"Just one look," he told himself. "Just to see how they drew the cross-section."
"In my day," the ghost sighed, looking at Misha’s phone with mild disappointment, "we didn't have a magical glowing rectangle to tell us the properties of a bisector." Misha froze. "Are you... Boris Ziv?" "Just one look," he told himself
The clock on the wall ticked with a rhythmic, mocking sound that seemed to sync perfectly with the throbbing in Misha’s head. Spread out before him on the kitchen table was a worn-out copy of It was a book known to every student in grades 7 through 11, a collection of challenges that could either make you feel like a mathematical genius or leave you staring blankly at a page of triangles. Boris Ziv
"The plane passes through the edge of the base of a regular triangular prism..." he whispered, his voice trailing off into a yawn. He reached for his phone, the familiar urge to look up the bubbling up. He reached for his phone, the familiar urge
"I am the spirit of the 7th-11th grade curriculum," the figure replied. "And I see you are looking for the easy way out. The GDZ is a map, boy, but it won't teach you how to walk. If you just copy the answer, how will you ever learn to see the hidden lines in the world?"