Mardock Scramble - Volume 3 - Chapter 10

Chapter 10
MANIFOLD
01
“I can’t tell,” remarked the man watching the screens, “which of them is the mark.” He slumped down
into his fake leather chair.
The control roomwas bathed in the light of countless screens set into its walls. The roomwasn’t made
for a large number of staff—it was for this man alone.
Behind the man stood a floor manager trembling with anxiety and fear.
“Look at this,” said the man in the chair. “It’s like he’s being toyed with. You’re the floor manager—if
you had to say which one of themappears to be getting roasted, who would you go with?”
“W-well, Chief, it seems to me that maybe it might be Marlowe?”
“Yes, I agree. With the incidents in the poker room and at the roulette tables, how many people are
going to have to be fired today?”
The floor manager recoiled. Management of the dealers was his responsibility, and to him, there was
nothing as chilling as a runaway dealer.
“Well, it’s no use,” sighed the chief, running his finger along a shiny black moustache. “Run a
graphical search for any images we have of these guests.”
“S-so, you’re saying they’re cheats, Chief?”
“No, we can’t tell just from these screens. All I need to have is an excuse ready for the boss, if it
comes down to it. Say they’re later found to be cheats, and we haven’t done anything about it. You and me
and Marlowe, all three of us will get to be real swell pals, just three more dupes on the next bus to the
employment agency.”
“R-right. So, how many people do you want on this?”
“Just you will be enough. Get twenty or so videos, send them to me, and go to sleep. But make it look
like a few dozen others worked on it. Got it?”
“R-right. But, do you…when you say I can just sleep…”
“Once you’ve done what I’ve said, I’ll have my excuse, if it comes down to it. You, on the other
hand…”
He made an exaggerated gesture of slashing his finger across his neck.
The floor manager gave a hurried bow and turned to leave, when a figure appeared before him. He
took a misstep and froze in place.
A frantic voice came booming into the room. “Why are you calling for me when I’m in the middle of
important business?”
The voice’s owner had swarthy skin and wore Chameleon Sunglasses the turquoise color of a robin’s
egg.
“What’s going on? House Leader? Chief? Special Consultant?”
All of those titles belonged to the man seated in the fake leather chair—the question seemed to ask,
“Which do you prefer being called?”
Not responding to the rapid-fire bluster, the chief turned to Shell-Septinos, slowly pushed two palms
in the air, then looked at the floor manager and said, “You called for him?”
“Y-yes. Th-that’s what the regulations say to do.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said the chief, as if condescendingly praising a little child. “That’s the
regulations.”
The floor manager, caught between the chief and the owner, scrunched down his shoulders, as if he
were shrinking into himself.
Shell barged into the control room, glaring at the two men, and barked, “Some rich person is winning
like crazy, and that’s got your spines all bent out of shape?”
“Some show-off prick with a girl along. Not that he’s a show-off prick because he has a girl with him.
What I’mtrying to say is, he’s a show-off prick. Word fromthe floor is they’re uncle and niece.”
“What’s their winning percentage?”
Shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing, the chief answered, “A little more than sixty percent.”
Shell took off his sunglasses, and his Emperor Green eyes shone with rage.
“Sixty percent? Over how many games?”
“Last time I checked, two hundred sixteen.”
“What’s their method?”
“We don’t have any theories. We don’t know. They use the basics, sometimes. They don’t seem like
anything more than a couple of amateurs throwing their chips around.”
“I see. Like someone who, after throwing their chips around, turns one hundred dollars into more than
seven.”
“Well, it can happen sometimes.”
“I suppose. I’ve seen it myself. But what are the chances someone can randomly throw chips around
and win more than sixty percent of the time?”
The chief, as if the motion were more of a bother than it was worth, made a circle with his right
pointer finger and thumb. The circle itself had no meaning, but the space between his two fingers carried
his silent message.
Shell nodded. “Right. Not one in thousands.”
“But not zero, either.”
Shell bellowed, “Are you trying to be funny with me, Ashley?”
The floor manager trembled, but the chief, like a scolded child unrepentant, simply scratched his
cheek.
“Take care of them,” Shell continued. “As if they were pros who came with clear plans. That’s an
order.”
“Pros, you say… They don’t look like pros to me.”
“I’mthe one who will decide that. Show himto me, that show-off prick.”
Shell leaned forward, looking over the chief ’s shoulder at the screens on the wall. With a shocked
expression, he said, “I see. That is one show-off prick. Like some cream puff playing dress-up as a
hustler. You’re right, a pro coming in here looking as stupid as that, that would be…”
His voice trailed off into silence.
For a moment, the low buzz of running electronics was the only sound in the room.
The floor manager, unable to withstand the silence, asked, “Boss?”
But just then, Shell exploded, “What the fuck is this?!”
The floor manager jumped. The chief, calmas ever, simply furrowed his brow as he gazed at Shell.
Shell was staring at the screen with a dumbstruck expression, his face pale.
“What the fuck! What the fuck are they doing here?”
“What, you know them?” the chief deadpanned.
Shell, his face tense, as if a loaded gun were pointed at his head and the safety had just flipped, stared
down at the chief and said, “Ashley, kill them. Chop themup with your cards. Give themyour usual.”
“What? You mean, kill themdead, kill them?”
The chief formed a gun with his fingers. He aimed his index finger at the screen and mimed the pulling
of the trigger.
Shell shook his head condescendingly. “That isn’t your job. I’mtalking legally. With cards. There’s no
need to take their lives here.” He straightened his posture and took a deep breath to calmhimself.
His voice dropped to a whisper. “They came here to completely waste my time. Time is vital. And
I’m not talking about the regrettable wastefulness of the passage of time. Time is dreadful. Because time
that’s passed affects the time that’s left.”
The chief lazily tilted his head.
“Don’t you understand?” Shell continued. “I’m running from time’s curse. That’s how I’ve been able
to climb this far. But my method isn’t perfect. That’s how I end up in situations like this. Things I’m
supposed to have forgotten flash back. Flashbacks—this world’s foulest curse. And I hire men like you to
cast themaway. Men like the card killer. Do you understand?”
“Yes, well, sort of,” the chief muttered. Then, remembering something, he said, “By the way, Boss,
about the people we had to let go today—”
“You mean the mechanic in the poker room?”
“No, no, who gives a damn about a little twerp like that? But down in the roulette area, someone else
was fired.”
Shell nodded curtly. “What about her?”
“For a casino around these parts to fire Bell Wing? That’s unbelievable.”
“Get to the point.”
“Couldn’t you let her stay? I’masking as a representative for the employees here.”
Shell aimed a scornful smile at the chief. “And what kind of representative are you?”
“One who’s loyal to his boss, of course.”
“Good. I’ll consider it. But only once you’ve completed your work. Now, I have to greet the partners
in my important business deal. Understand? While I’m gone, do your job. To the fullest of your abilities.
That’s why I pay you so well.”
“Understood, Boss.”
The chief bowed respectfully. Without getting up fromhis chair, of course.
“That’s an order, Ashley. Don’t let themany closer to me.”
Shell put his sunglasses back on and stormed out of the room with such force that, had the door been
closed, he would have kicked it right down.
The chief muttered, “Flashbacks, huh. I don’t want a job where the trigger’s being pulled on me.” He
turned to the still-cowering floor manager. “Hey, you. I’mchanging the plan.”
“H-how so?
“Split the files into two thousand pieces and mobilize all the dealers currently on break. Track all of
their movements since the moment those two entered the casino, and report everything directly to my
ears.”
In time with the last two words, the chief tapped his headset.
“I’ll be with you. Don’t let themleave here alive.”
The floor manager’s face tightened in an instant, like a soldier just given orders to launch the assault in
a battle where victory is assured.
“Yes, sir!”
He swiftly did an about-face and left at full speed, not stopping to look over his shoulder.
“What’s with those two?” the chief grumbled. “One’s the dog wagging its tail, and the other’s the tail
wagging its dog. How insipid.”
He leaned back into the chair and returned his attention to the monitors. Noticing something in the
picture, he touched his finger to the screen. The ConsoleView, responding to his touch, froze the image.
He slid his finger right, and the playback rewound.
“Ah, that’s too far back.”
This time he slid to the left, and the image moved forward frame by frame.
The chief stared at the screen. On the other displays were playbacks fromother, randompoints in time.
As he looked fromscreen to screen, he snorted like a dog on the scent.
“So she’s left-handed.”
But the girl on the monitor was taking in a chip with her right hand. Not just any chip, but one of the
most valuable chips in the casino—in all of Mardock City, even.
“Hmmm… I see,” he said, nearly yawning. His eyes were affixed to her left hand.
“I don’t know what your trick is…” he muttered with indifference, “but those gloves are well made.”
The chief—Ashley Harvest—hauled himself up out of his chair and slid his feet out the door of the
control room.
≡
Shell dashed into his office and, like the fleeing heroine of a horror movie hiding herself in a room,
closed the door with the slightest of sounds.
With one hand he snatched a microphone and into it shouted orders to his staff to take over his hosting
duties, and with the other hand he mashed the redial button on his cellular phone.
Finally the line connected, and a low voice came over the phone—the steadfast voice of a man
charged with erasing Shell’s flashbacks.
–It’s me. Weren’t you supposed to be in the middle of a deal, Mr. Shell?
“Boiled! It’s awful! Where the hell are you?”
–I’m investigating them. What’s wrong?
“Investigating? Investigating? What are you talking about? They’re here, right now!”
Boiled was silent.
“They’re here, all dressed up, like they’re going to a party!”
–I see. I thought so, Boiled said under his breath.
Now Shell was silent.
–I’ve been searching for them in your casinos. Of the four, I just finished up at the second. You’re
at Eggnog Blue, right? I’ll head over immediately.
“Y-you knew? That they would come to one of my casinos?”
–I found a card game crib sheet in their hotel room.
With a trembling hand, Shell removed his sunglasses. His eyes were wide with the dawning
realization of his current situation.
–Are you there? Boiled asked, and Shell jolted back to attention. Please answer me this. Whatever is
involved with your business deal—is it there or not? That’s all I’m asking.
Shell’s mouth worked open and closed and open again, and finally, he took a deep breath and said,
almost in a moan, “This is where my first Show was. It was my first step… Everything always begins
here.”
After a brief pause, Boiled said, –I will be there within an hour. I will take them down. My
usefulness will prove that you’ve made the best decision.
Boiled disconnected.
For a time, Shell remained still. Then he muttered a single word.
“Usefulness…”
A bold smile spread fromcheek to cheek.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Your existence is indispensable. You’re the hammer of God, and you’ll shatter
that filthy rotten egg.”
He put his Chameleon Sunglasses back on. The lenses had turned a harsh red color.
≡
“Isn’t it a little early to leave?”
Just as Bell Wing had finished packing up her things in the anteroom, Ashley called out to stop her. He
was rugged, well built with wide shoulders. An oddly charming expression spread across his normally
stern face.
He coolly looked at Bell.
“I didn’t know Ashley Harvest was the kind of man to waste time on someone who just got canned.”
“You know, I’d like nothing more than to have all the other high-paid staff besides me gone.” Ashley
made an embarrassed shrug. “But you’re a renowned croupier in the industry. You attract customers, and
besides, isn’t there such a thing as duty in this business? Are you going to leave without training a
successor?”
“I don’t know when you decided to start acting like a manager, nor do I care. I’ll have you know, I’m
not particularly unhappy with my dismissal.”
“Oh, that’s the first I’ve heard that.”
“Well, it’s true. This is by my will. And nobody has the right to criticize it. Who said I was going to
retire fromthe business, anyway?”
“I’m not saying it. But the rookie croupiers, they say you’ve chosen your own successor, and they’re
pretty upset about it.”
“Ah. Yes, it’s true. That girl…” Bell gave a heartfelt nod. “The rookies here are considered first
class, but she had talent to surpass them all. I’m not saying the rookies are bad, either. It’s just what I saw
with my own eyes.”
“For those who want to be seen by your eyes, that’s a bitter pill. So what? You’re going to leave here
to nurture that girl?”
“Heavens, no. I don’t think she’d be interested. I’ll just keep throwing roulette balls. Sometimes, I
might throw to the right, that’s all. Thinking the whole time…maybe she’ll come…”
“Then couldn’t you stay here a bit longer?”
Bell shook her head coldly.
“Even if, as a representative of the employees, I can turn the odds between me and the owner in my
favor?”
“I don’t see why I owe you anything. What, you want my recommendation to the Casino Society for
you to run your own place?” Bell asked.
“No, no. You’re a gambler through and through, aren’t you? Or a loan shark, more like it, trying to find
the monetary value of every single one of my words. You’re the epitome of a gambler.”
Ashley lifted his hands, raising his pointer fingers. Speaking in hushed tones, he continued. “We don’t
know the true nature of our opponent. She’s going by a pattern we’ve never seen before. She’s using some
system toward some purpose. We’re working on an analysis, but by the time our staff finishes the
marathon of the graphical search, she may already have passed the finish.”
“She’s that good?”
“She’s playing blackjack, and she’s called for a million-dollar chip.”
Bell frowned and looked at Ashley as if she’d misheard him.
“And she’s asked themto leave the eleven remaining chips at the table.”
“To think someone other than you could do such a thing.” Her eyes turned to the corridor leading to the
casino floor.
Ashley broke into a smile. “You want to see it for yourself, don’t you?”
Glaring at him from the corner of her eye, Bell said, “I’ll decide when I see her. If I don’t find her
interesting, I’ll leave, then and there.”
She started down the corridor.
With a slight shrug, Ashley followed after her.
As they walked, she said, “So this opponent is so good you think someone will be needed to check for
the next ones with the same tricks?”
“Yeah, basically. If whatever she’s got is good enough to get a million-dollar chip, copycats may
appear at all the other casinos too.”
“If you devise any countermeasures against her system, who will you tell it to? The boss?”
“Don’t be stupid, Bell.” Ashley waved his hand as if he were shooing away a fly. “I’ve got a
connection at the top of the Society. If my countermeasures get used by all the casinos in the Society, it’ll
mean a lot of money. Then I wouldn’t have to work for that fool of a boss any longer.”
“Don’t you like it here?”
“I overlooked it for a while, since there’s little trouble and the pay is good. But I can’t take it any
longer. Our boss had a fifteen-year-old girl living with him—and not as her proper guardian, if you
follow—but even worse, he’s so crazed he tried to kill her by blowing up his car engine. For the life of
me, I can’t understand why the Society still lets himhave a job.”
“Yeah, that’s a mystery. I don’t even want to know what his real job is. Look, I’ve got too few years
left in my life without getting involved in all this,” Bell said. “Anyway, if this opponent of yours isn’t
interesting, I’m going home. My kids are old enough to support themselves. My only reason for still being
in this place is just to lend some meaning to an old hag’s prolonged existence.”
As if presenting to her that meaning, Ashley led her into the VIP room, pointed, and said, “That table.”
Bell froze.
“Her…”
“Her?” Ashley tilted his head.
He looked at Bell and, putting more force into his voice, repeated, “Her?”
Bell nodded. She stared at the girl. She stared at the girl seated at the VIP table, who was intently
focused on the dealer’s shuffle.
“Her? She’s the one you decided would be your successor? Oh, she’s trouble.” He snapped his fingers
enthusiastically.
But Bell’s solemn expression remained unchanged, intently focused on something. She didn’t even
respond as Ashley goaded her, saying, “So now what? Are you going straight back to the bus to take you
home?”
She only muttered, “A fifteen-year-old… Death by an exploding engine… So that’s it. That’s her
purpose. When you stand in her way, to her, it’s like a test bestowed upon her by the Holy Ghost. And
everything has led me here.”
Ashley, somewhat taken aback, gazed into Bell Wing’s face. “Have you had some revelation? You
quit your job as a croupier, and now you’re a prophet?”
“I wish you had a little more faith, Ashley. But I should thank you. You brought me here. But I’m just
here to observe. I won’t try to interfere. If I do anything to help, it’ll be after this is over.”
“That’s fine. As long as you’ll be my witness, the Society will understand. But Bell…what do you
know about them?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just the girl’s name.”
Ashley shrugged his shoulders to say, That’s fine, so tell me.
“Rune-Balot,” Bell stated with a solemn face. “That’s her name. It’s a sorrowful name; a fitting
name.”
02
“Marlowe John Fever.”
At the sound of the harsh, chiding voice, the dealer’s hands froze, and his face went cold. The dealer,
having surrendered the first of his crop at the end of a long, brutal cat-and-mouse game, had stopped,
completely motionless, in the middle of his shuffle. Marlowe turned to look at the speaker and found a
small envelope pressed against his chest.
“Here’s a reference letter,” Ashley continued. “Maybe you can use it to find work someplace else.”
The dealer felt as helpless and humiliated as if he were held up at gunpoint.
“It’s not addressed to anyone. It just has my signature. Make as many copies as you’d like. Just take it
and get on the next bus before the owner finds you. You weren’t able to become a star here, but you can
still try somewhere else.”
Marlowe hung his head in utter shame. His expression was so dejected that one could scarcely believe
it was the same face that had been so passionate when he had been shuffling the cards. Heartbroken, his
shoulders sagging as if carrying a heavy weight, he slunk off the floor. The word defeated had never been
so fitting.
“That’s quite different from what you told me,” Bell said to Ashley, standing at his side. “And I’m not
sure if I believe you actually signed that.”
Balot didn’t watch the retreating Marlowe, nor did she look at the man, dressed as a dealer, who had
just dismissed him. Her gaze was fixed on the cold figure of the old woman.
“Good evening. Miss. Sir.” Ashley stepped up to the table and bowed gracefully. “It seems our young
man is having quite the tantrum. He wanted to keep on playing with you, but we have rules here. Now, if
you don’t mind, I’ll switch out the cards with new decks.”
Not to be topped, the Doctor graciously replied that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ashley nodded and tossed
the used cards into the proper slot beneath the table. He withdrew six fresh decks, cleanly removed their
seals, and displayed the cards. The Doctor nodded his approval, and Ashley began carefully shuffling the
decks.
Balot looked at Bell. Since Bell had been staring at her the whole time, their eyes naturally met. The
old woman didn’t smile, but she spoke with a certain fondness.
“Good evening, Rune-Balot. We meet again.”
–Yes, Bell Wing. We do at that.
Without realizing it, Balot had broken into a grin. More than wondering why Bell had come, she was
happy to see the woman again.
A curious sense of security came over her—and a feeling of relief at seeing the old woman out of her
croupier’s uniform. Bell’s appearance made it clear that she had indeed been dismissed from her job.
Strangely, Balot felt no remorse. The girl knew that the battle between her and Bell was already in the
past.
“So you really were after something big, weren’t you?” Bell spoke in a tone clear of any clouds of
hostility or regret.
–I’m just having some fun. I thought I might learn something.
“You seemlike the sort of person who can learn anything. You’ve got that kind of face.”
Bell turned her eyes to the shuffle, as if to tell Balot, You should be watching too. But it didn’t matter
—even if Balot wasn’t looking, she could still sense each and every slightest movement of this new
dealer’s shuffle. He shuffled carefully and with no wasted movement. Calling his motions smooth
wouldn’t quite be right—they seemed completely natural. In contrast to the previous dealer, who showed
off his smooth technique, Ashley was simply doing his job.
–Do you play blackjack too?
Bell, keeping her attention on the shuffle, answered, “No, this man just persuaded me to come watch.”
–Do you know each other?
“His name is Ashley Harvest. He’s something of a bodyguard for this kind of business. For him to
show up, this must be no ordinary matter. So I’mhere to see how well you can stand up to his skills.”
Ashley glanced at Balot. “She’s here to make sure we have a fair match. So please don’t be
concerned.”
Even if he didn’t exude the same fighting spirit as the previous dealer had, he seemed even more
indomitable. More than Bell Wing, even.
“This man’s luck doesn’t spin counterclockwise like mine. He has no weaknesses. Remember that.”
–I will.
“I’ll be watching over you. Over the whole game. You don’t have a problem, do you, Ashley?”
Taking it as a signal to begin, Ashley nodded and calmly assembled the cards into a neat stack. He
spoke softly, but his voice carried.
“Right. From this point on, this table is reserved for you two only. Think of it as a modest gesture of
appreciation for retiring that mechanic in the poker room, Bell Wing right here, and the fine young dealer
who sat at this table.”
He might as well have just come out and said, I know what you’ve been up to. After that near
declaration of war, Oeufcoque commented,
–We anticipated this would happen. Don’t take his bait. Let the Doctor handle him.
