Bob Driessen, masterstudent wiskunde, is gisterenavond uitgeroepen tot winnaar van de schrijfwedstrijd van Vox, in het kader van de week van het toeval. Een fraaie uitwerking van waar het bij toeval om draait, zo prees de jury zijn inzending.

The Horned Beasts

We are the horned beasts. The devourers of hope and bringers of despair. Shifters of chances and manipulators of maths. Puppets masters and hosts of the game. You probably heard of our cunning trick. Our diabolical game of chance. Where humans are tricked into choosing their own misfortune. Today another one will fall for our trap.

Beyond the doors of our lairs a great crowd has gathered. We hear their screams of excitement and joy. They cheer our victim on. He is the lucky one, he was chosen by chance. They could not be more wrong. The odds are not in his favour. He expects to gain richess. But our revelation will destroy his hope. We are the demons none wish to find. Lurking behind our doors, we plan his demise.

We send forth our accomplice, a human like them. Once he too fell for our trick. My brothers’ beastly figure was revealed to him. Then he pledged us his soul. Now he orchestrates our probabilistic game of random torment. He tells our victim to make his choice. To strike a deal with the devils. The victim pauses and seems to think. Then at random he points his finger. We are lucky, he is not. For he picks a wrong door, my door. Some escape the grasp of our cloven hooves by chance. But not this one.

Our accomplice moves forward. He opens another door, behind which my brother waits. His bearded, horned appearance does not impress the human. The crowd still cheers for him. Our victim smiles confidently. But his stupidity will be his downfall. His mind unable to discern what we planned out. The mathematics of chance too difficult for him to understand.

The victim is again offered a choice. He can still decide on a different course. Change his original path. But to him the options seem the same. Alike and equally likely, like the toss of a coin. How foolish he is. Rejecting the offer, he seals his fate. So many have made the same mistake. They do not understand the odds. A mathematical truth hidden for you humans.They stick with their initial guess. This new soul is no different. So like them, he will face one of us.

On this day, it will be me. I look down, my goats’ feet anxiously trembling. Soon the doors of my lair will open. I will reveal myself to my foolish victim. His face will tell everything. Hope turned into despair. Possibility reduced to certainty. The certainty of the wrong choice. The realisation that my revelation is his wrongdoing. If only he would have switched doors.

Then he would have won a brand new sports car.