Initial Problem Set: Ranell’s Airships
Welcome to the Initial Problem Set. Below, you will see a map indicating where you are currently at in the story. It is written as a multi-path adventure, more commonly known as a “Choose Your Own Adventure.” When we consider the future, the choices we make will impact the consequences we face.
What makes Directed Fiction unique is that the beginning of each chapter is tied to a specific prediction made on the Metaculus Forecasting website. Below the map is an embedded link to a live Metaculus question that serves as the prompt for this chapter.
Echoes of suicide reverberate through the mind. Bittersweet memories of people lost to tragedy haunt the quiet moments with unwelcomed thoughts. Dr. Josef Ranell carefully poured a finger of his best Talisker Storm single malt scotch whiskey over a single ice cube. He savored the smokey, peppery taste as he stood silently looking out over the colossal gantries and mountains of multi-colored cargo containers stacked in endless rows along the East Basin docks of the Port of Long Beach, California. Nothing was moving out there.
Ranell sipped slowly, trying to find some elusive measure of serenity before diving back into the maelstrom of his corporate life.
“How long has it been, old friend?” Ranell asked aloud to no one in particular. He was alone in the room. I never thought I’d understand why you jumped from that Fifth Avenue skyscraper… but maybe I get it now.
Ranell cast a dubious glance towards the street just thirty feet below his own window and snorted, "I'm never going to kill myself." He put away his glass and started collecting the files he needed for today’s meeting. I’d end up living through that jump anyway, he mused. Got to be a better way to go than jumping out of a window. I’d use a gun or run a hose up from my exhaust… anything would be better than jumping. He cast a furtive glance at the desk drawer where he kept his pistol.
Discarding that train of thought with an audible grunt, Ranell moved to his executive washroom and grimaced as he brushed his teeth to remove the scent of alcohol. He looked deeply into the reflection of his bloodshot eyes, dark bags beneath from too many sleepless nights. He tried to smooth his unruly silver hair, but as usual, to no avail. "If you're not going to kill yourself, Josef," he asked his reflection, "then why are you thinking of so many ways to do it?"
He took a deep breath, sighed, turned, and headed for his meeting.
Choose Option 1: Learn More about Greater Depression
Choose Option 2: Continue Story