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More from the Rabbit Hole
Posted on 2005.01.27 at 09:59
"Calliope?" I asked, toweling off my hair. Yes, I was wearing a robe. "As in the Calliope?"
"Oh, nothing so definite article," she replied, sipping Lapsong Souchong with a smile. "I'm a Calliope. Calliope Jones, to be exact."
"Then there's more than nine muses?"
"There is, in fact, more than nine muses. You see -- well, you probably don't but you soon will -- we've been growing in number since the dawn of Man. First, there was one."
"One?"
"One. Mnemosyne. She then became three -- Melete, Mneme, and Aoede. And later, those three each became three of their own, leading to the nine you're thinking of."
"Calliope, Terpsichore, Clio...."
Calliope rolled her eyes. "Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia, and Urania. Honestly, why writers of all people can't remember that is really quite beyond me."
"And then they all multiplied by three again?"
"Hm? Oh, no no. They multiplied by nine each, to yield eighty-one. It's an exponential growth cycle, not a geometric one."
"There are eighty-one muses?"
Calliope laughed -- a laugh that sounded like music, which makes sense if you think about it. "Silly boy. Those eighty-one begat eighty-one more apiece, leading to six thousand, five hundred and sixty one muses."
"That's... that's incredible. When did that happen?"
"Oh, around the Enlightenment. Which makes sense if you think about it." She slurped her tea.
"So, there's sixty-five hundred of you now?"
"What? With the mass of information being produced these days? Those sixty five hundred and sixty one begat sixty five hundred and sixty-one apiece back in 1922."
I goggled. "You mean... there's...."
"Forty-three million, forty-six thousand, seven hundred and twenty one active muses working today. For a while there, that meant things were going smoothly, only with the internet and the age of information and all that, there's more and more textual requirements being created all the time. We're all feeling a little overworked. We're going to have to divide again, I think."
"But... when you do, your numbers will square again."
"Aren't you a bright boy?"
"But that will mean... billions of muses. Trillions of muses."
"Actually, one quadrillion, eight hundred and fifty three trillion, twenty billion, one hundred and eighty eight million, eight hundred and fifty one thousand, eight hundred and forty one muses."
I stared at the muse in my kitchen. "But... the human population of the planet is only...."
"Six billion, four hundred and fifteen million, one hundred and fourteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety three. Roughly. So yes, we're discussing about twenty nine thousand muses for every mortal." She grinned impishly. "Think the National Endowment for the Arts will be sufficiently funded then?"
"Oh, nothing so definite article," she replied, sipping Lapsong Souchong with a smile. "I'm a Calliope. Calliope Jones, to be exact."
"Then there's more than nine muses?"
"There is, in fact, more than nine muses. You see -- well, you probably don't but you soon will -- we've been growing in number since the dawn of Man. First, there was one."
"One?"
"One. Mnemosyne. She then became three -- Melete, Mneme, and Aoede. And later, those three each became three of their own, leading to the nine you're thinking of."
"Calliope, Terpsichore, Clio...."
Calliope rolled her eyes. "Calliope, Clio, Erato, Euterpe, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia, and Urania. Honestly, why writers of all people can't remember that is really quite beyond me."
"And then they all multiplied by three again?"
"Hm? Oh, no no. They multiplied by nine each, to yield eighty-one. It's an exponential growth cycle, not a geometric one."
"There are eighty-one muses?"
Calliope laughed -- a laugh that sounded like music, which makes sense if you think about it. "Silly boy. Those eighty-one begat eighty-one more apiece, leading to six thousand, five hundred and sixty one muses."
"That's... that's incredible. When did that happen?"
"Oh, around the Enlightenment. Which makes sense if you think about it." She slurped her tea.
"So, there's sixty-five hundred of you now?"
"What? With the mass of information being produced these days? Those sixty five hundred and sixty one begat sixty five hundred and sixty-one apiece back in 1922."
I goggled. "You mean... there's...."
"Forty-three million, forty-six thousand, seven hundred and twenty one active muses working today. For a while there, that meant things were going smoothly, only with the internet and the age of information and all that, there's more and more textual requirements being created all the time. We're all feeling a little overworked. We're going to have to divide again, I think."
"But... when you do, your numbers will square again."
"Aren't you a bright boy?"
"But that will mean... billions of muses. Trillions of muses."
"Actually, one quadrillion, eight hundred and fifty three trillion, twenty billion, one hundred and eighty eight million, eight hundred and fifty one thousand, eight hundred and forty one muses."
I stared at the muse in my kitchen. "But... the human population of the planet is only...."
"Six billion, four hundred and fifteen million, one hundred and fourteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety three. Roughly. So yes, we're discussing about twenty nine thousand muses for every mortal." She grinned impishly. "Think the National Endowment for the Arts will be sufficiently funded then?"