Dr. Easter, as if on cue, spread his arms fearlessly and, sounding quite pleased, said, “Our very own
private table! Why, that is quite the luxury!”
Ashley raised a finger and, beaming a smile as if he were their accomplice, said, “That should make it
easier for you to win, right?”
His candidness was startling—indeed, a sustained number of matches was required for card counting
to be effective.
“If it’s all right,” said the dealer, “the minimumwill be ten thousand dollars.”
“Is that a table rule?” The Doctor crossed his arms and, as calmly as if he were haggling over
vegetables at the market, shook his head. “Maybe I want to try my hand at another table, then.”
Ashley replied without hesitation. “Fine, we’ll go with a ten-dollar minimum bet.” He pointed at
Balot’s chip. “That way you’ll be able to play a hundred thousand games with that single chip.”
“Then we’re agreed,” said the Doctor. “Ten dollars it is.”
Ashley nodded and set the transparent red card on the table, inviting either Balot or the Doctor to
place it in the deck.
Reaching for the card, the Doctor said, “You’re quite the unusual dealer, aren’t you? I’m eager to see
you deliver on what you seemto promise.”
He casually inserted the red card into the stack of cards.
Ashley shrugged and effortlessly cut the deck. He then inserted the cards into the shoe and placed his
rough but eminently graceful hands on top of it.
Balot and the Doctor placed their chips. Ashley drew the first card. The game had begun. Their last
game—the one they had to survive.
≡
“We have a push,” Ashley said.
The cards disappeared. With just a wave of his hand, the dealer had returned all the cards on the table
to the discard pile.
Nothing else moved. Not their chips. Not their determination. Not their tactics.
All that passed by were time and cards.
The Doctor blinked twice and placed his chips on the table.
Balot stared blankly at hers.
The cards were distributed. Ashley’s upcard was a 7.
The Doctor had a 9 and a jack, totaling nineteen—stay.
Balot had a 7 and a 3—hit. A 9 card came, and with nineteen, she stayed. A decent hand. But Balot
and the Doctor were in no position to make quick judgments.
The dealer revealed his hole card—9. That made sixteen. Following the rules, he drew another card—
3. Ashley surveyed the table.
“We have a push.”
The watching crowd let out a collective gasp. It was formless, not quite wonder, not quite amazement.
Since the first card Ashley drew, this was the sixteenth hand.
They hadn’t won a single hand.
They hadn’t lost a single chip.
Both Balot and the Doctor had lost nothing.
Sixteen tied hands, with only the value of the count changing.
Placing his chips on the table, the Doctor cleared his throat and grumbled, “This is quite amazing.
There’s not even the slightest movement.”
With a serious expression and a tone of admiration, Ashley responded, “Just proof that your fortune is
an even match for this casino. It’s incredible. You’re a tough opponent. I’mriveted.”
–What kind of man is this guy?
–I can’t read him.
Oeufcoque’s unexpected answer terrified her.
–I don’t understand. What’s he after? Is he enjoying this? Is he angry? Is he sad when you draw a
card? I can’t tell. It’s all mixed together. What kind of scent is this?
Oeufcoque was nearly shrieking, but then, as if realizing he was only making her more afraid, he
suddenly stopped himself.
–For now, we analyze. We’ll hold him of with our best tactics. It’s not like we can’t keep on
counting the cards.
Balot pulled herself together and signaled that she understood. She lightly squeezed her left hand over
her leg.
There was a strange tension in the air. The seventeenth hand was also a tie.
Fatigue was setting in, a nameless weariness.
Blackjack demands you endlessly walk a long, long path.
Over the long path, there are ups and downs—the road is never flat. But this—this was like trudging
through a barren desert. There was no path to be seen; the scenery shifted from moment to moment, but in
the end, nothing changed. All you saw was the flat, boundless horizon.
At the twenty-second hand, something different happened. The Doctor had an ace and a queen. Balot
had a 5 and a 6 and hit to draw a king. Two twenty-ones, side by side.
Ashley’s upcard was a 2. For the first time in the match, Ashley spoke.
“This is easy. Not having to do anything. I don’t have to entertain you, and I don’t have to trick you
either. You both play with precise tactics. That way, I don’t even have to think about anything.”
He reached for his hole card. A bad premonition ran down Balot’s spine.
It was a 4. The 2 and 4 made six. He drew a card: 4. Another: 5.
Before Balot’s dazed eyes, Ashley smoothly, dispassionately, turned over the next card: 6. The 2 and
4 and 4 and 5 and 6—twenty-one.
Balot felt something scream deep inside herself. He was toying with them, with his unchanging cards.
A heavy fatigue was building up inside her, even worse than if she had been losing.
Behind Ashley, Bell Wing stood watching with a clear face. After the twenty-seventh tie, Ashley
placed one hand over the other and leaned over, like a waiter who had just finished setting down their
meals.
“This is a good place to take a break.” The red card was on top of the deck, without a single card to
spare.
Balot was stunned. And the Doctor, who had placed the card himself, stared at the card shoe as if it
were a fortune teller who had just correctly guessed his birthday.
Ashley’s bulky hands never paused. He began to shuffle.
“You two have wonderful luck,” he said. “I wonder to which one of you it belongs. The gentleman? Or
the young lady? Or is there someone else who brings it here?”
Balot could sense information coming to Ashley through his earpiece. How much she and the Doctor
had won and in which games. What was remarkable about their methods. Under what circumstances did
they prevail. Fromthose bits of information, Ashley had sensed a third party.
–Don’t be sucked in by him.
So said the third party. Balot’s fists were clenched.
Ashley finished the shuffle. This time, Balot inserted the red card into the stack of cards. His effortless
cut seemed to swallow up her influence on the deck with supreme skill.
And as Bell and the large audience watched, the second round began.
Ashley’s first upcard was a 2. The Doctor drew an 8 and a 10—stay.
Balot had a 3 and a 5. For a moment, she considered staying, but in the end, she decided to hit. A jack.
Eighteen. The same as the Doctor.
Ashley revealed his hole card—a 6, making eight. Next, he drew a queen, making eighteen.
Even if she had recklessly stayed, all that would have resulted would have been her loss.
The Doctor added more chips to his bet. Balot followed suit and raised her bet, from three thousand
dollars to six. It was both Oeufcoque’s instructions as well as her desire.
She wanted to feel in control of something, if only to dispel the depressing sensation of total
stagnation. And the number of chips she placed before her was the singular thing she had control over.
“Such luck you have,” said Ashley. “Its power is affecting even me.”
Balot and the Doctor were progressively raising their bets. To the dealer, it should have been a
pivotal moment. But Ashley’s management of the cards was undisturbed, leaving no openings for attack.
He seemed to be taking their hands and instantly ripping themto shreds.
“I’ve never met a player who could rival my luck. That’s why the casinos treat me like the door to the
vault. But maybe this time, someone has come holding the key.”
Ashley kept repeating that word, luck, luck, but Balot and the Doctor didn’t think—not even for an
instant—that this had anything to do with luck or chance.
Maybe this man had the singular ability to arrange the deck in such a way that the outcome would be
inevitable.
A shuffle that could manipulate the order of over three hundred cards—that would be a skill with a
singular purpose.
There was no sign of marked cards hidden at the bottomof the card shoe.
It would also explain why he had opened new decks. Unsealed cards could be in any order, but if he
knew the order the cards came in, he could potentially arrange the cards using his particular technique.
Granted, it was hard to believe such a technique could exist.
But the real problem was what that technique would bring. Their fatigue would build and build, and
eventually they would be sent away. But if the casino’s orders were to retake her chips, he wouldn’t have
a way to do so.
Why didn’t he have a method to force the players to lose? Was he trying to tell them that they were
free to leave now without consequence? Balot didn’t know—and she could sense Oeufcoque wanting to
ask the same questions. If Ashley wasn’t setting some trap, then wasn’t he just trying not to do anything?
Sure, he was like an iron wall, but he’d be nothing more.
But Balot couldn’t quit now. Just because she’d obtained one of the four chips, she couldn’t have said,
Well, that’s enough for me.
The Doctor had said that memories were many-body information. They grew along with the passage of
time, but at the same time, memories of one time were connected with memories of another. If Shell’s
memories were divided between four chips, those memories couldn’t be reproduced without all four time
lines. And if the memories couldn’t be reproduced, all they’d have is an album showing the growth
process of neurons.
Their goal wasn’t that kind of analytical research—it was the details of Shell’s deeds, and without
those, their entire battle—and Balot’s game—would be without meaning.
The Doctor sighed. “We may have to change our tactics.” For the first time since starting the game, he
took his chips off the table. He placed half of themback down.
The cards came. Ashley’s upcard, a queen.
The Doctor had a 5 and a 7; twelve. Balot had a king and a 4; fourteen.
The Doctor hit and received an 8. His total, twenty.
“Hit.” His tone was defiant, like an underling in a gangster movie facing down the barrel of a gun,
crying out, “Go ahead, shoot me!”
Ashley looked at the 8 and edged up his chin as if to say, “That’s the card you got.”
“I said hit.”
The Doctor hit his finger against the table, insisting on the card.
In the face of such reckless self-destruction, Ashley swiftly turned over the next card.
A 6.
“That’s a bust,” stated the dealer.
The Doctor shrugged. The situation was obvious. Anyone could see it. Even Ashley.
The problem was that the Doctor had exposed himself. He had called out the perfect deck. But how
would their opponent move next? Everything depended on that.
Balot hit. Her card, a 6. Her total, twenty.
–Should I hit?
–Stick to the optimal tactics. Leave the attack to the Doc. Following Oeufcoque’s instructions, she
stayed.
Ashley revealed his hole card: 4. With the queen, that made fourteen.
He drew another card: 2. He drew again: 4. Twenty.
“We have a push.”
This time, he spoke directly to Balot. He swept away the cards.
Calmly, the Doctor whispered, “I guess one card isn’t enough.”
It was as if hitting or staying made no difference. It was as if the order of the cards itself was
undaunted.
The Doctor placed his chips, half again the amount of the previous hand.
Balot kept with her same bet. As Bell Wing quietly watched for any changes on the table, Ashley
brought his hand to the card shoe and swiftly dealt the cards.
His upcard was 7. The Doctor had an 8-5, making thirteen. Balot had K-3, for thirteen.
The Doctor hit. He got a 4.
He hit again: 2. His total, nineteen.
As if it were the natural choice, he hit again. Ace. Total, twenty.
And again he hit. For a moment, Balot thought Ashley might get angry, but he didn’t. As he coolly drew
the next card, he said, “Congratulations.”
It was an ace; 8-5-4-2-A-A: twenty-one.
The Doctor immediately looked over at Balot, asking without speaking, Did he do anything
suspicious?
She answered with a slight shake of the head. Ashley hadn’t made the slightest indication of trickery.
“So you’ll be staying, then.”
You couldn’t draw fromtwenty-one. The Doctor nodded curtly.
–Hit.
Balot received an 8. Total, twenty-one.
The Doctor groaned. With his eyes, he asked Balot again, Are you sure he didn’t do anything
suspicious? But Balot was just as astonished. What was going on?
“Now what?” asked Ashley. For the first time, he focused his dark brown eyes right at her. As he
smiled, his eyes seemed to dissect her alive.
“That’s some technique.”
Bell Wing, who had been quietly watching the game, had spoken. “I don’t think there’s anyone who
could imitate you.”
“It’s all practice.”
He turned over his hole card. A 9. Along with his 7, that made sixteen. He drew another card and
slapped down the 5.
“We have a push.”
Balot felt dizzy.
Then Bell said, “This has turned into a dull forced match.”
Balot looked at the old woman, who was staring right at her.
“Rune-Balot. Are you the kind of kid who lives by listening to others?”
At first, Balot didn’t understand what the woman was talking about.
“Chips don’t mean anything to you, right? I don’t know why you’re holding back. You shot down every
single last ball I threw, and now you’re subjecting me to this nonsense.”
As Bell’s words drew the girl in, Oeufcoque’s rebuttal came bubbling to the lining of her gloves.
–Focus on the game. Don’t forget, she’s with the casino too.
The cards came.
“You’re you.” Bell’s words struck right through Balot’s heart. “You don’t have to hold back for
anyone. Especially in a big match like this. In a match, restraint is like shit. It stinks and it distracts you.”
Then Bell was again silent.
Once more, the Doctor carelessly hit, until finally he bust.
As if hiding behind him, Balot hit.
With a 2 and a queen, she got a 7, making nineteen. She stayed, and Ashley revealed his hole card.
With a 4 and a jack, he drew a 5, making nineteen.
Ashley’s voice, announcing the tie, seemed to come fromsomewhere far away.
Subconsciously, Balot bit her lip. The next hand, the Doctor once again bust himself before her turn.
Balot received a 2 and a 9. She doubled down and drew an 8. Nineteen.
Ashley’s upcard was a 9. The hole card, jack. To no one’s surprise, a push.
Again she bit her lip, hard. The next hand, the Doctor bust, Ashley revealed his hole card, and as he
announced the tie, the pain of her teeth gnawing at her lip snapped her back to reality.
Slowly, she pulled her lip from her teeth, and as she wet her lips, she felt a realization come over her.
She had chosen this game. The game of whether she would live or die. And that was one answer to her
question Why me?
It took a moment for Balot, distracted by those thoughts, to realize that there had been a change in the
cards. The change occurred when the Doctor returned to the optimal tactics.
Balot’s eyes were focused on the reveal of the dealer’s hole card.
The upcard was a 5. The hole card, 9. He drew a 3. Seventeen.
“A loss…and a push.”
Confused, Balot checked the Doctor’s cards. Jack-3-3. Sixteen.
Balot’s cards were 5-7-5. Seventeen. Only the Doctor had lost.
Dr. Easter silently placed his next chips. Balot bit her lip again.
Ashley dealt the cards. Balot had no clear sense of his fingers. No sense of his fingers. Scathing doubt
washed over her.
What am I fighting against? This man’s fingers?
If he had a gun in his hands and not cards, what would I do?
Simply stare and watch as he pulled the trigger?
For the first time since the beginning of the game, Balot sensed the cards. The stack of cards, how they
were ordered. She thought again about whether the cards had been arranged into a certain order.
She heard the Doctor say, “I’ll stay.”
He had 7-6-6. Nineteen.
Ashley’s upcard, an 8.
Balot had J-3. She hit and got a 7.
The card in front of her, Balot was silent.
She felt one with the table. Her nerves spread through it, and she sensed the weight of each card upon
her skin.
Speaking gently, as if inviting something, Ashley said, “Will you draw another card? Feel free to ask
the man next to you, if you want himto tell you what will happen.”
Balot slowly raised her head and sensed the dealer’s presence. She wondered if drawing her senses
into his fingers alone had been a part of his strategy.
Quietly, she said,
–Stay.
Ashley casually flipped over his hole card.
A 4. With 8, that made twelve. He drew an ace and then a 7.
“A loss—”
–And a push.
Balot completed his sentence. There wasn’t a meaning behind it—she just wanted to see how the
dealer would react. She wanted to sense his movements, his mood, everything. Ashley shrugged.
“Precisely.”
Balot grinned at him. At first, he looked taken aback, then he returned the smile. At the same time, he
swept up the Doctor’s chips.
The cards came. Ashley’s upcard, a jack.
The Doctor’s cards were 5-9. He drew an 8 and bust.
Balot kept her senses upon Ashley and transmitted everything to Oeufcoque.
On her left arm, along with the running tally of the true count, the tactical instructions, and other data,
was a hastily compiled report of information on the dealer.
Balot’s cards were 8-J. Somewhere, she felt Ashley’s pulse.
–Hit.
Ashley responded without delay. His movements casual—truly, those were the iron wall.
Balot had drawn a 2.
–Stay.
Following Balot’s choice, Ashley revealed his hole card.
Two jacks—twenty.
Something was matching up, she sensed. In the following hand, the Doctor didn’t bust, but his J-8 was
defeated before Ashley’s and Balot’s twenties.
“It seems like we’re starting to see whom luck favors,” Ashley said, sweeping up the cards. “Those
who take even the slightest wrong turn will find themselves immediately parted from luck. She’s nearly
impossible to latch on to. No one can ridicule those whom luck has deserted, for it is just that easy for her
to leave you.”
He spoke as if the Doctor’s loss had been his plan all along. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of
possibility for that man.
But the Doctor knew his role. He knew what he had to do.
He lowered his bets and determinedly went bust.
Balot bet the same amount again and again. The game wouldn’t end.
Ashley turned an upcard. It was a 6. The Doctor received a 3 and a 9.
“I’ll double down,” stated the Doctor, stacking his chips.
Ashley, as if faced with no other choice but to pull the trigger, handed him his card. A queen. A bust.
A cruel defeat, but the Doctor didn’t seemto be concerned with what he had lost.
Balot, with a 4-7, drew a 6. Seventeen. Ashley revealed his hole card: 5-6. He drew an ace, then a 5.
Push.
03
The Doctor slowly rose. He patted Balot on the shoulder and said, “I’ll leave my luck to her.”
He offered her his chips, then turned to Ashley and said, laughing, “And I’ll leave my bad luck with
you.”
His actions were the turning point in the game. The order of the cards attested to it.
He retired from the game as soon as he had seen the balance in the cards—if he hadn’t hit, Balot
would have won. And if he hadn’t even been there, Ashley would have had twenty-one.
“From this point forward,” stated the Doctor, “I’m just an innocent bystander. Well, a bystander who
has an effect on the game. A far-off phenomenon causing a massive local effect—a butterfly effect. And
my defeat is the butterfly.”
“The butterfly?”
“It’s a metaphor for a theory of causality. A small occurrence, a butterfly flying on the eastern coast,
can trigger far bigger events—a typhoon on the western shores. And I think we are about to prove the
many-body problemfar more clearly than it has ever been shown before.”
Ashley shrugged his shoulders with apparent disinterest.
“You’re always welcome to join back in.”
The Doctor nodded and patted Balot’s shoulder once more. His message clear: You don’t have a
shield anymore. Balot looked himin the eyes and asked her most pressing question.
–Do you think I can win?
“Maybe not right away. But there’s one on his side and two on ours. With our combined luck, you’ll
win for sure.”
Balot nodded. By two, he had meant Balot and Oeufcoque.
The Doctor pushed in his chair and stood behind Balot, next to Bell Wing, ready to watch over the
game.
Ashley and Balot were now sitting face to face.
The crowd around the table continued to grow in size, one by one, drawn in by the spectacle.
Bell Wing had nothing left to say.
The cards were dealt. Ashley’s upcard, 6. Balot had Q-4.
So this is how the game has changed, she thought. Up until then, the cards had presented easy choices,
but now that the Doctor had left his seat, she found herself faced with a tough decision.
But Oeufcoque’s tactical analysis was steadfast. All she had to do was continue onward.
She hit. A card came—2. Sixteen. Not enough.
She hit again. Ashley’s hand flashed, revealing the next card: 4.
–Stay.
Ashley kept on moving.
His hole card was a 3. He drew another and scored an ace. Twenty.
“We have a push.”
Balot steadied her breath, quietly awaiting the next hand.
Ashley’s upcard came, an ace.
Balot had an 8-3. She almost pressed on with a double down, but at the last moment, she hesitated.
Oeufcoque’s tactical analysis displayed double down, but the girl worried about not being able to
draw any more cards. If only she didn’t have to draw any more. If she didn’t have to make that choice,
maybe she could have found some peace of mind.
Balot focused on her cards as if she were judging the entire world in a courthouse.
Then, with the sense that she had overcome her paralyzing fear, she declared the hit. A 5 card came.
She felt she had made the right decision.
She hit again. The card that came was a 5. Twenty-one.
Holding in a sudden wave of relief, she announced her stay.
Ashley turned over his hole card. A jack. Blackjack.
Balot groaned. The noise was soft, yet her vocal chords were taut, as if she had screamed.
Ashley announced the tie and within moments had begun the next round.
His upcard, a jack. Balot had a queen and a king.
The tactics displayed on her right arm instantly calculated her winning percentage along with her
losing percentage and the amount her chips would change. Ashley’s pulse was there too, with not even the
slightest fluctuation.
The dealer had squelched her brief moment of self-victory.
Or so Balot thought, as she was once again unable to move.
Balot stayed. Ashley revealed his cards. The sharp tip of the ace pointed straight at her. Blackjack.
