The Hyperion Chronicles
“Fun with Numbers, and Deuteronomy too!”
#100 I’ve Got Your Number
“Fun with Numbers, and Deuteronomy too!”
#100 I’ve Got Your Number
“2000: It’s big! And it’s round!” -Dogbert, trying to scare Dilbert
What’s in a number? Very little. Or perhaps, quite a bit.
In the ancient world, numbers had a holy meaning. If you look at texts from the Babylonians and the Assyrians, or even much of the Bible, you’ll see numbers all over the place. Many of them come up again and again. You see, the numbers had specific, often secret meanings beyond and in place of their numerical value, and only a select few were given the knowledge of what these numbers signified. In any event, their meaning was virtually lost to later audiences. This is also why I’m doubly suspicious of any preacher who confidently “tells” me what the numerical imagery in works like Daniel and Revelations means. But I digress. These numbers unlocked a world we’re just no longer a part of.
A great example would be the number 666. Supposedly the mark of the Beast, this number has had people making the sign of the cross for centuries. Understanding the whole code, though—as we do not today—we don’t know what significance the number has; it’s just as likely to mean something else entirely.
Numbers, over time, have lost their holy meaning. The power of a number as a talisman has faded with history’s turning pages. But, it’s still there to some extent. One area is in the Eastern World. Their fear of the number 4 makes a great deal of etymological sense. In Chinese and Japanese, si means both “four” and “death.” How this came about I’m not altogether sure of, but it seems reasonable to me to have a bit of fear. I guess this is one time to be glad I’m not turning Japanese.
Of course, no discussion of scary numbers would be complete without mentioning Unlucky 13. In Western Culture, the number 13 invites all sorts of scary, though I’ll wager most people don’t even know why (originally, it comes from 1 Jesus + 12 Disciples = 13 = Disaster). It seems almost loony that an entire cottage industry could have grown over a number that people don’t even know the root cause of anymore. Although things are changing slowly, it is still common for buildings not to have a 13th Floor, for airplanes not to have a 13th Row, and for hotel rooms to skip from Rooms 12 to 14. Heck, we even have a fancy word for fear of the number 13: Triskaidekaphobia.
Once you get out of spooky land, though we’re still inundated with numbers everywhere we go. Our ages are arbitrarily given importance for the numbers they mark. “Sweet 16” is supposedly one such, which probably hearkens back to the marriageable age of girls a century or so ago. Today, it means for many, you can drive. 18 and 21 are milestones too; this time more firmly implanted in the idea of rights and responsibilities the government sees fit to bestow on you, from voting and dying for your country, to being able to sip a beer. (And I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: I’m not pro-alcohol, but it seems beyond ridiculous that I could be expected to have a bullet rip through my guts somewhere over in B.F.E. three years before I can be expected to have Tequila rip through my liver) After 21, not much happens until 40. This one is weird, because virtually no rewards kick in, and neither do additional burdens or entitlements come your way. It’s not even the beginning or end of any watched age bracket or demographic. But suddenly, you’re “over-the-hill,” which means it’s time to have a death-themed party and be teased mercilessly. After that, there is 50, 65, 75, and 100. I’ll get to that in a minute. I think it is odd that we put so much stock in how old we are, or think we are (the Chinese go so far as to measure age from conception, but that’s a whole ‘nother kettle of placenta, and best not stirred up right now). Think about this: how old are you right now? How do you know this? For many of us, it’s because we’ve been told how old we are. Most of us, maybe even all, don’t remember being born. How do we even know we were born? Some of us may have been hatched. But enough about Canadians. Back to our ages, does anyone think it strange that we just accept our ages, and from people (usually our parents) whom I’m willing to bet have lied to us about all sorts of other things? Maybe I should write a whole column just on this, because I can see a giant can of worms opening up. How do we know what our name is? Why do we accept what we’re named? How can we trust anything? Maybe next week. For now, back to our numbers.
The final thing that gets me is the fear of numbers ending in zeros; especially the further up the scale we go. Like Dogbert said about 2000, it’s big and it’s round. We make a bunch of hoopla about becoming a millionaire, and magazines like Forbes breathlessly tell us who is and is no longer a billionaire. I would blame this on our Base Ten math system, but A) I’ve seen no indication Americans as a group excel at math nearly enough to have developed a pathos over numbers ending in zero, and B) most of our systems are not on the Base Ten-friendly metric system, instead consisting of confounding things like 16 ounces to a pound, 12 inches to a foot, and 38 bushels to a kopeck.
I wonder what would have happened if we had a system other than Base Ten. Would 7, 14, and 49 be our magical themes? What if we valued those know-what-they-are-but-can’t-quite-define-them prime numbers? Then maybe 1,000,000,000 and 1,000,000 and 1,000 wouldn’t be quite such a cause célèbre. Neither would, I suppose, it be a big deal for something as silly as a 100th column.
See you in a day, or two, or three, or five, or seven, or eleven, or…
Hyperion
February 26, 2003
Credits:
Thanks to Koz, Bear, and Tootsie
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