The Probability of One
The rain in Detroit didn't fall; it drifted, a grey curtain of industrial chemicals and soot. Silas lived in a hollowed-out shipping container in the shadow of a dead automotive plant. He didn't have a home, a family, or a reason to be liked. He had a chalkboard made of a piece of salvaged plywood and a mind that saw the world as a series of probability distributions. Silas didn't believe in...
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