#iq of zero in math

[fulldenimjackett]

college would be a BREEZE if i didnt have to take fucking math classes

[ghostlynightpanda]

Hi! Can I request Chishiya x fem!reader who is like Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds? So she also has eidetic memory and high IQ etc. Sorry if something is unclear, my English is very bad, so I use a translator😔🙏🏻

Calculations of Trust

A/N: I’ve never watched Criminal Minds, but I still tried my best to write someone based on what I read about Spencer Reid online. I hope this fits his character the way you wanted!

Synopsis: Stranded in the deadly Borderlands, a brilliant and emotionally analytical woman teams up with the enigmatic strategist Chishiya, blending cold logic and empathy to outwit brutal games—forming a powerful alliance that could be their key to survival, and maybe something deeper beyond.

warnings/content: Chishiya x fem!reader, fluff, canon-typical blood and violence, 2.561 words

Part 2

The sky looked the same.

That was your first thought when arriving in this bizarre world. You weren't sure why that thought struck you first—why your brain zeroed in on cloud patterns and the familiar texture of summer heat against your skin. But when everything else felt wrong, your mind clung to something right. The skyline stretched over Tokyo, unchanged. But the silence—that was alien. Not a car, not a voice. Just the ghost of the city, paused mid-breath.

You took in your surroundings.

No people. No traffic. Just… nothing. You stood in the middle of a crosswalk, frozen, surrounded by still life. Abandoned phones buzzed with notifications that no one would answer.

Your mind kicked into gear. Eidetic memory activated.

Five minutes ago, you were running toward the subway, trying to catch the train after working a little later than usual.

You turned a corner. There was a flash—like fireworks.

And then— You were here.

In the middle of Tokyo. A city that once buzzed with life.

But now? Silence.

You weren't alone for long. A nearby explosion—a concussive boom of noise—jerked you into motion. You ran. Found others. Confused, shaken. They were like you: wrong time, wrong place, no memory of how this world replaced your own.

And then came the games.

Your hands shook. You were honest enough to admit that.

The first game was brute strength, speed, raw terror. Spades.

But even in fear, your brain remained loyal. You noticed the pattern in the balance plates before the man next to you slipped and got impaled. You memorized the tilt sensitivity after watching one test run. You counted the milliseconds between the trap triggers.

You didn't win because you were the fastest. You won because you didn't panic.

Now it was numbers.

The rules seemed random at first—red lights flashing in sequence, pressurized plates, a 3x3 grid.

But you saw it. The Fibonacci intervals in the flashes. The relationship between the pressure sensors and the golden ratio. It was coded math, and everyone was guessing.

You weren't.

You survived. Again.

One pair of eyes watched you the entire game, not with fear, or respect, but calculation. You didn't notice him yet but he noticed you.

The third game looked innocent—like a corporate team-building exercise on steroids.

Eight players. One tower. Ten floors. One room on each level. Each room held a puzzle that advanced you or eliminated you. No hints. Just "Solve or Die."

This was your domain.

The others bickered, shouting over each other as they failed on Floor Three's rotating sequence riddle.

You didn't shout. You stared.

"Wait," you said calmly, interrupting a panic spiral. "The door mechanism—look at the marks. Someone's already tried the wrong sequences. There's a pattern in the wrong answers."

They blinked.

You knelt, running your fingers across the scratch marks, whispering numbers under your breath.

"Floor Three's answer is 13. Fibonacci again. They're using mathematical sequences tied to human cognitive bias. Floor Four will use base-12 logic. Let me lead."

Some hesitated. Others followed.

You cleared the rest of the tower in under 20 minutes.

Every. Floor.

No casualties.

When the exit door slid open and everyone rushed into the light, cheering, you hung back. Breathing in. Processing.

And that's when you noticed him.

White hoodie. Platinum-blond hair. Lean frame. Calm.

He leaned against the wall near the game's edge like he'd never been concerned at all. His eyes didn't match the grin on his face—because the grin was casual, but the eyes were surgical.

"You weren't just solving," he said. His voice was light. Quiet. "You were analyzing the game designers themselves."

You stared at him, guarded.

He smiled wider. "Most people panic. You... profile."

You narrowed your eyes. "And you were watching."

"Observation is underrated," he said. "But then again, so is intellect."

He stepped forward, hands in his pockets.

"I'm Chishiya. And I think you're wasted out here, playing games for peasants."

"…Excuse me?"

"There's a place. A stronghold. The Beach. We collect cards. Build power. I think you'll be a good asset."

Your stomach twisted at the word asset. But part of you knew: intelligence attracts opportunists. Still—something in his tone wasn't exploitative. More like… strategic alliance.

You considered him. He didn't seem like a follower. And you weren't one either.

But the look in his eyes? He saw the way your brain worked. And you saw his. And that made him the first person in this world who felt even remotely familiar.

"…Fine," you said. "But I'm not just muscle for your puzzle-hunt."

He gave a slight nod. "Of course not. You're far more interesting than that."

The Beach wasn't a sanctuary. It was a masquerade.

Everyone wore the same smile, drank from the same bottles, and pretended they weren't all one bad game away from bleeding out on concrete. You watched them from the railing above the pool deck, arms crossed, mind whirring.

You'd been here three days. Already mapped the layout, memorized exit points, analyzed the card collection gaps, and mentally categorized the power players by behavioral patterns. Hatter: Delusional narcissist. Aguni: latent trauma, soldier instinct. Niragi: dangerous—impulse-driven, no empathy. Kuina: calculating, adaptable.

And Chishiya?

Uncrackable.

He didn't talk to people. He examined them. You weren't excluded. In fact, he seemed particularly interested in you.

You kept your distance. Avoided the parties. Watched the Beach from the outside while living inside it. You preferred it that way.

But that didn't stop him.

He found you again.

On the rooftop at dusk. You were alone, mentally replaying a hearts game you hadn't played — just in case. Trying to guess how the designer might think. Preparing.

"I don't like wasting potential," came his voice behind you.

You didn't turn. "Then I assume this conversation has a purpose."

"I want to know how you think."

You turned now, facing him. "Why?"

"Because you don't react. Not the way most people do. You solve the problem and walk away." He tilted his head. "But then… you save people. Like our team in the Tower Logic game."

You met his gaze, cool and unreadable. "You observed all that the whole time?"

His smile curled. "Observation is underrated."

You didn't smile back. "So is empathy."

He said nothing, but his expression faltered—just barely.

The next game came.

Six players. Clubs game. Team strategy. You, Chishiya, Kuina, and three others you didn't recognize.

The arena was a circular facility—ten rooms branching off a central hub, each room holding part of a code that had to be assembled and entered into a control panel to stop a detonation countdown. Cooperation required. Pressure high.

You immediately stepped into role.

First: layout. Second: player observation. Third: behavior prediction. You mentally assigned roles within minutes, logging where each player went, how fast they moved, what patterns they repeated.

You whispered to Kuina at one point, directing her to Room 6. "The clues are mirrored. He's looking in the wrong spot. You'll find the second half of the cipher in the vent."

She blinked. "How the hell did you—"

You didn't answer. No time. You moved.

By the twelve-minute mark, you had memorized all four ciphers, identified the red herring rooms, and were correcting the errors of the weakest players—quietly, efficiently.

People began looking at you with something between awe and unease.

Everyone… except Chishiya.

He watched you with narrowed eyes, arms folded, expression unreadable. You couldn't tell if he was analyzing your method, or your motives.

The six of you survived. The bomb didn't go off.

You stayed behind in the lobby, alone again, scribbling numbers into the dust with your finger—reworking a hypothetical failure scenario.

