The Odds - Jeff Strand Page 0,5
for them.
A 90% chance.
“Just to be clear,” he said, “If I lose, I get the broken arm and I don’t get the money, right?”
Rick smiled. “That’s correct.”
“Figured I’d check.”
“I’m going to pause the sixty-second timer. Purely hypothetical question. If I changed the rules and said there’s a 100% chance of you receiving both the money and the broken arm, would you take it?”
“Are you changing the rules?”
“No. Hypothetically.”
“I don’t know,” said Ethan. “What if there was severe nerve damage and my arm never healed right? It sounds like it could be one of those things where the bones break right out through the skin.”
“That’s a definite possibility.”
“That could mess me up for the rest of my life. I’m not sure I’d do it.”
“I was just curious,” said Rick. “We’ll start your sixty seconds over.”
Ethan wouldn’t shatter his arm for fifty thousand dollars. But he was giving very strong consideration to taking a one-in-ten risk of shattering his arm for the money. He might regret this. He might really regret this. But it might also be one of the best decisions he ever made.
A 90% chance of not having to worry—well, having to worry less—about his children’s future.
“Screw it. I don’t need any more time. I’ll do it.”
“Oh, good. I thought you might be leaning in the other direction. Do you want to use the same method, or do you trust the wheel?”
“I don’t trust the wheel,” said Ethan. “No offense.”
“No offense taken. I don’t think my boss would like me using the ‘guess my number’ method again, since it’s not truly random, but I’m empowered to make decisions like this, so if that’s the way you’d like to play it, we can.”
Ethan almost said yes, but he thought about the whole “element of psychology” thing that Rick had mentioned before. People who were skilled in that sort of thing could use subtle tricks to make you think they were mind readers. When the odds were down to one in ten, Ethan didn’t want to take the risk that Rick might indeed make this less than random.
“No, I’ll write down the numbers on pieces of paper.”
Rick called for Mindy again, and she brought paper, scissors, and a green baseball cap.
“You can cut the squares, or you can pull out the number, but not both,” said Rick. “You can write the numbers, but I’ll need to verify that you didn’t press harder on one than the others.”
“You can make the slips of paper,” said Ethan. He wasn’t looking to beat the system.
Rick cut the paper into squares, then wrote the numbers zero through nine on them. He folded each number, then scooped them up and dropped them into the hat.
Without being told, Ethan sat down in the chair and placed his left arm on the armrest. Rick strapped his wrist down. He picked up the hat, shook it a few times, and offered it to Ethan. “Remember, you don’t want to draw the zero.”
As he had before, Ethan suddenly wondered what the hell he was thinking.
Was he insane?
How would he explain his mangled, useless arm to his family if he lost?
What if they had to amputate it?
What kind of idiot would agree to something like this?
“Can I still back out?” he asked.
Rick pulled the hat away. “Yes. Do you wish to?”
Ethan thought about it. Fifty thousand dollars. “No. Sorry. Just a quick moment of panic. Let’s do it.”
Rick held out the hat again.
Ethan pulled out a piece of paper.
He knew it was a zero. It felt like a zero.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He unfolded the paper.
Eight.
Rick breathed a sigh of relief. “You looked so stressed out that it stressed me out, too.” He unfastened the strap, and Ethan got out of the chair. Rick walked over to the doorway and called out “He won!” to Mindy. It was kind of amusing that a company that could afford sixty thousand dollars in prize money had Rick calling out to the receptionist instead of having an intercom system.
Ethan realized that he was covered in perspiration. It still wouldn’t seem real, until—
His phone buzzed.
He’d received the payment.
“Congratulations,” said Rick. “The odds were far in your favor but it took nerves of steel to go through with that. You are a true gamer. Can I get you anything before I explain Round Three? Water?”
“Water would be great.”
After Mindy brought it, Ethan gulped down most of the bottle of water and resisted the urge to pour the rest over his head to cool himself down.
“Round Three,” said Rick. “One