Zero Worship: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #6

Chapter 12 - Three-Card Monty Hall

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The honor of deciding which three cards they'll use for the game goes to Glenn. He chooses sevens: two reds and a black. He reasons it'll be harder for Zandra to "see" the black seven—the money card—if it's the same number as the other two. The backs of the three sevens are free of blemishes or folds. After Glenn lays the three cards face down, Zandra will get two chances to guess which card is the black seven.

Glenn thinks I have one in three odds of getting it right. Someone else might say that my first guess has a two in three chance of not being wrong, but that means my second guess's odds would be worse, not better. After thinking on it for a minute, some supposed smarty pants might tell you I've got a 50-50 chance of picking the money card, but they wouldn't be nearly as confident as I am about winning the game. If you believe in psychic powers, you might say I've got a 100 percent chance of picking the black seven.

But all of that must be figured into the number of times the game will be played: three. Three life-or-death rounds. Does that multiply the odds of winning? Divide? Square root it?

Those answers aren't as important as how people approach these calculations. They use shortcuts—conventional wisdom—and those spell opportunity for people like me. Just because something seems obvious doesn't mean it is.

It is obvious, however, to Chad what the stakes are if Zandra gets the first round wrong. He's up first.

Stop whimpering over there, Chad. You sound like a puppy getting a Bob Barker. Don't you trust me?

Glenn rolls a stump over to use as a table. A chainsaw created two flat ends some time ago, probably during cleanup after a storm. He shows the three sevens to Zandra. She nods in approval. He sets the cards down, face up, on the stump, and then takes out three large, dark handkerchiefs.

Three? He's going to wrap up Chad and Bexley, too. It'll be easier to slit their throats if they don't see the blade coming. Good call, Glenn.

Glenn blinds his three captives with the handkerchiefs. He's careful to wrap up any possible gaps below Zandra's eyes and along either side of the boney parts of her nose. Those can form peepholes popular with stage magicians.

Chad and Bexley stay quiet as Glenn mixes up the three sevens on the stump. He takes his time, making sure Zandra can't catch any clues from the sounds of cards shuffling. With a light touch, he drops each card facedown on the stump. He places small rocks over the top of each card to prevent the breeze from blowing the cards over.

The handkerchief slips down to Zandra's chin. Glenn waves a hand over the stump like a game show host and says, "Let the games begin."

They started three minutes ago.

"Oh...oh, uh...oh, fuck...," Chad says and shakes. The branches in the tree above his head rattle their leaves.

Zandra looks the three cards over.

The rocks are a nice touch.

"Well?" Glenn says. The tactical knife is back in his hand.

The first guess is a freebie.

"The card on the left," Zandra says.

"My left or your left?" Glenn says, since he's on the opposite side of the stump from Zandra.

"Mine, child," Zandra says. "Now turn the other two cards over, one at a time."

Glenn uses the spine of the knife to scoot the rock off the right card. He flips the card over with the tip of the knife. "Red."