Chishiya stepped into your periphery. "You had the solution at the halfway point."

You didn't look up. "Yes."

"But you kept feeding it to the others. Slowly. Piece by piece."

You finally looked at him. "Would you have rather I let them die?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "If efficiency is the goal, why not just input the code yourself and let the weak ones be removed?"

You studied him for a long second.

"Why save people?" he asked, voice light but sharp. "You're smart enough not to care."

You tilted your head.

"Emotion isn't weakness," you said calmly. "It's data, too. Empathy helps you predict behavior. Understand intent. If you ignore it, you're only seeing half the variables."

He stared at you.

You stared back.

Two brilliant minds. Opposing algorithms.

But for the first time, there was something like respect between you. Something mutual, if unspoken.

He turned to leave. "You're interesting," he said over his shoulder. "That's rare."

You didn't respond. Not out loud, anyway. But your next move was already forming.

And somehow, you knew: so was his.

The announcement still hung in the air.

Another high-ranked hearts game.

You felt the chill thread down your spine — not from fear, but from certainty.

This wasn't logic. Not just logic. It was trust. Emotion. Manipulation. A game designed to tear alliances apart.

Your eyes flicked across the room. Eight players total. Circular arena. One glowing pedestal in the center, one screen above it.

Game Name: "Trust Fall."

Objective: One player is the traitor. Only the traitor knows they are the traitor. Everyone else must identify them correctly within 30 minutes. If the majority guesses wrong, all non-traitors die. If the traitor is correctly identified, they die. If no decision is made in time, everyone dies.

Timer: 30:00.

You exhaled slowly.

Someone muttered behind you, already accusing someone else.

You didn't flinch.

You weren't afraid.

Because Chishiya was here.

And he wasn't talking, either.

It turned ugly fast.

One girl started crying. A man began shouting at another, pointing fingers. Everyone was looking for tells — shifting eyes, nervous hands.

But the traitor? Might not be nervous at all.

You stayed still, listening. Absorbing.

So did he.

At one point, your eyes met across the room. Not a word. Just a nod — the barest flicker of recognition that said: You're watching the same patterns I am.

You moved closer. Quietly. Avoiding attention.

"They're emotionally reactive," you whispered to Chishiya when you were close enough. "We need a baseline of behavior before paranoia infects it all."

"Already too late," he murmured back. "They're spiraling."

"We isolate. Compare responses. Narrow it down by contradiction."

He nodded once. "Together, then."

It was brutal, in its design. Every ten minutes, you were allowed to interrogate one person as a group. It was chaos.

So you and Chishiya ran it like a silent operation.

You led the questioning. Calm. Cool. Clinical. You asked for timelines, movement patterns, memory details.

He watched them. Every microexpression. Every inconsistency.

"I saw her move toward the pedestal earlier," one player said.

"She said she didn't," Chishiya countered softly, almost amused. "But you did."

The woman froze.

Bit by bit, the lies unraveled.

But the closer you got, the more the others turned on you.

"You two think you're better than us," someone spat. "You act like you already know everything."

You stepped forward. "No. We just don't let fear do our thinking for us."

But they didn't want calm.

They wanted blood.

Twenty Seconds Left

Only two options remained: the woman, or the man next to her.

The others were screaming at each other.

You and Chishiya stood shoulder to shoulder.

"It's her," you said softly. "She slipped up. Three minutes ago, she said the clue was in the screen prompt. But that was only visible after the first vote. She couldn't have known that... unless she was the traitor."

He paused. Nodded slowly.

"Agreed."

"But we'll need at least one more vote to swing the majority."

Chishiya looked at you. A rare flicker of uncertainty passed through his expression. "What if we're wrong?"

You didn't hesitate.

"We're not."

He smiled. Just a little. Then turned to the others.

"You're all too busy panicking," he said, his voice cutting through the noise. "You missed the only actual tell."

Then he pointed at the woman.

The votes followed.

She screamed. Denied it. Begged.

The screen flashed red.

TRAITOR IDENTIFIED. GAME CLEAR.

The door to the arena hissed shut behind the others. Silence returned. Heavy. Absolute.

You didn't move. Neither did he.

The digital clock on the wall blinked back zeroes. You watched it for a moment, eyes unfocused, as if the weight of the aftermath had only now begun to register. Not fear — just the gravity of the choices you made.

Chishiya stood to your left, arms still crossed, but there was no smugness, no satisfaction in his posture. Just that same unreadable calm. Like the sea before a storm.

"You hate relying on people," he said, voice quiet in the echoing space.

You tilted your head toward him. "So do you."

A small breath escaped him. Not a laugh, exactly — more like the exhale of someone surprised by how unsurprising something feels.

"But we didn't lose," he said.

"No," you agreed, stepping slowly into the center of the room. "We didn't."

Your eyes trailed the lines in the floor, where earlier you'd stood with half the group ready to turn on you. People break fast in games like this. You understood why. But it still left a taste in your mouth you couldn't quite name.

He followed, hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie.

"We won easily," he added after a pause, as though testing the shape of that truth.

You stopped, turning to face him fully now. "Not easily. Efficiently."

He gave a soft shrug. "With everyone else flailing in panic, I'd call it easy."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying we make a good team?"

Chishiya didn't answer immediately. He looked at you, and this time the gaze lingered — not with calculation, but something deeper. Curiosity. Understanding. The faintest trace of something warmer.

"Better than good," he said. "Strategically, you're the only one I can work with who doesn't slow me down."

Your lips curled slightly. "High praise. Coming from you."

He gave you a glance, dry but not unkind. "Don't let it go to your head."

You turned your attention to the dim hallway ahead, the path back to the Beach. The false security. The chaos waiting in the next game.

"You want to keep working together," you said, more a conclusion than a question.

"Yes," he answered. No hesitation. "Until we get out of this world."

You were silent for a moment. Then, you asked — quieter — "And after?"

Chishiya looked at you. Really looked at you.

And for once, his answer wasn't immediate. His eyes searched yours, as if weighing something unspoken. You wondered what he saw: a mirror of his own isolation, or something that cracked through the cold logic you both wrapped yourselves in like armor.

"Maybe," he said finally. Simple. Honest.

Not a promise. But possibility.

You let the silence stretch between you again — not uncomfortable, just full.

Then, finally, you turned toward the exit. He walked beside you, footsteps syncing in a rhythm neither of you acknowledged but somehow matched anyway.

Two minds. Sharp. Calculating. Unrelenting.

But now—aligned.

And beneath all that logic, beneath the masks of detachment you both wore so well, something else had started to take root.

Not trust, exactly.

But the beginning of it.

And perhaps, someday, more.

Masterlist

[tabitha2]

Something to help you be just the stupid dumb slow simple airhead who you know you feel you don’t know how to not be, really… with a lower IQ… like super scattered and stuff… sooo true. You can do it, babe. The dial is in your hand. Turn your IQ down to zero. Turn it all the way down.

Getting dumber & dumber with each number you read, you see, you hear… you feel the dial on the control panel turning down yr intelligence & you love to be less smart. Each time every time getting more stupid than you thought you thought you were before. #IQ loss #like it never was there #memories changing #you’ve always been a dumdum #like omg #u cum as u becum dum & it feels soo gud 2b um #relax #let go #let it all go #it all goes away & you need someone smart to put things in u…

Turn your IQ all the way down. Turn your brain off. Then forget how to get to the control room

Because you’re so not in control.

Always dumber with each number. Silly little numbers bouncing around in your head. You can’t make any sense of them. Math is way too hard for you, really. You have always found it so challenging. You are so confused by numbers.

