Brazen Attempt to crash the Science Event

Toronto, July twenty-third, two thousand and four

In the heart of Toronto, at the epicenter of scientific madness, an international conference on nonlinear logic was in full swing. Guests and participants, like a swarm of rodents, filled the walls of the science center, where everything revolved around brain-bending theories. Humanity had gathered its greatest minds—from Japan to America, from Europe to the remotest corners of the world—to discuss the most cutting-edge and, frankly, convoluted ideas in nonlinear systems.

The hall was packed with scientists like a botanical garden is with growing professors with gray hair, graduate students shining with enthusiasm, and a bunch of those who just came for the snacks. On the wall hung an interactive board displaying graphs, diagrams, and other complexities that could induce a nervous tic in any normal person.

The event promised to be as dull as a lab experiment on sterilizing tweezers, until Professor Takashi Iwayama made his appearance. This Japanese scholar was a master of nonlinear logic, and everyone had come to hear his predictions about chaos and order. With his team, he had gained recognition in robotics, bioinformatics, and even economics. Iwayama's presentations were explosive, and his assistants, Hiroki Saito and Akira Fujita, were also top-notch.

The reception area was lively despite the July heat. The security guard appeared bored, not particularly concerned with what was happening. The registration process went like clockwork: scientists and guests provided their names, signed in, and received their passes. Everything was orderly until she appeared.

The woman seemed to materialize at the doorway, as if from nowhere. She had long black hair that completely obscured her face. She wore a light yellow sleeveless dress—an outfit that was, to say the least, not very formal for such an event, but perhaps the Toronto summer justified her choice.

As she approached the reception desk, the guard, having paused his dull chewing of gum, looked up and with a standard smile said:

"Welcome! Please go through the registration process as a guest. What's your name?"

He extended his hand, ready to issue a badge, and began searching the list. But the woman remained silent. Instead of answering, she silently took a pen from the desk and confidently wrote something in the guest column.

The guard glanced at the paper in surprise. It read a single word: "Scallop."

"Uh..." he began, slightly puzzled by her silence and the strange name, but he stopped when the woman, without saying a word, set the pen aside and headed towards the stairs.

He wanted to ask another question, but she had already vanished from his view, ascending the stairs with her long black hair still concealing her face.

After the woman disappeared from sight, the guard, a bit puzzled, pulled out his gum from his pocket and resumed chewing, trying to return to his dreary task. He kept an eye on the passing guests, but his thoughts remained preoccupied with the bizarre incident.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, in one of the student rooms from the local institute, complete chaos reigned. A group of students from the local Institute of Arts and Culture had brought a boombox to liven up the dull conference environment with some music. Their plan was to stage an impromptu "live" music session, which, of course, was a violation of the event's rules.

As soon as they blasted a loud song by "The Doors", they immediately attracted the attention of security and organizers. One of the guards, noticing the noise, approached the students and asked them to turn off the music. His request was met with friendly laughter and assurances that everything was under control. The students continued to dance and have fun, ignoring all warnings.

"Turn off the music right now!" the guard shouted, already on the edge of irritation. "This is against the rules!"

But the students only laughed and continued their revelry. Meanwhile, Carlton, one of the students, noticed the figure of the woman in the yellow dress ascending the stairs. Her long black hair concealed her face, and the whole thing looked eerie. Carlton was hypnotized, unable to tear his gaze away, while his friends began nudging him:

"Carlton, why are you standing there like a zombie?" one of them shouted, but Carlton didn't react.

Another, noticing his strange behavior, tried to snap him out of it:

"Hey, Carlton, we've been waiting for you, and you're like you're in a trance!"

But Carlton continued to stare at the woman, his eyes widening in fear. Suddenly, a chilling whisper echoed in his head, like a voice from the worst nightmare: "Smash your head against the glass!"

Carlton realized he was no longer in control of his body. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, his hands trembled, and his thoughts were tangled. In panic, he bolted from his spot and, without saying a word, hurled himself at the glass cabinet standing in the corner of the room.

Everything happened like in slow motion. Carlton's friends, witnessing his madness, stood frozen before the scream erupted:

"No! Carlton, what are you doing?!"

Panic swept through the room. The students' screams, their shocked faces, and their helpless attempts to help only worsened the situation. Carlton crashed into the cabinet, and the sharp shards of glass tore into his neck. Blood flowed across the floor, creating a bloody trail, and the room was filled with a horrifying scene.

The students, in a panic, screamed and tried to pull Carlton away from the shards, but it was too late. The glass had inflicted fatal wounds, and the sight before them was simply horrifying. Hands trembled, cries and moans filled the space.

On the top floor, in the conference hall, the situation was completely different. Professor Takashi Iwayama, a world-renowned Japanese scientist with a quirky sense of humor, stood at the podium before a packed audience as if he were distributing free tickets to a cosmic show. His lecture featured more graphs than a two-hour PowerPoint marathon. He gesticulated as if wielding a magical staff, explaining how nonlinear logic could revolutionize the world—and perhaps turn the scientists themselves upside down if they weren't careful.

On the screen behind the professor, diagrams and equations flashed like a beginner's video game for mathematicians. The audience, filled with serious scientists and bored researchers, tried to grasp the concepts of nonlinear logic, pretending it was important and occasionally asking questions as if their lives depended on understanding the term "chaos."

