The Wizard of Odds and the Yellow Ion Road

You wake aboard the Gilded Monorail, a starship that looks suspiciously like a biscuit tin with pretensions. Outside, the Emerald Nebula hums with improbable greens, and a holographic sign flickers into being:

“Follow the Yellow Ion Road to consult the Wizard of Odds. Answers not guaranteed. Satisfaction optional. Refunds theoretical.”

You check your pocket inventory:

• One very polite towel (lint-free)
• Three interstellar biscuits (crumbly authority)
• A map that smugly reads: You are here

A hatch irises open, revealing a glowing yellow path, while a glittering protocol AI spins up beside you, already rehearsing apologies in seven dialects.

Need help? The ship’s manual updates its index to “You probably don’t.”