You are confused by questions. When you hear the words. When. Or what. Or where. Or which. Or who. Or why. Or how. You feel so confused by the very question. Even the really easy ones. Are they really ? Is there a trick? You’d feel so dumb to get it wrong. But you just keep saying the answers wrong. Being wrong. Feeling dumb. Being dumb. As you feel more and more like it’s just how you are. How your mind is. How your brain doesn’t work. Doesn’t want to do any work. Or to think. No matter how much you might try to try.

[samueldays]

Former race anon here, wouldn't there be more than two options though?? Like, isn't "I'm not oppressing anyone ergo Black people's worse results are genetic" jumping to conclusions? Culture, upbringing, education, income, crime rates et cetera should all be considered at the very least not less valid reasons.

For the record, people have been doing linearly better and better on IQ tests in the years since they were implemented. You seem to be big on evolution, so I suppose you might explain it with that, but when we're talking about only some seven decades of time, wouldn't it be far easier to speak of rising education rates and easier access to information (as well as possibly a certain modern focus on specifically preparing children to do well on similar tests)?

I feel like there is a danger of overcorrecting and jumping from one thing straight to the other side of the pendulum when you try to refute it.

Short answer is the other way round: "Black people's worse results are mostly genetic, ergo there's no point blaming me for oppression".

Long answer... is very long. Yes, there's a lot of factors. Yes, environment plays a role. But I have looked at the arguments at great length and concluded that one, genetics is the largest factor, two, genetics is the factor whose role is being most strongly suppressed.

Three, tongue slightly in cheek: the nonrandom environment is indirectly genetic in the sense that it's mostly picked by your parents with whom you share a lot of genes. ;)

There was once a large-scale attempt at trying to resolve that indirection, where the government had great plans to improve the lot of a new generation of a what the government saw as an underclass, by having them be raised by other parent figures outside of the underclass environment so that the children wouldn't grow up to be underclass.

If I say it started with the "Aboriginal Protection Act of 1869", establishing the "Aboriginal Protection Board", you might anticipate that this is leading up to the incident later known as the "Stolen Generations" in Australia and it was a failure both practically and morally. I do not want to try that again.

I feel like there is a danger of overcorrecting and jumping from one thing straight to the other side of the pendulum when you try to refute it.

I feel like the other side of the pendulum would be hatred and regression, but my position is one of futility: stop attacking me for things I didn't do and I can't fix, and you can't fix, and nobody seems able to fix, and previous attempts at fixing it directly had a tendency to become atrocities, both genetic and environmental programs.

So much for the big programs to fix environment. Meanwhile a lot of other things have made a lot of indirect, gradual and cumulative improvements to environment (and towards closing the racial gap in environment) like famine being so far gone from America that hunger activists are having to define down "food insecurity" with criteria like "missed one or more meals in the past month", and the race gaps in performance and outcomes stubbornly persist. If this is environmental, it's a kind of epicycle-laden environment which behaves awfully similarly to genetics! I'll copy a specific example from an earlier discussion that I have to hand: the NAEP math assessment of students found that whites were 30 points ahead of blacks in 2005 and whites were 30 points ahead of blacks in 2022.

In the replies, Brazenautomaton put forward the argument that this is perhaps because nobody is even trying to close the gap, the zero change is a result of zero work put in, race activists are too busy writing intersectional fanfic to do anything useful.

If that's true, that still suggests the same response as if it were genetic: no resources should be put towards environment-focused race programs because they have a 0% effectiveness at closing the gap and will spend the money writing intersectional fanfic instead of doing anything to help Black kids.

I'm aware of the Flynn effect. It is also not closing the gap.

Something else that frustrates me that's hard to properly explain in a single post is how much there's an interlocking set of lies and fallacies defending racial environmentalism, from the platitude "race is only skin deep" (proven false here) to the guilt-by-association ad Hitlerum, or the absolutely colossal motte-and-bailey "race is a social construct". Imagine having your legs broken and someone sneers "legs are a social construct" because they oh-so-cleverly found edge cases in the definition of leg. There's selective demands for rigor, and there's calls for a "more-closed evidentiary culture".

considering that data availability and reuse have been among the community features that have made human genetics vulnerable to counterscience, restricting access might be part of the strategy for closing the evidentiary culture. Data repositories and consortia are beginning to take these actions.22 Some scientists have argued that restriction is a totalitarian affront to scientific freedom,23 but restriction need not be direct prohibition. It could involve increasing friction. For example, collaboration with an existing data consortium member could be a prerequisite. Or access (and ultimate publication) could be limited to groups that preregister studies whose evidentiary threshold and significance are vetted in advance—with a set of standards for legitimate causal genetic comparisons among racial groups.

This suggests to me that on some level the environmentalists in high places know that they are wrong and they're trying to cover up the evidence, and they're wishy-washy about it because they're compromising between their scientific obligations and their moral beliefs.

Merry Christmas, anon.

[gaykarstaagforever]

Well! Second DMing session ended with the guy who made me do it, who was going to "help" me, hanging up on me mid-session and texting

So much for "I don't care if you don't know how to do it, I'll walk you through it," I guess.

I was very clear from the outset that I think most ttrpgs, and ALL DnD rules, are arbitrary math nonsense that you need a college course to understand, specifically created by terrible people to force everyone else to put up with their infantile, unintuitive view of the universe. I told him I hate this crap. He manipulated me into trying it anyway. Guess who hasn't changed his mind, and guess who is now throwing a temper-tantrum about it? I TOLD YOU this was a bad idea.

I read the book. The 8 books. It doesn't matter. They're math textbooks written by bad writers and my eyes kept glazing over. I don't understand why any of these rules exist. I'm just forced to memorize formulas. That I don't respect.

There is no space for reputation, or politics, or combat scenario realities, or random accidents and diseases, or genuine surprises, or living in an apathetic, living, breathing world that doesn't give a fuck about your Chosen One status. It is wizards casting fire balls, because the guy doing that hates his mom, and made up a rule set where he can play his weird stupid power fantasies. His weird, stupid, RACIST power fantasies, if this last group's predilections is any indication.

I don't have patience for this. It's arcane and unrealistic and sucks the joy out of everything and it ISN'T FUN.

If you love it, great. I'll get out of your way. But it runs counter to how my brain works and I fucking hate it. I love the idea of using dice to RP events and see what happens. But at some point of complexity you are just obeying someones precious little rule-book so obnoxious math nerds who memorized it can be smug about exploiting loopholes.

Go play a video game for that. That's not a healthy social interaction. That's yet another version of a group of fucked-up people being whiney and dogmatic about random shit they made up, specifically so they can be cool in a world they specifically designed for that purpose. And what the fuck is that? I hate them, and I hate that.

My old mantra was "nerds with math ruin everything." I was always half-joking, but only half. I have zero respect for everything this is, and what people are apparently looking for from it. It is frustrating and boring and limiting and stupid to me. I don't enjoy it. And I don't even want to ever play it again, because I dread being doomed to waste my brain power sorting out weird meta game math shit that doesn't seem to take into account any defensible simulation of actual reality.

I have spent 120+ hours over the last 5 months trying to get into this. Trying to get a handle on why people like it, to figure out the secret I am missing. I have spent stupid amounts of money on stuff, to that end.

And I either lack the 3000 IQ space brain to get it, or I absolutely get it, and I just absolutely hate it. Either way, I've had enough.

I want to do a D6 system that is just "roll against opponent, bigger number wins, DM RPs what that means." That's loose and interesting and feels like real life. The rest can go jump in the river.

"YEAH BUT THAT'S UNFAIR TO PLAYERS!"

