Ken's blog

“Welcome to a special promotional event sponsored by ACME Innovations Inc.,” said PR Jane Doe, speaking enthusiastically into a microphone to a hundred guests gathered in a large salon.

“ACME Innovation Inc. has developed a special velcro sticker which has been designed to test the spreading of rumors. It displays a number on a small LCD screen. By reading a persons’ unique vitality field, the number is incremented by one on being handed to someone else,” explained Jane Doe pleasantly.

“When you receive it, please pass on the sticker someone nearby. I’ll be mingling with you all and when the badge returns to me by this process of random handovers, whoever in advance has correctly guessed the number that will be displayed on the badge will win a thousand dollars,” said Jane Doe.

“Please enter you name and the number you estimate or guess on a slip of paper that you will find on the table over there by the entrance and place it in the box,” said Jane Doe, indicating the table.

Jane Doe stuck the velcro sticker on the first person nearby, and the procedure begun.

What is your estimate of the most probable number on the badge when it is returned by a random path to Jane Doe?

“I wonder where the entrance to the sub cellar is?” said Dr. Arbuthnot Smythe, looking around the vast basement.

“What a beautiful statue of Venus, look there between the two pillars at the far end wall,” exclaimed Dr. Smythe, as his assistant Pascal’s flashlight illuminated it briefly.

“Really impressive, Dr. Smythe. The room is full of statues and artworks, but I see no trap door anywhere,” said Pascal, continuing to search the poorly lit space with his flashlight.

“Wagner T. Buckfuller’s granddaughter, Isabel, said his will indicates that her inheritance is located in a sub cellar with access through a trap door,” said Dr. Smythe.

“Wait, I see a tablet on the wall over there with some writing,” shouted Pascal, running over to a far wall.

Dr. Arbuthnot Smythe quickly followed to have a look at the tablet hanging in a blue frame.

“It seems like gibberish, said Dr. Smythe, “must be a code.”

Pascal pulled out a notebook, “Let me have it, Dr. Smythe.”

“TPNTT-HUIRE-ESPAA-SHPPT-TVLDT-AEEOO-TNAOO

-UUNRP-ESPUE-BLTNN-AEUDT-SFREH-ETNRE”

“That really is a mouthful,” exclaimed Pascal.

“Columnar code with a keyword, obviously,” replied Dr. Smythe.

“I wonder what the keyword could be, some particular fondness of Wagner T. Buckfuller’s?” said Pascal.

“When we discover it, the task will be an easy one,” said Dr. Smythe.

“Let’s have a chat with Isabel. Knowing her grandfather’s idiosyncrasies, perhaps she can give us a clue.”

Can you work out what the coded tablet text says in order to help Dr. Smythe and Pascal locate Isabel’s inheritance?

“Looks pretty suspicious to me, Molly,” growled Sam Diamond, peering out of the window at the parking lot below through two slats he held apart in the blinds.

“What do you mean, suspicious?” asked Molly with a worried tone. She stood up to join Sam at the window.

“Don’t you see those cars over there in the shadow area of the street light?” said Sam, adjusting the pistol in the holster hanging inside his jacket.

“I see some black cars,” said Molly, “but what’s so suspicious about them?” Molly wasn’t gifted with a  great deal of imagination.

“The way they’re parked, of course,” snarled Sam, peering more closely with his nose touching the window pane.

“I just see nine black cars parked side by side in a zone with white stripe marks in the street for 14 cars,” said Molly, “and what’s so suspicious about that?”

“So why are they all parked together with the other five spaces empty, eh?” said Sam, “I tell you, Molly, something funny’s going on.”

Sam pulled out his gun and left the office to go investigate, and Molly sat down, blonde curls dangling over her bewildered face.

Do you think Sam had any reason to be suspicious on seeing the arrangement of nine cars parked side by side in a small parking zone intended for fourteen cars, considering the probability of such a configuration?

One rainy Saturday evening some years ago in lower Manhattan, Jane, a ticket girl, rushed into the  booth of the Roxy movie theatre to prepare things for the night shift.

As usual, Eusebio, the evening shift ticket seller, had left the booth in a mess, with an ashtray full of thin butts, and Jane was shocked to see the cash register empty – no bills to give change with.

Jane looked up to see some Japanese tourists lining up to buy tickets for the five-dollar late movie of the evening “The Seven Samurai”, when a toothy, smiling and bowing Japanese who seemed to be the tour guide stuck his face in into the ticket window.

“Kon’nichiwa, me Mr. Fujimori. We ten tourist from Osaka, see samurai movie. Half have 10 dollar bill, other half have five dollar bill. You give change, buy ticket, no problem, ok?”

“Sure, Mr. Fujimori, I’ll do what I can to give you all correct change,” said Jane politely, feeling a mounting panic, knowing that the cashbox was empty.

“What shall I do, what shall I do…” spun around in her head, “What if the first person to buy a ticket gives me a ten dollar bill? I won’t have any change to give back.”

Then Jane got a bright idea, which she implemented with the aid of Mr. Fujimori, and all tickets were sold with correct change given so that Jane ended up with fifty dollars in the till.

What would you say was the bright idea Jane got to solve this problem?

What would be the probability of successfully terminating each ticket transaction without any problems giving change if the Japanese in the queue had been lined up at random?