Galman's eyes were sparkly, intoxicated with voluptuous life. He wanted more. But I was starting to fear all this would go terribly wrong, and would lead to far more serious implications than just equations on a board.
'Is there a way we can approximate when this will happen, Melinda? When flow occurs?
She started by writing a series of numbers under the line of one of the vectors in the grid but then she changed her mind, took the sponge and wiped away the equations and with it some of the grid. In its place, on the fuzzy, damp patch of dust she drew this shape with the following notations:
'I don't understand. What does it mean?... I don't recognize any of these markings.'
'These are probability parameters for turbulent flow.'
'Wait a second...' and he came closer to the black board. 'I know these notations.' And he turned to me while still keeping his index finger pointed at the board. 'I've seen these sort of scribbling before'.