Abyss of Probability: I Can See the Success Rate

The uncanny descends, and I can see the probability of anything happening, but every time I use this power, I hasten my own death.

From a bus stop into the “Gap,” then on to an uncanny hospital, the rules decide who lives and dies: the night watchman is drawn to sound, the white coats can’t be trusted, and never spend more than three seconds in front of a mirror.

To escape the predator’s jaws, I mortgaged my abilities for the next 24 hours.

Now I have nothing but my bare hands, and three minutes in the dead of night when the rules stop working to face the “Mother” fed by the hospital director.

And the only way out is to strike a deal with a smiling infant specimen in a jar of formalin.

It says, “The price is a part of your humanity.”

Would I dare bet on those odds?