This is maybe an overdramatic statement, but long story short, nearly all of us underwent carbon monoxide (CO) poisoning[1]. The benefit is, we all suddenly got back in touch with a failure mode we had forgotten about, and we decided to make it a yearly celebration.
Usually, when we think about failure, we might think about not being productive enough, or not solving the right work-related problem, or missing a meeting. We might suspect that our schedule could be better organized or that one of our habits really sucks. We might fear not to spot an obvious psychological flaw or a decision-making issue.
We often forget that the single most important failure prior to all of these is dying. Yet even if we think about dying, the first picture that comes to mind can be a disease, or a car accident. We only have a few clichés loaded in our accessibility bias, instead of the full methodical A-B-C of death any human attempting life should know by heart.
Sometimes, checking back on the basics can be helpful. Since we found we didn’t do this nearly enough to avoid undergoing a definitely lethal threat, we decided to update you on How Not to Die : The Basics edition. Happy New Year, everyone.
This is far from polished (we haven’t even included the base rate of each incident). Feel free to suggest lessons or additional tips in the comments.
Lesson 1 : Detect Death
Smoke detectors. CO detectors (buy here). Radon detector (depending on where you live). You have all the death detectors you can dream of in our day and age : buy them. A hundred dollars or so isn’t a lot if it can prevent you from dying. If you’re a true rationalist, you should have the ultimate collection of death detectors, because sitting on a pile of utility means pretty much being alive.
If they run out of battery (they’ll beep with a very short beep every minute or so), put back a battery in them. Do not turn them off. Worst case scenario, buy a new one. If you already turned a detector off in your life, put a small sticker reading “Turning This Off Endangers Your Life” on the detector as a kind reminder.
You should also know where your enemy dwells: you should be able to locate the system that organizes your heating, the one that distributes electricity, the one that distributes water. Where are its vaults and what keys, if any, are needed to access them?
Lesson 2 : Carry Your Anti-Death Weapons
Firefighters ? Medical emergencies ? Police ? Ambulance ? You should have the gesture of calling them with a phone carved in your brain (see here for a refresher).
Buy a fire extinguisher if you don’t have one, then learn how to use it. If you have one, everyone should know the use conditions, and be able to walk to it by instinct. Buy a first-aid kit.
Lesson 3 : Prepare to Fight
Have an escape plan. Have a routine plan in case of fire / CO / whatever hazard may befall you in your close environment etc. Drill it.
Each year, take a few minutes to refresh your knowledge of first-aid techniques.
Shout five random words from the entrance of your home at a random time. If someone in any place of the house can’t report them clearly, it means you need a better plan than shouting "gas leak" (and yes, in the middle of a busy day, « il y a une fuite de gaz » -French for "there is a gas leak" - is random enough for one of us to mishear it as « altruisme efficace ». Don’t ask. He’s too deep in.)
Lesson 4 : Learn the Signs of Silent Killers.
If you feel wounded, it might be that Death bruised you with its blade. It can be anything like headaches, fainting, confusion, nausea, dizziness, weakness, chest pain, vision problems, or fever. Do not discard severe and unusual happenings - such as lying on the ground - as temporary issues with a quick fix.
Even if you live in an EA/rat house, don’t assume it’s necessarily chill if some of your flatmates are crawling on the floor, laughing/crying with an overwhelming feeling of universal love, or leaving their room in the middle of a meeting (this one was the actually weird happening that had us convinced something was going on).
Lesson 5 : Don’t Make A Sound
In Dune, the hero is taught not to walk with a regular foot pace, because it otherwise attracts Shai-Hulud, giant sand worms that eat you up.
SANDWORMS ARE REAL. They’re invisible, and here are the sounds that alert them :
Alcohol / Sleep deprivation + Driving
Exposure to excessive sunlight without sunscreen
Not having a seatbelt
Smoking
Skipping health check-ups / mandatory vaccines if in age
No exercise
(Not exhaustive)
Lesson 6 : Ask Strangers for their Guild Blason
Any person working on a building (which is where you plausibly spend most of your time) should have at least a background check. Electrician, gas, HVAC, piping, water, masons… It’s Ok to be annoying with these people : after all, it’s about your life. If you’re renting a place and the landlord takes care of this, politely ask them explanations on where they found the services, for how long do they know them, etc. We’re talking about the Elven Guard of Life. Their Skill and Grace should be Known About in Legends of Great Deeds and By Masters of Unmistakable Craft.
Pro tip : take a picture of their work and ask an AI if anything’s wrong.
This proved to be a sensitive failure point in our case - you might think guardians of your life are carefully sifted through, but by default this is far from being the case.
Lesson 7 : Practice reporting maybe-not-quite-bugs (or, Listen to the Wind)
Reporting weird things that aren’t actually weird can feel uncool and paranoid. It might also feel tiring and ugggh-y. It’s also just really hard. But honestly, reporting slightly unsettling things is cool af. You’re safeguarding your life and that of other people. An obvious death threat would be noticed and disposed of pretty quickly. A not so obvious one is much more dangerous. « Not being obvious » is a feature of serious death threats, so be open and curious at reporting them.
Down in the basement, our boiler outlet pipe was disconnected. Two of us saw it, separately. There wasn’t a gaping hole, rather, it was odd, just slightly out of place, but nothing screamed "urgent!" Neither of us acted. Neither of us sent a picture to the group to say "Hey, this looks weird." We did not notice our confusion. And then came the CO leak. That tiny, almost silent detail—the pipe—was certainly the cause. Death rarely screams; it whispers, hides in subtle things, and waits for inaction.
You’re not supposed to have false positives everywhere, but you’re definitely supposed to have the least practical amount of false negatives.