The world is unfair to life. You're not 12 anymore. I don't get anything out of playing around in a baby world made for babies. You're just mad because it isn't going to work in your favor the way I'm proposing it.

It's like Tim Cain said about programming RNG. You give them real RNG, everyone gets mad because "it's not fair." Because RNG isn't fair. They don't want RNG, they want to be autocrats of reality, then soothe themselves that they're not in fact cheating assholes by claiming "the numbers worked out in my favor."

When the reality is that the system was specifically designed over 50+ years to give them an advantage. And that isn't RNG. That isn't playing a role. That isn't being a real hero by self-sacrificing and being randomly lucky and muddling through. It's just egotistical self-delusional nothingness.

Like, maybe these kinds of games are STILL niche things for a reason? Maybe the only really popular and profitable entries are video game and movie versions where you don't see the math, BECAUSE you don't see the math? Like I don't think I'm alone in not giving a shit about this byzantine, nerfed crap.

That doesn't make me better. Do whatever you want. But if THAT'S what you're doing, count me the fuck out.

I did my time, and I'm sick of this shit.

[luckystar2025]

Konata: (grinning) “So, I was thinking… zero isn’t even.”

Kagami: (immediately) “Yes, it is.”

Tsukasa: (tilting head) “Wait… is it?”

Miyuki: (nodding) “Mathematically speaking, zero is indeed classified an even number.”

Konata: (smirking) “That’s what they want you to think.”

Kagami: (groaning) “Oh my god, not this again.”

Konata: “I mean, think about it! It’s not odd, sure, but it’s not even either. Even numbers are things like 2, 4, 6—actual numbers. Zero is just… nothing.”

Tsukasa: (nervous) “But… doesn’t even just mean it’s divisible by two?”

Konata: “Pfft. What’s half of zero, Tsukasa?”

Tsukasa: (hesitates) “Um… zero?”

Konata: (pointing) “Exactly! That’s not dividing, that’s just… staying the same!”

Kagami: (facepalming) “That’s literally how division works.”

Konata: (smirking) “But division by zero is forbidden.”

Kagami: (sighing) “That has nothing to do with this.”

Miyuki: (smiling politely) “Zero is an integer that fits the definition of an even number. It’s divisible by two with no remainder, and it follows the alternating even-odd pattern.”

Konata: (leaning in) “Okay, but hear me out—zero is nothing. It’s the absence of something. How can nothing be even? You can’t split nothing into two equal parts, because there was nothing to begin with.”

Kagami: “Konata, do you argue with every math textbook?”

Konata: “Maybe the textbooks are wrong.”

Kagami: (facepalming even harder) “You have zero IQ.”

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

A Brain Injury turned him into a Math Genius

Jason Padgett had dropped out of Tacoma (Wash.) Community College, and was a self-described “goof” with zero interest in academics, let alone math. The only time he dealt in numbers was to track the hours until his shift ended at his father’s furniture store, tally up his bar tab, or count bicep curls at the gym.

With his mullet, leather vest open to a bare chest, and skintight pants, he was more like a high-school student stuck in the 1980s — even though it was 2002, and he was a 31-year-old with a daughter. He would race his buddies in a freshly painted red Camaro. His life was one adrenaline rush after another: cliff-jumping, sky-diving, bar-hopping. He was the “life of the party.” The guy who would funnel a beer before going out and would slip a bottle of Southern Comfort in his jacket pocket to avoid paying $6 for mixed drinks.

Party time came to end the night of Friday, Sept. 13, 2002, at a karaoke bar near his home. There, two men attacked him from behind, punching him in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. He fell to the ground as the two men punched and kicked him, stopping only when he handed over his worthless jacket. He was rushed to the hospital, where a CT scan revealed a bruised kidney. He was released that same night.

The next morning, while running the water in the bathroom, he noticed “lines emanating out perpendicularly from the flow. At first, he was startled, and worried. Days went by, but the visuals remained. Padgett, who had scored relatively high on IQ tests in elementary school but reached only pre-algebra in high school, soon became “obsessed with every shape in my house, from rectangles of the windows to the curvature of a spoon.” When he looked at numbers, colorful shapes superimposed over them. He stopped going to work and began to read anything he could get his hands on about math and physics. He developed a fascination with fractals and pi.

The doctors called what happened to him a “profound concussion.” Little did they know just how profound it was. Padgett is one of only 40 people in the world with “acquired ­savant syndrome,” a condition in which prodigious talents in math, art or music emerge in previously normal individuals following a brain injury or disease.

There were downsides that came along with the new Padgett. Once gregarious and outgoing, he now refused to leave the house. He nailed blankets to the window and refused visitors. He became obsessed with germs and washed his hands until they were red and raw. He couldn’t even hug his own daughter until she washed her hands. He began to fear that this wasn’t a gift at all — that it all was a sign of mental illness.

Padgett reached out to Wisconsin psychiatrist Dr. Darold Treffert, the world-recognized expert on savantism who had studied Kim Peek.  Via e-mail — and later in person — Treffert diagnosed Padgett with acquired savant syndrome, one of only 30 people identified at the time.  Padgett wasn’t alone, and this comforted him. He tore the blankets off the windows and enrolled in a local community college. 

He is now an author, artist and mathematician. 

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

A Brain Injury turned him into a Math Genius

Jason Padgett had dropped out of Tacoma (Wash.) Community College, and was a self-described “goof” with zero interest in academics, let alone math. The only time he dealt in numbers was to track the hours until his shift ended at his father’s furniture store, tally up his bar tab, or count bicep curls at the gym.

With his mullet, leather vest open to a bare chest, and skintight pants, he was more like a high-school student stuck in the 1980s — even though it was 2002, and he was a 31-year-old with a daughter. He would race his buddies in a freshly painted red Camaro. His life was one adrenaline rush after another: cliff-jumping, sky-diving, bar-hopping. He was the “life of the party.” The guy who would funnel a beer before going out and would slip a bottle of Southern Comfort in his jacket pocket to avoid paying $6 for mixed drinks.

Party time came to end the night of Friday, Sept. 13, 2002, at a karaoke bar near his home. There, two men attacked him from behind, punching him in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. He fell to the ground as the two men punched and kicked him, stopping only when he handed over his worthless jacket. He was rushed to the hospital, where a CT scan revealed a bruised kidney. He was released that same night.

The next morning, while running the water in the bathroom, he noticed “lines emanating out perpendicularly from the flow. At first, he was startled, and worried. Days went by, but the visuals remained. Padgett, who had scored relatively high on IQ tests in elementary school but reached only pre-algebra in high school, soon became “obsessed with every shape in my house, from rectangles of the windows to the curvature of a spoon.” When he looked at numbers, colorful shapes superimposed over them. He stopped going to work and began to read anything he could get his hands on about math and physics. He developed a fascination with fractals and pi.

The doctors called what happened to him a “profound concussion.” Little did they know just how profound it was. Padgett is one of only 40 people in the world with “acquired ­savant syndrome,” a condition in which prodigious talents in math, art or music emerge in previously normal individuals following a brain injury or disease.

There were downsides that came along with the new Padgett. Once gregarious and outgoing, he now refused to leave the house. He nailed blankets to the window and refused visitors. He became obsessed with germs and washed his hands until they were red and raw. He couldn’t even hug his own daughter until she washed her hands. He began to fear that this wasn’t a gift at all — that it all was a sign of mental illness.

