You step out of the elevator. Directly in front of you is a phone. It rings.
You pick it up. “Hello?” you say.
The voice on the other line calls you by name, and tells you your assigned death date.
“But I thought this was contemporary realism?” you ask
“Well, yes,” the voice on the other end, that sounds suspiciously like me, replies, “but some books have just one element that is unrealistic but otherwise read like a contemporary realism. And don’t be afraid to branch out!”
The line goes dead.
You turn to the left.
You turn to the right.
Which way do you go?