It is a fifty percent chance: either you succeed or you do not !

I used to feel pretty smug about that one quote. Little do people know, things actually do come down to a coin toss. And who is doing the tossing ? Well, little old me.

It might sound inane to you humans, but then again, you people always were good at finding meaning in the absurd march of Fate. You fuss over details, calculate possible outcomes, eventualities. I ? I toss that coin. Sometimes I read the outcome too, for fun. Old Fate does not need me to know what it is up to. Quite the eccentric that one.

But that was before I started flipping for my own curiosity. Some weird things you pick up watching humans.

Is this the day I destroy the coin ?

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ting

smack

Tails again.

Sixty seven millions three hundred twenty seven thousand nine hundred ninety eight tails and counting.

No heads. Never heads.

It would not do if the Old One lost its favorite toy. Or was I the favorite toy ?

It had only struck me after the seven hundred sixty eighth tails straight. Who decides what side the coin lands on ?

Fate. Always Fate.

A practical joke that had gone on for...

for...

for...

for sixty seven millions three hundred twenty seven thousand nine hundred ninety eight days at the very least. Never quite bothered to keep count of anything before that, really.

What's that ? Does the International Space Station fail to notice that Centaurian fleet cloaked right behind the moon ?

ting

smack

Of course, now it is heads.