“About time,” a tiny, high-pitched voice squeaked. It came from the epsilon.
π = π
It was a long, ugly equation, floating in a dark, starless space. It looked like a mashup of the Riemann Hypothesis, Navier-Stokes, and a phone number from a spam email. Tentacles of mismatched brackets wrapped around its core. A single, red minus sign pulsed like a wound. mathtype 6.8