I Took a Calculated Risk

Players, I would like to welcome you all. You will participate in six different games over six days. The winners will receive a large cash prize.  The location of this place has been kept secret from you...

Well, here we are then, playing games for money. Boy, that loudspeaker sure is loud! Everything is in Korean, which is all Greek to me.

Mr Suit kindly transported me here, released me from the trunk, and shoved me into the care of masked assistants dressed in pink. The assistants tried to force me into a green tracksuit, but I said no thanks. I haven't worn a tracksuit since the 1982 Finlandia Ski Marathon, which I participated in from my living room sofa. The sheet I’m wearing will suit me just fine. 

I am player number 313. There are many players here, over 400 by my count, and they’re all gawking at me suspiciously. Haven’t they seen a great artist before? You’d think literature would be more appreciated among this crowd. After all, the Nobel Prize in Literature did recently land in South Korea. Though, it really should have been given to me…

… you must now choose: will you return to your miserable lives being chased by creditors, or will you seize this final opportunity?

I really should be writing my next bestseller. An author should be able to focus on the creative process in peace without constantly fretting about finances. Toiling over grant applications doesn't count as self-employment, no matter what the employment office claims. Every now and then, an author must stoop to loathsome acts to scrape together a few coins, like gambling or training a conversational AI.

Next, we ask you to sign the document provided to you.

What does this say? “Player Consent Form”. Blah blah, blah, “.. the player may not stop playing. If the player refuses to play, they will be eliminated…” Eliminated? It should probably say “disqualified”. Should I offer them my services as a proofreader? Well, let's sign it anyway, just to get on with things.

These games are a piece of cake for me. With my experience and charisma, the prize money is practically in my pocket already. Though, I can’t shake this feeling... like I’m smelling a rat… a rat that met its end under suspicious circumstances in the back alley of a dodgy bar.

The first game is about to begin. Please proceed to the game hall.

Right now? Don’t we get anything to eat first? Not even coffee? Fine, off to the game hall we go. Up the stairs, down the stairs, up the stairs – whew – I need a little breather. I hope the game doesn't involve running; I'm already exhausted. Yes, yes, I’m coming, no need to shove. Some people seem to be in a real hurry to embarrass themselves by losing the first game! There are double doors ahead; through them we go and we’re out on a vast sandy area.

Welcome to the first game. Please wait on the field for a moment. I repeat. Please wait on the field for a moment.

The doors were slammed shut behind us. All the players seem confused, muttering amongst themselves. I will also mutter to myself just to blend in. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s muttering and blending in.

A big field means running, of course. I wonder what we are going to play… Football? I’ll only agree if I can sit on the bench. Writers aren't built for sports. Just ask Mika Waltari. Now there was a man whose idea of an athletic feat was hurling a rejected poetry collection at his publisher.

The first game is Red Light, Green Light. You may move forward while the doll sings. When the singing stops, you must remain motionless. If you move at the wrong time, you will be eliminated. I repeat...

The doll? Oh, that thing way over at the far end of the field? Head spinning like an owl's? What a hilarious sight! Reminds me exactly of my Aunt Calpurnia. May she rest in peace until I get there.

Those who cross the finish line within five minutes will pass this round. Good luck. Let the game begin. 

Five minutes? A piece of cake. I think I'll do a bit of stretching. Up, and down, and to the sides, then the other arm… Ouch! I tweaked something. I think I'm still stiff from that trunk ride. Yeah, I’m clearly not made for physical games.

(The doll sings in the background, then suddenly stops.)

Hey, hello! Staff? Where are they… Listen, I’m starting to feel like I’ll sit this one out. What if I just sat in the bleachers for this round? You can deduct the corresponding prize money from my winnings. Yoo-hoo, excuse me? Put me in for something where I can use my head – 

(BANG BANG)

Ouch! Right in the middle of the forehead! 

(BANG BANG)

Hit me right in the face again! What was that, a wasp? What are the other players behind me shouting? I’ll walk closer and ask what the matter is.

(BANG BANG)

Well, what is it? Oh, I have to stay still or I’ll get shot? Shot? I think you people are taking this game a tad too seriously. No one’s getting shot here. 

(BANG BANG)

Ouch! I am getting shot! My sheet is full of holes! Thank you very much for this. I’ll be spending the rest of the evening stitching it back together.

(BANG BANG)

Okay, fine, let's play then. So, I stand still when the doll sings, and run when it doesn't?

(BANG BANG)

No, wait, the other way around!

(BANG BANG)

Ouch! Somehow I’m starting to feel like gambling for money might have been a mistake after all.

(BANG BANG)

I took a calculated risk, but man… I’ve always been bad at math.


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