The following is an indirect result of being forced to take biology.

Ever wonder if the Stargate crew can run out of 'gate addresses?

There are thirty-nine symbols on the Stargate, and each 'gate address consists of seven symbols (locally). So...

For seven-symbol addresses (aka. local calling), there are 39 to the power of six times one, or 3,518,743,741 (3 billion), addresses.

Assuming that a hundred years later, Stargate is still running and they've somehow managed to use up 3.5 billion addresses, there's always the eight-symbol addresses (aka. long-distance calling) to consider. For that, there are 39 to the power of seven times one, or 137,231,006,700 (137 billion), addresses.

After that, when you want to throw fanfiction into the mix (as if one hundred-thirty-seven billion isn't enough), you can use the nine-symbol (because there are nine chevrons on the 'gate) addresses (aka. out-of-country calling). There are approximately (or exactly or no more than) 39 to the power of eight times one, or 5,352,009,261,300 (5 trillion), addresses.

Now, us faithful Stargate fans know that not every address connects, so, even if only fifty percent actually connect, there should be a total of... (lemme find my big calculator)... 2,746,379,505,880 (and a half) working 'gates.

The moral of this math-y stuff is: don't ever let anyone tell you that Stargate (or Stargate fanfics) should come to an end just 'cause there aren't enough 'gates!

Okay. The story behind this one is that I was listening to my Plus One CD last night for the second time since I got it for Christmas last year (2002) when I got this idea. I just thought these words applied to Jack very well:
If you just look past your scars
You will see it's not that far
Don't close your mind; let God inside
Begin to breathe; start to fly.
I was trying to decide whether I'd put this one on fanfic.net. Then I heard this song this morning (same CD):
I don't care what it takes
I don't care who it shakes
I don't care what they say
I'm gonna do it your way.
Even if I'm afraid
Don't wanna make you look fake
I don't care about anything
It's not about me!
So when I get more written, it's going on ff.net.


Jack flipped the radio from an annoying country station to a station with a great beat and a wonderful guitar solo, but as soon as the words began, he flipped back.

Teal'c, sitting in the passenger's seat, cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "What is the matter, O'Neill?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "Don't like that kind of rock."

The Jaffa leaned forward and flipped back. After a couple minutes of listening and several of the colonel's attempts to flip the station, Teal'c finally allowed him to adjust the dial. "Who is this Jesus? I would much like to talk to him."

"Teal'c, he's dead."

"You are incorrect, O'Neill; the singers said he is alive."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, the guy's not on the planet or any other."

"Are you certain, O'Neill? Perhaps he possesses a sarcophogus."

"Don't think so, Teal'c. Look, maybe you should ask Daniel."

The Jaffa nodded, noting that his friend seemed more short-tempered than usual, and made a mental reminded to asked the archologist.

***

Dr. Jackson looked up from his translation of an artifact stored at Area 51 at the motion he saw out of the corner of his eyes. "Hey, Teal'c. Can I help you with something?"

The Jaffa nodded. "Indeed. During the car ride back to the base after lunch, Colonel O'Neill did not wish to listen to a specific station."

Daniel smiled, glad that Teal'c's question wasn't one of the hard ones to answer. "Jack doesn't really like country music."

"It was not country music, Daniel Jackson; it was, in fact, what he has referred to as 'rock'."

Daniel's eyebrows dropped together. "Well, what was the song? What did it say?"

"It talked about a man named Jesus."

"Oh." The archeologist turned back to his translation. "Jack has a bit of a problem with religion."

"Do you believe this Jesus to be a Goa'uld?"

"No," he replied. "I don't know what I believe."

"What is so different about this man that you don't think he could be a Goa'uld?"

Daniel shrugged, still not looking up at Apophis's former first prime. "I've never heard of a Goa'uld dying on a cross."

"Tell me more about this Jesus."

The linguist finally looked up. "According to the Christians, he was a generally good guy. They say that he then died on a cross and rose again after three days in a tomb."

"You do not belive this," Teal'c stated.

"Like I said, I don't know what I believe."

Just thought I'd pop on and see if I could get prelimary reviews for a fic that got inspired this morning. Before I start that, though, I'd also like opinions on how much effort I should spend on a fic involving Pete Shannahan and an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, yellow polkadot bikini. Now, on with a fic titled "1970." Please excuse the fact that I do not possess the proper software to display Russian, so it's all replaced with German. Sorry.


"Oh, no!" Jack whined as he stepped out of the wormhole into the SGC. "No no no no no!" The Stargate disappeared to be replaced by a missle above their heads.

Daniel dropped his head into his hands. "Not this again."

"And now, we don't have Carter with that convenient not!" the Colonel pointed out.

"Jack, what's going on?" Jacob questioned.

