“This is such a pain!” the thot thought to herself as she exchanged a nude selfie to a master gamer for some in-game tools that could be used by other gamers in advancing to the next level. She was quickly able to turn those tools into cold hard cash right into her PayPal account far more quickly than she could sell the selfies. She longed for the day she could turn 18, become a real webcam girl, and make money getting naked without having to go through this two-stage money laundering bullshit.

And it was bullshit! Gaming was just such hard work, and it what made it worse was having to participate in an activity filled with creepy guys. These guys should give her money without her having to interact with them at all. They were such entitled creeps to demand her attention; they should just interact with her PayPal account. Patriarchy just sucks!

The thot began to break down and start cursing the bastards. She filled her Discord server and Twitter and Facebook accounts with diatribes about the diminutive penises of the men who sent her money. This earned her more money. The money made her complain more about how entitled the men were. A gamer girl’s life is such a drag!

One day, she got an instant message in a game chat window: “How do you do?”

She replied with a bikini pic and a request for various gaming implements, with a link to her private Instagram if they were forthcoming.

“I know what’s there,” was the returned message. “I have already seen them and one in particular intrigues me.”

“Are you wasting my time, asshole? I’m not giving you anything for free!”

“I don’t want anything for free. In fact, I have already donated $10,000 to your Patreon. Check it out and get back to me.”

The thot looked at her Patreon account; he was telling the truth. Her vagina began to moisten when seeing those numbers in her account.

“I see the money, honey. You’ve got my attention.”

“Well,” the text said. “It is about that ‘angel’ pic. You know the one I’m referencing.”

“Yes,” she replied.

“What do you know about Hilbert spaces?” was the next line.

“Isn’t that a baseball field?” she wrote.

“No, a Hilbert space is a complete inner product space in an infinite number of dimensions. If you take the inner product of a vector with itself and take the square root of it, you will have the magnitude of the vector. If you take the limit of a Cauchy sequence for any two points, it will converge,” was the next line she read.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaa!” she screamed. Only a true king of creeps could talk like that. The thot was disgusted enough with the gamer talk of levels, hit points, cheat codes, and magic potions. This creepiness was on a whole new level. The tingles ceased as quickly as they came.

“Fuck you, creep!” she typed and closed the messenger and began to prowl for other potential customers. A few minutes later, she checked her Patreon account and there was yet another fifteen grand added from the same source.

A minute later, her phone rang. It was a private number. She answered. “Before you hang up, just hear me out. I gave you another $15,000 and now is it too much to ask that you listen?” an older male voice said on the other end.

“I don’t do anal, if that’s what you wanted,” she replied.

“This has nothing to do with ‘anal,’ for crying out loud. It has nothing to do with sex at all,” the man said.

“Well, why are you calling me?” she replied.

“Remember when I told you about Hilbert spaces? Do you remember the x-y graph plane when you went to school?” the voice said.

A pang of disgust entered her stomach at the thought, but she replied, “Yes, what about it?”

“Well, that is the simplest complete inner product space similar to a Hilbert space. What if we added a third coordinate, z, and had a box instead of a piece of paper?”

“Well, I think I remember that from school. I had a guy do my homework for those,” she replied.

“Okay, now you know you can use equations to represent objects in these coordinate systems, like lines with slopes and intercepts, and we can also do the same thing with three coordinates,” the voice said.

A bit confused about what he was talking about but still vaguely remembering slopes and intercepts, she replied, “Sure.”

“Now, what if we had an infinite number of coordinates in our system?” the voice said.

“But there are only 26 letters in the alphabet, and don’t you need one for each coordinate?” she replied, surprise to discover she remembered that the letters were called coordinates. She began to think about the possibility of becoming a scientist and save the world from climate change, like her teachers always encouraged her.

“Well, we can call the coordinates by any names we wish. We are not limited to the Latin alphabet,” the voice said.

Confused, she replied, “Huh? We use the English alphabet. What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. The point is we can name coordinates whatever we want. If we want a 27th coordinate after z, we can name it aa, and the 28th we can name bb, and so on,” the voice said, beginning to sound frustrated.

“Well, okay, I think I get it, so what?” she replied.

“Now you remember we can have equations in the x-y coordinate system. We can have equations in Hilbert space, too. The important one is called the Schrödinger equation. This equation describes the behavior of everything that is. You see, Hilbert space is real, and we are part of it,” the voice said.

“Does that have to do with the cat?” she replied.

“Why, yes,” the voice stated. “You see, when you use the Schrödinger equation to describe something, you can only calculate the probability of where it is or what it is doing. When Schrödinger and his contemporaries first developed the equation, they thought it only applied when nobody is looking. Once you observe something, it becomes localized. Only then does the probability become actuality. The cat will be killed or spared based on the outcome of a quantum event, so it will be neither dead or alive until we actually look.”

“Uh huh,” she said.

“Now, what if the cat is both alive and dead. The Schrödinger equation says that that’s possible: in some parallel universe. If Hilbert space is real and not just an idea, the cat is either alive or dead depending on where it is in Hilbert space,” the voice said.

Still a bit confused, she said, “I once saw some Indian guy on TV talking about how the universe splits based on every choice we make. Is that what you’re talking about?”

“No,” the voice said. “The universe ‘splits’ based on quantum events; that is, entanglement and decoherence, not ‘choices.’ However, it is likely that our choices themselves are a product of entanglement and decoherence.”

“Okay, so what does this have to do with me?” she replied.

“That angel picture on your private Instagram. According to my calculations, if you assume that position and you are poised to cut your head off, you can become entangled in a single quantum state, like a Bose-Einstein condensate. If you lose your head, you will wind up in one place in Hilbert Space. If the operation fails, you will wind up in another,” the voice said. “For all intents and purposes, you will be in another universe.”

“Cool,” she replied. “Will I still have my money in that universe?”

“I’m sure you will,” the voice said softly. “And there will be more coming if you do it.”

“All right,” she said. “I can easily get any of my bitches to do it. I’ll just take one out on a date, and at the peak of his excitement, I will ditch him. I’ll even make sure he has the knife beforehand.”

“Good,” the voice replied. “It will be best if you get a big machete so the skinny, soy-fueled arms of your bitches have a chance at success. In addition, be sure to call or text as soon as the operation is about to commence so I can get a fix on your GPS location and measure the spin when the event happens.”

“I don’t know what the heck any of this means, but I think you want me to text you before the guy tries to lop my head off with his weak arms,” she said.

“Yes,” the voice replied.

The plan worked out swimmingly. The jealous soy boy lopped her head off when it became clear he wouldn’t get any. The text was sent and the spin was measured.

The thot found herself surrounded by the most vile sights and smells she could imagine. She was naked and tied to a bed. There was a machete lying beside her that apparently just grazed her neck. She screamed, “What the fuck is this shit!”

A man who was on top of her and penetrating her with a goofy smile said in return, “I really scared you that time, bitch!” The thot finally worked up the courage to look, and it was the unmistakable visage of Napoleon Dynamite: glasses and all.