Chen Ang's fingers danced lightly across the massive machinery, turning shadows into intricate movements.
He skillfully traced down wires and structures, deftly disassembling parts with gentle touches, causing the radar in front of him to split into various components.
Picking up a blackened transistor, Chen Ang engaged in a complex conversation with a Givin standing nearby, speaking a language filled with intricate nuances.
These Givins were masters of complex mathematics, employing it to predict astronomical changes in their parent stars. Mathematics was their salvation and the cornerstone of their culture. They delved into mathematics beyond conventional realms, attempting to extract life's profound truths from numerical puzzles.
However, even the highly skilled ship-making Givins faced dilemmas. For certain obscure components, they found themselves helpless. This group of Givins had landed on Tatooine due to radar damage. Chen Ang negotiated with them, offering the six Givins' expertise in spaceship mathematics in exchange for repairing the damaged ship.
"The transistors here are completely fried. You'll need replacements. If you have spares aboard your ship, I'll assist in replacing them. Otherwise, you'll need to purchase transistors from me," Chen Ang chuckled. He observed the Givin's reactions, adopting a calculated approach.
Locating a small computer, Chen Ang swiftly began typing on it. "One transistor costs twelve units, plus shipping at 12,000. There's a Tatooine special tax of 150,000. Due to price fluctuations, there's an additional 1% increase..."
The Givin's expression transformed dramatically, mirroring shock, indignation, heartache, and reluctance, as though struck by a sledgehammer. The intricate facial bones showcased this complex emotional display, alternating between excitement and agitation in voice.
"Why don't you just plunder? Interstellar Pirates aren't this greedy!"
Chen Ang glanced at him, maintaining an expression of indifference and nonchalance.
"I rely on technology to make a living. Earning money this way is far swifter than piracy," Chen Ang retorted casually.
Unfazed by the situation, Chen Ang understood the competitive nature of repair work. While other Givins might eventually find a replacement, he was the most skilled craftsman available. Realizing his unique advantage, he adopted the stance of a monopolist, asserting "buy it or leave it."
The Givin's pale face flushed slightly, revealing a hint of redness beneath. Even their bone structure couldn't hide their frustration. "We don't possess that much currency. If you're open to our currency, we can offer what we have."
Chen Ang sneered, uninterested in the currency from Yag'Dhul on Tatooine. His eyes wandered elsewhere, dismissing the proposition.
The Givin took out a communicator and engaged in a lengthy conversation in their native tongue. They appeared distressed after the call, glaring angrily at Chen Ang. "You repair the radar first. Wait a while, someone from our spaceship will come down to provide you with something."
Chen Ang swiftly changed his demeanor, donning a satisfied smile, earning admiration from the bystanders. In Tatooine, assertiveness and cunning weren't seen as sins but envied qualities. In three months, Chen Ang established himself as a shrewd negotiator and earned everyone's respect in that street.
Turning his attention back to the radar, his demeanor shifted to one of unwavering focus, meticulously cleaning the dust and grime from the device. In these moments, he was a dedicated mechanic, holding himself to high standards. This commitment to his work catapulted him to becoming Tatooine's most renowned maintenance expert within a short span.
As his eyes twinkled with light and shadow, the radar's history played out within them, transforming its structure, design, and function into a wealth of data absorbed eagerly by Chen Ang.
Unlike before, Chen Ang possessed the ability to grasp some of the underlying principles and enrich his knowledge.
In Chen Ang's eyes, several classic structures were swiftly dismantled. He meticulously optimized the radar's design, yet his transformation was quite radical, alarming the Givin beside him. With fluid movements, Chen Ang disassembled the radar completely, leaving no screw or wire untouched. Each component was deconstructed into its most basic form. Then, he significantly minimized the components, often replacing the function of four or five structures with a more streamlined design. This drastic transformation stunned the Givin, who watched in amazement as Chen Ang worked.
The final product was four to five times smaller than the original, boasting a simplistic structure and an industrial elegance that intrigued the Givin. Entranced by the mathematical simplicity, the Givin marveled at this design and optimization, which enabled the radar to shed unnecessary bulk while reinforcing its primary functions. It was akin to solving a complex formula—streamlining, breaking down, and ultimately arriving at the simplest formula. Chen Ang enhanced the radar's primary advantage, the breadth of detection, with a curved convolution structure.
Its only downside lay in its simplicity; it lacked even basic analytical functions, leaving only data detection. This proved inconvenient for other races but suited the Givin, known for their proficiency in mental arithmetic and photonic computation.
"This is a mathematical marvel!" gasped the Givin, fixated on the finished product, completely captivated by its beauty and forsaking their prior dissatisfaction. This minimalist symmetry resonated with their aesthetics, imbued with a breathless tension and vividly encapsulating the beauty of mathematical principles.
"Such minimal symmetry is the poetry of the Math Goddess!" exclaimed the Givin, setting aside their previous reservations and caressing the shiny machine. For the Givin, mathematics reigned supreme; the most gifted mathematicians among them became revered priests and knowledge custodians.
To the Givin, even the most commonplace mathematical concepts were elevated to the status of beautiful art, and the components before them were undisputed masterpieces of this art—elegant and utterly enthralling.
Others couldn't comprehend the Givin's emotional response. Although Chen Ang was a reformer, he couldn't perceive the beauty in this cold machinery. Observing the Givin's fervent admiration, observers couldn't help but feel a chill in their hearts.
Selling the modified radar to the Givin, Chen Ang departed, leaving them satisfied. Even if they were overcharged, they appeared contented, even leaving behind a chip that documented their sacrifice for mathematics research, a token of their respect for a mathematical master like Chen Ang.
As Chen Ang perused the information left by the Givin on a photonic computer, he found their mathematics to be beyond his comprehension—a culmination of mathematical civilization in the universe. It comprised only 1% of known content, with the rest representing a realm of mathematical knowledge unfathomable to Earth's civilization. Just as humans struggle to grasp imaginary numbers, envisioning a mathematics system built upon them remains an insurmountable challenge.
Chen Ang began to grasp the Givin's perspective of perceiving mathematics as a theology—a belief that everything could be expressed and understood through mathematics. Perhaps, in the eyes of the Givin, the world consisted of a series of mathematical formulas, inspiring them to unravel the mysteries of the universe.
Raising his hand to input a string of data into the light brain, Chen Ang swiftly calculated a series of diverse parameters, using Givin's unique mathematical symbols to obtain results through a constant flux of mathematical symbols—addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and square roots.