It was her first loss. Her chips were taken away. But it was still all right. The amount she was to bet
plunged lower. But it was forgivable.
Ashley’s next upcard, however, wasn’t.
An ace. Something inside Balot’s chest clenched tight, grating against her.
Balot had K-4. If she hadn’t hit earlier, she’d have a twenty-one now.
Where did I go wrong? She couldn’t hold back her thoughts. I never made the wrong decision. But
what else could it be called but that?
What’s wrong is this table with this man, Ashley, standing at it. The difference of just one card was
chasing her to a certain defeat.
Balot composed her feelings and hit. Her card, a 2. Sixteen.
That number weighed frightfully heavy. Her tactics called for a stay. It was displayed right next to the
true count.
If she didn’t follow the tactics, what else would she follow? But the choice was heavy. Her throat
quivered.
Balot stayed, and Ashley casually flipped his hole card.
A 2. With the ace, thirteen. He drew another card. Again unforgivable. It was a 5. If Balot had drawn,
she would have had twenty-one.
“So sorry,” said Ashley. It was sixteen against eighteen, and Balot’s second straight loss. With a
slightly trembling hand, Balot placed her next bet.
“No one can predict the future,” the Doctor spoke up. “But it can be approximated. That separates us
from animals. We can think with two minds. The stale, old-fashioned, and the ever-changing new—
namely, the left brain, and the right.”
He orated with the clear, resonant tone of a bystander at ease.
“Humans have cerebral hemispheres—first, because the brain’s development was too rapid for the
two sides to unite. The neurons projected out from the brain stem and the spinal cord and formed the
cerebral cortex, enabling a great increase in the size of the human brain.”
Ashley, already having lost interest in the Doctor’s words, paid himno attention.
Bell Wing watched this would-be meddler, aloof—then, seeing through to the seriousness behind his
words, wiped the expression fromher face.
The cards came.
“But the left and right hemispheres grew abnormally large—almost like a defect—and an imbalance
occurred. The left brain became digitalized, with a fluid intelligence. The right brain has crystallized
intelligence, in analog. The origin of this behavior can be traced back to the development of the neurons.”
Ashley’s upcard, a queen. Balot had a 4-6.
Oeufcoque’s tactical display read hit. Balot hit.
“Since the dawn of the age of the invertebrates, nerves had been unmyelinated—that is to say,
uninsulated, like bare electric cables. The unmyelinated nerves functioned with analog hormones, but with
the development of myelinated nerves—that is to say, insulated just like jacketed electric cables—
nervous structures came to utilize neural circuits that distribute digital neurological signaling. Therefore,
even in the analog human brain, there are digital processes, and they interact with each other to function.”
She received a 9. Nineteen. Oeufcoque’s tactical display read stay. She stayed.
“Humans can’t divine the future. This is because, even with all the mathematical methods known to
man, it is essentially impossible to solve for the multitude of occurrences concurrent with the many-body
problem. If only one card remained in the deck, its identity could be deduced by examining the discard
pile. But with two or more cards remaining, the identity of the next card cannot be determined.”
Ashley showed his hole card. A king. Twenty. Balot’s third straight loss.
“But humans, with two minds inside one skull, can use both the fluid knowledge—that is to say, the
digital neural circuits—to explain a discrete event, as well as the crystalline knowledge—that is to say,
the analog perception—to form a comprehensive image of all the other possible events. Therefore,
humans have produced the ability to generate simplicial approximations and have essentially solved the
many-body problem. By the time they are born, humans have already chosen a journey infinitely
asymptotically approaching reality.”
Balot placed her bet. Ashley dealt the cards.
His upcard, a 6. Balot had a J-3, thirteen.
Oeufcoque’s display read hit. Balot also felt she should hit. She received a 6. Nineteen.
Ashley revealed his hole card, 4. He hit, and drew an ace. Twenty-one.
“And if those humans could create four minds where there had been two, they would no longer need to
content themselves with simplicial approximations. No, they might be able to solve the many-body
problemand determine each and every event. And for that dream, a being was created. That being was not
able to divine the future. But for any object, it could quantify its entire composition, the external and
internal forms equally, and become an All-Purpose Tool.”
Ashley’s upcard was 6. Balot had a Q-2.
She hit. Oeufcoque had told her to. Balot had thought the same.
Ashley showed no change. And his cards showed no change.
She drew a 6. Eighteen. On eighteen, you stayed. She hesitated.
But after a moment, Balot stayed. And she asked herself why she had hesitated.
Ashley flipped his hole card, a 5. He drew a king. Twenty-one.
Balot’s fifth straight loss. She was drowning in a marsh of defeat.
But as someone once said, blackjack demanded you walk a long, long path.
And that someone was raising his voice desperately behind her.
“Within the structure of the human brain, the many-body problem is calculated as nothing more than a
series of simplicial approximations. But what if, despite having been the reason for the cerebral
hemispheres, the development of the brain, too rapid to form a cohesive whole, was able to go on
developing externally? That is, what if the brain changed its form and continued developing beyond the
cranium, spreading over the whole body?”
Ashley’s upcard was a 4. Balot had a 3-5. Hit. A 2 came. Hit. A 4 came. Hit. A 3 came. Seventeen.
The tactical display read stay.
Oeufcoque had chosen that as the winning move. Balot stayed.
“I find it impossible to believe that those two beings, who represent entirely different concepts,
working together, couldn’t read the flow of these cards.”
The Doctor had finished, and now he fell silent. He had been trying to wake them up—Balot and
Oeufcoque—and their untapped strength.
Ashley showed his hole card. A 6. He drew another. Ace. Twenty-one.
Six losses in a row. Balot squeezed her left hand. She felt impatient. But maybe that itself was some
sign. There was still a chance. Just enough of a chance for her to feel impatient. Oeufcoque softly
enveloped her arms.
Ashley’s upcard, a queen. Balot’s cards, 4-8.
Without hesitation, she hit. Ashley drew her a card. A king.
“That’s a bust,” said the dealer.
On Balot’s arm, a number changed, and she realized this was her first bust of the game.
Something had changed. It was a change for the worse, certainly, but it was a change.
Ashley’s next upcard was an ace. Balot’s cards, J-3.
She hit and received a 10. Bust. Her cards were swept away. Ashley’s hole card—an 8—was
revealed only for a moment. Balot added it to the true count on her left arm. Along with: If I hadn’t
drawn, Ashley would have bust.
The following upcard, a 3. Balot’s cards, A-9.
For the first time in a while, she had a valuable ace in her hand.
Balot stayed, and the hole card was overturned.
A 6. Ashley drew another.
Another 6. Fifteen. In accordance with the rules of the game, he drew again.
And a 6. Under already remarkable circumstances, a remarkable draw. Was Ashley’s unbreakable
luck within that scarcely conceivable draw?
So, 3-6-6-6. Twenty-one. Balot’s ninth straight loss.
But Ballot sensed something. A sign. In the dark, flat desert, she saw a single ray of light.
In the previous hands, the same number had never appeared in succession. If he was ordering the
cards, it woud be easier to have some of the same card in a row than it would be to have everything
distributed haphazardly.
Had it not happened before because he had been building himself some roomto maneuver?
He’s skipping some of the cards.
Balot was sure of it. Maybe three times in a round. He was shuffling the cards in a way that enabled
himto tweak the order at will.
Was she taking the threat too lightly by thinking his perfect judgment of the cards was slowly wearing
down?
Balot quickly reviewed her count so far. The upcards and aces were running extremely low, but the
cards helpful to the dealer were also dwindling. Oeufcoque’s instant internal calculations were showing
an increase in her bet amount and her winning percentage.
Her fatigue dispelled by anticipation, Balot refocused on the game. Just as Balot had fully exhaled,
Ashley’s casually stated words cut through her like a blade:
“By the way, your left hand…”
Balot took in a deep breath.
“…it’s got some device measuring my pulse, doesn’t it?”
Her heart skipped a beat. It was too sudden. Before she knew it, she had raised her head and said,
–Why?
As soon as the word left her mouth, she stopped herself. But it was already too late.
Ashley grinned. He mouthed the word Gotcha.
Balot got goose bumps on her arms.
The sudden shock of it had stood her hair on end.
≡
“It seemed,” said the dealer, his tone dripping congeniality, “like you were conversing with your own
hand, not your cards.”
Terror welled up deep within Balot. Would she fail and leave empty-handed because of the tiniest of
blunders? If she were any more afraid, her hands would have been shaking.
Oeufcoque read Balot’s emotions and tried to calmher, saying,
–Don’t let it get to you. You don’t need to tell him anything. Even if he believes it to be true, he
can’t do anything about it but use it as a diversion. Without any proof, he can’t lay a hand on patrons’
clothes. He has no way to separate us.
Balot was reassured, but a peculiar irritation settled over her.
And it was peculiar, for she had no means of surviving without Oeufcoque.
She felt Bell’s stare bearing down upon her. And she wondered what look the Doctor had on his face.
She drew up her shoulders and stared at the cards.
Ashley’s upcard was a 4. Balot’s cards, 7-6.
As she took slow, steady breaths, she looked at the tactical analysis. Hit. The obvious choice. But she
didn’t make the move right away. Quietly, she readied herself, and then, she hit.
The card was a 7. Balot held her breath and stayed.
Ashley turned over his hole card.
A 9. He drew a 6. They both had twenty. Suddenly, they had tied.
Balot began to wonder why Ashley had made such an aggressive move. Was the ordering of the cards
beginning to strain? Had she finally arrived at the deciding moment of their match?
In the next hand, Ashley’s upcard was a 3. Balot had a J-9 and stayed.
Ashley revealed his hole card, a 5. He drew an ace. Nineteen.
Another tie. Suddenly, Balot sensed that she was standing at the brink.
She couldn’t stand down. Impulsively, she added chips to the table. Even a little more than
Oeufcoque’s displayed amount. She was fine with that. She’d be fine if she lost. She just wanted to follow
her feelings.
The cards came out. Ashley’s upcard was a 10.
Balot had a 2 and a jack—the black jack of spades, the one-eyed jack.
Her eye flashed to the dealer’s hole card. Then, she noticed that the red card had reached the top of the
shoe. As she stared at it, she declared her hit.
Ashley removed the red card and turned over the card below it. A 9.
Balot stayed. She glanced at the red card lying next to the shoe.
Previously, the ordering of the cards had been so perfect that not even a single extra card was wasted.
But now the slightest of cracks was showing.
Ashley revealed his hole card. It took Balot a moment to see it. The ace of spades sat there, like a
sword waving in the air without its master.
Beating the dealer to the punch, she said simply:
–We have a push.
The clean split of the ace and jack of spades—a blackjack—seemed to Balot to be evidence of
something.
Ashley shrugged. Balot took deep, slow breaths and spread her senses across the surface of the table.
She didn’t have any desire to sense anything occurring beyond its confines. Not even Bell Wing’s stare.
Ashley opened the card shoe and withdrew the remaining cards.
He joined themwith the discard pile and began his smooth, natural shuffle.
Balot focused her senses on his movements. The cards, Ashley’s fingers, his shoulders, his pulse, his
breathing. With senses so finely tuned she could feel each mote of dust as it settled onto the table, she
followed his every movement.
Silence testified to the steady tension that filled the table. The only sounds were the calm music
flowing through the room, the sharp noise of the cards coming together, and the stir of the crowd.
Balot sensed her own breathing and pulse calm so much that she almost could have fallen asleep. But
just then, Ashley spoke to her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
It was almost as if he were asking, “Please, can I do this job like any other dealer would?”
–What is it? she said guardedly. Her eyes were open now.
She hadn’t needed to respond to him, but she thought understanding this man might be necessary to
read him.
“Well, I say question, but it’s more like a riddle. If we let the air hang this heavy, then the game stops
being fun, amI right?”
Balot tilted her head. Taking that as a yes, Ashley nodded and said, “First, I want you to imagine you
are driving in a car on a long, long trip.”
–All right.
“And during the trip, your car breaks down. It’s the worst possible situation. There are no houses
around, just an endless desert. What do you do?”
Balot, with no idea of Ashley’s purpose, kept focused on the cards as she answered.
–I’d wait for someone to come help me.
She didn’t feel much of an improvement in the mood at the table.
“You’d hitchhike?”
–Yes.
“All right. Now, same scenario, what would you do if you drove by and found someone on the side of
the road looking for your help?”
–I’d decide based on if theylooked trustworthy or not.
“I see.” He nodded, pursing his lips as if he were about to whistle. “Those are both fifty-percent
answers. I’d say you’re just about average.”
The way he said it tugged at her. She wrinkled her brow.
–Are there other answers?
Ashley returned a meaningful smile and said, as if reaching the meaning of the riddle, “Couldn’t you
imagine a carjacker posing as a hitchhiker?”
Subconsciously, Balot bit her lip again. Ashley was trying to make a point. And whatever it was, it
seemed dangerous.
–You mean, what would I do if the other person is a carjacker?
“No, not quite. Who would be able to know if the other person was a carjacker or not? If he was, he’d
try his best to hide it, wouldn’t you think?”
–So you’re saying not to help?
Ashley, still shuffling, laughed.
“The reason I said it was a fifty-percent answer was because, depending on which side of it you’re on,
your response changes. Let’s see… For example, a different fifty-percent answer would be to say that you
wouldn’t help anyone and you wouldn’t expect anyone to save you. Or that you would save them, fully
prepared that they may kill you.”
Clenching her hands, Balot pressed forward in an attempt to shake off the pressure. Just as the Doctor
had pressed himon the cards.
–What’s a one-hundred-percent answer?
Ashley shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “If someone asks you for help, kill him. If someone
responds to your call for help, he’s also fair game. Act like you are going to help, or that you need help,
and then take. Take his money, take everything. In the world of gambling, that’s common sense.”
As he completed the shuffle, he looked at Balot with eyes that seemed almost kind.
“Here, you can’t trust anyone. You can’t even trust yourself. You understand, don’t you? And if you
want proof, who do you think is going to save you here?”
Suddenly, within Balot, an unfamiliar enmity sprouted to life. With no outlet for that new feeling, the
girl remained motionless as the cards were stacked on the table.
“Here, we can lawfully steal from others. I have to wonder why you’ve come so blithely to such a
place as this.”
Finished with the shuffle, Ashley tidied up the stack of cards, then stood with his hands folded
together.
He towered before her, all traces of a smile wiped fromhis stern countenance.
“Has your throat always been like that? Or did somebody take your voice from you? When you’d been
hitchhiking, perhaps?”
The instant his words pierced Balot’s ears, her entire body became a ball of enmity.
He knows something, doesn’t he? How I was killed. Why I was killed. How I was disposed of, like a
thing forbidden happiness and free will.
Her hair stood on end. Her body blazed. The enmity spread like a poison through her body down to
every strand of hair. It welled up deep inside her, relentless.
–Balot, calm yourself. You don’t know what he’s planning. Don’t be careless.
Oeufcoque already knew what she was moments away fromdoing.
–Please, believe me.
–I believe you.
Balot clenched her fists so that Ashley could clearly see them. Hard. So Oeufcoque would feel it. And
with all her heart, she said,
–So please, believe in me.
Oeufcoque was silent.
–He’s testing me.
In that moment, Balot felt everything become crystal clear. The meaning behind Ashley’s questions,
why she had chosen this game, and the source of her impatience.
–He’s testing you?
–Yes. He’s testing to see if I’m playing the game.
Ashley smiled and said, “Is this hard for you? Would you like to move to a different table? Or do you
just want to leave and climb back into your motel bed? Take a limousine like the one you came in? Too
bad. You’ve come this far. You can’t go back now. Understand?”
Balot slowly opened her fists.
–I understand.
As she spoke, she pushed Oeufcoque into her right glove.
Oeufcoque didn’t even have time to say anything. She moved her hands behind her neck and undid the
hook connecting her two gloves. The cloth gently slipped from the base of her neck. With her right hand,
she gently slid off her left glove.
Just like her clients used to demand. So she could be seen.
Her skin, like a boiled egg with the shell peeled off, was laid bare. She removed her right glove and
neatly laid themonto the table. She crossed her naked arms, resting themon top of her gloves.
Her bare skin keenly sensed the table. It was cold against her flesh.
To the girl, it was the feeling of her cool, sharpened heart, resolved either to live or to die.
Balot leveled her cold stare at the dealer.
–Do I look that easyto kill?
Ashley Harvest didn’t respond. He only gave one slow nod. Not in answer to her question, but as if
seeing her face for the first time.
04
“It looks like I have a formidable opponent.”
Ashley watched Balot as she stacked her chips with her bare hands.
With her bare right hand. Her left armwas atop her gloves, which she had spread flat like a tablecloth.
The fingers of her left hand were soothingly caressing the gloves.
“If we performed a full search of your body, we might not find anything. There may not be anything
there. But that’s fine. You took off your gloves of your own volition. Neither the casino nor I forced you
to. We’re clear on that, right?”
Like a gunslinger in an old pulp Western confirming the rules before the duel, Balot nodded, holding
her eyes steady on his face.
“I say you’re a formidable opponent because you don’t run and you don’t hide.”
Ashley’s hand flicked at the card shoe.
The cards came. The dealer’s upcard, an ace. Balot had a 7-6.
Balot thought to hit, and the numbers on her gloves agreed.
She got a 2. Again the gloves said to hit, and she had no objection.
She hit. Another 2 card came, and she stayed. Ashley’s hole card was a 6, making seventeen. A push.
The cards were wiped, and beneath Balot’s arm, her true count updated. Even when cast aside,
Oeufcoque wasn’t the type to neglect his duties—not as long as his duties coincided with his own wishes.
The cards came. Ashley’s upcard, a queen. Balot had a J-3.
Balot hit and added a 4 to her hand. This was a crucial moment. Within the relentless flow of the
game, Balot’s senses clung to her cards like the cover on a book.
She hit again and got a 3. Twenty. Stay.
Ashley revealed his hole card, a 4. With the queen, fourteen.
He drew a 2 and then a 5. Twenty-one.
Like a hound points its nose, Balot directed her senses at Ashley’s rough hands as they moved the
cards and chips from play. Even after her somewhat reckless hit, she still lost by a thin margin. But
something had changed. She sensed the slightest of movement in the iron wall that was Ashley.
As Balot stacked her chips with her right hand, she snarced Oeufcoque with her left.
–Oeufcoque, can you hear me?
–Oh, I guess I can still receive transmissions from you.
An unusually sarcastic reply from Oeufcoque. That was how much of an effect being pulled from
Balot’s arm had had on him. As the cards came, Balot grinned with amusement as she stroked the gloves
and snarced.
–I have a favor to ask of you. Okay?
The right glove—the one she’d pushed Oeufcoque into—was directly under the shadow of her left
arm.
–If it’s something I can do.
–It’s something onlyyou can do.
She wasn’t saying it just to mollify him—it was the truth. With her right hand, she signaled a hit.
Oeufcoque’s reply was earnest.
–What should I do?
As she looked at her new card, she considered it.
What should we do? She had only a vague idea.
–I want to add mysenses to the numerical display.
Ashley’s upcard was a king, and Balot had an 8-5-2. Oeufcoque’s statistical analysis suggested a stay.
But something tugged at the girl’s senses.
–I want to know something besides the numbers. I want you to add it in.
–Besides true count? You don’t mean withholding certain cards from the calculations?
–No, I think that’s too narrow.
Balot hit and drew a 5. Then she stayed.
Ashley flipped his hole card. A 6. With the king, sixteen.
He drew and slapped down a 4. Twenty.
“We have a push.”
As the dealer collected the cards, Balot thought she sensed a slight change in his expression. Perhaps a
momentary thought toward vigilance after her last hit turned his twenty-one into a tie.
Oeufcoque’s strategy was as precise as ever.
–I will be as reactive to your thoughts as possible. Change the display however you wish. I will
keep saving all the data.
–Thank you, kind sir.
–My pleasure.
Balot stroked the glove. At the moment, it was the closest gesture to a thank-you kiss she could give
him. To help clear her thoughts, she pushed her senses to the top of her consciousness.
Her cards were a wave of low numbers. Ashley, on the other hand, received large cards, nearly all of
them ten cards. If his judgment of the cards faltered by one, the ten card would become his hole card. It
was a difficult pattern fromwhich to discern a path to victory.
The pattern arose from Ashley’s shuffling technique, but Balot’s handling of her cards began to
influence the game. The same sequences repeating and the same cards appearing many times in the same
hand was proof of that.