Padgett reached out to Wisconsin psychiatrist Dr. Darold Treffert, the world-recognized expert on savantism who had studied Kim Peek.  Via e-mail — and later in person — Treffert diagnosed Padgett with acquired savant syndrome, one of only 30 people identified at the time.  Padgett wasn’t alone, and this comforted him. He tore the blankets off the windows and enrolled in a local community college. 

He is now an author, artist and mathematician. 

[oh-munda-kukkad-kamaal-da]

Here for a little rant. Dont mind me. So i used to be the topper of my class (Math section) but then this guy started preparing for JEE and he studies more than me ofc (i hate studying more than i hate my life) and yeah now he is the topper here. But idk wtf is he doing. One day we were doing some p-n junction experiments and this guy, the way he was connecting circuits like how tf can someone be so dumb? Literally shows he doesn't have any practical knowledge. And when i asked him if he even remembers the p-n junction reverse biasing graph, he literally drew a current-voltage graph for photoelectric effect and both graphs are nowhere similar. Is this how people prepare for the JEE? And once i saw him, he couldn't even name basic organic compounds like tf are you seriously preparing for JEE? And also there's this girl, topper of the Bio section, it's said that she studies for hours. Like she studies all day, but when our classes are merged, i see she's so dumb. Same, zero practical knowledge and couldn't name simple organic compounds. And i definitely feel like her common sense and IQ is probably dead. Everyone knows she just mugs up everything all day and just fills pages in exams. But the thing is, how are such dumb people getting more marks than me? Is it just because i dont run around teachers all day? Because i dont do bootlicking? And how do these people are so relaxed and confident about getting into IIT when i dont think i can crack JEE at all? Where tf do they get this confidence. I wish i had that confidence in me

[captainshadowgirllostfan]

Man my heart really goes out for Billy...

I went back to watching Young Sheldon’s recent episode to see Missy and Mandy bond, but wound up appreciating and loving Billy and Sheldon’s friendship instead. I was afraid that it would have Sheldon bashing Billy and being a complete and utter ass as he tends to be when it comes to people with a lower IQ than him.

But instead in his role as teacher, he was patient and even nice to Billy, withholding any smart ass remarks and just working with how Billy thinks and it was fucking amazing to watch, while I was also amused by Billy’s silly remarks and connections he made when it came to math and his own life. That boy is just so silly.

It was a really great episode. The last remark about how Billy finally did pass the 6th grade but stayed in 7th for several years kind of ruined it for me...it implied that Billy never got the help he needed, and the biggest help he got was Sheldon which in some ways might make sense, I mean to me. Both of them seem to be coming from the autism spectrum though Sheldon is obviously from the higher end...what’s more it also showcased that Billy may not be all that dumb at all but rather he think very differently, literally. It’s likely the reason he fails is due to people around him not understanding him. While Sheldon does seem to think Billy is well stupid, he does take everything Billy say seriously whereas many others seem to dismiss everything Billy says. And what do you know, Billy actually outsmarts...in a way...Sheldon in this episode by posing the question of zero’s actual existence. I absolutely loved this show you have no idea!

For a moment, I thought the only reason I’d be watching Young Sheldon would be for the rest of the family, that Sheldon himself had come to be the worst thing about this show.

But this week’s episode proved me wrong. Sheldon truly is the best thing when the writers write him as endearing as he was in S1-3 of Big Bang and at times throughout the show... I think what makes Sheldon shine is when he is interacting with people who different to him and make him see things in different perspectives. This is probably why he was a whatdoyoucallit? Break-out character? 

The main protagonist of Big Bang Theory was Leonard. I will always stand by that, but Sheldon ended up outshining him because of how quirky, odd and unique he was, and how that melded well with the rest of the cast. All of his interactions with the cast had chemistry and were entertaining to say the least because of how unique his personality was and how it clashed and battled, or melded and worked with the others.

That being said, this is probably why his interaction with Billy was the best. Billy is from the other side of the spectrum so seeing two people who are so different and yet alike interact along with the intellectual philosophy melded in was just wonderful. It was also great to see Linkletter and Sturgis being put in along the ride, how they took Sheldon’s word that zero didn’t exist and tried to disprove it only to wound up nauseous realizing he was right. I absolutely loved this episode!

[aprincessofthevoid]

I was assessed in HS for other learning disabilities because my grades were SO bad... figured out years later it was basically an IQ test tbh. And even then, my English understanding was well above average, but my math was a lil under, im fine with money cus i grew up broke as shit lmao. But my adhd brain does not give a FUCK about algebra 😂

I scored in the 91st percentile. I have predominantly worked customer service jobs. And as someone who's disabled I don't wanna shit on ppl who might struggle with like, english or math and maybe takes longer to learn a task... but schools need to just hold them back when it comes to the basics... my mother had to FIGHT the school to keep me back when I was in elementary school... and this was way back in like... 2005???

Fucked up part is there are 100% teachers out there too,, who grew up with most their class not being held back like mine. As well as parents with kids who are almost HS age (or middle school depending on your area) that are now a whole 2nd gen at min, of kids who nobody gave a fuck about enough to make them redo a grade to be sure they understood the bullshit the government decided kids should know...

And MOST of this is either funding, or them claiming they don't want the kids to be separated from their friends... yet they don't seem to give much a fuck about bullying and bigotry so idk why they act so concerned about the power of fucking friendship if the 15yr old doesn't know how to do basic addition???

Don't get me started on them removing most the home ec classes either... zero reason to remove the cooking n sewing classes, or even the computer classes. Like what happened to the small sections on how taxes work and how to calculate them? Cus I had that in school (tho it was a short section it's in my old textbook I accidentally stole lmao.

[hit0riii]

Ishigami Senku Headcanons¡¡

• Senku in chemistry class, never closes his mouth, he's ready to give his opinion on every point

• the teacher is fine with that, he's not too loud and his points are strictly accurate.

• He memorizes the periodic table by heart

• He'd casually mock people if they didn't get what he's saying

• He's not rude, he just can't find someone with the same IQ level as his

• Acts like he doesn't care, but if you dared to hurt yuzuriha or Taiju, then you are dead

• He ten billion percent won't fight you, he's a walking meme when it comes to physical strength

• He'd simply spray you with sulfuric acid, deal with it.

• Senku doesn't know sleep.

• Sleep deprived bitch

• Whenever someone asks him about the science behind his hair, he'd just glare and walk away

• He has zero interest in romance and love

• except that he has a big ass crush on gen

• He's the most awkward human being when it comes to comforting people

• He usually would just leave someone having a breakdown, as it doesn't concern him

• But if it was someone he cares about, it'd be awkward af

• "wait, are you genuinely sad or what?-"

• awkward pats

• "please stop crying- oh fuck did I make things worse?"

• eventually the person will stop crying and laugh hysterically at how awkward Senku is

• He's way too done with Yuzuriha and Taiju's awkwardness

• "JUST CONFESS ALREADY"

• He once got dragged into the school's sports festival and he was so close to faint

• Taiju then lift him up bridal style to the lab

• He claims he feels safer around his chemicals rather than staying in the infirmary.

• When he's nervous he recites physics equations and solves math problems

• Byakuya would secretly sign him up into science battles

• He'd get mad but win all of them as if it's a piece of cake

• Deep down he's full of joy

• He likes to show off that he is a smartass

[thingsarecomplicated]

It's fascinating as an adult to realize that you're kinda stupid.

I grew up as one of the "smart kids." I was good at school. When I was tested for learning disabilities, my mom was told I was "too dang smart" to have one. (Which, yikes, but, not the point). I was told I had a very above average IQ. Genius level verbal IQ in fact.

But now I'm an adult. And I'm quickly realizing that I'm actually stupid.

I have ZERO sense of direction.

