Lemony Snicket’s “A Series of Unfortunate Series”
Let me be very clear, as clear as the vials of tears that I keep on my desk: This story is a long and sad one. It converges to no happy ending, and perhaps does not converge at all, although as you read, you will find your own joy and sanity both converging swiftly to zero.
If you were to abandon this text and go read about something pleasant, like butterscotch pudding or statistical sampling, I would applaud your good judgment, and humbly beseech you to statistically sample a pudding on my behalf.
As for me, I am compelled to tell this tale to its sour end, because I am an analyst—a word which here means “someone who fusses over agonizing details, bringing grief to many and enjoyment to none.”
Though all enrolled in the same course covering mathematical series, each came for a personal reason. Violet was drawn by the practical applications of series; Klaus, by their central role in the birth of modern mathematical thought; and Sunny, because this seemed the next logical step for her education, where “logical” means “expected by her parents and the HR departments at large corporations.”
“We shall begin with arithmetic series,” said Olaf, not bothering to say so much as “hello” or “welcome to class” or “here are some reasons why learning about series is a good use of time that might otherwise be spent playing guitar or preparing lasagna or watching films about elephants.”
