Not if it means this...
The child remembers the time before the Changes came. Cars didn’t groan under his unholy weight. He didn’t see a cursed hell-slab staring back at him from the mirror. The compulsion to add up calories for an entire month’s worth of meals was something he couldn’t even imagine. Now, it keeps his misshapen muscular frame tossing and turning through the night, factorials twitching through his brain.
Where are his friends? Are they safe? Have the men in black vans been chasing them too? What city was he even in? If Johnny hopped on a train going east at 70 miles an hour at 4:00 am., then spends an hour dodging trainyard security to jump on another freight carrier heading south at 80 miles an hour, then he’s in... Oh God, the math. The math never leaves. To think, he’d dreamed of life an an architect. Now he was something science spat on. Math made him. Math damned him.
“I should’ve just taken shop class,” he thinks, breaking the surface of the water where he’s been holding his breath for exactly 2.758906532 minutes.
(Note: I’m sure Mathnasium is great.)