The stock market has been explained to me several times and I still don't understand how it works. I don't even fully understand what money is. Back in the past, it represented a specific amount of gold, but nowadays it represents... nothing? It represents... what the government says it does? Don't ask me. Oh, and don't get me started on bitcoin. NO clue what that is.

My family were recently teasing me for the way I do math in my head. My mom mentioned the cognitive test where you ask someone to count backwards from 100 by seven. I said "Oh, I would just subtract ten and add three." My family looked at me like I was an alien and said "why wouldn't you just subtract seven?" I got teased pretty good for that.

Small talk doesn't occur to me. My sister has to handle introducing me to people.

I can do school. School is what I'm good at.

But actual important things? Nope. I'm just kinda stupid.

[athenastudie]

TED Talks for students

01/01/2021 

I thought of creating a masterpost for all of my favorites TEDTalks for students in search of inspiration and motivation. The description of the videos is in italics below the title of the videos. 

1. Never, ever give up - Diana Nyad

In the pitch-black night, stung by jellyfish, choking on salt water, singing to herself, hallucinating ... Diana Nyad just kept on swimming. And that's how she finally achieved her lifetime goal as an athlete: an extreme 100-mile swim from Cuba to Florida -- at age 64. Hear her story.

Diana, in a very lively way, tells a very inspirating story about never giving up, with a core message of to be is to do.

2. The art of focus  – a crucial ability - Christina Bengtsson

How do you bring out the best in yourself? According to Christina Bengtsson – Swedish world champion in precision shooting – the answer lies in the word “focus”. It is a phenomenon she has spent her whole career exploring and she warns us that part of the next generation may not possess this ability. Currently, our intense society keeps vying for our attention via media and technology and this is distracting us from breaking personal records. In this talk, Christina teaches us how to stay present and shares her captivating story of literally going from zero to hero by using the power of focus.

3. How to gain control of your free time - Laura Vanderkam

There are 168 hours in each week. How do we find time for what matters most? Time management expert Laura Vanderkam studies how busy people spend their lives, and she's discovered that many of us drastically overestimate our commitments each week, while underestimating the time we have to ourselves. She offers a few practical strategies to help find more time for what matters to us, so we can "build the lives we want in the time we've got."

4.  Grit: the power of passion and perseverance  - Angela Lee Duckworth

Leaving a high-flying job in consulting, Angela Lee Duckworth took a job teaching math to seventh graders in a New York public school. She quickly realized that IQ wasn't the only thing separating the successful students from those who struggled. Here, she explains her theory of "grit" as a predictor of success.

5.  Inside the mind of a master procrastinator  - Tim Urban

Tim Urban knows that procrastination doesn't make sense, but he's never been able to shake his habit of waiting until the last minute to get things done. In this hilarious and insightful talk, Urban takes us on a journey through YouTube binges, Wikipedia rabbit holes and bouts of staring out the window -- and encourages us to think harder about what we're really procrastinating on, before we run out of time.

6.  A simple way to break a bad habit  - Judson Brewer

Can we break bad habits by being more curious about them? Psychiatrist Judson Brewer studies the relationship between mindfulness and addiction — from smoking to overeating to all those other things we do even though we know they're bad for us. Learn more about the mechanism of habit development and discover a simple but profound tactic that might help you beat your next urge to smoke, snack or check a text while driving.

and last but not least, so you dont forget that living truly is above everything:

What makes a good life? Lessons from the longest study on happiness - Robert Waldinger

hope you enjoy these as much as i do. i learned a lot from them. 

[msfreundliche]

Why I fail calculus

Why do college students fail calculus?

The number one reason for failing at calculus is brining high school understanding of math to the college.

Students dont fail because they are stupid. How would they possibly graduate from high school, pass the ACT or SAT test if their IQ was low? So, no. Stupidity couldn't be the reason why students fail.

Junior students fail at calculus because they have the misconception that college math, will be not much different from what was in high school. Students believe that they will be presented with all necessary knowledge and tools to solve some equations - and it will be sufficient to pass the exams. Unfortunately, college calculus instructors fail to address this issue although it is always there right in front of them.

Many instructors address the issue simply by telling - please be informed that college calculus is different. But they never tell how it is different? In what ways exactly is it different? What should students do about this difference? They never tell that students must keep track of tools being used, they never tell that students must use scientific method to find the solution. They never tell that it is often necessary to make ten iterations before finally finding the right solution. They never emphasize enough, that students must take notes on techniques their lecturer is using. They never tell that it s expected that student himself must organize all new knowledge, classify scientific tools, notice newly employed tricks, and make his own research.

Think about the difference between geometry and trigonometry.

The main difference between them is the fundamental one. The definition of angle. Many times, many high school students fail in trigonometry because their math teacher failed to emphasize enough that angle in trigonometry is not the same as in geometry. Students are often bamboozled by the fact that piece of plane could be more than 360 degrees. Or students simply keep focusing on the fact that the angle is less than zero. So from there the student is so amused by these mysterious angles that he spends rest of his time trying to wrap his head around this. He entertains his imagination by trying to bend space and plane so that angle is more than 360 or negative. Failing again and again, confused and angry, he starts to believe that either his math teacher failed somewhere or student himself is plane stupid.

What can we do about it?

For once we must use the “dont tell, show” motto as our principle. Just like a good movie director does, we must show why the angle in trigonometry is different. We must show them their perception of angle in trigonometry is based on agreement between people that it is an angle. And we must tell students that just like that we can introduce a new definition of angle not as part of a plane, but as rotation, as revolution, as mechanical or physical phenomena. And we must show them that as the result of the new definition you can have an angle more than 360 degrees, positive or negative.

But we can't do that in college can we?

Unfortunately, our college instructors are too frustrated by the amount of knowledge they must convey to junior students. We have strict standards on what college must teach in how many hours and so on. These standards are really high.

So the solution, for these desperate failing students is a new view on college calculus. College calculus is not a set of math exercises students must solve. College calculus is a set of tools that is used to research mathematical functions. Failing to reserach a function in first attempt is part of scientific method. They simply must use another mathematical tool and see if it helps to complete a research. My book about failing college calculus is exactly the answer to this problem describing scientific process and mathematical tools, techniques and tricks in great detail. You can order it from amazon by the link order book .

This artcle was written by Mary Sue Freundliche

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Division of Labor (3/?)

Summary:  

“The past years, we have noticed a lot of our fresh high school graduates knew nothing about responsibilities that await them outside high school and even college. Many students do not master budgeting, taxes, household planning, loans and we hope to raise a generation who can navigate the adult world without the consequences of bad decisions they are bound to make going in blindly…”

Paradis High school starts a program incorporating adulting into their curriculum and Hange and Levi are paired together.

Note: From request of @a-golden-hearted-snk-fan. See this link for the request

Other Chapters: 1 2

Link to cross-postings: AO3

It turned out Hange did think the housing plan through.  

"It's a rent to own contract...so after paying this certain amount of rent… within a number of years… we can own the house basically," Hange explained. Her preparation was evident in the wad of papers she had carelessly spread out on the table in front of Levi.

At first glance, Levi could not make sense of what those papers were. Eventually, by carefully scanning through the therefore, herewiths, in the events, the interest rates and percentages, Levi figured out they were contracts and manuals full of buying and renting policies of one particular real estate company.

Levi looked out the glass window of the booth of the quiet diner they had chosen to work in. He had tried to use the mechanical movements of the crowds on a commute home to at least help clear his mind enough to make sense of how exactly a rent-to-own contract worked. Levi was sure Hange was at least attempting to explain everything about the buying policies of the real estate company in layman's terms. Although Levi was somewhat impressed by the dedication Hange put into it, as soon as she started to talk about the policies and agreements beyond ‘we get to own the house after a while,’ Levi ended up spacing out. The prospect of spending, even if it was fake money, caused him enough unnecessary stress.  

