Chapter 3: Odds of Survival

5

This apartment building was just finished, and not many people have moved in yet.

The empty units made the hallways feel even more ominous at night. Besides the few of us chatting, only 501 has never spoken.

Among us, there’s a murderer.

[Based on known information, your current probability of survival is 25%.]

Twenty-five percent. I’d never wanted to hear odds from a robot before, but now I wished Harper would just lie.

Harper can’t actively access other residents’ private data.

But after I deduced the murderer was a resident, it updated my survival probability in real time.

I shared my analysis in the group.

A few typing dots hovered, the digital equivalent of everyone holding their breath. 301 wasn’t as nervous anymore.

"There’s a murderer in the building, but as long as we don’t open our doors, he can’t do anything."

"Just call the cops and wait for them to handle it."

Suddenly, security guard Mike said: "No need to call the police, trust me, someone is playing a prank."

When 704 asked Mike why he was so sure, he went silent.

I replied to 301: "Already called 911, but there’s a traffic jam outside."

On the map, the road to the community was deep red.

According to the navigation app, there had been a multi-car pileup, both directions blocked. It wouldn’t clear up anytime soon.

301 said: "Let’s just stay in our rooms. Definitely don’t go out."

At that moment, 402 said something chilling.

"If you just sit and wait, you’re waiting to die."

My phone buzzed again. This time, the message was from an unknown number: Don’t trust anyone.