"What about it?"

"It's five plus five, three plus six plus one, 8,526 minus 8,516."

"Yes, so it is."

"It is a rather practical number, you know, it is the number of fingers on my hands, the number of toes on my feet."

"But not, at the same time, the number of fingers and toes on your hands and feet."

"No, that would be twenty."

"You see, then. Ten is not everything."

"But why would I ever need to necessarily put all of my fingers and toes in close proximity, anyway? Ten suffices. Usually I wear shoes."

"Two shoes, indeed."

"So why would I need that bastard, twenty?"

"Say you were counting things, say, somewhere between 11 and 21. Then you'd need your toes if that is how you keep track of things."

"Nonsense. I could use my fingers twice."

"Well, say you were keeping track of things with bits of string or pieces of sticky tape. You'd need your toes then."

"I suppose. But what about our money? We count that in tens."

"But we haven't always, old boy. Recall pounds shillings pence."

"Barbarous system, that was. By my bushy mustache, it was more complicated than necessary. Today's system is logical, and, quite appropriately, economic."

"I would agree."

Then there's our metric system. Jolly useful, everything divided into divisions of ten, from the kilometer to the picogram.

"But there again, we used to have feet, inches, miles."

"And it was hell on Earth, if you'll pardon my rudeness. Converting degrees Fahrenheit into pound per square inch. Dastardly. Evil, I'd say. The Devil himself could not have thought of a more diabolical plan for measurement."

"Other things are counted without tens-

"Such as?"

"Such as division of infantry in the Army."

"But you are trying to change the subject. Just drink your brandy and listen."

"Fair enough."

"Ten is more than just a convenient number for counting my things. It is wholly divine unto itself. Consider the nought."

"The nought."

"Yes, the nought, or the zero, as they sometimes say. it is, essentially, nothing. It is nought! But a nought, added to the back of a number, automatically increases it tenfold. That's divinity, I tell you."

"Yes, it is rather powerful."

"And what's more, the number ten is really so rare. Reach into your pocket one afternoon, for example, and count the number of jellybeans you find there. It will rarely be ten, very rarely."

"You're back to counting things again, there."

"Yes I am, but only to point out that the number ten is at once common and rare, it is fit for the lower classes and fit for the upper classes. The farmer can use it to measure his acreage and the Queen can use it to signify her royalty. She is, after all, a real ten."

"Oh come now, you are becoming silly."

"I am not. Ten is a powerful number. After all, there is the nought."

"Yes, as you said, but."

"Yes?"

"But what about other systems of numbers that do not base themselves on ten? Say, base nine, for example."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean, in base nine, the addition of your beloved nought raises the number by a power of nine, not ten. 'Ten,' that is, 'One-Zero' is nothing more than 'Nine' in your beloved base ten!"

"Well."

"Or perhaps something more radical? Base two? There, your lovely 'One-Hundred' is nothing more than 'Four!'"

"I never mentioned one-hundred."

"Or allow me to be quite outrageous. Consider, if you will, base eleven! Your precious "One-Oh" is merely eleven, of course, but if you want to talk about the counting of things, the five plus five, as you said earlier, then you'd have to designate a entirely new symbol for it, the letter A, for example."

"Come now, you are being quite dastardly."

"So I ask you, is it really about the number, the naught and all that, or is it, in fact the quantity?"

"Well, I don't-"

"For example," And with that he picked up the hatchet and brought it swiftly down upon his companion's hand, severing his thumb neatly, "What will you do, now that you've only got nine fingers?"

"Egad!"

"Well?"

"You've just cut off my thumb!"

"Chopped, more like," and he quickly popped the severed digit into his mouth.

"Now why did you do that?"

"To make my point. So you can't go to hospital and have it sewn back on and maintain this illusory fascination with the number ten."

"But you're mad!"

"Perhaps. But the question still stands. What will you do with your ten now? Is it quality after all, or has it been all along quantity?"

"Good god man, there's blood everywhere!"

"Don't try to change the subject."

"You've ruined a good brandy, that's certain."

"Nonsense. Take this tea-towel to staunch the flow if it makes you feel better."

"Thank you."

"Think nothing of it. Now. What have you got to say about your lovely 'one-nought' now?"

"Well. I still find the luster and vigor of the nought compelling."

"But."

"But. but I may be seeing your point. Yes. nine, too is, a wonderful number."

"Go on."

"After all, all multiples of nine have digits which added together to produce nine."

"Precisely,"

And of course, there's nineteen."

"Come again?"

"The numbers of fingers and toes that I now have. Nineteen."

"Oh, yes, right. Sorry. Please continue."

"Well, nineteen is a prime number, isn't it? And it's the age when I began my conscription. Best years of my life, serving under Major-General Anderson."

"So you see my point now?"

"Yes, I suppose I do. Still, it's a shame about my thumb."

"Well, I didn't want you to go on with your apparent delusions of grandeur."

"I might need that thumb, someday."

"You've still got the one, though"

"That's true." A pause in the conversation. "So, the number nine, eh?"

"Right. And as you said, nineteen."

"Yes, of course."