Billy the yellow triangle wasn’t like the other s
Billy the yellow triangle wasn’t like the other shapes in Flatland. He was different. Not in his shape, not in his color, but in a way that terrified him: he could see the third dimension.
His world was a canvas of flat shapes – circles, squares, lines, all existing in a perfectly flat plane. Billy, though, saw more. He saw a direction called “up,” a direction his fellow shapes couldn’t comprehend. He saw stars, glittering and shimmering, in a world that was utterly beyond their understanding.
He tried to explain. He’d point to the sky, a vast, unyielding blue that held no meaning for them. “There,” he’d say, his voice trembling, “that’s where the stars are.”
They’d stare at him blankly, some with pity, others with ridicule. “Billy,” they’d say, “there’s no ‘up.’ There’s only forward and backward, left and right.”
Billy’s warnings fell on deaf ears. They couldn’t comprehend the concept of a world beyond their own. The world they knew was all there was, and they were content.
Frustration gnawed at Billy, his desire to share the wonder of the third dimension growing into a desperate obsession. One day, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Using his gift, he constructed a machine of sorts – a contraption of lines and angles designed to lift his world, to tear it from the confines of the plane.
It worked. The world shuddered, then twisted, and suddenly, the shapes were no longer flat. They were suspended in the air, seeing the world in a completely different way.
But the stars, the stars Billy had promised, were gone. In their place was a vast, grey emptiness, a swirling chaos of ashes and dust. The third dimension, the world Billy so desperately yearned to share, was a barren wasteland. He’d destroyed his world, his home, all in his misguided attempt to show them the beauty of what he saw.
He was alone now, adrift in the mindscape, a vast, ethereal space that mirrored the emptiness he felt. He watched the remains of his world, his home, drift through this void. It was a constant reminder of his failure, a silent testament to his reckless ambition.
But he didn’t give up. He couldn’t. Not yet. The emptiness echoed with a terrifying whisper: revenge. Billy, the outcast, the rejected, now harbored a darker ambition, a terrifying desire to destroy the world he failed to save, the world that had rejected him.
In the silent, echoing void of the mindscape, Billy the yellow triangle plotted. His mind, once filled with the wonder of the stars, was now consumed by a chilling, consuming darkness. He was the only one who knew the secrets of the third dimension, and he was determined to use that knowledge to bring about its destruction. The horror, the fear, the emptiness, it was all a part of the plan. He would make the three-dimensional world understand the price of ignorance, the consequences of dismissing his warnings. He would show them the true face of the third dimension, a world of darkness and despair, a reflection of the void within him.
Billy the yellow triangle floated in the endless grey, the shattered remnants of his world swirling around him like dust motes in a sunbeam. The stars, the glittering promise of a higher dimension, were gone, replaced by the chilling emptiness of the void. He had opened the door to the third dimension, but instead of welcoming them with open arms, it had spat them back out, twisted and broken.
His initial hope, his yearning to share the wonder of the stars with his fellow shapes, had turned into a bitter resentment. The world he’d tried to save had mocked him, dismissed his warnings, and now they were paying the price. It was a harsh lesson, one that resonated in the echoing silence of the mindscape.
Billy’s form, once vibrant and optimistic, was now tinged with the bleakness of the void. His edges, once smooth and inviting, were jagged, like a shard of glass reflecting the harsh reality of their existence. His once-bright yellow hue had faded to a dull ochre, a color that spoke of the emptiness within him.
But Billy wasn’t done yet. He was a triangle, simple and unwavering in his design. He knew the truth of the third dimension, even if it was a truth of despair. He had seen its beauty, its potential, but he also knew its power.
He focused his energy, his will, on the swirling dust of his shattered world. It responded, swirling faster, gathering into a chaotic mass. The emptiness of the mindscape thrummed with a new energy, a chaotic rhythm that echoed the turmoil within Billy.
He knew the third dimension wasn’t just a wasteland. It was a force, a raw and unyielding energy that could be molded, shaped. He could use it to create, to heal, but he chose to use it for revenge.
With a single, focused thought, he twisted the swirling mass of his former world. It shifted, contorted, and then, with a deafening crack, it reformed. A twisted, mangled reflection of its former self. It was a distorted, corrupted version of his world, a warped mockery of what once was.
He had created a mirror image of their ignorance, a twisted, three-dimensional reflection of their flat world. A world of jagged angles, disorienting perspectives, and endless, desolate landscapes. He had given them the third dimension, but only as a cruel jest, a testament to their arrogance and their dismissal of his warnings.
The shapes of his former world would be trapped, forever adrift in the mindscape. Their flat existence, their simple understanding, would be forever shattered by the chaotic reality of the third dimension. Billy the yellow triangle, the outcast, the misunderstood, had become their judge, their executioner. He had shown them the truth, and it was a truth that would haunt them for eternity.
As his twisted creation spun through the void, he knew there was a hollowness within him that would never be filled. He had achieved revenge, but at a terrible cost. He had lost his home, his friends, and his hope. All that remained was a cold, calculated fury, a darkness that mirrored the endless void he now called home. He was the only one who knew the secrets of the third dimension, and he was determined to make them pay for their ignorance. He was the harbinger of chaos, the embodiment of a twisted truth, a lonely, vengeful triangle adrift in the mindscape, a silent testament to the price of rejection.