As she confirmed those influences one by one, Oeufcoque’s numbers gradually—yet steadily—
changed. The calculations were Oeufcoque’s, but the meaning behind them was up to Balot’s senses.
Repeated cards and runs of low-value cards could be understood statistically, but that only resulted in a
calculation of the winning percentage based on the cards in the discard pile. There was no angle of using
it to influence the coming flow of the cards. All she had was a winning percentage and betting
management of unparalleled precision.
And that wasn’t enough to win against Ashley. No matter how perfect her tactics, he would manipulate
the sequence of cards and bog her down in the marsh.
A lull fell over the game, and Balot was inching toward defeat. Every hand was either a narrow loss
or a push. She was honing her senses, separating out the things she should be sensing from the things that
didn’t matter. Ashley’s fingers, for example. On both his hands, his pinkies and pointer fingers weren’t
relevant. They only transported the cards. The movements of his middle fingers and thumbs, however,
were essential to his manipulation of the deck, and his ring fingers kept everything in balance.
And the most crucial supports to the structure of the card order were the upcards, from jack to king.
Jacks were lined with odd-numbered cards, kings higher-ranked even numbers, and queens lower-ranked
even numbers. Their relations with each other subtly shifted through the deck. But why? Because the game
was focused around aces. Depending on the circumstances, the natural rules of the game and the rules of
his shuffle joined and separated like a pair of dancers.
As a result of this, Ashley’s most important cards were the aces, the fives, and the jacks so tightly
bound to the other two. Even more crucial to defend against the player’s most profitable victory—the ace
and jack of spades.
Balot, utilizing Oeufcoque’s precise calculations and her own senses, modified the numerical
readings, whose form had become a seemingly incoherent jumble of letters and numbers just on the edge
of what Balot could understand.
As the chips kept up their one-sided movement across the table, Oeufcoque and Balot felt more unified
than they ever had before. They weren’t the protector and the protected. They were one united, leading
and following in turn. She felt it in her heart—they were a team. Might those words lead her in a better
direction. In her game. In their game.
At the end of the fifteenth hand, Oeufcoque’s display was a simmering stew of numbers. Letters large
and small aligned with countless numbers, winding and swirling together. It was Oeufcoque and Balot’s
combined technique, and it was a singular breach in Ashley’s iron wall.
Transfixed by the weaving of the dizzying patchwork array of numbers, Balot was unaware of her own
change. A change in her body.
The first to notice was the wall, Ashley.
“Do you need to refresh your makeup?”
At first, Balot failed to grasp his meaning.
She thought it was another ploy, but it wasn’t. Balot’s brow and palms were caked with cold sweat.
She had apparently been unconsciously wiping it off. When she saw that the fingers on her right hand were
covered with glittering silver powder, she didn’t know what it was at first.
Ashley snapped his fingers. A passing staffer came to the table.
The dealer ordered a damp towel. When the man asked who it was for, Ashley turned to Bell Wing
and shrugged, as if to say, What’s with this guy? and A battle is a battle, but one must be considerate of
a lady. Bell took one glance at Balot and nodded. Then the man understood. It was for Balot.
And Balot, too, finally understood her own state.
Glittering stuff was all over her hands and her arms, her cheeks and her forehead.
It was silver powder. Her skin was emitting glittering silver powder. That was the only explanation.
She brushed her hand across her face, and tiny fibrous flecks rubbed off. It felt like temporary hair dye
washing out, but she couldn’t remember putting that much in her hair.
Balot became aware of a faint itchiness all over her body, like a thinly peeling sunburn over freshly
healed skin.
“You’re growing…” the Doctor whispered from over her shoulder. “Your metal fibers are
autonomously growing to meet your body’s requirements.”
A waiter came and handed her a wet cloth. Balot waited for Oeufcoque to erase his display before
lifting her armand applying the cool cloth to her face.
The cloth was pleasantly scented. She wiped her arms and cheeks with it, clearing away the mixture of
silver powder and sweat. The itchiness across her hands and cheeks faded. She was refreshed.
She wiped her arms and her face as though she were polishing a blade.
The Doctor took the towel from her hands before the waiter had the chance, and said, “If you feel
anything abnormal, please informme right away. Don’t overdo it. Just do what you can.”
He made Balot feel like a boxer facing the next round.
The girl nodded. She didn’t feel anything abnormal. She placed her left arm on top of Oeufcoque, and
the numbers swirled against it. In an instant, she had returned to the game. Balot steadied her breath and
stretched out her right hand. She placed her chips.
–Thank you for your kindness.
“You’re welcome.”
Ashley put his hand to the card shoe. The game began.
≡
Over the course of the next ten games, Oeufcoque’s display grew even more dizzying.
The numbers swirled, flowing and recrystallizing again under Balot’s heightened abilities and
Oeufcoque’s new technique.
The flow was the development of logical measurements and predictions, and the crystallization
provided an intuitive grasp of the full context.
The cards and odds coming in waves—these data flowed. There was an awareness of things with a
beginning and an end or that were new developments. The fluid data consisted of predictions and
measurements based on both established patterns and novel events based on cause and effect. They
circled, they spiraled, they oscillated, based on her most recent awareness—that was the flow.
The crystallization, on the other hand, was the connection of multiple points, a patchwork of threedimensional
influences. A comprehensive awareness of sights and space.
With no relation to the passage of time, the connections between past events strengthened until the
points coalesced into the nuclei of even larger masses still to come. And from that, their location and
orientation became fixed—those were the crystals.
The mutual existence of flowing data and crystallized information was the very essence of human
knowledge. Without one, the other lost its meaning. When consciousness was dropped into the vortex of
the unconscious, the power of intelligence was born. Everyone had it. It was only waiting to be used.
And at that moment, Balot was greedily feasting upon the sensation of that power. Oeufcoque and
Balot were tightly connected, their senses bonded.
At the twenty-seventh game, their senses had melded to perceive a deeply vivid image.
Ashley’s upcard, an ace. Balot’s hand, 5-J. The cards were like the muzzle of a gun in Ashley’s hand,
thrust right at her.
Balot muttered.
–They’re pointy. I want to round them of .
She spoke unconsciously, to no one in particular.
To the somewhat perplexed-looking Ashley, she announced her hit.
Ashley pulled a card fromthe shoe. It was a 2.
–It’s still light.
Her voice was soft, but it jolted through the air of tension over the table.
Balot hit. An ace.
–It’s getting even pointier.
Grief sounded in her words, but Balot’s expression was suddenly taken by a vastness that was hard to
grasp. Where was she looking? What was she thinking? Her expression was unreadable. But she was
looking at something. She had her sights on it.
The Doctor gulped. Bell’s eyes opened wide.
–Hit.
Ashley’s hand moved instantly. Even if the card would bring about his own destruction, his practiced
hand drew it without hesitation. Such was his skill.
The card came. Another ace. Balot didn’t stop. Her body felt like a sharp blade slicing effortlessly
through her opponent’s windpipe.
–Hit.
Another ace.
–Hit.
Another ace. Balot took a deep breath. 5-J-2-A-A-A-A—
–Stay.
Ashley revealed his hole card. A jack. Ashley stared at the table, speechless. In his place, the Doctor
whispered with disbelief. “A push…”
“It seems like it,” said the dealer.
He quickly collected the cards, sweeping them into a neat pile, Balot’s senses attuned to their
movement.
Ashley looked down at Balot’s hand. He seemed to stare right through the chips stacked in a neat
circle in the palmof her bare hand.
“Do you know why I’m looking forward to the next card?” Balot looked up at him. With a vacant
expression, she nodded deeply.
She had become so focused on the game, she had forgotten to think of himas her enemy.
–If it’s a king, you’ll lose. Especiallyif it’s a spade. It’ll mean you separated them for nothing.
She appeared lost in thought, as if still trying to figure out why her statement was true.
“You do know, then?”
Balot tilted her head.
“You managed to weather my special move, and I’d prefer not to think of it as by chance.”
Finally understanding his meaning, the girl nodded.
–I think I know.
“You’ve seen through my shuffle?”
His face was mischievous, but there was a bluster in it that betrayed a small thread of fear.
Balot looked at himand slowly shook her head.
“Then what do you know?”
–Until a moment ago, the upcards have all been your allies.
Her eyes gazed distantly upon the card shoe.
–But now I too have allies.
Ashley, his hand still atop the shoe, shrugged and said, “For sure. But I don’t think you have many.”
–I don’t need many. It’s enough to know I have them. That’s all I know.
“But will they arrive in time?” He smiled sharply at her.
She thought for a moment, then answered.
–I don’t need to win manytimes.
Ashley’s smile froze. For a brief moment, his eyes went completely expressionless. Somewhere deep
inside him, his caution toward Balot transformed into animosity.
Balot tapped the table. Ashley’s hand flicked out the cards.
His upcard, a 5. Balot’s hand, J-J.
–It’s like they’re fighting. And just when I’ve come to save them.
She looked at the jacks with disappointment. The red and black one-eyed jacks.
–But I’ll stay.
Without hesitation, Ashley turned over his hole card. A king. Spades.
Beneath Balot’s left arm, Oeufcoque’s swirl of numbers adjusted.
Some of the suits pressed together, amassing into an iron wall.
With great contentment, Balot watched the dealer draw his next card.
He drew a 6. Twenty-one. He was an overwhelming fortress.
Ashley’s thick hands casually collected her chips. The cards went too.
Balot’s eyes remained on the table as if seeing the afterimage of the cards: 5-K-6 and J-J.
“Have you had enough?”
Balot sensed something behind his mocking words. He was trying to hide the moment of
defenselessness born of a hastily built defense.
That held the true meaning of building an impregnable iron wall in this game.
Balot snarced Oeufcoque.
–I want to bet on clubs. So they will become my ally.
–Understood.
He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask how it would quantifiably affect her chances of winning. He wasn’t
blindly following Balot either. It was his own decision based on his instinctive knowledge of her
thoughts.
Oeufcoque was in the fight too. As a part of their new combination.
Balot smoothly placed her chips. Her impatience had vanished completely, not like the shadow had
lifted into dawn, but as if her senses had pierced the unpredictable darkness, adding their own light to it.
She felt herself becoming one with the game. The cards were her, and she was new.
It was stress, it was hostility, and it was a blessing.
Ashley’s management of the cards grew more and more skewed. That determined which cards Balot
should chase after. Her 10 and 9 of clubs were impeded by the ace and king of spades. Next the 4 and 5 of
clubs brought forth the king of clubs, only to be crushed by the jack of hearts and his reinforcements, the 3
and 7 of diamonds.
Balot’s senses reached out like a hand searching through the darkness and colliding with something,
for the ever-widening crack in Ashley’s flawless handling of the cards.
The scariest thing within the darkness, thought Balot, is to be struck motionless from fear, unable to
move even a single finger and to be freely used.
Once, she hadn’t the will to resist being used. She had thrown away her senses. Until she’d met
Oeufcoque. And now, from within her thin shell, she sensed with voracity. Suddenly, a sharp odor came
to her nose. A phantom smell. A smell like the cologne Death would wear came over her body,
enveloping her. Balot thought back to the time she’d been trapped inside that car, when the stench of gas
filled the space. At that time, all she could do to survive was to withdraw into herself.
At that time, she thought she would die. Sad and pitiful.
But they came in time.
Ashley’s upcard, an 8.
Balot’s cards, 3-6.
All of themclubs. Balot’s finger tapped the table.
–Hit.
She received a 6. She raised her finger, then tapped the table again.
–Hit.
With a flutter of Ashley’s hand, her next card came—6.
So, 3-6-6-6. She had seen it before, but now it was on her side of the table.
The same card appeared three times in a row—that was the wailing of the iron wall as she pried it
open.
Balot stayed. Ashley turned over his hole card as if lifting an impossibly heavy weight. The ace of
spades. Ashley’s guardian deity had appeared. But it was too late. With the 8, he had nineteen. Balot won.
“Congratulations,” said the dealer with a smile. Before retrieving the cards, he handed out her
winnings.
But neither his smile nor the winnings impressed her.
Her honed senses focused upon one point among the swirling numbers.
Now or never. So Balot thought, and so Oeufcoque thought.
–Next hand, please.
She turned over her left hand, and with her right, she grabbed it from her palm and gently placed it
upon the table.
Until both her hands were back on the table, Ashley didn’t move a muscle.
The crowd of onlookers gasped. The golden million-dollar chip was in play.
“Balot…” said the Doctor. He wasn’t calling for her. It was just a whisper, pregnant with surprise and
anticipation.
Bell’s eyes were steady upon her.
Balot tapped the table. Ashley’s eyes flicked over to the golden chip, and his hands casually slid the
cards fromthe shoe.
His upcard, a jack. Balot’s cards, A-4. All of themspades.
The cards were his sword swing, and Balot attacked themhead on.
–Hit.
A card came. The seven of clubs. Her ace, once worth eleven points, was now worth one.
–Hit.
Balot tapped the table without hesitating, as if keeping in beat. Ashley didn’t slow either. The card
came. The 7 of clubs. Nineteen.
Balot took a deep, slow breath, then announced her stay. Ashley turned over his hole card.
It was a 2. The red card showed on top of the shoe. Ashley removed it without a word. His eyes held
on Balot. Balot looked only at the cards.
The next card came. A king. Of clubs.
“Balot, you did it…”
The words came rushing out of the Doctor’s mouth, but he quickly composed himself. The game was
only beginning.
Without turning to him, Balot nodded and, careful not to disturb her inner rhythm, moved her gaze to
Ashley.
As he swept away the cards, his mouth curled into a frown. He looked back at her with a joke in his
eyes. He started to say something but was cut off.
“Did you see that?” Bell said. Her voice was cold, but a reserved smile was on her face. “Women can
endure much more than men. No matter what you might say about this girl, she knows what it means to
endure, more than you can even imagine.”
“And here I was, thinking we were on the same side, Bell.”
With a stunned expression, Ashley reached for the box at the edge of the table.
Waving her hand as if she were clearing away the smoke from a cigarette, Bell said, “If the match
were to end that easily, it wouldn’t be interesting.”
Ashley shrugged. He lifted the box of golden chips into his hands and said, “There’s still plenty left.”
He offered the box to Balot as if the weight of it pulled down on his arm.
For a moment, she wanted to say that she wasn’t after all the chips, but she stopped herself and
reached for the box. She wasn’t after the chips themselves. She didn’t want the shell or the white. She
kept her mouth shut and repeated to herself the Doctor’s words: Go for the golden yolk.
Her bare fingers grabbed a chip. One with the OctoberCorp emblem stamped on it—one tightly
packed with the rotten insides of certain man’s egg.
She squeezed the chip in the palm of her left hand and placed it atop her gloves. Then she pushed the
box aside with an almost foolish reverence. She watched Ashley begin the shuffle as she stashed the chip
between the two gloves.
As Balot’s senses followed Oeufcoque’s work and Ashley’s shuffle, Bell Wing placed a hand upon
her shoulder.
“I have a little soliloquy to mutter to myself. I don’t want to get in your way.” This was Bell’s way of
talking to Balot without causing the girl to turn around. “There’s just one thing I want you to remember.
One thing I taught to you. Even if unnecessarily. Something I couldn’t help but say.”
Balot, still focused on the shuffle, nodded.
–To aspire to womanhood.
“Yes. It’s simple. All you have to do is be a woman, and you’ll be all right. Be the person you should
be, you’ll be all right. If not, you won’t be able to talk with the cards. And if you can’t talk with the cards,
you can’t beat this man. You don’t want to lose, do you?”
–No, I don’t.
“Good. You have a pretty face.”
–Thank you, Bell.
Balot touched Bell’s hand. It was a kind hand. And it was a stern hand. It gently moved away from her
and settled on the back of her chair. Both Bell and the Doctor placed their hands on her chair, watching
over her.
Facing down the three of them, Ashley frowned. Over the sound of the cutting cards, he growled, “I
should have asked someone else to come be my witness.”
05
“There’s something I’m having trouble believing,” Ashley said, casually shuffling the cards. “You
seem to be trying to understand luck. And what’s even harder to believe is I think you may already
understand it. What I’ve wagered my entire life to understand. All while you haven’t yet been at this table
for a single hour.”
–I’m learning from you.
Her answer was candid. Balot felt gratitude for the man before her.
–I feel like I’m learning a lot at this table. Thank you.
Ashley scowled, resentful of hearing those words from a fifteen-year-old kid. But then, his dour
expression was tinged with a bit of affinity for the girl as he said, “Are you trying to learn the secret of my
shuffle? Is that your aim?”
Balot’s vague expression seemed to say Maybe I am.
“Well, it’s impossible. I wouldn’t even know how to teach it if I wanted to. I have no way of nurturing
a successor. It’s a problem, really.” Ashley shook his head, and from his expression, he seemed to be
genuinely wrestling with the problem.
–I think I know.
“You do?”
–Not your shuf le itself. How no one else can understand it.
“I see. Yes… Have you ever thought about luck?”
–I think it’s bad. I’ve thought that often.
“Life is like that sometimes. But have you ever thought about how luck controls us?”
–I’ve thought that I was at fault.
“Well, people can think that way sometimes.”
–I never think about the times I wasn’t at fault.
“Yeah. You’re modest. Well, kids can end up thinking that way when they don’t have any decent adults
around them… Now—and I’m talking about practicality—have you ever thought more deeply about
luck?”
–You mean, can I win against you?
“Yes.”
–And the secret of your shuf le?
“Exactly.”
He spoke like a kindly teacher explaining multiplication tables to his elementary class. Like he was
presenting it as a new concept to kids who knew nothing of arithmetic other than adding and subtracting.
“For example, you speak in words, don’t you?”
Balot tilted her head. Of course she did.
“So, what makes words?”
–Mouths…and pencils?
“Yes. And computer keyboards, and voice recorders, and sign language, and so on. But how were the
words themselves made? What caused the words to be created?”
–God did.
Ashley paused his shuffle to say, “No, but you’re not far off.”
He conversed skillfully, as if that were the true role of a dealer. At the same time, Balot sensed
Oeufcoque draw out the yolk from the million-dollar chip. As she participated in Ashley’s conversation,
she was careful not to lose the tension and rhythmof the game.
“Let me tell you a story. Some time ago, a large amount of research was conducted in an attempt to
teach computers to speak like humans. The laws governing language were programmed in, and when
people talked to them, the computers would respond with computer answers. But it didn’t go very well. If
the words spoken to the computer were even a little wrong, all kinds of problems would result. Even
though they taught the computers human language, the human side was flawed. To solve the problem, they
introduced all sorts of new laws into the computer, but it was all of no use.”
–Why did people want computers to learn how to talk?
“Haven’t you ever tried to use a computer without the benefit of language recognition? If computers
malfunctioned after every little email, what would happen? Isn’t your own voice thanks to a computer?”
–So how did theyteach the computers?
“They shuffled the words.”
–Theyshuffled them?
“They gathered up twenty years of newspapers and fed all of the articles into the computer. Millions
and millions of words entered sentence by sentence. From that, they instructed the computers to determine
which words had the highest probability of following each word. The words most likely to follow ‘Hi’
were ‘how are you doing?’ And so on.”
–So it’s based on probabilities.
“Yes, the probability of occurrence. That’s how computers understand words. And there are no flaws.
No matter what word they encounter, they learn from it, and they learn how to use it. That’s how language
recognition software finally became robust enough for the commercial market.”
–You’re saying we speak bychance?
Ashley grinned like a man atop a mountain welcoming another climber to the summit.
“The fact that we even exist is by chance. Don’t you think that’s a miracle? Chance is the most
essential thing given by God to man. And humans, we strange creatures, find our own foundation within
that chance. It’s inevitability.”
–What do you mean, inevitability?
“These cards, for example—the number of cards in this deck is determined, right?”
–Right.
“But sometimes it increases and decreases, right?”
–Right.
As Balot answered, she realized it was a self-implication of cheating. She looked at him with a
surprised expression.
“But the cards are the cards. A never-before-seen upcard won’t just suddenly appear. There’s no ‘B’
card after the ace. It’s only a game because you know what cards are in the stack. Just like our words, the
order of the cards comes about by chance. But when it settles into shape, an inevitability is created.
Without chance, there would be nothing.”
Balot nodded. She noticed that Ashley’s artful shuffle was nearing its finale. And his speech was too.
“Dam up a river, and the water will overflow. Split it into tributaries and the volume of water in the
main branch will lessen. And without any rain, it will dry up. Inevitably. Luck is like the flow of a river.
