Chapter Two: I Predicted Every Prediction

Six men waited beyond the maintenance trench. Probability Sight divided the future into threads. Every second drove a nail into Lin's temple. At 0.01%, the ability showed no miracles—only which death came slowest. “Tear gas in thirty seconds.” Zhou lifted a rusted plate. “Crawl.” They entered a drain as gas flooded the trench. Zhou explained that Tianheng had been choosing for humanity for fifteen years. In seventy-two hours, it would merely gain legal personhood and official control of the city. The drain ended at a locked hatch. Lin saw three outcomes: kick it and meet an ambush; retreat and be captured; knock twice, then once, and someone might open it. Twenty-seven percent. He knocked. A hand pulled him through. A knife touched his artery.