We’ve all heard the old joke: “6 was afraid of 7 because 7 8 9.” A tale of numerical cannibalism passed down through generations of dry humour. But have you ever stopped to wonder why? Why 7 ate 9? Was it only a case of proximity and availability, like a walk into adultery? And who found out — 6 or 10, or 8? What were the other 9 doing — watching? Or filming it for friends? Was 7 found guilty of anything? Was 7 found guilty and deported to Al-gebra as an unknown quantity?
All this raises an important question: what happens when larger numbers get hungry?
Well, friends, brush up on your calculus and hold on to your parentheses, because the plot thickens. Rumour has it that when 20 got hungry… 28!
Now, before you gasp and clutch your abacus, let me clarify. We’re not saying 20 ate 28. Oh no — that would be far more terrifying. 20 factorial-ed 28. That’s right: 28! As in 28 factorial — which, for those with PMSD (Post Mathematical Stress Disorder) preventing them from remembering, is the product of all positive integers from 1 to 28. That’s 28 × 27 × 26 × ... × 1, or in other words, an absolutely ridiculous number. (I’d tell you the actual value, but typing that many zeroes is beyond anyone’s ask.)
So why did 20 do it?
According to sources close to the number line, 20 had been under a lot of pressure. He was sandwiched between 19, a smug prime number who never shuts up about being indivisible, and 21, who thinks he’s lucky just because he is three times the lucky number seven. It was only a matter of time before 20 would break. And he went full factorial.
There was chaos — bits of integers flying everywhere. Even pi tried to intervene but went around in circles, not knowing whether it was the circumference or the area that he had been seeking. It was arithmetic anarchy. 3.1415926535... refused to come out of irrational hiding. The square roots formed a radical support group, and even the Roman numerals held a vigil (though nobody really knew what MCMXC was supposed to mean).
The question that criss-crossed everyone’s minds like schizophrenic multiplication signs was: what could have prevented this numeric meltdown? Should we be teaching healthier coping mechanisms to unsuspecting numbers? Should zero step up and play a more significant role in emotional support instead of just being, well… nothing?
In the end, we must face the facts: numbers, like people, have their breaking points. They add, subtract, and multiply their stress, and sometimes… they just snap. So, the next time someone tells you that 6 is afraid of 7, remember — there’s a whole lot more going on behind the scenes. And if 20 gets that look in its eye again?
Well, let’s just say you’d better run before things get… exponential.