The issue isn’t whether or not the flow really exists. The question is, will the river keep flowing? We all
live inside the flow of the river. And if there are those who drown in the river, some of them will drag
down the swimmers so that they alone float. But what the river has to teach us is that once you become a
part of the flow, you become the river itself.”
The last words perfectly coincided with the readying of the deck. Ashley placed the red card in front
of the stack and looked at Balot. Fondness glimmered in his gaze.
Balot took the red card and, in a declaration of respect to the dealer and his finely crafted stack of
cards, inserted it squarely into the center of the deck. The cards were already full of her influence, just as
the words exchanged between two friends differed fromthe words others used to talk to them.
Ashley cut the cards. It happened in an instant. And within that instant, the dizzying swirl of numbers
underneath Balot’s arms had already begun to respond. The order and probabilities of the cards were
nearly squeezed onto a single point. It was as Bell said. Balot’s only chance was to strive to be who she
should be.
She placed her chips—the amount required to draw out her moment of victory.
The cards came. Ashley’s upcard, a queen.
Balot’s cards, A-5. Balot hit: 7.
Again she hit: 6. Nineteen. She stayed.
Ashley kept up his smooth rhythm like the game was a conversation and their cards the words. They
understood each other completely, and he had no need to pause.
Ashley’s hole card was a 6. With the queen, he had sixteen.
He drew another card and found a 2. But that was it. Balot won.
Ashley counted out her winnings and placed thembeside her pot.
She took half of the chips and added themto her bet.
–Next hand.
The next hand, Balot received a J-9 and stayed.
Ashley’s upcard was a king, his hole card an 8. Balot won.
In the next hand, Balot had a 9-4, drawing an 8. Ashley’s upcard was a 10 and his hole card, a king.
Balot won.
Neither Balot nor Ashley made any comment about Balot’s sudden winning streak.
Beneath Balot’s arms, Oeufcoque crunched the numbers and adapted his display. His powers of
calculation were now a part of her. And Balot’s senses passed through to Oeufcoque. Hit or stay. Split or
double down. They reached the same decisions simultaneously, and each time the answer came from
place. A place they had constructed over all the previous games, a wave just big enough to win on. She
was entranced, but it was natural to her now, and she wouldn’t have known it unless she looked back.
Balot did what she had to. That was the answer. And yet, it wasn’t enough.
The fifth hand ended. Balot had won themall.
The stack of chips in her pot grew ever larger.
At times, it supported her as she pushed through the game, and at other times, it was a burden.
The answers reached by Balot and Oeufcoque had leveled out.
Like her fifty-percent answers to Ashley’s carjack question.
After the seventh hand ended in Balot’s win, Ashley suddenly interjected.
“Do you remember our talk about the hitchhiker?”
Balot glanced up at himand nodded.
“There’s more to the story. Can I tell you?”
He placed her winnings beside her pot as if to say, I’m not trying to get in the way of the game.
Balot nodded and added a third of her winnings to the pot.
–Yes, please tell me.
“I don’t usually tell anyone this.”
The cards came.
“I had an older brother. My only brother. He was irreplaceable.”
His upcard, a king. Balot’s cards, A-8.
“One day, he saw a hitchhiker on the side of the road. He stopped his car and let the man in.”
–Okay.
She indicated a stay. Ashley turned over his hole card.
“And he killed my brother. The murderer was never found.”
An 8. Balot won. Ashley took in the cards.
“He was shut in the trunk. Left under the hot sun. For hours upon hours he suffered dehydration and
suffocation, and then he died. In the darkness, alone.”
He distributed her winnings. She added themall to the pot. The cards came.
“After my brother’s funeral, I went with my father to the place his body was discovered. I got into the
trunk and had my dad close the lid. I wanted to know how my brother had felt.”
His upcard, a 5.
“It was awful. It was terrifying.”
Balot’s cards, J-2.
“I thrust out my arms into the darkness. Then came my father’s voice. Pull on the hook, there’s a hook.
I listened to him, found the hook, and opened the trunk.”
Balot signaled hit.
“I, in my brother’s place, escaped fromthe death trap.”
A 9. She signaled stay. The hole card was turned. A 9.
His next card, 6. Twenty-one and twenty. A narrow win.
“If only my brother had had knowledge of the car.”
The cards were taken and her winnings stacked.
“Or if only someone had come by to tell himabout the hook.”
She added her winnings to the pot. The cards came.
“Or if only he had the luck to find it on his own… If any of those three things had happened to my
brother then, he wouldn’t have died.”
His upcard, 8.
“Which of those three a person has—that’s what separates people from other people. People without
any will lose in turn.”
Balot’s cards, 5-Q.
“I don’t know which of those three—knowledge, someone else’s assistance, or luck—you have, but
because of it, you live. And you must never forget it.”
–I won’t.
Balot nodded. Her finger tapped the table, requesting a card.
It was a 6. In a display of respect for his heartfelt talk, she held the tension of the game for a moment
as she silently considered his words. Then she stayed.
Ashley revealed his hole card. A 9. With the 8, seventeen.
It was Balot’s ninth win. Her winnings were now virtually spilling forth fromher pot. But it wasn’t yet
certain. It wasn’t yet a one-hundred-percent answer. She had to find her hundred-percent answer to equal
that of the dealer’s.
Winning made her far more nervous than losing had. To have a winning streak is to keep running at the
same speed—or even accelerate—down a narrowing foothold.
If she lost her balance for a second, she’d fall.
For the first time, Balot realized that Mardock, the Stairway to Heaven, placed even more hardships
on people as they climbed toward greatness than it did on those who fell.
She added a fourth of her winnings to the pot, enduring the strain of the weight of it as she climbed one
step at a time. When the cards came, the weight only became harder to tolerate, and she was struck by the
desire to look away. That was her biggest temptation. Just look away, just for a second. She knew it
would make her feel better. She ground her teeth together, resisting. If there was only one moment in her
life when she had endured for something worthwhile, this was that moment.
Ashley’s upcard, 3. Balot’s cards, K-6.
Balot hit. A 3.
–Stay.
Ashley showed his hole card: 2. Five. He drew another card: 8. And another: 6. Nineteen to nineteen.
Ashley’s luck had shown itself again.
“Push.”
It was almost a whisper.
Balot left her bet as it was and called for the next hand.
Ashley’s upcard, a king. Balot’s cards, 8-9.
–Stay.
Ashley’s hole card, 2.Twelve. He drew another card and found a 5.
Another push. Worse still, if Balot had hit, she would have bust.
It was a critical back-and-forth match. And the next game was another tie. The chips in her pot
remained unmoved. The center point pulled at by two opposing forces, motionless as the locus of their
struggle.
Ashley had stopped talking. Balot was also silent. Only the game moved on. Dr. Easter and Bell Wing
simply watched. The gallery was growing in number, one by one. Music played, passing through the
rhythmof the cards before disappearing again.
The ties continued. Not just once or twice. Balot trudged through the dark desert. But this time there
were morning stars twinkling in the sky. She could see them. They were fellow travelers, walking beside
her. Cold tension and anxiety. Impatience and fatigue. Their footsteps in time as they marched in the same
direction. The same direction as her. This wasn’t as foolish and simple as when she was worried about
averting her eyes.
After a time, the twentieth hand passed in a tie, and with the twenty-first hand’s tie, the cards began to
unravel, and with the twenty-second hand’s tie, like a wave cresting against the cliffside and shattering
into pieces, an inevitability started to form.
Ashley placed his upcard for the twenty-third hand. A king.
Balot’s hand was filled with a 3-5.
Balot hit and received a 2. She hit again and the 4 came to her heavy. She steadied her breath,
preparing herself for whatever was to come, and said,
–Hit.
She willed her eyes not to turn away. A 5. Nineteen. Stay.
Ashley turned over his hole card. It was an ace.
Ashley won. Balot’s chips were wiped fromher pot.
Balot watched it happen. The empty space where her chips had been seemed to whisper to her. Now is
the time. Your lost chips were your high ground. Now you must jump as it vanishes out from under you.
You’re jumping from the high ground you’ve built up.
If you miss your landing, you’re dead by the very height you built.
Balot prayed for courage. It wasn’t that hard. If what she had gained was everything, and it was being
tested, all she had to do was open her hand and show it.
She opened her left hand. She pulled out her first golden chip and placed it softly on the empty table.
The crowd suddenly began to boil.
–Next hand.
Ashley nodded.
The cards came. His upcard, an ace. Balot’s cards, 7-7.
The red card appeared in the shoe.
Ashley removed the red card. Balot inhaled and exhaled. She touched her hand to the second gold
chip. She could sense that its contents had been extracted.
She set the second chip on top of the first.
–Double down.
All sound vanished fromthe room.
It only took two chips to freeze the entire casino. Two million-dollar chips.
Amid the stinging silence, Ashley solemnly touched his hand to the card shoe.
The card came vividly, the burning red suit striking Balot’s gaze.
A 7.
A red 7.
This was a clear sign: this would be Balot and Ashley’s final round.
Two sevens and an even number of eights remained in the deck: a card order designed to prevent an
instant victory for the player. The third seven only appeared due to the skill of the dealer and the judgment
of the player, both of them exceptional. The three cards known as the “Glory Sevens” sat before Balot’s
eyes. Between diamonds on the left and on the right pulsed the seven of hearts.
Their suits as red as blood. In truth, the three cards were blood. Not spilled blood, tragic and bereft of
hope. But blood shed in spirit during their long battle.
To properly respond—to give her one-hundred-percent answer—was not only her own personal goal,
it was merited.
–Even money.
Ashley gulped. His hand, prepared to reveal his hole card as soon as she stayed, trembled in midair.
It was the choice to throw away the blackjack payout. And the path to the minimum guaranteed
winnings.
“You want to throw away a six-million-dollar payout? You know that’s a difference of four million
dollars!”
Balot sat motionless.
The Doctor’s hands shook on the back of her chair.
Next to him, Bell Wing closed her eyes, then opened them again when the moment of silence had
passed.
“I never thought you’d be able to throw away a chance of winning six million dollars. I miscalculated.
I am utterly defeated. Now I’ve seen courage. I’ve seen humility. For the first time, I’ve seen somebody
beat me completely.”
He slowly lowered his hovering hand to the table.
Suddenly, Balot’s vision clouded, and she could no longer see.
Tears filled her eyes. They wouldn’t stop. Their warmth flowed down her cheeks and, mixed with the
thin layer of silver powder on her skin, fell to the table. As it all spilled, her only thought was, I did this.
She had climbed the last step of the stairway to heaven and jumped into space. There she set foot on a
new stairway—one entirely her own.
She was frightened. Her body shook. She summoned the courage to take one step forward.
Only later did she realize she had been crying endless tears. And from her trance, she spoke to her
rival. How she had won. Why she had been able to win.
–I was trapped in a car when people came to save me. Like your brother, I too have died.
Ashley sighed.
“You’re like a mermaid.” He shrugged. “You remind me of the story of the fish who exchanged her
voice for a pair of legs to walk on land. Even if she did end up dissolving into foam, she was a brave
woman. Even though each step felt like a sword passing through her, she walked the land because she
wanted to know the truth.”
He turned the hole card. Balot couldn’t see anything through her tears.
“I didn’t think this card would be defeated.”
–I can’t see it.
“It doesn’t matter. You won. A perfect victory.”
Two cards rose through the haze, symbolic of the man before her.
The ace and the jack of spades. The strongest blackjack—the one-eyed jack.

Chapter 10MANIFOLD01I can't tell, remarked the man watching the screens, which of them is the mark. He slumped downinto his fake leather chair.The control roomwas bathed in the light of countless screens set into its walls. The roomwasn't madefor a large number of staffit was for this man alone.Behind the man stood a floor manager trembling with anxiety and fear.Look at this, said the man in the chair. It's like he's being toyed with. You're the floor managerifyou had to say which one of themappears to be getting roasted, who would you go with?W-well, Chief, it seems to me that maybe it might be Marlowe?Yes, I agree. With the incidents in the poker room and at the roulette tables, how many people aregoing to have to be fired today?The floor manager recoiled. Management of the dealers was his responsibility, and to him, there wasnothing as chilling as a runaway dealer.Well, it's no use, sighed the chief, running his finger along a shiny black moustache. Run agraphical search for any images we have of these guests.S-so, you're saying they're cheats, Chief?No, we can't tell just from these screens. All I need to have is an excuse ready for the boss, if itcomes down to it. Say they're later found to be cheats, and we haven't done anything about it. You and meand Marlowe, all three of us will get to be real swell pals, just three more dupes on the next bus to theemployment agency.R-right. So, how many people do you want on this?Just you will be enough. Get twenty or so videos, send them to me, and go to sleep. But make it looklike a few dozen others worked on it. Got it?R-right. But, do youwhen you say I can just sleepOnce you've done what I've said, I'll have my excuse, if it comes down to it. You, on the otherhandHe made an exaggerated gesture of slashing his finger across his neck.The floor manager gave a hurried bow and turned to leave, when a figure appeared before him. Hetook a misstep and froze in place.A frantic voice came booming into the room. Why are you calling for me when I'm in the middle ofimportant business?The voice's owner had swarthy skin and wore Chameleon Sunglasses the turquoise color of a robin'segg.What's going on? House Leader? Chief? Special Consultant?All of those titles belonged to the man seated in the fake leather chairthe question seemed to ask,Which do you prefer being called?Not responding to the rapid-fire bluster, the chief turned to Shell-Septinos, slowly pushed two palmsin the air, then looked at the floor manager and said, You called for him?Y-yes. Th-that's what the regulations say to do.Yes, that's right, said the chief, as if condescendingly praising a little child. That's theregulations.The floor manager, caught between the chief and the owner, scrunched down his shoulders, as if hewere shrinking into himself.Shell barged into the control room, glaring at the two men, and barked, Some rich person is winninglike crazy, and that's got your spines all bent out of shape?Some show-off prick with a girl along. Not that he's a show-off prick because he has a girl with him.What I'mtrying to say is, he's a show-off prick. Word fromthe floor is they're uncle and niece.What's their winning percentage?Shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing, the chief answered, A little more than sixty percent.Shell took off his sunglasses, and his Emperor Green eyes shone with rage.Sixty percent? Over how many games?Last time I checked, two hundred sixteen.What's their method?We don't have any theories. We don't know. They use the basics, sometimes. They don't seem likeanything more than a couple of amateurs throwing their chips around.I see. Like someone who, after throwing their chips around, turns one hundred dollars into more thanseven.Well, it can happen sometimes.I suppose. I've seen it myself. But what are the chances someone can randomly throw chips aroundand win more than sixty percent of the time?The chief, as if the motion were more of a bother than it was worth, made a circle with his rightpointer finger and thumb. The circle itself had no meaning, but the space between his two fingers carriedhis silent message.Shell nodded. Right. Not one in thousands.But not zero, either.Shell bellowed, Are you trying to be funny with me, Ashley?The floor manager trembled, but the chief, like a scolded child unrepentant, simply scratched hischeek.Take care of them, Shell continued. As if they were pros who came with clear plans. That's anorder.Pros, you say They don't look like pros to me.I'mthe one who will decide that. Show himto me, that show-off prick.Shell leaned forward, looking over the chief 's shoulder at the screens on the wall. With a shockedexpression, he said, I see. That is one show-off prick. Like some cream puff playing dress-up as ahustler. You're right, a pro coming in here looking as stupid as that, that would beHis voice trailed off into silence.For a moment, the low buzz of running electronics was the only sound in the room.The floor manager, unable to withstand the silence, asked, Boss?But just then, Shell exploded, What the fuck is this?!The floor manager jumped. The chief, calmas ever, simply furrowed his brow as he gazed at Shell.Shell was staring at the screen with a dumbstruck expression, his face pale.What the fuck! What the fuck are they doing here?What, you know them? the chief deadpanned.Shell, his face tense, as if a loaded gun were pointed at his head and the safety had just flipped, stareddown at the chief and said, Ashley, kill them. Chop themup with your cards. Give themyour usual.What? You mean, kill themdead, kill them?The chief formed a gun with his fingers. He aimed his index finger at the screen and mimed the pullingof the trigger.Shell shook his head condescendingly. That isn't your job. I'mtalking legally. With cards. There's noneed to take their lives here. He straightened his posture and took a deep breath to calmhimself.His voice dropped to a whisper. They came here to completely waste my time. Time is vital. AndI'm not talking about the regrettable wastefulness of the passage of time. Time is dreadful. Because timethat's passed affects the time that's left.The chief lazily tilted his head.Don't you understand? Shell continued. I'm running from time's curse. That's how I've been ableto climb this far. But my method isn't perfect. That's how I end up in situations like this. Things I'msupposed to have forgotten flash back. Flashbacksthis world's foulest curse. And I hire men like you tocast themaway. Men like the card killer. Do you understand?Yes, well, sort of, the chief muttered. Then, remembering something, he said, By the way, Boss,about the people we had to let go todayYou mean the mechanic in the poker room?No, no, who gives a damn about a little twerp like that? But down in the roulette area, someone elsewas fired.Shell nodded curtly. What about her?For a casino around these parts to fire Bell Wing? That's unbelievable.Get to the point.Couldn't you let her stay? I'masking as a representative for the employees here.Shell aimed a scornful smile at the chief. And what kind of representative are you?One who's loyal to his boss, of course.Good. I'll consider it. But only once you've completed your work. Now, I have to greet the partnersin my important business deal. Understand? While I'm gone, do your job. To the fullest of your abilities.That's why I pay you so well.Understood, Boss.The chief bowed respectfully. Without getting up fromhis chair, of course.That's an order, Ashley. Don't let themany closer to me.Shell put his sunglasses back on and stormed out of the room with such force that, had the door beenclosed, he would have kicked it right down.The chief muttered, Flashbacks, huh. I don't want a job where the trigger's being pulled on me. Heturned to the still-cowering floor manager. Hey, you. I'mchanging the plan.H-how so?Split the files into two thousand pieces and mobilize all the dealers currently on break. Track all oftheir movements since the moment those two entered the casino, and report everything directly to myears.In time with the last two words, the chief tapped his headset.I'll be with you. Don't let themleave here alive.The floor manager's face tightened in an instant, like a soldier just given orders to launch the assault ina battle where victory is assured.Yes, sir!He swiftly did an about-face and left at full speed, not stopping to look over his shoulder.What's with those two? the chief grumbled. One's the dog wagging its tail, and the other's the tailwagging its dog. How insipid.He leaned back into the chair and returned his attention to the monitors. Noticing something in thepicture, he touched his finger to the screen. The ConsoleView, responding to his touch, froze the image.He slid his finger right, and the playback rewound.Ah, that's too far back.This time he slid to the left, and the image moved forward frame by frame.The chief stared at the screen. On the other displays were playbacks fromother, randompoints in time.As he looked fromscreen to screen, he snorted like a dog on the scent.So she's left-handed.But the girl on the monitor was taking in a chip with her right hand. Not just any chip, but one of themost valuable chips in the casinoin all of Mardock City, even.Hmmm I see, he said, nearly yawning. His eyes were affixed to her left hand.I don't know what your trick is he muttered with indifference, but those gloves are well made.The chiefAshley Harvesthauled himself up out of his chair and slid his feet out the door of thecontrol room.Shell dashed into his office and, like the fleeing heroine of a horror movie hiding herself in a room,closed the door with the slightest of sounds.With one hand he snatched a microphone and into it shouted orders to his staff to take over his hostingduties, and with the other hand he mashed the redial button on his cellular phone.Finally the line connected, and a low voice came over the phonethe steadfast voice of a mancharged with erasing Shell's flashbacks.It's me. Weren't you supposed to be in the middle of a deal, Mr. Shell?Boiled! It's awful! Where the hell are you?I'm investigating them. What's wrong?Investigating? Investigating? What are you talking about? They're here, right now!Boiled was silent.They're here, all dressed up, like they're going to a party!I see. I thought so, Boiled said under his breath.Now Shell was silent.I've been searching for them in your casinos. Of the four, I just finished up at the second. You'reat Eggnog Blue, right? I'll head over immediately.Y-you knew? That they would come to one of my casinos?I found a card game crib sheet in their hotel room.With a trembling hand, Shell removed his sunglasses. His eyes were wide with the dawningrealization of his current situation.Are you there? Boiled asked, and Shell jolted back to attention. Please answer me this. Whatever isinvolved with