Probability's Price

2 - Small Bets and Big Smiles

Chapter 2: Small Bets and Big Smiles

“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?”

Nicolás didn’t just hear the words; he felt them vibrate through the very core of his being. The impossible had just happened, not subtly, not ambiguously, but with the full, symphonic force of Freddie Mercury’s voice. His breath hitched, his fingers still splayed on the dashboard, as if trying to ascertain if the radio was real, if his car was real, if he was real.

“No way,” he whispered again, the sound ragged. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a drum solo of sheer, unadulterated shock. The world outside, the campus garage, the late-morning light streaming through the windshield – it all felt like a backdrop, a stage set for the grand, ludicrous revelation that had just detonated in his brain. The internal hum was no longer a subtle thread; it was a live wire, tingling, buzzing, singing through every nerve ending.

He sat there for a full minute, maybe two, listening to the entirety of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ without moving, without blinking. When the final, lingering note faded and the DJ’s familiar, slightly raspy voice broke the spell, Nicolás finally slumped back into his seat, a shaky laugh escaping his lips.

“Okay, Nicolás, you’ve officially lost it,” he mumbled, but there was no conviction in his voice. Only a wild, nascent hope. “Or… or you haven’t. And that’s even crazier.” He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The adrenaline was still coursing, a potent cocktail of fear and exhilarating power. He was late for Microeconomics, probably going to miss half of Professor Davies’s lecture on fiscal policy, but honestly, what was a missed lecture compared to… this?

He forced himself to put the car in park, grab his backpack, and stumble out. The world felt… different. Sharper. More malleable. He walked towards his class in a daze, the hum a constant, low thrum beneath his skin. He didn’t try anything else today. The sheer audacity of the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ incident had fried his brain circuits. He just navigated the rest of his day, a ghostly presence in lectures, his mind racing with possibilities, with fears, with the terrifying potential of it all. He didn’t even see Professor Davies give him that look.

He spent the evening pacing his cramped dorm room, talking to the startled platypus water stain on his ceiling. “Platypus,” he’d said, voice low, conspiratorial, “I think I broke the universe. Or it broke me. Or maybe it just gave me a really, really weird superpower. What do I do? Do I become a superhero? A supervillain? Or just… a guy who always finds parking spots?” The platypus, of course, offered no answers.

The next morning, Nicolás woke up before his alarm, an unnatural energy thrumming through him. He felt like he’d chugged three pots of coffee and then been struck by lightning. The sense of anticipation was almost unbearable. He was still buzzing from yesterday’s discovery, but the initial shock had morphed into a cautious, electric eagerness.

He stared at his ceiling. “Alright, platypus,” he declared, pushing himself up. “Today’s the day we figure this out. Test run number one. Small scale. Low stakes. Nothing that alerts the government or a shadowy organization of super-powered individuals.”

He pulled on a slightly less wrinkled shirt than usual, his movements quick and decisive. He felt a weird, almost physical itch to try it again, to feel that tug and see what would happen. But he also felt a tremor of fear. What if it was a fluke? What if it was gone? What if he’d just had a really vivid, sleep-deprived hallucination yesterday?

As he walked across campus, heading for his first class, a sudden, familiar wave of panic hit him. “Oh, right,” he muttered, patting his pockets. “My Microeconomics textbook. Left it in the dorm. Again. Brilliant, Nicolás, absolutely brilliant. Professor Davies is going to flay me alive for not having it for today’s lecture.”

Then he paused. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. Or… maybe not?

He closed his eyes for a split second, searching for that internal hum, that gentle pull. It was there, faint but present, like a phantom limb sensation. He focused on it, on the problem, on the desired outcome. I need my textbook. Right here. Right now.

He opened his eyes. Nothing. No textbook magically appearing. He scoffed. “Okay, too direct. Too much of an actual miracle. Probability manipulation, not conjuration.” He re-evaluated. “Right. I need to find my textbook. Easily. Without having to run all the way back to the dorm.”

He continued walking, keeping his senses alert. He passed the library, then the student union, then a small, seldom-used walkway behind the science building. And there, perched precariously on a recycling bin, was a Microeconomics textbook. His Microeconomics textbook, identifiable by the distinctive coffee stain on the bottom corner.

Nicolás stopped dead. He stared at it, then looked around wildly. “No way,” he breathed, snatching it up. “Seriously? I… I must’ve dropped it. And someone picked it up and put it on the bin? That’s… that’s incredibly specific luck.” He flipped it open. His name was clearly written inside. “This is ridiculous. This is perfectly ridiculous.”