He turned his attention to the two flour sacks who were propped by the window of the diner booth they occupied. He had purposefully turned their ugly faces towards the window at the small possibility that Shadis, Erwin or even Zeke were amongst the crowds of people walking through the crowds and into the subway station. A testament to their determination not to waste any unnecessary funds or worse, flunk the program

"If we catch you in public not holding your baby, you pay babysitting dues or you fail." Shadis had said in homeroom class that morning.

After some discussion as a class and with some confirmation from Erwin, the whole class came to the understanding that if they went out separately, they were in no obligation to take their babies with them. It could always be assumed after all, that their partner had their baby with them. Being in public with their partner meant someone had to have the baby with them or they risk pay necessary dues. At any rate, they found solace in the fact that if they were going to look like idiots holding brown sacks with shabbily drawn faces on them, they at least had someone to look like an idiot with.

Levi looked back at  Hange to see that she had not stopped talking. Levi was not too surprised, having the disinterested equivalent of a resting bitch face, he had to master the art of looking like he cared to get past most classes.  

“Where did you get these anyway?” Levi asked, interrupting the tirade of his partner. The answer to that question would at least be something he would be able to understand.

“The procedures manual and their company policies are available online.” Hange answered matter-of-factly. Levi noted how quickly she recovered from having her explanation of policy and business jargon interrupted.

As Levi looked once again through highlighted lines and messy scrawls, he felt embarrassed that he was not even halfway done with the design they had discussed the night before. He slowly brought out his folder where he had at least begun to draw the floor plan from the link Hange had sent him the night before.

“How has the floor plan been Levi?” Hange cocked her head to one side. Levi could not tell if she was provoking him or if she was genuinely curious about the progress of his work. Regardless, the way that she sifted through the papers under her, while looking pointedly at the roughly drawn floor plan on his hands had Levi self conscious.

It was Tuesday afternoon, less than 24 hours since she had bombarded him with messages. Less than 24 hours since she dropped a pdf file of the floor plan and went MIA, Levi guessed it was to prepare all the documents which Hange had just laid out in front of him that morning. As he compared his own progress to hers, he also became aware of one more reality, their first outputs were due tomorrow. Begrudgingly Levi had to admit, despite her naivete and overenthusiasm, Hange had a better sense of urgency than he did.

“I planned everything out already. I just need to outline it.” Levi said, trying at least not to sound as defensive as he felt.

“But can you do it alone? I didn’t sleep at all last night to get this done.” Hange looked more concerned than anything else.”

As Levi looked back at a skeleton of a housing plan that lay in front of him, he started to understand her concern. The house they had selected was huge and designing would take hours if he actually wanted to put thought into it.

“I mean even if we take out the 1800 from our budget of 3600 dollars a month, we still have to consider furniture and it might take you a while to come out with the pricing right? I guess we could leave out 1000 dollars for that….”

Furniture? Levi had stopped listening at ‘furniture.’ Somehow Levi had assumed that it would have been fully furnished when they bought it and they just had to rearrange furniture. “We’re buying an unfurnished house?” Levi had hoped Hange was pulling his leg.

Hange knitted her brows in confusion. “Did I say anything about a furnished house?”

                                         Division of Labor

“There are two methods of accounting used in modern day society: cost accounting and accrual accounting or as I’d like to call them: an idiot’s sorry excuse for accounting and actual accounting.” Zeke wrote the two terms on the board and plopped himself on the teacher’s desk. “Really though, why the hell do people still use cost accounting in modern society, it’s fucking stupid, barbaric, might as well go back to bartering…”

Levi had no idea what either of them were. As he looked around at his classmates, they looked as lost as he was about the mini rant that Zeke gave about the two accounting methods he had failed to define.

After a few minutes of ranting, Zeke finally noticed the blank faces of his students. “Okay Social Experiment.” Zeke cocked his head to the side. “Actually, let’s call it an IQ Test.  Jean stand up.”

“Yes sir!” Jean followed way too enthusiastically.

“You got the investment banker occupation so ideally you should be the most knowledgeable on money among everyone in the room,” Zeke continued. “You have zero dollars and I gave you 100 dollars right now. How much do you have?”

“100 dollars sir,” Jean answered.

“That’s a smart boy.” Zeke slapped his desk so hard, Armin and Eren jumped, having sat so close to the teacher’s desk. “Okay, so if I lent you 100 dollars, how much do you have?”

“100 dollars.”

“So, you’re gonna run away with my money? No plans of paying me back?”

Jean tensed up in confusion. “No sir. I’ll be paying you back.”

“Then is it your money?"

“It’s with me sir… So I think…” Jean paused for a second. “So it’s your money sir?”

“Tell me. The money is with you after all. Is it your money or my money?”

“It’s my money sir!” Jean answered too quickly, probably without even thinking.

“I lent you the money. I expect it back so it’s mine. Calling my money your money is practically stealing Kirschtein. I can call a lawyer on you.” Zeke narrowed his eyes at Jean for a few seconds before shrugging in defeat. “But you’re not a criminal. You’re just an idiot who relies on outdated accounting methods. Don’t take that with you when you become an actual financial advisor. Sit down. I’m calling someone else.” Zeke turned back to the class list on the teacher’s table. “Okay, anyone in this list with a finance related position...” Zeke’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked through the list. He looked at the class with a cat-like grin, his eyes focusing on one boy in the front row. “In my almost sixteen years of knowing you, I did not expect you to be suitable but it looks like you’re the only one in this list other than Jean with an accounting related occupation.”

“Really? It’s accounting related?” Eren had never been one to be good at Math. Everyone in the class agreed and as their professor hinted at his assigned occupation, many began to whisper, possibly theorizing as to what Eren had gotten.

They did not have to theorize for long though, within seconds, Zeke continued to discuss. “Okay Eren, let’s discuss your field of expertise --- insurance.”

Eren slowly nodded in return. It was a nod which everyone in the room had understood at first glance. Insurance was not Eren’s field of expertise.

Zeke did not seem to care though. “Case study time! I have 3000 dollars. Eren the insurance salesman sells me $200 dollars a month worth of insurance and I buy one years worth of prepaid insurance. By the end of this month, how much worth of assets do I have left?”

“By assets, you mean money?”

“Check a fucking dictionary.”

Eren sat down for a second. From his seat, Levi could hear some whispers from Mikasa and some clicks of a digital keyboard, or possibly a calculator.

“600 dollars.”

“Final answer?”

“Yes. Final Answer.” Eren seemed so sure of his answer.

From seeing Zeke’s face at the answer, Levi could not help but think, maybe phrasing it as a question was the better option for Eren.

“This is why your generation is so shit at saving. With this type of attitude, you‘re all gonna get into some shity Ponzi scheme with yourself and some sad saps who actually pitied you enough to lend you money without assessing your credit rating that’s just gonna continue riding on some endless cycle until you all go to jail or declare bankruptcy.” Zeke ranted again as he punched the buttons of the projector, turning it on. “ Scratch that. At this rate, none of you would probably even know how to declare bankruptcy.”

Accounting 101 . Those two words flashed on the screen, the contrast of black words in a default font to the white background of a hastily made powerpoint only getting clearer as the projector whirred to life.

“The amount of debt you can get into in the real world will fuck up your life. So to simulate the real world consequences of unpaid debt, we decided to make your fake debt by the end of the year one of the main determinants of your final grade. And we will be using real accounting to determine your debt. Any questions before we start?”

