I Can See The Success Rate 소설 & 이야기

The test, the ghost, and…” "Those are small creatures compared to them. You can't tell me that just because you have been able to do two tests and transfer in small ordinary babies and ghosts, you think you have power." Kelvin stepped closer. "What's the real success rate?" "Sixty percent," Sandra said. "Sixty percent? And what happens the other forty percent of the time?" He asked. Sandra turned away. "The subjects die. Both the donor and the recipient." Kelvin was silent for a while, he ran his hands through his hair. "You didn't mention that part when you recruited me."

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Whitmore smiled with understanding. "For couples in your situation, we typically see overall success rates between sixty and seventy percent over the course of three cycles. Each individual attempt, however, has about a forty to fifty percent chance." A huge wave of relief washed over me. They weren't guarantees, but they were real, tangible hope. "And how does it work exactly?" I asked. "I mean, the whole process."

"This is progress. Not victory." "It's more than we had three weeks ago. More than we hoped for." Valentina's optimistic. Rare for her. "We might actually survive this." Sibyl speaks from corner. She's been monitoring futures. Tracking probabilities. "Success rate's improved. Fifty-one percent now. Three weeks ago it was forty-three. Your recruitment's shifting probabilities." Sibyl coughs blood. The visions are killing her. "Four of seven futures lead to survival. That's. better than expected."

“Yes, ma’am.” After Francesca and Maggie went upstairs again to negotiate, Chris pulled Jessica aside, worried. “Will this put too much pressure on Francesca?” “This is what it’s like working on a project. If they don’t succeed, all efforts are wasted. With a 60% success rate, if she manages well, even if she doesn’t secure the deal today, she can raise the success rate to 75% at minimum.” With such precise figures, Chris felt even more confused. Michael really couldn’t resist approaching with his wine glass in hand.

“‘This amazing.’” I finally let out a snicker. Mirasol looks like she wants to strangle both of us. Brent looks over at us as he pulls an index card from his pocket. “Here are the A.S.S. stats for the last year. Kill ratio 50%. Precision is 67% and danger is 70%.”

“What’s so good about this? Huh?” My smile faded. “Eighty-seven percent?” He scoffed. “Do you know how many candidates come back successful with an eighty-seven percent compatibility score?” I was quiet, because I honestly didn’t know. “Exactly!” He yelled. “None!” “Eighty-seven percent is above the requirement for mission success," I countered. “Eighty-seven percent is….” “Not a hundred,” he interrupted me. “it’s not even a ninety.” He shook his head in disappointment.

"There's something, but not as strong." "Sixty percent." Then, the third needle, the fourth, all the way to the tenth. "I… This…" William looked like he was watching a trick unfold before his eyes. "Here, here, and here… All of these respond, and they're pretty sensitive," the Iron Dragon said. "Eighty percent." Evan grinned. Ivana stood off to the side, too shocked to even speak. She didn't know medicine, but how could something so simple cause the success rate to skyrocket? Countless experts had examined her father's condition, and none of them had been able to do a thing.

“If that’s your idea of a virtual blindfold, yes. Blink 80 times.” “I can do you one better. We can play a sort of hide-and-seek on your computer desktop. I’ll be ‘it’ and I’ll give you a count of 8 seconds to do whatever it is you plan on doing.” “Thanks. Yeah, 8 seconds is all I need. Probably even less. Deal?” Ecto lets out a very human scoff. “I calculate the probability of your success to be less than 5 percent. I hope you don’t feel too disappointed when you lose. You’ve got yourself a deal.”