He clutched the textbook to his chest, a jolt of pure exhilaration shooting through him. It wasn't just a fluke. It was real. The rush was almost as intense as yesterday’s, a surge of triumph that made him feel like he’d just won the lottery. This wasn’t just good luck; it was orchestrated good luck.

He managed to make it to class just in time. Professor Davies, bless his perpetually unimpressed soul, was already at the podium, a stack of papers in his hand. “Morning, class,” he droned. “Pop quiz today. Unannounced, naturally. Let’s see if you’ve been paying attention.”

A collective groan swept through the lecture hall. Nicolás’s heart sank, then rocketed back up again. He hadn't studied. He’d spent the entire night either pacing or talking to a water stain. He knew nothing about today’s obscure fiscal policies. This was it. The ultimate test.

He sat down, textbook still clutched, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a second, feeling the hum, focusing it. I need to ace this quiz. Not perfectly, just… really well. Enough to pass, enough to impress Davies, but not so well it’s suspicious.

The papers were distributed. Nicolás stared at the first question, then the second. He knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. Panic clawed at his throat. He felt the internal hum begin to waver, a flicker of doubt threatening to extinguish it. No, no, no. Focus! He mentally pushed back, trying to re-center himself, to feel the pull.

He lifted his pen, still unsure. He looked at the multiple-choice options for question one: A, B, C, D. A faint, almost imperceptible tug pulled his gaze towards ‘B’. He hesitated, then circled it.

The next question. His eyes scanned the options. Again, a gentle, insistent pull towards ‘C’. He circled it.

He went through the entire quiz like this, a strange, intuitive dance between his ignorance and the invisible guidance of his power. He wasn’t thinking the answers; he was feeling them. It was like his hand was being subtly guided, not forced, but nudged towards the most probable correct answer. The adrenaline was pumping, a silent, internal scream of excitement and terror.

When he handed in his quiz, his hands were trembling slightly. He had no idea how he’d done, but the feeling of accomplishment, of having bent probability to his will, was immense. He’d done it. He hadn’t panicked. He had manifested competence.

Later that afternoon, Nicolás was unwinding in the student lounge, playing a casual game of Five Card Draw with his friends, Leo and Sarah. Leo was a computer science major, notorious for his logical mind and terrible poker face. Sarah was an art history student, all intuition and a surprisingly good bluff.

“Alright, my turn to deal,” Sarah said, shuffling the cards with practiced ease. “Feeling lucky, boys?”

Leo snorted. “Not against you, Sarah. You always pull a miracle flush out of nowhere.”

Nicolás grinned, leaning back. This was perfect. A low-stakes, social experiment. “Hey, you never know. Maybe today’s my day.” He felt the familiar hum, a playful flutter in his mind.

Sarah dealt the first five cards. Nicolás glanced at his hand: a pair of fours, a seven, a ten, and a queen. Decent, but nothing spectacular. He felt the pull, a faint suggestion, urging him to discard the seven, ten, and queen. Right, three cards.

“I’ll take three,” he said casually, trying to keep his voice even.

Leo eyed him suspiciously. “Three, huh? Bold move, Ferris. Feeling confident?”

“Just a hunch,” Nicolás replied, shrugging. He tried to project an air of nonchalant confidence, but inside, his heart was doing a frantic jig. He watched Sarah deal the next three cards. He felt the tug intensify as they landed in front of him. He picked them up.

A four. A three. And… another four.

Nicolás stared at his hand. Four of a kind. Three fours. He had never, ever gotten four of a kind in his life. Not even close. He had to suppress a gasp. He looked at Leo and Sarah, forcing a small, knowing smile.

“Alright, bets?” Leo said, tossing in a few chips.

Sarah raised, her eyes sparkling. “I’m feeling good about this hand.”

Nicolás debated. He could go all in. But that would be too obvious. Too much. He needed to be subtle, to make it seem like good intuition. “I’ll just call,” he said, pushing in his chips, his voice steady despite the internal cacophony of triumph.

The bets continued, Leo bluffing, Sarah confidently raising. Finally, it was showdown.

“Full house,” Leo announced, laying down three eights and two aces. “Beat that.”

Sarah frowned, then spread her cards. “Two pairs. Tens and Kings. Looks like you got me, Leo.”

Nicolás, trying to keep a poker face that felt like it was about to crack with suppressed glee, slowly laid down his cards. “Well, guys… sometimes you just get lucky, right?” He displayed his four fours.

