Here I begin the memoirs that I have anticipated writing for such a long time. Born over seventy years ago, I, B. Shabal, now find myself to be shrinking in my elderly-hood. A sphere by nature, I have of late been contemplating the theories that have always irked me and led me in circles.
Let me start with a point of clarification. Ever since I was a young sphere, I knew that at my birth I existed merely as a point in this wondrous expanse of space.
As time passed, I grew tall and wide in every direction possible. How enjoyable it was for me to revel in my growth as a young sphere, a playful little one who, unlike the cubes and other prisms, was not inhibited by any angularity. While these shapes could slide here and there or rotate or shift, none of their movements could possibly match the grace of smooth, free, and seemingly limitless rolling! I was so quick a roller that rolling around became my role in the family. My elders would often give me chores and occupations to fulfill. I'd visit them and fetch them things with a wink of the eye, for what pleasure it was to rotate all over the place! As I aged and grew, that fast-paced life slowed bit by bit. As I grew older and expanded, the pace of life began to slow down for me, as I was able to cover more distance with less rotations. I thus gave up the dizzy frenzy of my youth for a life of study and focused thought.
During the peak of my study years, my growth started to curb, as I could tell from the territory covered by my rotations that my change in distance covered per roll was decreasing every day. And then, after that fateful August day where I felt no increase from the previous day, I began to realize that I was indeed shrinking!
This would all be good and swell if I still had the rambunctiousness of youth and were excited by the idea of rolling here and there, but now that I no longer have such a passion I find the challenge of life difficult, as so much more energy is needed to roll for me to be able to complete the most simple of chores. This condition of "shrinkage" gives me a feeling of inferiority. I am inhabiting less space and fear that if, time goes on as always, I might escape space altogether!
This concept frightens me horribly. How can it be that I, a perfect sphere, can be wholly powerless in preventing my decline? I have exercised such precision in my lifetime, caring always not to damage my surface through collision. And now, I am forced to submit. But what could it be that forces this submission?
All objects with height, length, and width around here know that the third dimension is a universe far more dynamic, vivacious, and widely liberating than the other dimensions. Looking at a plane, for example,a thing of no height, we know that those circles, squares, and other shapes in that plane are confined and imprisoned to that flatness. When we creatures of this highest dimension consider a line, a one dimensional thing, we know that we have complete control over everything concerning that line. Should creatures exist in that line, they would be powerless, perfectly stupid, unsubstantial in all ways.
Clearly, as a three dimensional being, one that can easily influence the lives of the smaller, dare I say insubstantial creatures of the lower dimensions, why should I be faced with this uncharacteristic weakness, this sorrowful decline? Surely our doctors shall discover the remedy to solve this problem, but perhaps not swiftly enough for my sake.
Thus, as what seems to be the end of my life drawing near, I shall make a proposition to the three dimensional beings who shall succeed me: for the sake of your own survival and for that of your children and your children's children and search for the solution. Clearly, we have the knowledge of this answer in our scope, but have not looked hard enough into the matter. As the answer must lie in somewhere in space, we must find the tools to find it.