Before O'Neill could answer, a heavy steel door opened, allowing several guards to stream in with their weapons up.

Hands on your head," one shouted. The four prisoners quickly complied and allowed the guards to march them to the same holding cell they were in last time.

"You'd think by now, we'd have earned enough frequent flyer miles to get upgraded to the VIP room," Jack remarked.

"Jack, mind teling us what's going on?" Jacob asked again.

"We went back in time," Daniel answered.

Jack nodded. "Something to do with the time of the year and solar flares."

"How did you get back last time?" Martouf questioned, turning from the smal window in the door to face the others.

"We had a note," Jack answered while playing with a dime on the table, "that had the time and date of solar flares."

Jacob's eyebrows dropped together. "How do you suggest we get back this time?"

Before anyone could begin to fathom a possible response, the door creaked open to reveal two guards and the same linguist from before. "Sie sowjetische Spione?"

Jack jumped up from his chair. "Daniel, I don't care how many languages you speak, I'm answering!"

"Be my guest," the archeologist mumbled.

"The military linguist turned to the colonel expectantly. "Uh..." Jack thought for a moment. "Can you repeat the question?"

Rolling his eyes, he asked, "Sie sowjetische Spione?"

O'Neill pulled the dime from his pocket and set it on his thumb. "Okay, heads says I answer yes, tails says I answer no, and if I can't see, it's not a yes or no question." Daniel smirked; his friend made such a to do over a simple "nein." Jack flipped the coin, only to have the military linguist catch it in mid-air. "I knew it!"

Of course it wasn't a yes or no question; it was a ja oder nein frage! SG-1's linguist thought as the three men retreated from the doorway, slamming it shut behind them.

"Jack," Daniel pointed out, "I think Sam would say that you have to get your dime back."

"Why?" Jacob asked.

"It's got the year."

"So what if it's got a year on it?" Jack inquired.

Daniel's attempt at keeping his eyes from rolling failed pitifully. "It probably has a date after this year."

O'Neill cocked an eyebrow, providing a very believable impression of Teal'c. "Who actually looks at the year on dimes? I can see pennies and quarters, but dimes? "

Quote of the day: "[Snec Alley] is closed due to inclement weather."

Question of the day: Inclement weather? It's raining! How is that inclement weather?

Ted's question #26: It's raining. How is that not inclement weather?

Fanfiction progress report: Well, I was looking at some numbers this morning, so I'd figure I'd rank all my fanfiction according to reviews.

1st - Reeses
2nd - Cat Ears? and Terran Jedi
4th - The Announcement
5th - Father, Where Art Thou
6th - Leap to SG-1
7th - SG MIB
8th - Tell Me This is an Alternate Universe
9th - The Lotaur
10th- Hot Pink and To Be ( Waaa!! My masterpieces are so unappreciated!)
12th- Anti Jedi
13th- Jonas, Anubis, and Your Local Orthodontist (And it's SO much funnier than Leap to SG-1)
14th- The Last Pages

This proves that stories that are updated the most number of times get the most reviews, InuYasha and Star Wars fans are quite abundant, and Stargate crosses with everything.

So, on that note, I've done absolutely nothing on Reeses, because everyone's been asking me to work on Terran Jedi. So I'm trying. I think I'd rather work on the fic below that describes possible consequences of Carter's (stupid) choice to (date) tell Pete Shannahan about the Stargate.

If you're looking forward to more of any of these, I'll give you the scoop on all.

Cat Ears?: I've got about a 50% of half a notebook page more. And no ideas. Maybe I'll have some divine inspiration when I go and watch eight episodes tonight.

Terran Jedi: Much like Cat Ears?, I've got about half of 50% of a notebook page more. And very few ideas. Maybe someone will e-mail me today and convince me to work on it.

The Announcement: I think I have a bit more in my notebook, but no one's asked me to continue, so I might not.

Father, Where Art Thou: This one's rather popular, but I don't have any ideas.

(Inspired by two post-"Chimera" fics and the show itself)

"Major Carter, that is a court-martiable offense!" Hammond declared.

The respected major stood at attention before him in his office, staring blankly ahead. "I understand, sir."

"There's a reason the Stargate is classified information. If word of this got out, we'd have more riots on our hands than in any other time in the history of this planet."

Except maybe when the Goa'uld were thrown off, she thought, but she stayed silent.

"Major Carter, what were you thinking when you told him?"

She drew in a deep breath. "I had promised him that if he survived Osiris's shot, I'd tell him. I don't know what I was thinking, sir. I guess I just wanted him to have some incentive to live so that at least one of my boyfriends would live," she explained slowly.

"I shouldn't have to tell you that that was one of your worst choices."

"Yes, sir."