The market resolves when the last Avery clicks
A shiny new prediction market appeared, before the mods removed it at 11:11pm.
In a bathroom, an Avery stared at their face, marking it with eyeliner. âWill this Avery East-Asian pass? YES: 33% NO: 67%. 23 votesâ appeared on the mirror. They smeared the word NO with cherry lipstick. Dissociation in progress.
The Chinese are too familiar with dimorphic facial characteristics; Long hair alone is insufficient to pass.
The Avery of ancient Linâan was a court debater, dying of suffocation when the emperor spoonfed hot coal down his throat. The Avery of Shinjuku was a nameless immigrant from Kathmandu, known only in a post about violent public suicide near a train station.
Avery yearned to be seen; They wished not to be found. Averies typically do not agree.
In an alley, an elderly Avery knelt besides cages. Birds of yellow, leaf-green and white. Living in extremely confined ways. Not bright; Not tragic. The gray parrotâs cage has a QR code. Old Avery scanned it with his sonâs phone. The market loaded: âWill this bird speak again?â YES: 94%. He misclicks âYESâ.
The mathematical Avery was peeling an orange. A Seville, bitter, chosen on purpose. The sunlight vectors petitioned the room and settled neatly on the floor. He sections the orange, methodically, into a flower. He moved sequentially, placing each segment on a plate beside: a printout of Grothendieckâs Esquisse dâun Programme, a worn paperback of Intercourse, a photograph of Badwater Basin printed on the back of a Finnegans Wake index card⌠And a terminal with yet another prediction market. P(Avery deletes source code) = 0.50000. He nudges one segment. The display ticks to 0.49999. This Avery existed in abstraction, theory, academia. In closed systems.
An Avery was bankrupt in Hong Kong, spent their last money in an arcade, alone in a booth. Every missed note pushed the candle bar toward âYES, deleteâ. The rhythm game paused at INSERT COIN, staring. It was a question with a single acceptable input. An Avery in a black hoodie walked in, cyberpunk, holding a Monster can. She clocked him instantly.
âHey⌠Arenât you the guy who made a market about deleting himself?â
âYes,â Avery said, didnât blink. âIt resolved N/A.â
The prediction stalled at 49%. Hoodie-girl laughed, sharp. âL. Skill issue. Canât even hold 50%.â She tapped on her phone. Vote: âYESâ.
Averies in consensus: 3/10.
Breakfast, Averyâs place, 6:51 AM.
The cooking robot blared. âGood morning :D Would you like todayâs relationship forecast? P(Avery is girl) = 0.5 +/- 0.000. Updated every 5 minutes.â âThank you for the unsolicited information.â Avery said, retrieved a marker and scribbled on a sticky note:Â Humans are notâThe marker dried. They opened the browser; an kinetic of a hetero, normative, couple blocked the viewport. The sticky note slid, covering the last trailing 0.
Time: 00:17 AM. Location: Twitter DMs.
An Avery opened their DMs. Overcaffeinated. He wrote like a 2010s wordpress comment, unhurried and slightly out of time.
âHey. I knew you from the forums. This conversation is due ten years ago.â Silence. âhaha you never replied.â He sent two memes, one about Sasha Gusev, the other about people sea attacks. He squinted at a question. Couldnât understand it. Clicked ânoâ.
Averies agreeing: still 3/10. Stale.
Somewhere in Asia. A high school. An Avery soft-forked himself into a feral node, roaming the metro stations. The glass door displayed: âWill Avery self-delete by 2030? BID 0.97 ASK 0.98.â The door slid open before the trade executes. Avery stepped in.
New Yearâs Eve. Rooftop. City fireworks blast. Drones overhead began forming â2030â. âWill Avery self-delete/be here?â a market hovered. Avery leaned against the railing. Drones overhead rearranged.
âHumans are notââ Someone yelled in the distance.
All available Averies have voted.
I WROTE THIS INSTEAD OF SLEEPING!!! written earlier 2025 after ⌠some people posted ⌠too many unhinged markets. Today I found it in drafts along with 300 other unpublished items, edited and just posted as is. shrugs