Poisson Regression by JJ de Melo
Sweat sticks me to the couch. Like a bug in fly tape. The windows are open, but I only have one fan. It barely helps. I’m breathing hot soup in my apartment and I want out. To leave. Take a walk. But it’s not safe. Not yet.
I refresh the feed on my phone again. And there it is. What I’m looking for. A violent car crash at the street where I do my shopping.
A drunk driver swerved onto the sidewalk, took out two pedestrians before colliding with a traffic signal pole and ejecting from the vehicle. All three dead. Happened last night. It took time to reach the apps where I consume news.
The likelihood of someone else being mowed down on Market anytime soon is astronomically small. Chances only increase the longer I wait.
I dress quickly. Catch a fresh breeze as I exit my building. I savor the outdoor air while I scan the sky for falling debris. I once confidently believed you were less likely to be struck by a plane part than lightning. But today’s aviation manufacturers have made that impossible to forecast.
A streetcar rolls by. They’ve been running well lately, so I don’t board at my stop. I only take the tram two days after any widespread delays—certain the underlying issue was resolved—and I stop after a month. Three months now without an incident. The system is well overdue.
I stopped taking the bus entirely. Too unpredictable.
So I walk.
Navigate around manhole covers. Any rusted grates.
Hold my breath when someone passes near.
And when I reach the grocery store, I find it crowded. The maximum occupancy surely breached. Should the deli kitchen burst into flames, there’s no telling if I’d make it out. Death by trampling more likely. I stand beside the sliding doors. Wait for a less hazardous time to enter the place.
Down the block, I see a horde of kids lined up out front an ice cream parlor. The probability that one of those mini-human petri dishes is carrying a virus is dangerously high. But my sweet tooth won’t be ignored.
I approach the crowd, recall something my college statistics professor had said. That ice cream sales and gun violence are correlated. People want cold dessert when the weather gets hot and, for whatever reason, a rise in temperature makes us more homicidal too. The memory makes me nervous, slows me in my tracks, but I remind myself the point of that lecture—Correlation is not cause.
Assault rifles and waffle cones are not really linked.
A scoop of mint chip does not beget a Glock-19.
I conclude it’s not likely someone will open fire right now. In this throng of children. Though the probability is not zero. Never in this country.
Somehow able to stomach that statistic, I scroll through public health advisories in the queue. Check for recalled foods to steer clear from. Outbreaks in ice cream to avoid.
E. coli in lettuce again.
Lead in skin creams.
Carcinogenic dyes in potato chips.
A multi-state investigation of contaminated cheese was marked closed a week ago. I reason an infestation of another dairy product so soon would be a statistical outlier. So I buy myself a cone.
Vanilla. Because a complex flavor would only up the chance of a tainted ingredient.
I’d hate to push my luck.
Image by Gaertringen from Pixabay – yellow caution tape with black lettering.
literally stories 
JJ
This perfectly sums up the wisdom behind “don’t think too much.” But we are pelted with negative images, which makes it damn near impossible to hang in there–assaulted by sensory overload; paranoia inevitable. This little thing displays all that very well.
Leila
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great stuff! Don’t think I’ve come across a piece about risk aversion before, though it affects an awful lot more people than vampire attacks. The short sentences do a fine job in conveying the agitation of the narrator. Thank you.
ps. Fine header too!
LikeLike
This captures the growing state of anxiety for people in everyday life. Today, we race ahead at a faster pace and rely on the systems to work as planned. The probability rules do not apply, bad luck and chance hold us to ransom. However, as the story shows, we are prepared to risk the inevitable with a little knowledge based on statistical data, however flawed.
I ‘get’ to look after my grandson when he is sent home from nursery with a temperature. What’s the chance I’ll catch his illness?
So far 100%.
LikeLike
Great character you’ve created here. Left me wondering what had happened to them to make them so aware of danger.
LikeLike
Great stuff! A neat skewering of the popular understanding of chance and likelihood presented in a punchy and also timely way.
LikeLike
Life is hard enough without all this terrible angst. Just imagine living on the edge of panic all the time even down to the addititves in ice cream. This well written piece really demonstrated that it doesn’t take much for a mind to overload and we are all in danger. Huh, see it’s even got me anxious, that’s impressive. Thanks for this – Diane
LikeLiked by 1 person
A short, short of a paranoid, rather joyless existence forever portending doom. I wish I’d thought of it! Well done! bill
LikeLike
Former mathematician here. Well known that our fears are largely irrational. Drive 90mph in a two ton cage with others close by, no problem. Fly in a plane with a much better safety record (recent events aside) big deal.
Stay home where you are safe, have the house burn down.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Excellent portrayal of OCD. I echo Bill’s comment in wishing I’d thought of it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
JJ,
“One’s real life is often the life one does not lead.” Someone not me said so and I think he or she is wrong. We really live the lives we lead, like the narrator in “Poisson Regression.”
A correlation or a cause will get us every time, more or less, but try to tell that to him. He is doing the best he can considering; it’s not really a choice. And he follows through, unlike most of us. Being inside him for a while was fine. For the next few minutes, he’ll be my hero. Happy trails.
That’s the joy of stories. Characters get the chance to strut.
Thanks, Gerry
LikeLike
JJ,
This brief, intense piece reminded me of a combination of Dostoevsky’s half-crazy, paranoid narrator in “Notes from the Underground” combined with the short, swift stories of Hemingway, Bukowski or Carver. The simple, rhythmic language was effective in portraying this character’s modern-day fears and obsessions.
At the same time, this felt like a depiction of a character incapable of finding meaning in life. Because of the imaginative connections he can’t make, and his focus on what’s “out there,” he spends his days worrying about nobody but himself. This encapsulates something scary, creepy, and all-too-prevalent in our society. Thanks for an intriguing narrative exploration.
Dale
LikeLike
Loved this. Great portrait of a paranoid obsessive. And fun how you had them justify everything. And in this day and age, we all have a slight tinge of this, I think.
Well done.
LikeLike
A macabre, but brilliantly honest piece. It’s really not hard to slip into feeling this way in modern life and you have to wonder what’s left that doesn’t fall into the category of being able to kill you. This is a really thought-provoking piece of writing and I think the only answer ultimately is to to say fuck it and not care what the news tells us.
LikeLike
Hi JJ,
Being paranoid and having a knowledge of outcomes would make the MC a helluva good (Bad??) Health and Safety officer!!
Really well thought out and a clever piece of perceptional dread!!
Hugh
LikeLike