I've had an intimate relationship with hypercubes for years. Maybe longer.

When I was about 10, I read a feature on projections into the fourth dimension in Discovery. There, in primary colors, were images recreating what a four-dimensional cube would look like to us, were we able to comprehend it. I tried, I tried to make it work in my mind, to close the magazine and imagine myself in four dimensions - my room, my house, my baseball cards, all in other-worldly ways. Eventually, during a college interview, I told the interviewer that my life's goal was to visualize the world in four dimensions and paint it, like Dali. She didn't know what I meant.

As a Junior in high school, I roomed with a computer science prodigy who had a spinning, primary color hypercube, just like the one I'd remembered in Discovery, as his screensaver. It would mesmerize anyone who came in the room, so much so that at times my roommate and I would sit there, doing our own thing, as a congregation of our dormitory would come in and out to watch for a spell.

I would always imagine myself, as I went to sleep, living in the center of this four-dimensional cube. I wanted to extend beyond the world we all live in, I wanted to escape my room. I knew there was something incredible, something truly special about me. That's what I was told.

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