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<blockquote data-quote="The Crimster" data-source="post: 144513" data-attributes="member: 2511">Each of your words bring a bitter-sweet smile to Julia's face.&nbsp; It is obvious that she needs to hear these words.&nbsp; Two more of Professor Pickman's friends step up to the podium.&nbsp; They speak of good times that they had with Alan, and what about him they will miss.&nbsp; Their speeches are short and somewhat sad.Another man begins to step towards the podium.&nbsp; He has a shambling gait, and as he walks around the coffin (itself, poised above the hole by a pulley system), he stares at it with wide eyes.&nbsp; He is wearing a black suit and tie, but ill-fitting and slightly worn looking.&nbsp; He appears to be in his early thirties, but with a pale complexion somewhat out of place in southern California.&nbsp; His hair is dark and disheveled.&nbsp; Perhaps once he was handsome, but time seems to have not been kind.&nbsp;&nbsp; He is holding a crumpled piece of paper in a fist.The man places the paper on the podium and looks down at it for a moment.&nbsp; He then straightens it with his hands, a frown on his face.&nbsp; His lips can be seen to be moving slightly, as if talking to himself.&nbsp; But all that can be heard is the wind, and the quiet sob of one of the mourners.&nbsp; He straightens and gives a flash of a smile that shows yellowed teeth.&quot;Uhhh... hello there.&nbsp; Hi.&nbsp; My name is Alister.&quot;&nbsp; His voice is rough, as if he smokes a few packs of cigarettes a day.&nbsp; He looks everywhere at once - a nervous habit, perhaps.&nbsp; &quot;P-p-professor Pickman was my friend.&nbsp; And my professor.&quot;&nbsp; He smiles again, as if enjoying a joke.&nbsp; &quot;He taught me d'Alembert's theorem, of course.&nbsp; G-g-good one, that.&nbsp; But doesn't take into consideration tri-folded space along a Darboux vector, heh.&quot;&nbsp; Alister sniffs loudly and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.&nbsp; A tear falls down his cheek, but he doesn't seem to notice.&nbsp; &quot;And yet... and yet...&quot;&nbsp; His voice trails off for a moment.&nbsp; He stares at the silver coffin with a blank expression on his face.&nbsp; Fellow mourners begin to look around at each other, puzzled looks on their faces.Suddenly, Alister turns toward the priest.&nbsp; His voice is pitched low, but everyone can hear it.&nbsp; &quot;He did it, you know.&nbsp; This is all so... pointless.&nbsp; He killed god.&quot;&nbsp; The priest's eyes widen in shock, and he takes a step back.&nbsp; Such an odd statement seems totally out of place in such a quiet and sad setting.&nbsp; Alister snorts loudly, and again wipes his nose with his hand.&nbsp; As he does so, everyone sees something slightly disgusting.&nbsp; A bug, perhaps a cockroach - medium sized and black - skitters out from the sleeve of Alister's jacket.&nbsp; Just as quickly, it crawls up his arm and stops on his neck, where it sits.&nbsp; Alister does not seem to notice.&quot;The tenth multiple is shot, my friend.&nbsp; One is not a prime number no matter what they tell us.&quot;&nbsp; Alister's voice is getting louder.&nbsp; He continues to stare at the priest intently, who seems to be in utter shock with his mouth open in a perfect 'O'.&nbsp; The rest of the mourners are in shock as well, unsure what to do.[Do *you* know what to do, friend?]</blockquote>

[QUOTE="The Crimster, post: 144513, member: 2511"] Each of your words bring a bitter-sweet smile to Julia's face. It is obvious that she [i]needs[/i] to hear these words. Two more of Professor Pickman's friends step up to the podium. They speak of good times that they had with Alan, and what about him they will miss. Their speeches are short and somewhat sad. Another man begins to step towards the podium. He has a shambling gait, and as he walks around the coffin (itself, poised above the hole by a pulley system), he stares at it with wide eyes. He is wearing a black suit and tie, but ill-fitting and slightly worn looking. He appears to be in his early thirties, but with a pale complexion somewhat out of place in southern California. His hair is dark and disheveled. Perhaps once he was handsome, but time seems to have not been kind. He is holding a crumpled piece of paper in a fist. The man places the paper on the podium and looks down at it for a moment. He then straightens it with his hands, a frown on his face. His lips can be seen to be moving slightly, as if talking to himself. But all that can be heard is the wind, and the quiet sob of one of the mourners. He straightens and gives a flash of a smile that shows yellowed teeth. "Uhhh... hello there. [i]Hi[/i]. My name is Alister." His voice is rough, as if he smokes a few packs of cigarettes a day. He looks everywhere at once - a nervous habit, perhaps. "P-p-professor Pickman was my friend. And my professor." He smiles again, as if enjoying a joke. "He taught me d'Alembert's theorem, of course. G-g-good one, that. But doesn't take into consideration tri-folded space along a Darboux vector, heh." Alister sniffs loudly and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. A tear falls down his cheek, but he doesn't seem to notice. "And yet... and yet..." His voice trails off for a moment. He stares at the silver coffin with a blank expression on his face. Fellow mourners begin to look around at each other, puzzled looks on their faces. Suddenly, Alister turns toward the priest. His voice is pitched low, but everyone can hear it. "He did it, you know. This is all so... pointless. He killed god." The priest's eyes widen in shock, and he takes a step back. Such an odd statement seems totally out of place in such a quiet and sad setting. Alister snorts loudly, and again wipes his nose with his hand. As he does so, everyone sees something slightly disgusting. A bug, perhaps a cockroach - medium sized and black - skitters out from the sleeve of Alister's jacket. Just as quickly, it crawls up his arm and stops on his neck, where it sits. Alister does not seem to notice. "The tenth multiple is shot, my friend. One is not a prime number no matter [i]what they tell us[/i]." Alister's voice is getting louder. He continues to stare at the priest intently, who seems to be in utter shock with his mouth open in a perfect 'O'. The rest of the mourners are in shock as well, unsure what to do. [i][color=red][Do *you* know what to do, friend?][/color][/i][color=red][/color] [/QUOTE]

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