"Here, as we see," the professor continued, "nonlinear systems can appear such that if you only know the initial conditions, the subsequent development will be a mystery. And this is an amazing opportunity for science!"

In theory, everything seemed cool. But then something happened that, unfortunately, was completely unplanned: the alarm blared through the silence like a hammer on glass. The lights in the hall began to flicker and go out, plunging everyone into a menacing half-light.

Scientists, absorbed in their notebooks and deep thoughts, froze in shock. Their faces twisted into expressions of absolute terror. At first, everyone thought it was just an unusual break, but when the real evacuation began, panic seized the hall.

"Damn it, what's that noise?" someone shouted, tossing their notebook as if it could explain what was happening.

"Maybe it's a false alarm?" one woman suggested, her voice trembling as though she were sitting on a powder keg.

"Get out of here!" another participant shouted, rushing towards the exit. "What if it's not a false alarm?"

Professor Iwayama, trying to maintain control of the situation, began mumbling into the microphone:

"Please remain calm. Follow the instructions of the security personnel and evacuate in an orderly manner."

But chaos had already taken over. One of the security guards began shouting through the microphone as if he were in an action movie:

"Attention, participants! Head to the exits! We have information about an incident on the second floor. It does not threaten your safety, but evacuation is required."

The crowd panicked as if faced with imminent doom:

"Why isn't anyone explaining anything?" one of the scientists sobbed, looking like they were in a bad horror film.

"Does anyone know what's happening? Why can't we stay here?" another woman asked, her face showing exam-like fear.

"Oh God, I hope this isn't the end of the world," someone muttered, grabbing a neighbor's sleeve and trying not to get lost in the chaos.

Meanwhile, the woman in the yellow dress, as if she were going on a picnic, calmly ascended the stairs. In the corridor of the second floor, amidst the panic, Takao Sato, the professor's assistant, was rushing to figure out what the heck was going on. With a notebook in hand and his mind a tangled mess, he resisted the panic and still tried to understand the escalating chaos around him.

Seeing the woman in the yellow dress, Takao initially thought she was just another lost soul. But as he approached, his eyes met her enigmatic face, and his inner world fell apart. He recalled ancient myths about Yūrei—Japanese ghosts known for scaring people out of their wits.

"This... this is impossible," Takao mumbled, feeling his heart pounding like a punk rock band. "Yūrei…"

The realization that he was possibly facing a malevolent spirit, not just a strange lady, drove him into a frenzy. He began searching for a way to stop her. His mind raced, trying to come up with something to counter this supernatural being that seemed like a cruel joke of fate.

Trying to attract the attention of security, his cry was drowned out by the general noise:

"Security! Something's wrong! It's... it's a Yūrei! We need to do something!"

Meanwhile, the woman in the yellow dress continued her steady advance towards the lecture hall, paying no attention to anything around her. Her eyes held neither fear nor regret—only a calm, terrifying resolve.

As Professor Iwayama and his team, like the last heroes in a movie, returned to the hall, the professor immediately began explaining the plan:

"Hey, attention everyone! We have a unique entity here that defies ordinary logic. We need to employ nonlinear logic to create a model that will disrupt its usual patterns."

Some participants, still in shock, tried to focus. The professor continued explaining as if his life depended on it:

"We need to use nonlinear systems. Small changes can lead to wild results. If we create unstable conditions, it won't be able to handle the situation. For example, we can apply algorithms to make conditions constantly changing and confusing it."

The team members began creating this unstable model, using whatever they could find: computers, paper, anything. Professor Iwayama, like a true captain, oversaw the process, controlling every step. His calmness and confidence were like good coffee—just what was needed to keep everyone alert.

When the woman in the yellow dress with long black hair entered the hall, fear was almost palpable. At first, her movements were calm and confident, but soon they began to change drastically. The woman started hissing like an enraged cat, and her movements became aggressive and erratic, as if she were in agony.

Professor Iwayama quickly directed his team:

"Let's use all the principles of nonlinear logic. Create unstable conditions to disrupt her control over the space."

The scientists began articulating their logical constructs aloud despite their growing fear. One of them suggested:

"Let her expect certain conditions for control. We can disrupt this expectation by creating situations where her actions lead to unexpected results."

Another added:

"Let's create conditions where her attempts to manipulate space lead to endless paradoxes. Let her efforts result in new instabilities."

Feeling her control slipping away, the woman in the yellow dress started bleeding. Dark stains began to appear on her dress, and she became even more aggressive. She tore apart glass panels, leaving a trail of destruction and chaos behind her.

The scientists continued their struggle, their voices growing more tense:

"If she expects a certain path for escape, we can create contradictions in that path," said one of the scientists, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

"Let her actions lead to destructive outcomes," added another.

The scientists continued to create paradoxical conditions. They discussed ideas aloud, directing their logical constructs against the woman:

"If she thinks her bleeding wounds will help her survive, we can create conditions where her state becomes even more critical," suggested a third scientist.

"Let's create a scenario where her own actions lead to increased pain and fear. Let her attempts to control space result in her own destruction," added Professor Iwayama.