She pulled up the footage. A cafeteria in the lower hab-blocks. Nothing remarkable—until a woman's coffee cup spontaneously turned into a small, perfect sphere of frozen tears. Not water. Tears. Chemical analysis confirmed it: pure, concentrated human grief, crystallized. Then the man next to her clutched his chest. Not a heart attack. His ribs had re-arranged themselves into the Fibonacci sequence. He was alive. He was weeping.
The Sad Math had arrived.
Lena hugged the rabbit. For a long, terrible moment, nothing happened.