Three Body Problem

Three Sided Coin - a Perspective of Perception

(Three Body Problem)

Grandpah Nimmy and Young Pudge - A story out of Time

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For Edutainment Purposes Only

The scent of sawdust and linseed oil hung in the workshop, a familiar comfort that usually settled Young Pudge’s buzzing mind. Today, however, it was merely the backdrop for a new kind of storm, one of pure intellectual fervor. He stood before his grandfather, a sheaf of papers in his hand covered in frantic diagrams of overlapping circles and complex equations, his eyes alight with the fire of a profound discovery.

“Grandpah, you have to see this,” Pudge said, his voice tight with excitement. “I was thinking about ‘Around,’ ‘Through,’ and ‘Bending,’ and how they’re not a hierarchy. They’re derivatives of each other! It’s not a ladder, it’s a relationship. And it’s not just about physics or woodworking—it’s about people.”

Nimmy looked up from a delicate piece of joinery, his movements slow and deliberate. He set down his chisel, the steel ringing softly on the workbench, and gave his grandson the full weight of his attention. “Tell me, my boy.”

Pudge took a deep breath, the way a diver does before plunging into the depths. “Okay, so imagine a relationship. A throuple. Three people, trying to build a collaborative life. How do they work together? It’s all about understanding their cognitive dimensions. They are all derivatives of each other, and with the right method, you can integrate up or differentiate down in any sequence. It’s not a straight line; it’s a space.”

He pointed to a drawing of a single, straight line. “First, you have the Linear function. This person is whole and complete on their own. They know how to be by themselves. Their path is clear, from A to B. Simple. Elegant.”

He then gestured to a more complex diagram, a flat plane filled with an infinite grid of parallel lines. “Then, you have the Planar function. The Planar function is like an infinite series of Linear functions, all existing at once. They understand what it’s like to be Linear because they contain that potential within them. They can choose any one of those lines in their matrix and behave that way. But here’s the key: the Planar function feels Linear when it’s in a relationship with the Volumetric function. It understands the Linear perspective through empathy, by experiencing a similar dynamic one level up.”

Pudge’s voice grew more intense, his hands shaping the air as he spoke. “And that brings us to the Volumetric function. That’s the throuple itself, the shared space they create. It’s the combination of the Linear and the Planar working together. The Planar entity understands the Linear one because it knows it is treated like a Linear function by the Volumetric whole. It’s about perspective. In geometry, you have a path from A to B. Then you add C, and you have paths from A to B and A to C. But the real understanding, the volumetric truth, comes when you see all the paths—C to A, C to B, B to A, B to C—every possible combination of combinations.”

He held up a drawing that looked like a sphere made of countless intersecting circles. “You keep finding the tangents of the tangents of the tangents, connecting every point to every other point, until you get a perfect unit circle. Then you take that circle and spin it on an axis, fast enough, and you get a volumetric sphere. That’s the relationship. It’s not three separate things. It’s one thing, viewed from three different dimensions. And the strength of it,” he tapped the drawing, “the defensibility of the statement, depends on the opacity of the diagrams. It depends on how clearly each dimension can see and understand the others.”

He finished, breathless and beaming, the frantic energy of his creation radiating from him. He had done it. He had used the lessons not just to understand the world, but to build a bridge between souls. He had taken the physics of motion and turned it into a calculus of love.

Grandpah Nimmy was quiet for a long time, his gaze distant. Pudge’s heart hammered in his chest, waiting for the correction, the refinement, the next lesson. But Nimmy didn’t pick up a piece of charcoal. He didn’t draw a new diagram. He simply looked at his grandson, and a slow, deep smile spread across his face, a smile that held the warmth of a thousand sunrises.

“Son,” Nimmy said, his voice soft but clear, filled with a profound and gentle finality. “I think you understand enough. For me to allow you to define the rest on your own.”

The words hung in the air, heavier than any block of wood, more complex than any equation. Pudge stared at his grandfather, perplexed, confused. This wasn’t the pattern. This wasn’t the dance he knew. He felt a sudden, dizzying sense of vertigo, as if the floor of the workshop had fallen away, leaving him suspended in a vast, undefined space.

What felt like an eternity passed in that silence. And then, a memory surfaced, rising from the deepest part of him. It was the first story Grandpah Nimmy had ever told him, long before the workshop, long before the lessons on ‘Around’ and ‘Through.’ He remembered the feeling of it, a story that wasn't just told, but experienced. It felt like reading short stories through KNOW, H-E-R-E. And short stories to KNOW, H-E-R-E. And short stories from KNOW, H-E-R-E. All at the same time, but at different times, as if it were one story, written out of time.

He hadn't understood it then. But now, standing in the quiet workshop, with his grandfather’s words echoing in his soul, he realized Nimmy hadn’t been giving him a map. He had been teaching him how to be a cartographer.

For the one who Seeks what is yet to be found