Thankfully, none of us suffered any after-effects from the poisoning. ↩︎
One year ago, we nearly died.
This is maybe an overdramatic statement, but long story short, nearly all of us underwent carbon monoxide (CO) poisoning[1]. The benefit is, we all suddenly got back in touch with a failure mode we had forgotten about, and we decided to make it a yearly celebration.
Usually, when we think about failure, we might think about not being productive enough, or not solving the right work-related problem, or missing a meeting. We might suspect that our schedule could be better organized or that one of our habits really sucks. We might fear not to spot an obvious psychological flaw or a decision-making issue.
We often forget that the single most important failure prior to all of these is dying. Yet even if we think about dying, the first picture that comes to mind can be a disease, or a car accident. We only have a few clichés loaded in our accessibility bias, instead of the full methodical A-B-C of death any human attempting life should know by heart.
Sometimes, checking back on the basics can be helpful. Since we found we didn’t do this nearly enough to avoid undergoing a definitely lethal threat, we decided to update you on How Not to Die : The Basics edition. Happy New Year, everyone.
This is far from polished (we haven’t even included the base rate of each incident). Feel free to suggest lessons or additional tips in the comments.
Lesson 1 : Detect Death
Smoke detectors. CO detectors (buy here). Radon detector (depending on where you live). You have all the death detectors you can dream of in our day and age : buy them. A hundred dollars or so isn’t a lot if it can prevent you from dying. If you’re a true rationalist, you should have the ultimate collection of death detectors, because sitting on a pile of utility means pretty much being alive.
If they run out of battery (they’ll beep with a very short beep every minute or so), put back a battery in them. Do not turn them off. Worst case scenario, buy a new one. If you already turned a detector off in your life, put a small sticker reading “Turning This Off Endangers Your Life” on the detector as a kind reminder.
You should also know where your enemy dwells: you should be able to locate the system that organizes your heating, the one that distributes electricity, the one that distributes water. Where are its vaults and what keys, if any, are needed to access them?
Lesson 2 : Carry Your Anti-Death Weapons
Firefighters ? Medical emergencies ? Police ? Ambulance ? You should have the gesture of calling them with a phone carved in your brain (see here for a refresher).
Buy a fire extinguisher if you don’t have one, then learn how to use it. If you have one, everyone should know the use conditions, and be able to walk to it by instinct. Buy a first-aid kit.
Lesson 3 : Prepare to Fight
Have an escape plan. Have a routine plan in case of fire / CO / whatever hazard may befall you in your close environment etc. Drill it.
Each year, take a few minutes to refresh your knowledge of first-aid techniques.
Shout five random words from the entrance of your home at a random time. If someone in any place of the house can’t report them clearly, it means you need a better plan than shouting "gas leak" (and yes, in the middle of a busy day, « il y a une fuite de gaz » -French for "there is a gas leak" - is random enough for one of us to mishear it as « altruisme efficace ». Don’t ask. He’s too deep in.)
Lesson 4 : Learn the Signs of Silent Killers.
If you feel wounded, it might be that Death bruised you with its blade. It can be anything like headaches, fainting, confusion, nausea, dizziness, weakness, chest pain, vision problems, or fever. Do not discard severe and unusual happenings - such as lying on the ground - as temporary issues with a quick fix.
Even if you live in an EA/rat house, don’t assume it’s necessarily chill if some of your flatmates are crawling on the floor, laughing/crying with an overwhelming feeling of universal love, or leaving their room in the middle of a meeting (this one was the actually weird happening that had us convinced something was going on).
Lesson 5 : Don’t Make A Sound
In Dune, the hero is taught not to walk with a regular foot pace, because it otherwise attracts Shai-Hulud, giant sand worms that eat you up.
SANDWORMS ARE REAL. They’re invisible, and here are the sounds that alert them :
Lesson 6 : Ask Strangers for their Guild Blason
Any person working on a building (which is where you plausibly spend most of your time) should have at least a background check. Electrician, gas, HVAC, piping, water, masons… It’s Ok to be annoying with these people : after all, it’s about your life. If you’re renting a place and the landlord takes care of this, politely ask them explanations on where they found the services, for how long do they know them, etc. We’re talking about the Elven Guard of Life. Their Skill and Grace should be Known About in Legends of Great Deeds and By Masters of Unmistakable Craft.
Pro tip : take a picture of their work and ask an AI if anything’s wrong.
This proved to be a sensitive failure point in our case - you might think guardians of your life are carefully sifted through, but by default this is far from being the case.
Lesson 7 : Practice reporting maybe-not-quite-bugs (or, Listen to the Wind)
Reporting weird things that aren’t actually weird can feel uncool and paranoid. It might also feel tiring and ugggh-y. It’s also just really hard. But honestly, reporting slightly unsettling things is cool af. You’re safeguarding your life and that of other people. An obvious death threat would be noticed and disposed of pretty quickly. A not so obvious one is much more dangerous. « Not being obvious » is a feature of serious death threats, so be open and curious at reporting them.
Down in the basement, our boiler outlet pipe was disconnected. Two of us saw it, separately. There wasn’t a gaping hole, rather, it was odd, just slightly out of place, but nothing screamed "urgent!" Neither of us acted. Neither of us sent a picture to the group to say "Hey, this looks weird." We did not notice our confusion. And then came the CO leak. That tiny, almost silent detail—the pipe—was certainly the cause. Death rarely screams; it whispers, hides in subtle things, and waits for inaction.
You’re not supposed to have false positives everywhere, but you’re definitely supposed to have the least practical amount of false negatives.
Thankfully, none of us suffered any after-effects from the poisoning. ↩︎