Leo’s jaw dropped. “No way! Four fours?! Are you kidding me, Nicolás? You always have the worst luck! This is unheard of!”

“Beginner’s luck, maybe?” Sarah suggested, laughing. “Or maybe you’re just getting good at reading us.”

Nicolás just shrugged, trying to appear modest. “Maybe I finally figured out how to bluff. Or the universe decided to throw me a bone for once.” He winked. The internal hum was a vibrant, joyful symphony now. He’d done it again. Twice in one day. He was becoming a maestro of the improbable.

Later that day, the campus cafeteria was a bustling hub of noise and activity. Nicolás was heading towards the pasta station, a rumbling emptiness in his stomach, when he saw her.

Putri Maharani. She was talking animatedly with a group of friends near the salad bar, her dark hair falling over one shoulder as she laughed, a bright, melodic sound that always made Nicolás’s stomach do a strange little flip. She was, in his humble opinion, the most stunning person on campus, and he'd harbored a ridiculous crush on her since freshman year. He usually just admired her from afar, too shy and too convinced of his own cosmic misfortune to ever approach her.

But now… now he had a superpower. A probability-bending, luck-inducing, serendipity-generating superpower.

He felt the tug again, distinct and undeniable, pulling him not towards the pasta, but subtly, precisely, towards Putri’s general vicinity. This wasn’t just a random wish; this was an urge. A deeply ingrained desire suddenly made manifest as a force he could potentially control.

Okay, Nicolás, don’t be a creep. Just… a chance encounter. A natural, totally coincidental bump-in. He took a deep breath, focusing the hum, directing it with a delicate precision he hadn’t attempted before. He needed to make sure she was in the exact right place at the exact right time.

He adjusted his trajectory, slowing his pace just slightly, subtly veering from his direct path to the pasta. He saw Putri turn, excusing herself from her friends, heading towards the drink dispensers – directly across his new path. The tug intensified, pulling him forward, guiding his footsteps with an almost imperceptible nudge.

His heart pounded. This was it. This was the big one. Social interaction, powered by probability manipulation. The stakes, in his mind, were sky-high. His "action sequence" adrenaline was through the roof.

He focused on his phone, pretending to scroll through something important, trying to look casual, but his peripheral vision was locked onto her. He knew the exact second she would step out from behind the pillar, the exact angle their paths would intersect.

Now.

He lifted his gaze just as he was about to pass her. They collided, not forcefully, just a gentle, awkward bump that made her take a step back and him stumble slightly. A tray clattered from someone else's table nearby, perfectly distracting from their minor collision.

“Oh, my bad! So sorry!” Nicolás blurted out, a genuine flush creeping up his neck. Even with probability on his side, his social anxiety was still very much a thing.

Putri looked up, her eyes widening slightly in surprise, then softening into a friendly smile. “Oh, no, it’s totally fine! I wasn’t looking where I was going, my fault.”

“No, no, definitely mine,” he insisted, feeling a stupid grin plastered to his face. He felt like he was soaring, not just flying in a dream, but actually soaring. “I was, uh, distracted. By important… phone… things.” He gestured vaguely at his phone, which was currently displaying his alarm settings. Smooth, Nicolás. Real smooth.

She chuckled, a light, airy sound that sent another flip through his stomach. “Well, no harm done.” She looked at him more closely. “Hey, aren’t you in my Microeconomics lecture? Nicolás, right?”

His eyes widened. She remembered his name! Holy probability manipulation, Batman! “Uh, yeah! That’s me. Nicolás. And you’re Putri, right?” He felt like an absolute idiot, repeating her name, but he couldn’t help it. The sheer, improbable luck of her remembering him!

“That’s right,” she confirmed, her smile still there. “Well, nice to, uh, properly bump into you, Nicolás.” She laughed again, a little bit.

“Yeah! You too, Putri. Uh, have a good one!” he stammered, feeling like he’d just run a marathon.

“You too!” she said, giving him a small wave before continuing towards the drink dispensers.

Nicolás stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her walk away. His mind was reeling. A brief, pleasant word. She remembered his name. She smiled at him. He hadn't just avoided bad luck; he had created good luck. He’d orchestrated an entire chance encounter!

A slow, triumphant, slightly manic smile spread across his face. The internal hum was now a full-blown roar, a symphony of power, of possibility, of glorious, magnificent, impossible control. He looked down at his empty hands. He’d completely forgotten about the pasta.

Just how far, he wondered, the thought a thrilling, dangerous whisper in his mind, how far can I push this?