For the next hour, Misha didn't look at his phone. With the ghost’s subtle hints—a gesture toward an angle here, a whisper about a theorem there—the cross-section of the prism began to take shape. The logic flowed. The "given" led to the "prove," and finally, Misha wrote the most satisfying letters in the Russian language: ( Which was to be demonstrated ).
"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?" For the next hour, Misha didn't look at his phone
Misha was currently in the "blankly staring" phase. He was stuck on a problem from the "Stereometry" section for 10th grade. For the next hour