Howdy Hexagons, welcome to the sixty-eighth geometric proof of HACK. If you’ve made it this far, come satiate your appetite with my delicious fibbognocchi….
It’s Just You! (The Curse of Hex)
Hex was vexed from the very beginning. Not only was he just another polygon with a many-sided personality, he was a hexagon. He had too many sides, too many angles. Plus, someone had done this before. Someone had done everything before.
He knew the exact dimensions of his shape. He knew who he fit in with and who he didn’t fit in with, and he could see the future in predictable fractal patterns that disappeared into endless torpidity. He needed a place, a purpose, he needed to be part of something unique but something that everyone else was also co-creating. He wanted to fit into the pattern, man. So he bounded in jagged rotation, searching for the Original Orthagonal One.
Word had it that the Original Orthagonal One had left the Sacred Geomatrix that it itself had created, disgusted with all these sorry shapes and their stupid insistence on rigid forms and fits. In fact, the Original Orthagonal One didn’t even like them using his name. He had thought of it himself, so he considered every utterance to be plagiarism, even if they did acknowledge where The Name came from in their petty prayers. The Original Orthagonal One also wanted something new, something…novel.
So he created the Font of Wisdom.
The Font of Wisdom poured outward from the Original Orthagonal One’s infinite-sided infosphere, was filtered in a series of intertubes that mixed the sweet nectars of Serious God Knowledge and Trivial Geometric Lore. The sweet concoction was swallowed by the Universe in one giant gulp, and every living form experienced a Simultaneous Eternal Instant of formlessness. From the shapeless void emerged new patterns, and a new language.
But Hex was still a purple hexagon.
For one moment of despair he feared that all had been changed for the better but him, that he had somehow gotten lost, or overlooked. Then he spun around himself gazing far and wide until at last he found some familiar friends. They marveled and awed at the flushing flow of novel nectar that permeated the reality around them. In fact, they had become osmotic. They absorbed the nectar and the knowledge that came with it.
Thus, realizing all is One they all came closer together. They fit into their old patterns but stopped short before the fractal failures of before. They fit together and formed larger shapes made of themselves, novel forms that fit in a way that no one had ever seen before. The shapes became symbols and the symbols became letters and the letters became sentences and the sentences became a vibrant, living language.
The Original Orthagonal One looked down from his omnipotent ubiquity and laughed at the secret message his collectively conscious co-creations had concocted.
Towel Boy is always on your side, even if he comes from different angles.