and so lounged around watching the news. Reports grew about a ‘mass poisoning’ in Slovenia making people sick and violent. Zan was a sucker for information when it came to a breaking story and decided to stay up late to see how it developed. He had been barely six years old in the Canary Islands on holiday when the terrorist attack hit the twin towers in New York. He remembered watching it like it was a movie. When his Dad called from the lab and explained what had happened, he felt sick with fear that he was next in line for attack from suicidal jumbo jets. In his mind the planes themselves were somehow complicit. And when Buenos Aires was reduced to ash he stayed in the office overnight, just like everyone else.
He unrolled his TV and threw it at the ceiling so he could go to bed and watch whilst he drifted off to sleep. The news described the “grave civil unrest” in a market square in North Slovenia. ‘Grave’ thought Zan idly. What a strange word to use. He drowsily considered the possibility that he had imagined it. It was only quarter past nine but he started to feel himself drift off. Onscreen there was iSelf footage of people randomly attacking each other. It looked like a disastrous flash mob stunt.
In the corner of the square there was a young bearded man moving towards an elderly couple standing cowering at the surrounding mayhem. The drone-cam zoomed in on the man. He wore a torn hospital gown which trailed behind him as he moved slowly towards the elderly couple, presumably to move them away from the riot. Zan almost drifted off again, but then saw something which jolted him awake and made sleep impossible.
Something, in fact, which changed everything.
Chapter 4: Slovenian Unrest
Zan's lay straight out in bed, eyes widening, watching the drone-cam’s live picture fill the ceiling. The youngish bearded man in the hospital gown finally reached then grabbed the elderly couple. Instead of moving them away from the fighting … he lunged forward and started chewing on the side of the elderly man’s head and neck, blood spraying immediately over them both. The female news-anchor immediately came to life and Zan's remaining sleep fog disappeared in an instant.
“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry you had to witness that but … um … viewers I’m afraid you are seeing a live feed … I’m sorry … live pictures from Slovenia, in the small historic town of Kamnik. This town of fifteen thousand people is tragically suffering what seems to be a … cannibalistic riot or eh unrest of an extremely violent nature. We are trying to secure an interview with local authorities but no one will speak to us, which is … which is unsurprising given the emergency conditions on the ground.” She paused while touching her earpiece. Why do people with earpieces have to do that, even if completely unnecessary? Zan thought distractedly.
“We are, I’m told, about to hear a statement from the Slovenian deputy Prime Minister, Sylvad Gosnev, regarding the unrest.” On screen, a sombre looking ruddy-cheeked obese man in a garish sweater and tie was standing in the lobby of a hotel. He was flanked by stern-looking, well-built security men, barely contained in their suits. With a slight trace of an accent he spoke in perfect English.
“I can assure everyone that the Prime Minister, in his holiday home in the Canary Islands, is being informed of this civil unrest. He will return to Slovenia in the event that it escalates or is not contained in good time. The signs are that security services on the ground have started to contain the disorder. It is limited to just the town of Kamnik and there is no need for citizens of neighbouring towns to take any action other than to monitor reputable news channels. We will bring the perpetrators of this inexcusable violence to swift justice once peace has been restored to the town. No further questions please.”
The picture flipped back to the drone-cam view of the rioting and it did appear to have calmed down. Many of the rioters were now protectively crouched on