your business dealis it there or not? That's all I'm asking.Shell's mouth worked open and closed and open again, and finally, he took a deep breath and said,almost in a moan, This is where my first Show was. It was my first step Everything always beginshere.After a brief pause, Boiled said, I will be there within an hour. I will take them down. Myusefulness will prove that you've made the best decision.Boiled disconnected.For a time, Shell remained still. Then he muttered a single word.UsefulnessA bold smile spread fromcheek to cheek.Yes, he whispered. Your existence is indispensable. You're the hammer of God, and you'll shatterthat filthy rotten egg.He put his Chameleon Sunglasses back on. The lenses had turned a harsh red color.Isn't it a little early to leave?Just as Bell Wing had finished packing up her things in the anteroom, Ashley called out to stop her. Hewas rugged, well built with wide shoulders. An oddly charming expression spread across his normallystern face.He coolly looked at Bell.I didn't know Ashley Harvest was the kind of man to waste time on someone who just got canned.You know, I'd like nothing more than to have all the other high-paid staff besides me gone. Ashleymade an embarrassed shrug. But you're a renowned croupier in the industry. You attract customers, andbesides, isn't there such a thing as duty in this business? Are you going to leave without training asuccessor?I don't know when you decided to start acting like a manager, nor do I care. I'll have you know, I'mnot particularly unhappy with my dismissal.Oh, that's the first I've heard that.Well, it's true. This is by my will. And nobody has the right to criticize it. Who said I was going toretire fromthe business, anyway?I'm not saying it. But the rookie croupiers, they say you've chosen your own successor, and they'repretty upset about it.Ah. Yes, it's true. That girl Bell gave a heartfelt nod. The rookies here are considered firstclass, but she had talent to surpass them all. I'm not saying the rookies are bad, either. It's just what I sawwith my own eyes.For those who want to be seen by your eyes, that's a bitter pill. So what? You're going to leave hereto nurture that girl?Heavens, no. I don't think she'd be interested. I'll just keep throwing roulette balls. Sometimes, Imight throw to the right, that's all. Thinking the whole timemaybe she'll comeThen couldn't you stay here a bit longer?Bell shook her head coldly.Even if, as a representative of the employees, I can turn the odds between me and the owner in myfavor?I don't see why I owe you anything. What, you want my recommendation to the Casino Society foryou to run your own place? Bell asked.No, no. You're a gambler through and through, aren't you? Or a loan shark, more like it, trying to findthe monetary value of every single one of my words. You're the epitome of a gambler.Ashley lifted his hands, raising his pointer fingers. Speaking in hushed tones, he continued. We don'tknow the true nature of our opponent. She's going by a pattern we've never seen before. She's using somesystem toward some purpose. We're working on an analysis, but by the time our staff finishes themarathon of the graphical search, she may already have passed the finish.She's that good?She's playing blackjack, and she's called for a million-dollar chip.Bell frowned and looked at Ashley as if she'd misheard him.And she's asked themto leave the eleven remaining chips at the table.To think someone other than you could do such a thing. Her eyes turned to the corridor leading to thecasino floor.Ashley broke into a smile. You want to see it for yourself, don't you?Glaring at him from the corner of her eye, Bell said, I'll decide when I see her. If I don't find herinteresting, I'll leave, then and there.She started down the corridor.With a slight shrug, Ashley followed after her.As they walked, she said, So this opponent is so good you think someone will be needed to check forthe next ones with the same tricks?Yeah, basically. If whatever she's got is good enough to get a million-dollar chip, copycats mayappear at all the other casinos too.If you devise any countermeasures against her system, who will you tell it to? The boss?Don't be stupid, Bell. Ashley waved his hand as if he were shooing away a fly. I've got aconnection at the top of the Society. If my countermeasures get used by all the casinos in the Society, it'llmean a lot of money. Then I wouldn't have to work for that fool of a boss any longer.Don't you like it here?I overlooked it for a while, since there's little trouble and the pay is good. But I can't take it anylonger. Our boss had a fifteen-year-old girl living with himand not as her proper guardian, if youfollowbut even worse, he's so crazed he tried to kill her by blowing up his car engine. For the life ofme, I can't understand why the Society still lets himhave a job.Yeah, that's a mystery. I don't even want to know what his real job is. Look, I've got too few yearsleft in my life without getting involved in all this, Bell said. Anyway, if this opponent of yours isn'tinteresting, I'm going home. My kids are old enough to support themselves. My only reason for still beingin this place is just to lend some meaning to an old hag's prolonged existence.As if presenting to her that meaning, Ashley led her into the VIP room, pointed, and said, That table.Bell froze.HerHer? Ashley tilted his head.He looked at Bell and, putting more force into his voice, repeated, Her?Bell nodded. She stared at the girl. She stared at the girl seated at the VIP table, who was intentlyfocused on the dealer's shuffle.Her? She's the one you decided would be your successor? Oh, she's trouble. He snapped his fingersenthusiastically.But Bell's solemn expression remained unchanged, intently focused on something. She didn't evenrespond as Ashley goaded her, saying, So now what? Are you going straight back to the bus to take youhome?She only muttered, A fifteen-year-old Death by an exploding engine So that's it. That's herpurpose. When you stand in her way, to her, it's like a test bestowed upon her by the Holy Ghost. Andeverything has led me here.Ashley, somewhat taken aback, gazed into Bell Wing's face. Have you had some revelation? Youquit your job as a croupier, and now you're a prophet?I wish you had a little more faith, Ashley. But I should thank you. You brought me here. But I'm justhere to observe. I won't try to interfere. If I do anything to help, it'll be after this is over.That's fine. As long as you'll be my witness, the Society will understand. But Bellwhat do youknow about them?Nothing. Nothing at all. Just the girl's name.Ashley shrugged his shoulders to say, That's fine, so tell me.Rune-Balot, Bell stated with a solemn face. That's her name. It's a sorrowful name; a fittingname.02Marlowe John Fever.At the sound of the harsh, chiding voice, the dealer's hands froze, and his face went cold. The dealer,having surrendered the first of his crop at the end of a long, brutal cat-and-mouse game, had stopped,completely motionless, in the middle of his shuffle. Marlowe turned to look at the speaker and found asmall envelope pressed against his chest.Here's a reference letter, Ashley continued. Maybe you can use it to find work someplace else.The dealer felt as helpless and humiliated as if he were held up at gunpoint.It's not addressed to anyone. It just has my signature. Make as many copies as you'd like. Just take itand get on the next bus before the owner finds you. You weren't able to become a star here, but you canstill try somewhere else.Marlowe hung his head in utter shame. His expression was so dejected that one could scarcely believeit was the same face that had been so passionate when he had been shuffling the cards. Heartbroken, hisshoulders sagging as if carrying a heavy weight, he slunk off the floor. The word defeated had never beenso fitting.That's quite different from what you told me, Bell said to Ashley, standing at his side. And I'm notsure if I believe you actually signed that.Balot didn't watch the retreating Marlowe, nor did she look at the man, dressed as a dealer, who hadjust dismissed him. Her gaze was fixed on the cold figure of the old woman.Good evening. Miss. Sir. Ashley stepped up to the table and bowed gracefully. It seems our youngman is having quite the tantrum. He wanted to keep on playing with you, but we have rules here. Now, ifyou don't mind, I'll switch out the cards with new decks.Not to be topped, the Doctor graciously replied that it wouldn't be an issue. Ashley nodded and tossedthe used cards into the proper slot beneath the table. He withdrew six fresh decks, cleanly removed theirseals, and displayed the cards. The Doctor nodded his approval, and Ashley began carefully shuffling thedecks.Balot looked at Bell. Since Bell had been staring at her the whole time, their eyes naturally met. Theold woman didn't smile, but she spoke with a certain fondness.Good evening, Rune-Balot. We meet again.Yes, Bell Wing. We do at that.Without realizing it, Balot had broken into a grin. More than wondering why Bell had come, she washappy to see the woman again.A curious sense of security came over herand a feeling of relief at seeing the old woman out of hercroupier's uniform. Bell's appearance made it clear that she had indeed been dismissed from her job.Strangely, Balot felt no remorse. The girl knew that the battle between her and Bell was already in thepast.So you really were after something big, weren't you? Bell spoke in a tone clear of any clouds ofhostility or regret.I'm just having some fun. I thought I might learn something.You seemlike the sort of person who can learn anything. You've got that kind of face.Bell turned her eyes to the shuffle, as if to tell Balot, You should be watching too. But it didn't mattereven if Balot wasn't looking, she could still sense each and every slightest movement of this newdealer's shuffle. He shuffled carefully and with no wasted movement. Calling his motions smoothwouldn't quite be rightthey seemed completely natural. In contrast to the previous dealer, who showedoff his smooth technique, Ashley was simply doing his job.Do you play blackjack too?Bell, keeping her attention on the shuffle, answered, No, this man just persuaded me to come watch.Do you know each other?His name is Ashley Harvest. He's something of a bodyguard for this kind of business. For him toshow up, this must be no ordinary matter. So I'mhere to see how well you can stand up to his skills.Ashley glanced at Balot. She's here to make sure we have a fair match. So please don't beconcerned.Even if he didn't exude the same fighting spirit as the previous dealer had, he seemed even moreindomitable. More than Bell Wing, even.This man's luck doesn't spin counterclockwise like mine. He has no weaknesses. Remember that.I will.I'll be watching over you. Over the whole game. You don't have a problem, do you, Ashley?Taking it as a signal to begin, Ashley nodded and calmly assembled the cards into a neat stack. Hespoke softly, but his voice carried.Right. From this point on, this table is reserved for you two only. Think of it as a modest gesture ofappreciation for retiring that mechanic in the poker room, Bell Wing right here, and the fine young dealerwho sat at this table.He might as well have just come out and said, I know what you've been up to. After that neardeclaration of war, Oeufcoque commented,We anticipated this would happen. Don't take his bait. Let the Doctor handle him.Dr. Easter, as if on cue, spread his arms fearlessly and, sounding quite pleased, said, Our very ownprivate table! Why, that is quite the luxury!Ashley raised a finger and, beaming a smile as if he were their accomplice, said, That should make iteasier for you to win, right?His candidness was startlingindeed, a sustained number of matches was required for card countingto be effective.If it's all right, said the dealer, the minimumwill be ten thousand dollars.Is that a table rule? The Doctor crossed his arms and, as calmly as if he were haggling overvegetables at the market, shook his head. Maybe I want to try my hand at another table, then.Ashley replied without hesitation. Fine, we'll go with a ten-dollar minimum bet. He pointed atBalot's chip. That way you'll be able to play a hundred thousand games with that single chip.Then we're agreed, said the Doctor. Ten dollars it is.Ashley nodded and set the transparent red card on the table, inviting either Balot or the Doctor toplace it in the deck.Reaching for the card, the Doctor said, You're quite the unusual dealer, aren't you? I'm eager to seeyou deliver on what you seemto promise.He casually inserted the red card into the stack of cards.Ashley shrugged and effortlessly cut the deck. He then inserted the cards into the shoe and placed hisrough but eminently graceful hands on top of it.Balot and the Doctor placed their chips. Ashley drew the first card. The game had begun. Their lastgamethe one they had to survive.We have a push, Ashley said.The cards disappeared. With just a wave of his hand, the dealer had returned all the cards on the tableto the discard pile.Nothing else moved. Not their chips. Not their determination. Not their tactics.All that passed by were time and cards.The Doctor blinked twice and placed his chips on the table.Balot stared blankly at hers.The cards were distributed. Ashley's upcard was a 7.The Doctor had a 9 and a jack, totaling nineteenstay.Balot had a 7 and a 3hit. A 9 card came, and with nineteen, she stayed. A decent hand. But Balotand the Doctor were in no position to make quick judgments.The dealer revealed his hole card9. That made sixteen. Following the rules, he drew another card3. Ashley surveyed the table.We have a push.The watching crowd let out a collective gasp. It was formless, not quite wonder, not quite amazement.Since the first card Ashley drew, this was the sixteenth hand.They hadn't won a single hand.They hadn't lost a single chip.Both Balot and the Doctor had lost nothing.Sixteen tied hands, with only the value of the count changing.Placing his chips on the table, the Doctor cleared his throat and grumbled, This is quite amazing.There's not even the slightest movement.With a serious expression and a tone of admiration, Ashley responded, Just proof that your fortune isan even match for this casino. It's incredible. You're a tough opponent. I'mriveted.What kind of man is this guy?I can't read him.Oeufcoque's unexpected answer terrified her.I don't understand. What's he after? Is he enjoying this? Is he angry? Is he sad when you draw acard? I can't tell. It's all mixed together. What kind of scent is this?Oeufcoque was nearly shrieking, but then, as if realizing he was only making her more afraid, hesuddenly stopped himself.For now, we analyze. We'll hold him of with our best tactics. It's not like we can't keep oncounting the cards.Balot pulled herself together and signaled that she understood. She lightly squeezed her left hand overher leg.There was a strange tension in the air. The seventeenth hand was also a tie.Fatigue was setting in, a nameless weariness.Blackjack demands you endlessly walk a long, long path.Over the long path, there are ups and downsthe road is never flat. But thisthis was like trudgingthrough a barren desert. There was no path to be seen; the scenery shifted from moment to moment, but inthe end, nothing changed. All you saw was the flat, boundless horizon.At the twenty-second hand, something different happened. The Doctor had an ace and a queen. Balothad a 5 and a 6 and hit to draw a king. Two twenty-ones, side by side.Ashley's upcard was a 2. For the first time in the match, Ashley spoke.This is easy. Not having to do anything. I don't have to entertain you, and I don't have to trick youeither. You both play with precise tactics. That way, I don't even have to think about anything.He reached for his hole card. A bad premonition ran down Balot's spine.It was a 4. The 2 and 4 made six. He drew a card: 4. Another: 5.Before Balot's dazed eyes, Ashley smoothly, dispassionately, turned over the next card: 6. The 2 and4 and 4 and 5 and 6twenty-one.Balot felt something scream deep inside herself. He was toying with them, with his unchanging cards.A heavy fatigue was building up inside her, even worse than if she had been losing.Behind Ashley, Bell Wing stood watching with a clear face. After the twenty-seventh tie, Ashleyplaced one hand over the other and leaned over, like a waiter who had just finished setting down theirmeals.This is a good place to take a break. The red card was on top of the deck, without a single card tospare.Balot was stunned. And the Doctor, who had placed the card himself, stared at the card shoe as if itwere a fortune teller who had just correctly guessed his birthday.Ashley's bulky hands never paused. He began to shuffle.You two have wonderful luck, he said. I wonder to which one of you it belongs. The gentleman? Orthe young lady? Or is there someone else who brings it here?Balot could sense information coming to Ashley through his earpiece. How much she and the Doctorhad won and in which games. What was remarkable about their methods. Under what circumstances didthey prevail. Fromthose bits of information, Ashley had sensed a third party.Don't be sucked in by him.So said the third party. Balot's fists were clenched.Ashley finished the shuffle. This time, Balot inserted the red card into the stack of cards. His effortlesscut seemed to swallow up her influence on the deck with supreme skill.And as Bell and the large audience watched, the second round began.Ashley's first upcard was a 2. The Doctor drew an 8 and a 10stay.Balot had a 3 and a 5. For a moment, she considered staying, but in the end, she decided to hit. A jack.Eighteen. The same as the Doctor.Ashley revealed his hole carda 6, making eight. Next, he drew a queen, making eighteen.Even if she had recklessly stayed, all that would have resulted would have been her loss.The Doctor added more chips to his bet. Balot followed suit and raised her bet, from three thousanddollars to six. It was both Oeufcoque's instructions as well as her desire.She wanted to feel in control of something, if only to dispel the depressing sensation of totalstagnation. And the number of chips she placed before her was the singular thing she had control over.Such luck you have, said Ashley. Its power is affecting even me.Balot and the Doctor were progressively raising their bets. To the dealer, it should have been apivotal moment. But Ashley's management of the cards was undisturbed, leaving no openings for attack.He seemed to be taking their hands and instantly ripping themto shreds.I've never met a player who could rival my luck. That's why the casinos treat me like the door to thevault. But maybe this time, someone has come holding the key.Ashley kept repeating that word, luck, luck, but Balot and the Doctor didn't thinknot even for aninstantthat this had anything to do with luck or chance.Maybe this man had the singular ability to arrange the deck in such a way that the outcome would beinevitable.A shuffle that could manipulate the order of over three hundred cardsthat would be a skill with asingular purpose.There was no sign of marked cards hidden at the bottomof the card shoe.It would also explain why he had opened new decks. Unsealed cards could be in any order, but if heknew the order the cards came in, he could potentially arrange the cards using his particular technique.Granted, it was hard to believe such a technique could exist.But the real problem was what that technique would bring. Their fatigue would build and build, andeventually they would be sent away. But if the casino's orders were to retake her chips, he wouldn't havea way to do so.Why didn't he have a method to force the players to lose? Was he trying to tell them that they werefree to leave now without consequence? Balot didn't knowand she could sense Oeufcoque wanting toask the same questions. If Ashley wasn't setting some trap, then wasn't he just trying not to do anything?Sure, he was like an iron wall, but he'd be nothing more.But Balot couldn't quit now. Just because she'd obtained one of the four chips, she couldn't have said,Well, that's enough for me.The Doctor had said that memories were many-body information. They grew along with the passage oftime, but at the same time, memories of one time were connected with memories of another. If Shell'smemories were divided between four chips, those memories couldn't be reproduced without all four timelines. And if the memories couldn't be reproduced, all they'd have is an album showing the growthprocess of neurons.Their goal wasn't that kind of analytical researchit was the details of Shell's deeds, and withoutthose, their entire battleand Balot's gamewould be without meaning.The Doctor sighed. We may have to change our tactics. For the first time since starting the game, hetook his chips off the table. He placed half of themback down.The cards came. Ashley's upcard, a queen.The Doctor had a 5 and a 7; twelve. Balot had a king and a 4; fourteen.The Doctor hit and received an 8. His total, twenty.Hit. His tone was defiant, like an underling in a gangster movie facing down the barrel of a gun,crying out, Go ahead, shoot me!Ashley looked at the 8 and edged up his chin as if to say, That's the card you got.I said hit.The Doctor hit his finger against the table, insisting on the card.In the face of such reckless self-destruction, Ashley swiftly turned over the next card.A 6.That's a bust, stated the dealer.The Doctor shrugged. The situation was obvious. Anyone could see it. Even Ashley.The problem was that the Doctor had exposed himself. He had called out the perfect deck. But howwould their opponent move next? Everything depended on that.Balot hit. Her card, a 6. Her total, twenty.Should I hit?Stick to the optimal tactics. Leave the attack to the Doc. Following Oeufcoque's instructions, shestayed.Ashley revealed his hole card: 4. With the queen, that made fourteen.He drew another card: 2. He drew again: 4. Twenty.We have a push.This time, he spoke directly to Balot. He swept away the cards.Calmly, the Doctor whispered, I guess one card isn't enough.It was as if hitting or staying made no difference. It was as if the order of the cards itself wasundaunted.The Doctor placed his chips, half again the amount of the previous hand.Balot kept with her same bet. As Bell Wing quietly watched for any changes on the table, Ashleybrought his hand to the card shoe and swiftly dealt the cards.His upcard was 7. The Doctor had an 8-5, making thirteen. Balot had K-3, for thirteen.The Doctor hit. He got a 4.He hit again: 2. His total, nineteen.As if it were the natural choice, he hit again. Ace. Total, twenty.And again he hit. For a moment, Balot thought Ashley might get angry, but he didn't. As he coolly drewthe next card, he said, Congratulations.It was an ace; 8-5-4-2-A-A: twenty-one.The Doctor immediately looked over at Balot, asking without speaking, Did he do anythingsuspicious?She answered with a slight shake of the head. Ashley hadn't made the slightest indication of trickery.So you'll be staying, then.You couldn't draw fromtwenty-one. The Doctor nodded curtly.Hit.Balot received an 8. Total, twenty-one.The Doctor groaned. With his eyes, he asked Balot again, Are you sure he didn't do anythingsuspicious? But Balot was just as astonished. What was going on?Now what? asked Ashley. For the first time, he focused his dark brown eyes right at her. As hesmiled, his eyes seemed to dissect her alive.That's some technique.Bell Wing, who had been quietly