Chapter 138
It was the third day since I told my family about the Fields Medal news.
After gobbling down dinner and sitting on the sofa, I was looking over a paper on my kid's phone.
Bzzz- bzzz-.
Mom's phone on the dining table vibrated.
“Yes, hello?”
Mom babbled away with the other person for a while.
“…Yes, that's right. I'm Yoo Arin's guardian.”
“…!”
The moment those words came out.
Arin, who had been lying on her stomach and playing chess on her tablet, perked up her ears.
“…What? Ah, yes, yes.”
Mom straightened up as she continued the call.
“The Korean Chess Federation? Yes.”
“…!”
Up she sprang-.
Arin got up, left her tablet behind, and scampered over to Mom.
Then she started circling around Mom.
“Mom! Is it me? Am I the one? Huh? Is it me?”
“Yes, ah, I understand.”
While talking on the phone, Mom held out her palm toward Arin and pressed it downward.
She was telling her to calm down.
But there was no way that would work on Arin.
“Mooom! I said, am I the oneee-!”
“Shh.”
Dad scooped Arin up from behind.
“Arin, Mom's on the phone, so can you wait just a little?”
“Noooo-!”
Squirm, squirm-!
With her cheeks puffed out, Arin flapped her legs back and forth in Dad's arms.
Watching that, I could sympathize with Arin to a certain extent.
Seriously, asking a five-year-old to show that much patience was just too much, I tell you.
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The call lasted quite a while.
Mom answered with a yes, yes from time to time while scribbling something down on the memo pad on the table.
It looked like she was writing down some kind of schedule.
“…Yes, then please send the paperwork by email. Thank you.”
Clack-.
At last, the call ended.
…
The living room fell silent.
Held in Dad's arms, Arin stared at Mom with her eyes sparkling.
Mom put down her phone and slowly turned to look at Arin.
Pat-pat-.
Then she stroked Arin's head and said,
“Arin.”
“Y-yes!”
“Looks like the schedule for your international competition has finally been set. They say you're going to compete as a member of the national team.”
At those words, Arin stared blankly for a few seconds, then-
“Waaaaaaaah-!”
She became extremely excited in Dad's arms.
Squirm, squirm-.
Her flailing was so fierce that Dad eventually set her down.
Plop-.
After landing on the floor, Arin ran one lap around the living room.
Pitter-patter-patter-patter-patter-.
“Sis! They say I'm going as a member of the national team!”
“Yeah! I heard! Our little sister is amazing!”
“Wooheehee-!”
Clap-clap-clap-.
I excitedly applauded and gave her a tight hug.
Our Arin was finally going onto the international stage with the Taegeukgi over her heart.
As her big sister, what could make me prouder than this?
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The Chess Olympiad.
A biennial international team competition.
The national team trials had been held and the team selected several months ago so they could compete here under the name of South Korea.
“Ooh.”
“And this time, the host city is…”
Mom flipped through the memo pad.
“New York, in the United States.”
“Huh? Really?”
I was a little startled when I heard the name New York.
I sprang up from the sofa.
“Wait! Hold on a second!”
I scampered to my room and brought back the schedule for the International Congress of Mathematicians that I had printed out earlier.
Mom took the paper and placed it beside the memo pad.
The two sheets sat right next to each other on the dining table.
All four of us leaned our heads over them.
…
Dad spoke first.
“…They're both in the United States?”
“Yeah.”
“Ayeon is in Philadelphia, and Arin is in New York.”
Dad pointed back and forth between the two sheets.
“And the dates…”
My conference was in early July, while Arin's competition was in late July.
They were exactly two weeks apart.
“Huh? Wait a second.”
Dad pulled the laptop closer and brought up a map.
Tap, tap-.
Two dots appeared along the eastern coast of the United States.
One was Philadelphia.
The other was New York.
…
All four of us leaned forward and peeked over the map.
The two dots were incredibly close together.
“How long does it take?”
Mom asked.
Dad opened a navigation app and searched for the route.
A blue line stretched across the screen, and the travel time appeared.
“About two hours by car?”
“Two hours to get from one part of the United States to another?”
“Yeah.”
