Little One in hibernation let us start your education on the mathematics of your current incubation. Your first lesson, you know, is easy as a piece of pi. One plus one is two and there you are: a gote of zy, a little addition going through cellular division.
You grow and grow quite exponentially and at some point we can call you “potentially” human. While the probability is pretty strong, we don’t calculate your absolute value until a good bit further along.
But don’t you worry. Don’t fret the odds (though it’s always a gamble when humans play God.) You see, you’re somewhere safely between absolute zero and infinity, either a blob of flesh or proof of divinity. But either way you’re not quite equal yet. Give us some time. Our thoughts are still perking. I mean… what if you’re not complementary to this life angle we’re working?
Come now, Little One, It’s easy enough to grasp. For heaven’s sake, it’s It’s almost elementary math! See, we get to round you up or down based on a simple “feeling computation.” That is, if we feel you have value, you get rounded up to person in our estimation!
You see… well… the idea of “you” becomes a matter of order of operations because when we fear you you’re not really our idea of a cheerful new addition. You sort of added yourself in without our express written permission.
It’s like this… Sometimes we forget to factor in the minute possibility (no matter how quantum). And then Oops! There you are… and you’re just a difficult problem. We didn’t think that interaction might result in this terrifying (yet insignificant!) mere fraction of a person. So now we’re justifying.
Somehow we need you to go away, you small tissue of distraction, like pencil marks erased, like zeros, like subtraction.
So we solve you and call you a product of conception.
Let me sum it up for you, you little paradoxical equation. You’re nothing or everything. You’re death or elation. But there’s one thing you’re definitely not, my little undersized tot, and that’s equal in this nation.