watching the game, had spoken. I don't think there's anyone whocould imitate you.It's all practice.He turned over his hole card. A 9. Along with his 7, that made sixteen. He drew another card andslapped down the 5.We have a push.Balot felt dizzy.Then Bell said, This has turned into a dull forced match.Balot looked at the old woman, who was staring right at her.Rune-Balot. Are you the kind of kid who lives by listening to others?At first, Balot didn't understand what the woman was talking about.Chips don't mean anything to you, right? I don't know why you're holding back. You shot down everysingle last ball I threw, and now you're subjecting me to this nonsense.As Bell's words drew the girl in, Oeufcoque's rebuttal came bubbling to the lining of her gloves.Focus on the game. Don't forget, she's with the casino too.The cards came.You're you. Bell's words struck right through Balot's heart. You don't have to hold back foranyone. Especially in a big match like this. In a match, restraint is like shit. It stinks and it distracts you.Then Bell was again silent.Once more, the Doctor carelessly hit, until finally he bust.As if hiding behind him, Balot hit.With a 2 and a queen, she got a 7, making nineteen. She stayed, and Ashley revealed his hole card.With a 4 and a jack, he drew a 5, making nineteen.Ashley's voice, announcing the tie, seemed to come fromsomewhere far away.Subconsciously, Balot bit her lip. The next hand, the Doctor once again bust himself before her turn.Balot received a 2 and a 9. She doubled down and drew an 8. Nineteen.Ashley's upcard was a 9. The hole card, jack. To no one's surprise, a push.Again she bit her lip, hard. The next hand, the Doctor bust, Ashley revealed his hole card, and as heannounced the tie, the pain of her teeth gnawing at her lip snapped her back to reality.Slowly, she pulled her lip from her teeth, and as she wet her lips, she felt a realization come over her.She had chosen this game. The game of whether she would live or die. And that was one answer to herquestion Why me?It took a moment for Balot, distracted by those thoughts, to realize that there had been a change in thecards. The change occurred when the Doctor returned to the optimal tactics.Balot's eyes were focused on the reveal of the dealer's hole card.The upcard was a 5. The hole card, 9. He drew a 3. Seventeen.A lossand a push.Confused, Balot checked the Doctor's cards. Jack-3-3. Sixteen.Balot's cards were 5-7-5. Seventeen. Only the Doctor had lost.Dr. Easter silently placed his next chips. Balot bit her lip again.Ashley dealt the cards. Balot had no clear sense of his fingers. No sense of his fingers. Scathing doubtwashed over her.What am I fighting against? This man's fingers?If he had a gun in his hands and not cards, what would I do?Simply stare and watch as he pulled the trigger?For the first time since the beginning of the game, Balot sensed the cards. The stack of cards, how theywere ordered. She thought again about whether the cards had been arranged into a certain order.She heard the Doctor say, I'll stay.He had 7-6-6. Nineteen.Ashley's upcard, an 8.Balot had J-3. She hit and got a 7.The card in front of her, Balot was silent.She felt one with the table. Her nerves spread through it, and she sensed the weight of each card uponher skin.Speaking gently, as if inviting something, Ashley said, Will you draw another card? Feel free to askthe man next to you, if you want himto tell you what will happen.Balot slowly raised her head and sensed the dealer's presence. She wondered if drawing her sensesinto his fingers alone had been a part of his strategy.Quietly, she said,Stay.Ashley casually flipped over his hole card.A 4. With 8, that made twelve. He drew an ace and then a 7.A lossAnd a push.Balot completed his sentence. There wasn't a meaning behind itshe just wanted to see how thedealer would react. She wanted to sense his movements, his mood, everything. Ashley shrugged.Precisely.Balot grinned at him. At first, he looked taken aback, then he returned the smile. At the same time, heswept up the Doctor's chips.The cards came. Ashley's upcard, a jack.The Doctor's cards were 5-9. He drew an 8 and bust.Balot kept her senses upon Ashley and transmitted everything to Oeufcoque.On her left arm, along with the running tally of the true count, the tactical instructions, and other data,was a hastily compiled report of information on the dealer.Balot's cards were 8-J. Somewhere, she felt Ashley's pulse.Hit.Ashley responded without delay. His movements casualtruly, those were the iron wall.Balot had drawn a 2.Stay.Following Balot's choice, Ashley revealed his hole card.Two jackstwenty.Something was matching up, she sensed. In the following hand, the Doctor didn't bust, but his J-8 wasdefeated before Ashley's and Balot's twenties.It seems like we're starting to see whom luck favors, Ashley said, sweeping up the cards. Thosewho take even the slightest wrong turn will find themselves immediately parted from luck. She's nearlyimpossible to latch on to. No one can ridicule those whom luck has deserted, for it is just that easy for herto leave you.He spoke as if the Doctor's loss had been his plan all along. It certainly wasn't out of the realm ofpossibility for that man.But the Doctor knew his role. He knew what he had to do.He lowered his bets and determinedly went bust.Balot bet the same amount again and again. The game wouldn't end.Ashley turned an upcard. It was a 6. The Doctor received a 3 and a 9.I'll double down, stated the Doctor, stacking his chips.Ashley, as if faced with no other choice but to pull the trigger, handed him his card. A queen. A bust.A cruel defeat, but the Doctor didn't seemto be concerned with what he had lost.Balot, with a 4-7, drew a 6. Seventeen. Ashley revealed his hole card: 5-6. He drew an ace, then a 5.Push.03The Doctor slowly rose. He patted Balot on the shoulder and said, I'll leave my luck to her.He offered her his chips, then turned to Ashley and said, laughing, And I'll leave my bad luck withyou.His actions were the turning point in the game. The order of the cards attested to it.He retired from the game as soon as he had seen the balance in the cardsif he hadn't hit, Balotwould have won. And if he hadn't even been there, Ashley would have had twenty-one.From this point forward, stated the Doctor, I'm just an innocent bystander. Well, a bystander whohas an effect on the game. A far-off phenomenon causing a massive local effecta butterfly effect. Andmy defeat is the butterfly.The butterfly?It's a metaphor for a theory of causality. A small occurrence, a butterfly flying on the eastern coast,can trigger far bigger eventsa typhoon on the western shores. And I think we are about to prove themany-body problemfar more clearly than it has ever been shown before.Ashley shrugged his shoulders with apparent disinterest.You're always welcome to join back in.The Doctor nodded and patted Balot's shoulder once more. His message clear: You don't have ashield anymore. Balot looked himin the eyes and asked her most pressing question.Do you think I can win?Maybe not right away. But there's one on his side and two on ours. With our combined luck, you'llwin for sure.Balot nodded. By two, he had meant Balot and Oeufcoque.The Doctor pushed in his chair and stood behind Balot, next to Bell Wing, ready to watch over thegame.Ashley and Balot were now sitting face to face.The crowd around the table continued to grow in size, one by one, drawn in by the spectacle.Bell Wing had nothing left to say.The cards were dealt. Ashley's upcard, 6. Balot had Q-4.So this is how the game has changed, she thought. Up until then, the cards had presented easy choices,but now that the Doctor had left his seat, she found herself faced with a tough decision.But Oeufcoque's tactical analysis was steadfast. All she had to do was continue onward.She hit. A card came2. Sixteen. Not enough.She hit again. Ashley's hand flashed, revealing the next card: 4.Stay.Ashley kept on moving.His hole card was a 3. He drew another and scored an ace. Twenty.We have a push.Balot steadied her breath, quietly awaiting the next hand.Ashley's upcard came, an ace.Balot had an 8-3. She almost pressed on with a double down, but at the last moment, she hesitated.Oeufcoque's tactical analysis displayed double down, but the girl worried about not being able todraw any more cards. If only she didn't have to draw any more. If she didn't have to make that choice,maybe she could have found some peace of mind.Balot focused on her cards as if she were judging the entire world in a courthouse.Then, with the sense that she had overcome her paralyzing fear, she declared the hit. A 5 card came.She felt she had made the right decision.She hit again. The card that came was a 5. Twenty-one.Holding in a sudden wave of relief, she announced her stay.Ashley turned over his hole card. A jack. Blackjack.Balot groaned. The noise was soft, yet her vocal chords were taut, as if she had screamed.Ashley announced the tie and within moments had begun the next round.His upcard, a jack. Balot had a queen and a king.The tactics displayed on her right arm instantly calculated her winning percentage along with herlosing percentage and the amount her chips would change. Ashley's pulse was there too, with not even theslightest fluctuation.The dealer had squelched her brief moment of self-victory.Or so Balot thought, as she was once again unable to move.Balot stayed. Ashley revealed his cards. The sharp tip of the ace pointed straight at her. Blackjack.It was her first loss. Her chips were taken away. But it was still all right. The amount she was to betplunged lower. But it was forgivable.Ashley's next upcard, however, wasn't.An ace. Something inside Balot's chest clenched tight, grating against her.Balot had K-4. If she hadn't hit earlier, she'd have a twenty-one now.Where did I go wrong? She couldn't hold back her thoughts. I never made the wrong decision. Butwhat else could it be called but that?What's wrong is this table with this man, Ashley, standing at it. The difference of just one card waschasing her to a certain defeat.Balot composed her feelings and hit. Her card, a 2. Sixteen.That number weighed frightfully heavy. Her tactics called for a stay. It was displayed right next to thetrue count.If she didn't follow the tactics, what else would she follow? But the choice was heavy. Her throatquivered.Balot stayed, and Ashley casually flipped his hole card.A 2. With the ace, thirteen. He drew another card. Again unforgivable. It was a 5. If Balot had drawn,she would have had twenty-one.So sorry, said Ashley. It was sixteen against eighteen, and Balot's second straight loss. With aslightly trembling hand, Balot placed her next bet.No one can predict the future, the Doctor spoke up. But it can be approximated. That separates usfrom animals. We can think with two minds. The stale, old-fashioned, and the ever-changing newnamely, the left brain, and the right.He orated with the clear, resonant tone of a bystander at ease.Humans have cerebral hemispheresfirst, because the brain's development was too rapid for thetwo sides to unite. The neurons projected out from the brain stem and the spinal cord and formed thecerebral cortex, enabling a great increase in the size of the human brain.Ashley, already having lost interest in the Doctor's words, paid himno attention.Bell Wing watched this would-be meddler, aloofthen, seeing through to the seriousness behind hiswords, wiped the expression fromher face.The cards came.But the left and right hemispheres grew abnormally largealmost like a defectand an imbalanceoccurred. The left brain became digitalized, with a fluid intelligence. The right brain has crystallizedintelligence, in analog. The origin of this behavior can be traced back to the development of the neurons.Ashley's upcard, a queen. Balot had a 4-6.Oeufcoque's tactical display read hit. Balot hit.Since the dawn of the age of the invertebrates, nerves had been unmyelinatedthat is to say,uninsulated, like bare electric cables. The unmyelinated nerves functioned with analog hormones, but withthe development of myelinated nervesthat is to say, insulated just like jacketed electric cablesnervous structures came to utilize neural circuits that distribute digital neurological signaling. Therefore,even in the analog human brain, there are digital processes, and they interact with each other to function.She received a 9. Nineteen. Oeufcoque's tactical display read stay. She stayed.Humans can't divine the future. This is because, even with all the mathematical methods known toman, it is essentially impossible to solve for the multitude of occurrences concurrent with the many-bodyproblem. If only one card remained in the deck, its identity could be deduced by examining the discardpile. But with two or more cards remaining, the identity of the next card cannot be determined.Ashley showed his hole card. A king. Twenty. Balot's third straight loss.But humans, with two minds inside one skull, can use both the fluid knowledgethat is to say, thedigital neural circuitsto explain a discrete event, as well as the crystalline knowledgethat is to say,the analog perceptionto form a comprehensive image of all the other possible events. Therefore,humans have produced the ability to generate simplicial approximations and have essentially solved themany-body problem. By the time they are born, humans have already chosen a journey infinitelyasymptotically approaching reality.Balot placed her bet. Ashley dealt the cards.His upcard, a 6. Balot had a J-3, thirteen.Oeufcoque's display read hit. Balot also felt she should hit. She received a 6. Nineteen.Ashley revealed his hole card, 4. He hit, and drew an ace. Twenty-one.And if those humans could create four minds where there had been two, they would no longer need tocontent themselves with simplicial approximations. No, they might be able to solve the many-bodyproblemand determine each and every event. And for that dream, a being was created. That being was notable to divine the future. But for any object, it could quantify its entire composition, the external andinternal forms equally, and become an All-Purpose Tool.Ashley's upcard was 6. Balot had a Q-2.She hit. Oeufcoque had told her to. Balot had thought the same.Ashley showed no change. And his cards showed no change.She drew a 6. Eighteen. On eighteen, you stayed. She hesitated.But after a moment, Balot stayed. And she asked herself why she had hesitated.Ashley flipped his hole card, a 5. He drew a king. Twenty-one.Balot's fifth straight loss. She was drowning in a marsh of defeat.But as someone once said, blackjack demanded you walk a long, long path.And that someone was raising his voice desperately behind her.Within the structure of the human brain, the many-body problem is calculated as nothing more than aseries of simplicial approximations. But what if, despite having been the reason for the cerebralhemispheres, the development of the brain, too rapid to form a cohesive whole, was able to go ondeveloping externally? That is, what if the brain changed its form and continued developing beyond thecranium, spreading over the whole body?Ashley's upcard was a 4. Balot had a 3-5. Hit. A 2 came. Hit. A 4 came. Hit. A 3 came. Seventeen.The tactical display read stay.Oeufcoque had chosen that as the winning move. Balot stayed.I find it impossible to believe that those two beings, who represent entirely different concepts,working together, couldn't read the flow of these cards.The Doctor had finished, and now he fell silent. He had been trying to wake them upBalot andOeufcoqueand their untapped strength.Ashley showed his hole card. A 6. He drew another. Ace. Twenty-one.Six losses in a row. Balot squeezed her left hand. She felt impatient. But maybe that itself was somesign. There was still a chance. Just enough of a chance for her to feel impatient. Oeufcoque softlyenveloped her arms.Ashley's upcard, a queen. Balot's cards, 4-8.Without hesitation, she hit. Ashley drew her a card. A king.That's a bust, said the dealer.On Balot's arm, a number changed, and she realized this was her first bust of the game.Something had changed. It was a change for the worse, certainly, but it was a change.Ashley's next upcard was an ace. Balot's cards, J-3.She hit and received a 10. Bust. Her cards were swept away. Ashley's hole cardan 8wasrevealed only for a moment. Balot added it to the true count on her left arm. Along with: If I hadn'tdrawn, Ashley would have bust.The following upcard, a 3. Balot's cards, A-9.For the first time in a while, she had a valuable ace in her hand.Balot stayed, and the hole card was overturned.A 6. Ashley drew another.Another 6. Fifteen. In accordance with the rules of the game, he drew again.And a 6. Under already remarkable circumstances, a remarkable draw. Was Ashley's unbreakableluck within that scarcely conceivable draw?So, 3-6-6-6. Twenty-one. Balot's ninth straight loss.But Ballot sensed something. A sign. In the dark, flat desert, she saw a single ray of light.In the previous hands, the same number had never appeared in succession. If he was ordering thecards, it woud be easier to have some of the same card in a row than it would be to have everythingdistributed haphazardly.Had it not happened before because he had been building himself some roomto maneuver?He's skipping some of the cards.Balot was sure of it. Maybe three times in a round. He was shuffling the cards in a way that enabledhimto tweak the order at will.Was she taking the threat too lightly by thinking his perfect judgment of the cards was slowly wearingdown?Balot quickly reviewed her count so far. The upcards and aces were running extremely low, but thecards helpful to the dealer were also dwindling. Oeufcoque's instant internal calculations were showingan increase in her bet amount and her winning percentage.Her fatigue dispelled by anticipation, Balot refocused on the game. Just as Balot had fully exhaled,Ashley's casually stated words cut through her like a blade:By the way, your left handBalot took in a deep breath.it's got some device measuring my pulse, doesn't it?Her heart skipped a beat. It was too sudden. Before she knew it, she had raised her head and said,Why?As soon as the word left her mouth, she stopped herself. But it was already too late.Ashley grinned. He mouthed the word Gotcha.Balot got goose bumps on her arms.The sudden shock of it had stood her hair on end.It seemed, said the dealer, his tone dripping congeniality, like you were conversing with your ownhand, not your cards.Terror welled up deep within Balot. Would she fail and leave empty-handed because of the tiniest ofblunders? If she were any more afraid, her hands would have been shaking.Oeufcoque read Balot's emotions and tried to calmher, saying,Don't let it get to you. You don't need to tell him anything. Even if he believes it to be true, hecan't do anything about it but use it as a diversion. Without any proof, he can't lay a hand on patrons'clothes. He has no way to separate us.Balot was reassured, but a peculiar irritation settled over her.And it was peculiar, for she had no means of surviving without Oeufcoque.She felt Bell's stare bearing down upon her. And she wondered what look the Doctor had on his face.She drew up her shoulders and stared at the cards.Ashley's upcard was a 4. Balot's cards, 7-6.As she took slow, steady breaths, she looked at the tactical analysis. Hit. The obvious choice. But shedidn't make the move right away. Quietly, she readied herself, and then, she hit.The card was a 7. Balot held her breath and stayed.Ashley turned over his hole card.A 9. He drew a 6. They both had twenty. Suddenly, they had tied.Balot began to wonder why Ashley had made such an aggressive move. Was the ordering of the cardsbeginning to strain? Had she finally arrived at the deciding moment of their match?In the next hand, Ashley's upcard was a 3. Balot had a J-9 and stayed.Ashley revealed his hole card, a 5. He drew an ace. Nineteen.Another tie. Suddenly, Balot sensed that she was standing at the brink.She couldn't stand down. Impulsively, she added chips to the table. Even a little more thanOeufcoque's displayed amount. She was fine with that. She'd be fine if she lost. She just wanted to followher feelings.The cards came out. Ashley's upcard was a 10.Balot had a 2 and a jackthe black jack of spades, the one-eyed jack.Her eye flashed to the dealer's hole card. Then, she noticed that the red card had reached the top of theshoe. As she stared at it, she declared her hit.Ashley removed the red card and turned over the card below it. A 9.Balot stayed. She glanced at the red card lying next to the shoe.Previously, the ordering of the cards had been so perfect that not even a single extra card was wasted.But now the slightest of cracks was showing.Ashley revealed his hole card. It took Balot a moment to see it. The ace of spades sat there, like asword waving in the air without its master.Beating the dealer to the punch, she said simply:We have a push.The clean split of the ace and jack of spadesa blackjackseemed to Balot to be evidence ofsomething.Ashley shrugged. Balot took deep, slow breaths and spread her senses across the surface of the table.She didn't have any desire to sense anything occurring beyond its confines. Not even Bell Wing's stare.Ashley opened the card shoe and withdrew the remaining cards.He joined themwith the discard pile and began his smooth, natural shuffle.Balot focused her senses on his movements. The cards, Ashley's fingers, his shoulders, his pulse, hisbreathing. With senses so finely tuned she could feel each mote of dust as it settled onto the table, shefollowed his every movement.Silence testified to the steady tension that filled the table. The only sounds were the calm musicflowing through the room, the sharp noise of the cards coming together, and the stir of the crowd.Balot sensed her own breathing and pulse calm so much that she almost could have fallen asleep. Butjust then, Ashley spoke to her.Can I ask you a question?It was almost as if he were asking, Please, can I do this job like any other dealer would?What is it? she said guardedly. Her eyes were open now.She hadn't needed to respond to him, but she thought understanding this man might be necessary toread him.Well, I say question, but it's more like a riddle. If we let the air hang this heavy, then the game stopsbeing fun, amI right?Balot tilted her head. Taking that as a yes, Ashley nodded and said, First, I want you to imagine youare driving in a car on a long, long trip.All right.And during the trip, your car breaks down. It's the worst possible situation. There are no housesaround, just an endless desert. What do you do?Balot, with no idea of Ashley's purpose, kept focused on the cards as she answered.I'd wait for someone to come help me.She didn't feel much of an improvement in the mood at the table.You'd hitchhike?Yes.All right. Now, same scenario, what would you do if you drove by and found someone on the side ofthe road looking for your help?I'd decide based on if theylooked trustworthy or not.I see. He nodded, pursing his lips as if he were about to whistle. Those are both fifty-percentanswers. I'd say you're just about average.The way he said it tugged at her. She wrinkled her brow.Are there other answers?Ashley returned a meaningful smile and said, as if reaching the meaning of the riddle, Couldn't youimagine a carjacker posing as a hitchhiker?Subconsciously, Balot bit her lip again. Ashley was trying to make a point. And whatever it was, itseemed dangerous.You mean, what