I opened my eyes wide.
“That's about the same as going from Seoul to Daejeon!”
I remembered going to Daejeon with my paper proving the Riemann hypothesis.
“It is. Exactly about that.”
Dad nodded.
I stared intently at the two dots on the screen.
That meant the sisters would each be standing on the international stage at nearly the same time, at a distance that close.
“…Woooow.”
Arin practically pressed her nose against the screen as she marveled.
“They're practically right next to each other!”
“They really are.”
Mom looked at the screen with an amazed expression.
“It's amazing enough that they're being held in the same country, but for them to be this close, too!”
In the same country, just two hours apart by car, and exactly two weeks apart.
It really was a remarkable coincidence.
“Then we've got our answer.”
Dad said this while pointing at the map.
“All four of us go together, stay for a month, and come back together.”
“Yeah!”
“With the two cities this close, one rental car should do it.”
Dad was always quick at this sort of calculation.
“America! America!”
Arin, still excited, went tap-tap-tap- on the dining table.
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Then the family meeting began.
Dad opened his laptop and launched a document program.
“Let's start with the broad outline.”
Dad began drawing up a table, scribble-scribble-.
He was positively oozing professional vibes.
“The four of us leave together in early July. Ayeon handles her conference schedule in Philadelphia, and then we take our time sightseeing when it's over. Two weeks later, Arin competes in New York. We return home after the competition.”
“Yeah!”
“We'll need to book two accommodations.”
Rat-a-tat-tat-.
Dad's fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard.
Four plane tickets, two accommodations, a month's rental car, four ESTAs, travel insurance, and plenty of other expenses.
(*ESTA : the U.S. visa-waiver advance entry authorization system)
Dad wrote down each item one by one and began filling in approximate costs in the column beside them.
…
I watched the screen from beside him.
As each number was filled in, the total at the bottom grew larger and larger.
And when even the final item had been entered.
“…All right, roughly this much.”
Dad tapped the total field with his finger.
“For four of us for a month, it'll probably come to about this much. The plane tickets alone are six million won, and the New York accommodations are the most expensive.”
“Ooh…”
I stared intently at the number and spoke.
“I should check whether we can get support like last time. I'll email the International Mathematical Union!”
I shot my hand up.
“Should we see if Arin can get support from the Chess Federation, too?”
“Huh? Me too?”
“You're a proper player now, too.”
“Wooheehee. Then I want to try!”
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And two days later.
A reply came from the International Mathematical Union.
I opened the email in the research lab, then told my family what it said after I returned home that evening.
“They'll cover one person—the award recipient.”
“One person?”
“Yeah. Round-trip airfare and accommodations during the conference. But they can't cover family members who come along.”
“…Ah.”
Dad rubbed his chin.
“I see.”
Mom looked slightly surprised.
“Huh? They covered everything last time. But this time they're only covering one person?”
That's right.
When we went to France last year to receive the Millennium Prize.
The Clay Mathematics Institute paid for first-class tickets for all four members of our family and covered all our accommodations.
I still remembered the seats stretching out flat like beds on the plane.
The in-flight meals served as a full course were delicious, too!
I thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
“I guess that's only natural. It's different from when I received the Millennium Prize.”
I spoke calmly.
“Back then, it was an awards ceremony just for me. It was held solely to announce that the Riemann theorem had been solved, and I was the only recipient. So all the institute had to do was treat me well.”
“…Aha.”
“But this time, I'm not the only special one, am I?”
I shrugged.
The ultimate Yoo A-yeon shoulder-shrug.
“There are four Fields Medal recipients, and the International Congress of Mathematicians is an event where thousands of mathematicians come from all over the world. There are tons of invited speakers, too.”
“That makes sense.”
“If they flew my whole family first-class when everyone else was there, what would that make the other recipients? So they can't give me special treatment alone.”
I came to that conclusion.
Dad and Mom looked at each other.
Then both of them nodded.
They immediately agreed with what I said.
“That's true.”
“That's my girl! I don't know who taught you, but you sure think deeply.”
Pat-pat-.
Mom and Dad stroked my head at the same time and praised me.
“Nihihi.”