dies raze the algorithm aims to ascertain when i'm going to die. it asks for my age and gender. nothing more. a simulated life moves along a graded green curve — a small ball that falls when the body it represents stops breathing. then another ball falls. and another. after eight hundred and seventeen simulations, i'm told i'll make it to ninety-one. "but who really knows?" the algorithm says. "life is random, the human body is fragile, and a single event can change everything. when our last day comes, we do not get to throw another ball into the life simulator, despite what movies tell us. you only get one life. you are here." so i am. 260404 what's it to you? who go blather from