Renowned Mathematician “Beloved Smith” Departs
After a protracted illness the renowned Mathematician Beloved Smith has left us. He can be individually credited with the unprecedented resurgence in mathematics, not seen since the Moon became shadowed and the abstract schools faded of note. This resurgence is as unexpected as it was revolutionary and almost wholly fuelled by the sheer number of unique contributions that can be attributed to him.
Even though none of his conjectures, theorems, functions or proofs carry his (unusual) name it will surely sound through the ages. Putting aside the revolutionary B-system of mathematically rigorous thought, forgetting his unique set of functions that rekindled the stagnant interest in the art of the square and compass, his NL-system of the calculation of rates of change alone would serve to immortalize him among the magicians. For the first time there exists the tools needed to make accurate calculations about how quickly spells take effect, fade and of their energy requirements both total and peak.
Though not all were well received: his T-Machine was met with outright bafflement and was only published due to the respect his name carried. An abstract and self contained system of singular uselessness; at best one that can make dull patterns with one axis of freedom it is still a mystery today why he considered it one of the greatest works of mathematics. Stranger still is that he would insist on tying it in with what many of the learned consider his greatest work, that of the G theorem of incompleteness.
This G theorem of incompleteness is unfortunately so abstract that it is impossible to give even an overview of it if all this newspaper were given over to it, but it serves to define the outer limits of mathematics and indeed logic itself.
His self, as is expected of an intellectual giant, was extremely bizarre. He insisted on giving all his works alphabetical names, indeed claimed no actual ownership of them. In his view maths exists, has always existed and will always exist, he merely uncovers it. This is perhaps very indicative of his thinking process: that of vast intuitive leaps into the unknown almost always landing on solid and new ground.
His habit and habits were both as bizarre. He refused to be seen except in extremely formal dress and despised the taste of hay, oats, grass, barley and any gemstones. He did however have a fondness for fruits, nuts, vegetables and any sweet foods. He remained very clumsy and socially awkward his entire life, and never managed to drop an accent or mild speech impediment that was strange but not foreign.
Unusual for the Earth Pony he was, he wrote with his fetlock and exclusively with an artist's drawing pencil. Publishers sometimes found it challenging to decipher the smeared manuscripts with their large letters, and implored him to use a quill or at least a fountain pen, but to no avail.
Despite being celebrated as a renowned mathematician, earning many awards and the very rare honour of having a wing in the Royal Library named after him, the public will certainly remember him most for his role as an iconoclast.
An Earth Pony with no ties to Canterlot or indeed even the founding families of his chosen hometown, who managed to break into the academic world. Renowned for its barriers of blood and needing to know the right ponies, which were smashed apart by the force of his intellect and determination. Certainly when the public thinks of “academic” they think of him in his odd dress, rather than Star-Swirl in his traditional bells.
He never married or was ever known to be romantically involved in any way and sadly made few friends. Despite many academic offers he refused to move from the small village he started in and kept the same rented room his entire life. This author did however manage to secure a brief word with one of the few ponies he was close with: the mailmare who brought him his many correspondences.
“He was always busy, but not always with maths. He had a deep obsession with maps, he kept ordering new ones from farther away and putting them against his wall. He scribbled all over them, trying to find some pattern or thing, but I don't know what. I don't think he knew, and he died before I could give him the latest map, that of the newly mapped edge of the Dragon areas.”
“The other thing he never stopped researching was language. He loved the history of language, he wanted to know where every word came from and why it was the way it was. He even wrote to The Princess to ask Her Majesty about ancient Equestrian”. Despite being a subscriber to many journals, he was unpublished in both cartography and linguistics.
It is reported that in his later years he turned to more creative arts, though again he has nothing published. He did join a local writers club in an attempt to learn the art. According to the chairpony of the club: “He had many marvellous ideas for stories, but unfortunately had little skill with prose to express them and felt no other author could do them justice. This is strange, as once he did present a poem that was strange in both rhyming scheme and content but hauntingly beautiful in spite of its dark theme. Only ever the one, but I can still hear the refrain 'Rage rage against the dying of the light'”.
Character-wise he was not without its dark spots. Although no evidence was ever provided, he had a macabre interest in the unsavoury dining habits of our neighbours across the sea and was rumoured to have indulged in the practice at least once.
Perhaps the greatest mystery of all was that of his last words, recorded by the housekeeper. A musing of whether he would wake up “in the earth” or “in the heavens”, the former defies biology and the latter defies this as well as both the law of gravity and laws concerning those laid to rest in the hallowed grounds of the Pegasi.
Author's Note
Beloved is the meaning of “David” and “Smith” stands for itself.
B = Boole
NL = Newton-Leibnitz
T = Turing
G = Gödel