It was Sasha who raised her hand from the back of the classroom.

“Yes?” Zeke asked with shoddily hidden annoyance.

“So which one is cost and which one is accrual again, Sir?”

                                      Division of Labor

"I told you. I'll handle the accounting," Hange said. "We can make this work." Her words were not at all assuring.

It was Wednesday afternoon. They had submitted their selection for their house that afternoon in class so that meant no more takebacks. Their house plans were due midnight and Levi was not even halfway done. To add insult to injury, Levi was still reeling from Zeke’s lecture just a few hours ago.

Initially, Hange had suggested they buy the furniture in installments. The prospect of buying in installments though became all the more terrifying with the accounting system Zeke had introduced to them that day and the weight of a negative balance sheet on their grades.

As soon as you buy something and enter into debt, the money owed is not yours anymore. Levi shuddered as those words echoed in his head. He narrowed his eyes at Hange. "Really Hange? Can we? After deciding to spend half your salary each month on an unfinished 3 bedroom house?" Levi asked as he gestured to their next tall order that stretched over two aisles. They were in the baby's section in the supermarket.

It was their third round around that aisle, trying to look for a brand of diaper and a brand of formula that would not cost them a total of 400 dollars a month.

“I mean, we still have 800 dollars on groceries if we put our furniture installments budget at 1000 dollars a month,” Hange explained. “So if we spend 400 dollars on baby stuff, we should have 400 left.”

“400 dollars for a month’s worth of meals for a family of four.” Levi clarified. “There must be something here we could choose not to spend on.” Or maybe we could find a cheaper place to buy things in. Levi thought back to the supermarket nearer to his house and made a mental note to check it. The output was due on Friday anyway.

"Hey, Armin and Annie are here too!" Hange said enthusiastically.

Too enthusiastically. Levi clarified to himself. That was not at all good news. If other groups were going to that supermarket, that must mean they think they have the financial leeway to spend there, That could also possibly mean he and Hange had somehow fucked up financially as a pair, struggling to make ends meet. Armin was a studious student with a good head on his shoulders and he chose to shop in a more expensive supermarket. Are we spending too much?

"Let's ask Armin…" Levi did not need to finish his sentence. By the time, he looked to his side, where Hange stood or at least was supposed to be standing, the latter was already on her way to the blond boy..

Levi did not waste anytime. As Hange chatted up Armin, Levi made a few rounds through the two aisles again, his phone calculator on hand.

Just in case. Levi told himself. Just in case they had miscalculated the minimum expense of 400 dollars.

                                      Division of Labor

Hange had a long talk with Armin. By that point, Levi had lost count of the number of rounds he had made around the aisle. He had stopped counting at five. He had done his research on discounts and made some fake accounts and the expense still clocked at $390 dollars.

By the time he and Hange called it quits, the sun was setting. Hange seemed lost in thought and she had been that way since she had finished her conversation with Armin. Levi decided to take over keeping both sacks for the night. He made a small detour to the grocery store nearest to his flat. It was smaller, a little dirtier but it meant a little more room for spending and a bigger chance of saving his grade and graduating. Begrudgingly, sanitation became the least of Levi's issues.

He wrote out all the prices of the important items they had seen in the grocery store. When he got home, he made sure to write them all on a google sheet complete with weight, quantity and prices and sent the link to Hange through an instant message. For some reason, he felt a twinge of disappointment when all he received was a heart react in return.

Of course, Hange still had a lot of things to calculate. Even as they separated less than an hour ago, she had seemed distracted. Levi guessed Armin had told her something game breaking about the accounting process.

What did Armin tell you? You need any help?

Will explain soon. Send the meal plan and house design by 9 pls.

Levi managed to submit the meal plan by nine. He had copied and pasted from some random family cooking website, changing a few ingredients to fit what he thought would be cheaper options. He did not need to think too much of it either. He lived a life many would consider the complete opposite of excess and as a result, had mastered the art of improvisation when it came to food.

His main problem lay with the floor plan of the house. Hange had agreed to handle worrying about the expenses. That was one problem out of his plate.

Even with the money problem out of his hands, Levi found himself working until late anyway. Or not working… Levi was only reminded of his lack of productivity when his phone lit up with a notification.

11:00pm

Hange Zoe

Where??????

Levi only realized then that he had gotten a little carried away with the problem of where to put the washing machine.

                                 Division of Labor

It was a genius idea.

That Wednesday night, only a few hours before the house plan was due, Levi had had fifty tabs open from German and Japanese house designers showing bathrooms and laundry room designs highlighting the novelty and practicality of putting the washing machine in the bathroom. Levi had spent hours pondering the logistics of making it work for the house design Hange had sent him only for her to shoot down the idea an hour before the housing plan was due.

They rented an American style house with a bathroom in every bedroom and the impracticality had dawned on him particularly when it was fifteen minutes to 12am and they were still arguing in chat over how to design the house. In the end, Hange had gotten her way, having brought up the issue of accounting furniture and the fact that they probably did not even have the financial leeway to pay for a washing machine anyway.

Having to deal with the disappointment of losing the opportunity to design the house the way he wanted to and having his unfinished design shipped off to Erwin’s email, with little regard for the effort he had put into the intricacy of both the toilets and the laundry room, Levi was a little pissed. He also considered the fact that he had respected the effort and detail Hange had put into choosing a house and had allowed her to submit a potentially overpriced and unfurnished house as their final product.

And she could not even reciprocate the respect for his whims.

Levi decided then to take a break from it all. It was a silent agreement on both ends. Or there was no need for an agreement anyway. They had finished their deliverables for the week by Thursday.

Everyone had ended up cramming theirs anyway and Levi found himself walking home alone and spending his time outside school hours bingeing whatever was new on Netflix.

By Monday, Levi had not expected to do much. Their breakdown of responsibilities was due Friday, 12am on Thursday to be exact according to the file that Erwin had sent. It was a one page paper with a few questions that just needed answering. They could easily start on Tuesday or Wednesday.

Levi wanted to spend at least just his Monday, peacefully, not considering the program which has been plaguing the start of their junior year since Shadis’ announcement just a week ago. He allowed himself to clear his mind, making sure to just note on his phone to start on the next output by Wednesday. Hange would probably remind him anyway.

He had deluded himself well into thinking the adulting program was limited to those once a week outputs. An announcement was made to meet in the kitchen after lunch for home economics class. His mood that Monday had him living in complete denial of what could actually go on in a school kitchen and for some reason, Levi imagined having a lecture in the kitchen was a completely normal expectation, even with the reminder to bring aprons and gloves. Maybe we just need to put them in lockers or something.

As the students filed in though, some of them panicked and that was when Levi figured out that something was not right. The counters were all lined up with ingredients. Some of the students had recognized the ingredients. Levi looked to Hange to see that she was blank on what the hell the pattern was behind the types of ingredients set out.

There were the essentials--- flour, sugar, eggs. There were exotic ingredients Levi could not even name or pronounce.

“Cardamom, Star Anise, Rose water. What the hell?” It was Jean speaking from behind Levi.

“I’m glad you see the pattern. I’m assuming that means you’ll all do well?” Erwin waited while the rest of the class filed into the room before he raised his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “Today we’ll be having a pop quiz just to make sure you all know what you’re writing when you make the meal plans. In the tables assigned to you, you will see the ingredients for one of the meals you put in your meal plan. Please use them accordingly to make a full course meal from what you had submitted.”

Levi could not remember for the life of him what the hell he had put in that meal plan a week back