The Last Digit of Pi

We’d created the mathysphere algorithm to explore the bottomless ocean of digits in the number pi. Calculating trillions of decimal places in a fraction of a second, we’d be the first to shine a light into the deepest trenches of its infinity. To know pi is to know the constant that binds reality together, the bedrock of the universe.

But there it was again, the leviathan. Around the septillionth digit, a swath of repeating 6’s so large our code couldn’t see the end of it.

“Run it again,” you said, and I did. Impossible. The sequence had moved.

“Check the code,” you muttered, but we both knew it was airtight.

“A universal constant can’t just change,” you said as I ran it again. The 6’s moved a thousand digits closer. Again, and it leaped a hundred thousand places.

“It’s getting closer,” I said. “and faster.” I felt space dilating around and within me, as if the very forces holding my atoms together could come undone.

“It’s headed for the surface,” you said. Time seemed to slow down.

We’d wanted to shine a light into the deepest trenches of infinity. We never expected we’d wake something up.