Izara08 @izara08 - Tumblr Blog

Likely my last post here (AU media ban)

So the Australian social media ban is in TWO HOURS.

The funny thing is that I actually live there. Another funny thing is that I am under sixteen years old. ANOTHER REALLY FUNNY THING IS THAT TUMBLR IS A SOCIAL MEDIA SITE.

Making this post just in case it’s my last.

And if tumblr really is getting banned,

See you guys🫡

#though why do i very strongly feel like its only going to be in effect for a day or two #like the usa banned tiktok and it was apparently a permanent thing #and people went HECTIC #then randomly not even a day later they unbanned it without saying a word. i feel like thay exact thing is gonna happen and ive felt thay wa #y for a quite long time. but we will see very VERY shortly #australian politics #australia #bye #last post #probably last post #australian social media ban #bye guys #bye yall #good goodbye #saying goodbye #goodbye for now

A fancy term for nonbinaries like “ladies” and “gentlemen” I propose “formenbies” like formal and enby you know yeah you know you know yeah yeah like yeah you know yeah

Drew myself testing ideas with my pokémon 100% wholesomely

My pokémon seems slightly unsettled it's probably just a cold

(I love garganacl so much absolutely my fav)

izara08

A number generator. A random number generator. That sends out a random number. A number. From one. To infinity. But that description wouldn't be correct, as this utter mockery of the universe's laws can only spit out finite numbers. How many finite numbers? All of them. This monstrosity of a metal box can only be used once. It has never been used.

The sheer idea of this horrifying beast completely and utterly baffles me. The year is 2088. We have solved the Riemann Hypothesis. We have three odd perfect numbers. There are three numbers that don't succumb to the "unavoidable" 4-2-1 chain when faced with the Collatz Conjecture. They were the same. Three. Numbers. All of these monumental discoveries, few of many. Discovered by the most intelligent mathematician that ever lived. Me.

And despite my mental prowess, the sheer idea of this. Thing. Eludes me. This kind of machine shouldn't even be possible. Not only does it break the laws of mathematics, it breaks the laws of physics. And yet it sits in my hands. My feeble, significantly intelligent, yet mortal hands. I am holding the heart of a god. The skull of the devil. The core of the universe. The Big Bang. The Theory of Everything. And it feels. Like a dense, rusty metal cube.

What would the number spit out even be? The chance of any number at all would be that number out of. Infinity? So all and every single number would have an absolute zero chance to be chosen. Yet a number must be chosen. A number will be chosen by this unfathomable entity. Despite every singular rule from every singular law of the universe screaming and begging at the top of its brobdingnagian unfathomable ethereal cosmic lungs.

I take what is likely the most quenching breath of all of humanity. I slowly position my index finger on the obnoxious rectangular shaped button. "GENERATE". It's red. The warning signal of nature. Not the warning signal of the universe, as the universe heeds no warning, the universe is what's heeded. I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as possible, hope for the best, and press down. I slowly, but surely, open my eyes. Would the feeble, unworthy human eye even be able to comprehend the sheer scale and impossibility of the outcome?

The number is four.

mathemagicalfae

Sorry, but the person who presses this button is an utter fool. Mathematically, there's a 100% chance that the number generated is larger than the number of atoms in the universe. There's a 100% chance that, no matter what format the machine uses to display the number (decimal, scientific notation, knuth's up-arrow notation), the number of atoms needed to display the result is more than exists in the observable universe. If the display is finitely big, there's a 100% chance that it becomes so dense a black hole the size of the universe forms.

The push of that button had a 100% chance of destroying the entire universe. Petty bad mathematician of you ask me.

izara08

In the tags the “he should push again just to check” was so fucking funny to me I just had to draw it

(My handwriting is so 🥀🥀🥀 so if you cant read it then check the alt text for narration)

#well theyre fucked #math #math stuff #i love math aswell #comic #art #i guess the mc has a design now coolio

A number generator. A random number generator. That sends out a random number. A number. From one. To infinity. But that description wouldn't be correct, as this utter mockery of the universe's laws can only spit out finite numbers. How many finite numbers? All of them. This monstrosity of a metal box can only be used once. It has never been used.

The sheer idea of this horrifying beast completely and utterly baffles me. The year is 2088. We have solved the Riemann Hypothesis. We have three odd perfect numbers. There are three numbers that don't succumb to the "unavoidable" 4-2-1 chain when faced with the Collatz Conjecture. They were the same. Three. Numbers. All of these monumental discoveries, few of many. Discovered by the most intelligent mathematician that ever lived. Me.

And despite my mental prowess, the sheer idea of this. Thing. Eludes me. This kind of machine shouldn't even be possible. Not only does it break the laws of mathematics, it breaks the laws of physics. And yet it sits in my hands. My feeble, significantly intelligent, yet mortal hands. I am holding the heart of a god. The skull of the devil. The core of the universe. The Big Bang. The Theory of Everything. And it feels. Like a dense, rusty metal cube.

What would the number spit out even be? The chance of any number at all would be that number out of. Infinity? So all and every single number would have an absolute zero chance to be chosen. Yet a number must be chosen. A number will be chosen by this unfathomable entity. Despite every singular rule from every singular law of the universe screaming and begging at the top of its brobdingnagian unfathomable ethereal cosmic lungs.

I take what is likely the most quenching breath of all of humanity. I slowly position my index finger on the obnoxious rectangular shaped button. "GENERATE". It's red. The warning signal of nature. Not the warning signal of the universe, as the universe heeds no warning, the universe is what's heeded. I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as possible, hope for the best, and press down. I slowly, but surely, open my eyes. Would the feeble, unworthy human eye even be able to comprehend the sheer scale and impossibility of the outcome?

The number is four.