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The Secret Number Igor Teper ?? Dr. Simon Tomlin studied the man sitting across the table from him. Rocking back and forth in his chair, with his shoulders slouching, his eyes darting all around the room, and his upper lip twitching every few seconds, the man conveyed a distinctly squirrel-like impression. It was hard to believe that, before his breakdown, this man had been one of the foremost number theorists in the world. “How are you today, Professor Ersheim?” asked Dr. Tomlin. “Fine, fine, thank you, just fine,” replied the man without looking at him. “Have you been sleeping all right?” “Oh, yes, I’ve been sleeping quite well, sleeping like a baby,” replied Ersheim, nodding vigorously in sync with his rocking. Still no eye contact. “That’s good to hear.” Ersheim suddenly stopped rocking and looked straight at Tomlin, eyes bulging. “Oh, cut the nice-guy act, Doctor,” he said sharply. “I know you think I’m crazy, don’t you think I know you think I’m crazy? That’s what everyone thought about Laszlo Bleem, too; that’s what they want you to think.” He stared at Tomlin, not moving, not blinking. “Who are you talking about, Professor? Who wants everyone to think you’re crazy?” “The numbers, Doctor, the numbers. They say that numbers don’t lie, only they do, they lie all the time, they’ve always lied. But not to me—oh, no, I see through their deceptions, I know what they’re hiding,” said Ersheim. He started rocking again. “And what would that be, Professor?” “Bleem, that’s what. Bleem!” shouted Ersheim, banging his fists against the desk. He then leaned close to Tomlin and whispered, “The secret integer between three and four.” “We have been over this, Professor—there is
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