8. Text Mirror
Professor Reichenstein’s office was a cathedral of contradiction. Walls crowded with chalkboards bore equations that wound in on themselves like snakes eating their tails. Diagrams of impossible shapes—Möbius strips, Klein bottles—hung between portraits of Kant, Gauss, and Leibniz. It smelled of camphor, chalk dust, and the brittle edges of certainty.
Mihkel waited quietly by the door, notebook clutched to his chest. The professor had not summoned him—students were not summoned; they simply endured proximity and hoped to learn by osmosis.
But Reichenstein, distracted by a glass of schnapps and a misbehaving compass, looked up and barked without warning: „What is the opposite of entropy?“
Mihkel hesitated. “Negentropy?”
„No. Not in physics. In thought.“ The professor waved his hand. „Order is child's play. I want symmetry—not arrangement, but reversal. Take meaning and reflect it until it forgets which way is forward.”
He scribbled a phrase on a slip of paper and flung it toward Mihkel:
aeg voolab
„Reverse it. Not as poetry. As function. If you cannot grasp this, leave me to my abstractions.”
Mihkel bowed and backed out, clutching the note. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
There, beneath crooked beams and fading constellations chalked on plaster, Mihkel set the phrase to tape:
aeg voolab
The Logic Mill remained hidden, even from daylight. It clicked softly, not with the vanity of invention—but with the poise of inevitability.
To reverse a sentence was nothing. But to mechanize reversal—to design a machine that understood sequences, patterns, and logic’s flow backward—was everything.
The Mill processed letter by letter, as if unweaving time itself.
On the input tape, you'll get a lowercase text.
Your task is to mirror the text on the output tape.
For example, if the input tape is hello world, your output should be dlrow olleh.