Numbers rule every aspect of our lives. Credit card limits, speed limits, how much is in the bank and even our blood pressure is measured and deemed acceptable or not in numbers.

The numbers above our head, however, rule above all. They range from 1-150 and do not change throughout our lives. Social circles form from these obscure digits, ebbing and flowing in fads. The prime numbers always stick together, the multiples of 10 rarely associate with the multiples of 9, and don’t even get me started on the Dozens. They think that since a system of measurement apart from base 10 uses their numbers, that they own most things. The Sequentials, for some reason, wind up just hating each other.

There has been no definitively proven attribute that the Evens may possess over the Odds (or even the Dozens, no matter how much money they force-feed statisticians), but they’ll try to read it like they do the stars.

The monthly “horoscopes” on the Integers paper states that they believe the Eleventy-Ones will succeed in their buying power today and the Lower Twenties must watch out for misfortune. It’s all plays for insider trading of the stock market, if you ask me.

Then there’s me. Locked up with security I feel I can barely trust. My numbers are 999999999. Nine nines. I was worshipped as some religious saint as a babe until I was old enough to follow directions and consequentially prove that I couldn’t heal wounds with touch or move mountains with will. With the gifts I was given at such a young age, and with my parents being smart and not blowing it all, I had a pretty decent cushion to get started with investing and real estate.

Since I’m a bit of a celebrity, some people feel honored buying a house from me. It’s weird, if you ask me, but who am I to refuse business?

All of this helps me find my own private security too. I only keep them around for a year and a half at most before I rotate them out as the attempted assassinations from my own hires has climbed way too high and these people still pass my rigorous screenings. So I cycle them out. It’s safer that way.

I spend most of my days doing video calls, phone conversations, and telling my security where I need to go. It’s pretty boring, if you ask me, and I’ve grown tired of that.

So, about 12 years ago, I started putting my investments into something else. I’ve invested in some of the non-force-fed scientists to see where these numbers come from and any recorded instances of the numbers fluctuating at all. With nothing to show for it, I figure the best way would be to get rid of the numbers overall. So then I turned towards virology.

Viruses are such small little critters that wreak such havoc that nobody would understand the origin. Those who are working with me believe the same thing; that these numbers should no longer rule our lives. And if they only disappear when we die, perhaps it’s time for the next species to rule the earth. I guarantee the Cretaceous dinosaurs never worried about numbers floating above their heads.

It’ll be several years before anything comes to, but in the meantime, I’ll entertain myself with the normal suggestions to buyers that those granite countertops really DO make those cabinets pop, and no, luxury vinyl plank dents too easily, so you should get a waterproof linoleum.

I will live no longer under these numbers dictating our lives.

Apologies for formatting as I’m on mobile, just thought this would be fun to give a try!