Don't know what FTCTW is? Click Here to join the revolution. This installment of FTCTW's author is Kyle.

Author's Comments: This is a super short story I had to write for a Fiction Writing 101 class in undergraduate. As you can probably surmise, I was actually sitting in the student union of the story when I wrote it and basically came up with it off the top of my head because it had to be turned in the next morning. I can't remember what my grade is, but here's an original scan of the version I printed off ten years ago.

The Hell of Calculus: By Kyle

My backpack hung heavy on my shoulder. As I neared the table in the smoking section of the union, I could feel the calculus book in my bag gaining mass. While I thought this was impossible, I didn't know any of the math to prove it false, so apparently it was changing the physics of the universe. By the time I actually reached my table, my book had formed a notable gravity of its own. My guilt and frustrations from not doing my homework had manifested itself to create a tremendous density around my book. Finally, dragging my backpack behind me, I collapsed into one of the uncomfortable chairs surrounding the table.

My appearance drew much attention. A blur of greetings and little social quips zipped around me. To explain my intentions to all, I unfastened my bag, mustered all the strength in my upperbody, and lugged my Calculus book out and onto the table. I heard an awestruck "Ooooooh!" from everyone. They knew my hatred of math and were impressed with my determination to risk my life attempting to do my homework. Everyone respectfully ignored me, letting me toil over my doom.

The book had grown so dense and so heavy that the gravitational force is was emitting was actually attracting pencils, crumbled up papers, and other small objects from other people' stables. An ashtray even flew off the table next to me and began orbiting my book, leaving an astonished smoker sitting off to my left. He glanced over and saw my calculus book, still closed, lying ominously on the table. His amazement melted into understanding. he simply nodded his head sympathetically and continued a previous conversation.

The first obstacle seemed relatively easy. I had to open my book. Trying to casually flip the cover back proved fruitless, as if it were held shut with super glue. Utilizing both hands, half rising from my chair, and throwing my weight into it proved slightly better. The cover raised about five inches. I yelled desperately for help until my brother jammed a pen under it, propping it up off the table. I took a deep breath, stood astride it about four feet and charged it. My shoulder slammed into the cover and shot it open and flat on the table. I went sprawling into the astonished smoker who helped me to my feet, patted me on the back, and encouraged me to finish my work. Everyone cheered when they saw that I had accomplished the first challenge in my quest. I raised my arms over my head and shook my hands in response to the applause. I felt as if I were stepping into a boxing ring with Atilla the Hun.

I was flying high. Even though the pages were incredibly hard to turn, I had gained a second wind from meeting the first goal. Finally reaching the right page, I pulled out my paper and pen and started my work. I felt like Death were lurking over my shoulder, waiting patiently or me to give up on my work and crush my head under my book.

The word problem went as follows, "A weightless, frictionless train runs along a frictionless track at a speed twice that of sound. The train carries two large, Asian elephants named simba and Babaloo who weigh the average mass of their species. What degree angle would a ramp have to be at to send the train out of the earth's orbit, around the moon, and land in the town square in Calcutta? Also calculate the time and graph the derivative of the velocity of the train in the five basic increments of its trip. Integrate you results with ... " My eyes blurred.

Simply reading that problem detached my brain from reality. Lights flashed, sounds amplified and quieted, and time became a concrete idea. I had entered the fourth dimension. My life lay in front of me. I saw everything that was, and would be about me. I saw my birth, my life, and myself dying under the weight of a seven hundred pound sea lion. I saw myself rich. I saw myself rocketed into poverty as my real estate scandal was discovered. I saw myself walking hopelessly into sea world, decidedly intent on suicide. Then I saw the near future. I saw myself figuring out the word problem.

Crash! I was back in the third dimension. My journey into the other side gave me new revelations into calculus. I began writing furiously on my paper. Equations shot from my pen with lightning speed. As I worked faster and faster, a large crowd gathered around me. The entire smoking section was filled with observers trying to steal a glance at me. A chant thundered through them like an electric current. "Go! Go! Go! Go!" It crashed around the union, but I heard nothing. My mind was running like a well oiled machine. Tangents here, secants there. I threw them out with perfect accuracy.

The tension mounted. The crowd grew wilder. Finally my answer was scrawled out by my hand: "12". I circled it, stood up, and greeted my audience. They lost control. Everyone was Cheering, clapping, and hooting. Like Joe Montana, I was hoisted up onto several shoulders and began to be paraded out. A new chant of "We're number one!" rose from the crowd and caught like dry kindling.

A reporter with a giant camera ran up to me, his oversized press sticker almost falling out of his hat. I heart him shout into his microphone, "Kyle Jones, you've just solved the hardest calculus problem this side of Malaysia! Where are you going now?"

"I'm going to Disneyworld!" I yelled. That's the last thing I clearly remember. The giant parade down '0' street and my addresal of the Nebraska congress are still a blur.