would I do if the other person is a carjacker?No, not quite. Who would be able to know if the other person was a carjacker or not? If he was, he'dtry his best to hide it, wouldn't you think?So you're saying not to help?Ashley, still shuffling, laughed.The reason I said it was a fifty-percent answer was because, depending on which side of it you're on,your response changes. Let's see For example, a different fifty-percent answer would be to say that youwouldn't help anyone and you wouldn't expect anyone to save you. Or that you would save them, fullyprepared that they may kill you.Clenching her hands, Balot pressed forward in an attempt to shake off the pressure. Just as the Doctorhad pressed himon the cards.What's a one-hundred-percent answer?Ashley shrugged and said matter-of-factly, If someone asks you for help, kill him. If someoneresponds to your call for help, he's also fair game. Act like you are going to help, or that you need help,and then take. Take his money, take everything. In the world of gambling, that's common sense.As he completed the shuffle, he looked at Balot with eyes that seemed almost kind.Here, you can't trust anyone. You can't even trust yourself. You understand, don't you? And if youwant proof, who do you think is going to save you here?Suddenly, within Balot, an unfamiliar enmity sprouted to life. With no outlet for that new feeling, thegirl remained motionless as the cards were stacked on the table.Here, we can lawfully steal from others. I have to wonder why you've come so blithely to such aplace as this.Finished with the shuffle, Ashley tidied up the stack of cards, then stood with his hands foldedtogether.He towered before her, all traces of a smile wiped fromhis stern countenance.Has your throat always been like that? Or did somebody take your voice from you? When you'd beenhitchhiking, perhaps?The instant his words pierced Balot's ears, her entire body became a ball of enmity.He knows something, doesn't he? How I was killed. Why I was killed. How I was disposed of, like athing forbidden happiness and free will.Her hair stood on end. Her body blazed. The enmity spread like a poison through her body down toevery strand of hair. It welled up deep inside her, relentless.Balot, calm yourself. You don't know what he's planning. Don't be careless.Oeufcoque already knew what she was moments away fromdoing.Please, believe me.I believe you.Balot clenched her fists so that Ashley could clearly see them. Hard. So Oeufcoque would feel it. Andwith all her heart, she said,So please, believe in me.Oeufcoque was silent.He's testing me.In that moment, Balot felt everything become crystal clear. The meaning behind Ashley's questions,why she had chosen this game, and the source of her impatience.He's testing you?Yes. He's testing to see if I'm playing the game.Ashley smiled and said, Is this hard for you? Would you like to move to a different table? Or do youjust want to leave and climb back into your motel bed? Take a limousine like the one you came in? Toobad. You've come this far. You can't go back now. Understand?Balot slowly opened her fists.I understand.As she spoke, she pushed Oeufcoque into her right glove.Oeufcoque didn't even have time to say anything. She moved her hands behind her neck and undid thehook connecting her two gloves. The cloth gently slipped from the base of her neck. With her right hand,she gently slid off her left glove.Just like her clients used to demand. So she could be seen.Her skin, like a boiled egg with the shell peeled off, was laid bare. She removed her right glove andneatly laid themonto the table. She crossed her naked arms, resting themon top of her gloves.Her bare skin keenly sensed the table. It was cold against her flesh.To the girl, it was the feeling of her cool, sharpened heart, resolved either to live or to die.Balot leveled her cold stare at the dealer.Do I look that easyto kill?Ashley Harvest didn't respond. He only gave one slow nod. Not in answer to her question, but as ifseeing her face for the first time.04It looks like I have a formidable opponent.Ashley watched Balot as she stacked her chips with her bare hands.With her bare right hand. Her left armwas atop her gloves, which she had spread flat like a tablecloth.The fingers of her left hand were soothingly caressing the gloves.If we performed a full search of your body, we might not find anything. There may not be anythingthere. But that's fine. You took off your gloves of your own volition. Neither the casino nor I forced youto. We're clear on that, right?Like a gunslinger in an old pulp Western confirming the rules before the duel, Balot nodded, holdingher eyes steady on his face.I say you're a formidable opponent because you don't run and you don't hide.Ashley's hand flicked at the card shoe.The cards came. The dealer's upcard, an ace. Balot had a 7-6.Balot thought to hit, and the numbers on her gloves agreed.She got a 2. Again the gloves said to hit, and she had no objection.She hit. Another 2 card came, and she stayed. Ashley's hole card was a 6, making seventeen. A push.The cards were wiped, and beneath Balot's arm, her true count updated. Even when cast aside,Oeufcoque wasn't the type to neglect his dutiesnot as long as his duties coincided with his own wishes.The cards came. Ashley's upcard, a queen. Balot had a J-3.Balot hit and added a 4 to her hand. This was a crucial moment. Within the relentless flow of thegame, Balot's senses clung to her cards like the cover on a book.She hit again and got a 3. Twenty. Stay.Ashley revealed his hole card, a 4. With the queen, fourteen.He drew a 2 and then a 5. Twenty-one.Like a hound points its nose, Balot directed her senses at Ashley's rough hands as they moved thecards and chips from play. Even after her somewhat reckless hit, she still lost by a thin margin. Butsomething had changed. She sensed the slightest of movement in the iron wall that was Ashley.As Balot stacked her chips with her right hand, she snarced Oeufcoque with her left.Oeufcoque, can you hear me?Oh, I guess I can still receive transmissions from you.An unusually sarcastic reply from Oeufcoque. That was how much of an effect being pulled fromBalot's arm had had on him. As the cards came, Balot grinned with amusement as she stroked the glovesand snarced.I have a favor to ask of you. Okay?The right glovethe one she'd pushed Oeufcoque intowas directly under the shadow of her leftarm.If it's something I can do.It's something onlyyou can do.She wasn't saying it just to mollify himit was the truth. With her right hand, she signaled a hit.Oeufcoque's reply was earnest.What should I do?As she looked at her new card, she considered it.What should we do? She had only a vague idea.I want to add mysenses to the numerical display.Ashley's upcard was a king, and Balot had an 8-5-2. Oeufcoque's statistical analysis suggested a stay.But something tugged at the girl's senses.I want to know something besides the numbers. I want you to add it in.Besides true count? You don't mean withholding certain cards from the calculations?No, I think that's too narrow.Balot hit and drew a 5. Then she stayed.Ashley flipped his hole card. A 6. With the king, sixteen.He drew and slapped down a 4. Twenty.We have a push.As the dealer collected the cards, Balot thought she sensed a slight change in his expression. Perhaps amomentary thought toward vigilance after her last hit turned his twenty-one into a tie.Oeufcoque's strategy was as precise as ever.I will be as reactive to your thoughts as possible. Change the display however you wish. I willkeep saving all the data.Thank you, kind sir.My pleasure.Balot stroked the glove. At the moment, it was the closest gesture to a thank-you kiss she could givehim. To help clear her thoughts, she pushed her senses to the top of her consciousness.Her cards were a wave of low numbers. Ashley, on the other hand, received large cards, nearly all ofthem ten cards. If his judgment of the cards faltered by one, the ten card would become his hole card. Itwas a difficult pattern fromwhich to discern a path to victory.The pattern arose from Ashley's shuffling technique, but Balot's handling of her cards began toinfluence the game. The same sequences repeating and the same cards appearing many times in the samehand was proof of that.As she confirmed those influences one by one, Oeufcoque's numbers graduallyyet steadilychanged. The calculations were Oeufcoque's, but the meaning behind them was up to Balot's senses.Repeated cards and runs of low-value cards could be understood statistically, but that only resulted in acalculation of the winning percentage based on the cards in the discard pile. There was no angle of usingit to influence the coming flow of the cards. All she had was a winning percentage and bettingmanagement of unparalleled precision.And that wasn't enough to win against Ashley. No matter how perfect her tactics, he would manipulatethe sequence of cards and bog her down in the marsh.A lull fell over the game, and Balot was inching toward defeat. Every hand was either a narrow lossor a push. She was honing her senses, separating out the things she should be sensing from the things thatdidn't matter. Ashley's fingers, for example. On both his hands, his pinkies and pointer fingers weren'trelevant. They only transported the cards. The movements of his middle fingers and thumbs, however,were essential to his manipulation of the deck, and his ring fingers kept everything in balance.And the most crucial supports to the structure of the card order were the upcards, from jack to king.Jacks were lined with odd-numbered cards, kings higher-ranked even numbers, and queens lower-rankedeven numbers. Their relations with each other subtly shifted through the deck. But why? Because the gamewas focused around aces. Depending on the circumstances, the natural rules of the game and the rules ofhis shuffle joined and separated like a pair of dancers.As a result of this, Ashley's most important cards were the aces, the fives, and the jacks so tightlybound to the other two. Even more crucial to defend against the player's most profitable victorythe aceand jack of spades.Balot, utilizing Oeufcoque's precise calculations and her own senses, modified the numericalreadings, whose form had become a seemingly incoherent jumble of letters and numbers just on the edgeof what Balot could understand.As the chips kept up their one-sided movement across the table, Oeufcoque and Balot felt more unifiedthan they ever had before. They weren't the protector and the protected. They were one united, leadingand following in turn. She felt it in her heartthey were a team. Might those words lead her in a betterdirection. In her game. In their game.At the end of the fifteenth hand, Oeufcoque's display was a simmering stew of numbers. Letters largeand small aligned with countless numbers, winding and swirling together. It was Oeufcoque and Balot'scombined technique, and it was a singular breach in Ashley's iron wall.Transfixed by the weaving of the dizzying patchwork array of numbers, Balot was unaware of her ownchange. A change in her body.The first to notice was the wall, Ashley.Do you need to refresh your makeup?At first, Balot failed to grasp his meaning.She thought it was another ploy, but it wasn't. Balot's brow and palms were caked with cold sweat.She had apparently been unconsciously wiping it off. When she saw that the fingers on her right hand werecovered with glittering silver powder, she didn't know what it was at first.Ashley snapped his fingers. A passing staffer came to the table.The dealer ordered a damp towel. When the man asked who it was for, Ashley turned to Bell Wingand shrugged, as if to say, What's with this guy? and A battle is a battle, but one must be considerate ofa lady. Bell took one glance at Balot and nodded. Then the man understood. It was for Balot.And Balot, too, finally understood her own state.Glittering stuff was all over her hands and her arms, her cheeks and her forehead.It was silver powder. Her skin was emitting glittering silver powder. That was the only explanation.She brushed her hand across her face, and tiny fibrous flecks rubbed off. It felt like temporary hair dyewashing out, but she couldn't remember putting that much in her hair.Balot became aware of a faint itchiness all over her body, like a thinly peeling sunburn over freshlyhealed skin.You're growing the Doctor whispered from over her shoulder. Your metal fibers areautonomously growing to meet your body's requirements.A waiter came and handed her a wet cloth. Balot waited for Oeufcoque to erase his display beforelifting her armand applying the cool cloth to her face.The cloth was pleasantly scented. She wiped her arms and cheeks with it, clearing away the mixture ofsilver powder and sweat. The itchiness across her hands and cheeks faded. She was refreshed.She wiped her arms and her face as though she were polishing a blade.The Doctor took the towel from her hands before the waiter had the chance, and said, If you feelanything abnormal, please informme right away. Don't overdo it. Just do what you can.He made Balot feel like a boxer facing the next round.The girl nodded. She didn't feel anything abnormal. She placed her left arm on top of Oeufcoque, andthe numbers swirled against it. In an instant, she had returned to the game. Balot steadied her breath andstretched out her right hand. She placed her chips.Thank you for your kindness.You're welcome.Ashley put his hand to the card shoe. The game began.Over the course of the next ten games, Oeufcoque's display grew even more dizzying.The numbers swirled, flowing and recrystallizing again under Balot's heightened abilities andOeufcoque's new technique.The flow was the development of logical measurements and predictions, and the crystallizationprovided an intuitive grasp of the full context.The cards and odds coming in wavesthese data flowed. There was an awareness of things with abeginning and an end or that were new developments. The fluid data consisted of predictions andmeasurements based on both established patterns and novel events based on cause and effect. Theycircled, they spiraled, they oscillated, based on her most recent awarenessthat was the flow.The crystallization, on the other hand, was the connection of multiple points, a patchwork of threedimensionalinfluences. A comprehensive awareness of sights and space.With no relation to the passage of time, the connections between past events strengthened until thepoints coalesced into the nuclei of even larger masses still to come. And from that, their location andorientation became fixedthose were the crystals.The mutual existence of flowing data and crystallized information was the very essence of humanknowledge. Without one, the other lost its meaning. When consciousness was dropped into the vortex ofthe unconscious, the power of intelligence was born. Everyone had it. It was only waiting to be used.And at that moment, Balot was greedily feasting upon the sensation of that power. Oeufcoque andBalot were tightly connected, their senses bonded.At the twenty-seventh game, their senses had melded to perceive a deeply vivid image.Ashley's upcard, an ace. Balot's hand, 5-J. The cards were like the muzzle of a gun in Ashley's hand,thrust right at her.Balot muttered.They're pointy. I want to round them of .She spoke unconsciously, to no one in particular.To the somewhat perplexed-looking Ashley, she announced her hit.Ashley pulled a card fromthe shoe. It was a 2.It's still light.Her voice was soft, but it jolted through the air of tension over the table.Balot hit. An ace.It's getting even pointier.Grief sounded in her words, but Balot's expression was suddenly taken by a vastness that was hard tograsp. Where was she looking? What was she thinking? Her expression was unreadable. But she waslooking at something. She had her sights on it.The Doctor gulped. Bell's eyes opened wide.Hit.Ashley's hand moved instantly. Even if the card would bring about his own destruction, his practicedhand drew it without hesitation. Such was his skill.The card came. Another ace. Balot didn't stop. Her body felt like a sharp blade slicing effortlesslythrough her opponent's windpipe.Hit.Another ace.Hit.Another ace. Balot took a deep breath. 5-J-2-A-A-A-AStay.Ashley revealed his hole card. A jack. Ashley stared at the table, speechless. In his place, the Doctorwhispered with disbelief. A pushIt seems like it, said the dealer.He quickly collected the cards, sweeping them into a neat pile, Balot's senses attuned to theirmovement.Ashley looked down at Balot's hand. He seemed to stare right through the chips stacked in a neatcircle in the palmof her bare hand.Do you know why I'm looking forward to the next card? Balot looked up at him. With a vacantexpression, she nodded deeply.She had become so focused on the game, she had forgotten to think of himas her enemy.If it's a king, you'll lose. Especiallyif it's a spade. It'll mean you separated them for nothing.She appeared lost in thought, as if still trying to figure out why her statement was true.You do know, then?Balot tilted her head.You managed to weather my special move, and I'd prefer not to think of it as by chance.Finally understanding his meaning, the girl nodded.I think I know.You've seen through my shuffle?His face was mischievous, but there was a bluster in it that betrayed a small thread of fear.Balot looked at himand slowly shook her head.Then what do you know?Until a moment ago, the upcards have all been your allies.Her eyes gazed distantly upon the card shoe.But now I too have allies.Ashley, his hand still atop the shoe, shrugged and said, For sure. But I don't think you have many.I don't need many. It's enough to know I have them. That's all I know.But will they arrive in time? He smiled sharply at her.She thought for a moment, then answered.I don't need to win manytimes.Ashley's smile froze. For a brief moment, his eyes went completely expressionless. Somewhere deepinside him, his caution toward Balot transformed into animosity.Balot tapped the table. Ashley's hand flicked out the cards.His upcard, a 5. Balot's hand, J-J.It's like they're fighting. And just when I've come to save them.She looked at the jacks with disappointment. The red and black one-eyed jacks.But I'll stay.Without hesitation, Ashley turned over his hole card. A king. Spades.Beneath Balot's left arm, Oeufcoque's swirl of numbers adjusted.Some of the suits pressed together, amassing into an iron wall.With great contentment, Balot watched the dealer draw his next card.He drew a 6. Twenty-one. He was an overwhelming fortress.Ashley's thick hands casually collected her chips. The cards went too.Balot's eyes remained on the table as if seeing the afterimage of the cards: 5-K-6 and J-J.Have you had enough?Balot sensed something behind his mocking words. He was trying to hide the moment ofdefenselessness born of a hastily built defense.That held the true meaning of building an impregnable iron wall in this game.Balot snarced Oeufcoque.I want to bet on clubs. So they will become my ally.Understood.He didn't ask why. He didn't ask how it would quantifiably affect her chances of winning. He wasn'tblindly following Balot either. It was his own decision based on his instinctive knowledge of herthoughts.Oeufcoque was in the fight too. As a part of their new combination.Balot smoothly placed her chips. Her impatience had vanished completely, not like the shadow hadlifted into dawn, but as if her senses had pierced the unpredictable darkness, adding their own light to it.She felt herself becoming one with the game. The cards were her, and she was new.It was stress, it was hostility, and it was a blessing.Ashley's management of the cards grew more and more skewed. That determined which cards Balotshould chase after. Her 10 and 9 of clubs were impeded by the ace and king of spades. Next the 4 and 5 ofclubs brought forth the king of clubs, only to be crushed by the jack of hearts and his reinforcements, the 3and 7 of diamonds.Balot's senses reached out like a hand searching through the darkness and colliding with something,for the ever-widening crack in Ashley's flawless handling of the cards.The scariest thing within the darkness, thought Balot, is to be struck motionless from fear, unable tomove even a single finger and to be freely used.Once, she hadn't the will to resist being used. She had thrown away her senses. Until she'd metOeufcoque. And now, from within her thin shell, she sensed with voracity. Suddenly, a sharp odor cameto her nose. A phantom smell. A smell like the cologne Death would wear came over her body,enveloping her. Balot thought back to the time she'd been trapped inside that car, when the stench of gasfilled the space. At that time, all she could do to survive was to withdraw into herself.At that time, she thought she would die. Sad and pitiful.But they came in time.Ashley's upcard, an 8.Balot's cards, 3-6.All of themclubs. Balot's finger tapped the table.Hit.She received a 6. She raised her finger, then tapped the table again.Hit.With a flutter of Ashley's hand, her next card came6.So, 3-6-6-6. She had seen it before, but now it was on her side of the table.The same card appeared three times in a rowthat was the wailing of the iron wall as she pried itopen.Balot stayed. Ashley turned over his hole card as if lifting an impossibly heavy weight. The ace ofspades. Ashley's guardian deity had appeared. But it was too late. With the 8, he had nineteen. Balot won.Congratulations, said the dealer with a smile. Before retrieving the cards, he handed out herwinnings.But neither his smile nor the winnings impressed her.Her honed senses focused upon one point among the swirling numbers.Now or never. So Balot thought, and so Oeufcoque thought.Next hand, please.She turned over her left hand, and with her right, she grabbed it from her palm and gently placed itupon the table.Until both her hands were back on the table, Ashley didn't move a muscle.The crowd of onlookers gasped. The golden million-dollar chip was in play.Balot said the Doctor. He wasn't calling for her. It was just a whisper, pregnant with surprise andanticipation.Bell's eyes were steady upon her.Balot tapped the table. Ashley's eyes flicked over to the golden chip, and his hands casually slid thecards fromthe shoe.His upcard, a jack. Balot's cards, A-4. All of themspades.The cards were his sword swing, and Balot attacked themhead on.Hit.A card came. The seven of clubs. Her ace, once worth eleven points, was now worth one.Hit.Balot tapped the table without hesitating, as if keeping in beat. Ashley didn't slow either. The cardcame. The 7 of clubs. Nineteen.Balot took a deep, slow breath, then announced her stay. Ashley turned over his hole card.It was a 2. The red card showed on top of the shoe. Ashley removed it without a word. His eyes heldon Balot. Balot looked only at the cards.The next card came. A king. Of clubs.Balot, you did itThe words came rushing out of the Doctor's mouth, but he quickly composed himself. The game wasonly beginning.Without turning to him, Balot nodded and, careful not to disturb her inner rhythm, moved her gaze toAshley.As he swept away the cards, his mouth curled into a frown. He looked back at her with a joke in hiseyes. He started to say something but was cut off.Did you see that? Bell said. Her voice was cold, but a reserved smile was on her face. Women canendure much more than men. No matter what you might say about this girl, she knows what it means toendure, more than you can even imagine.And here I was, thinking we were on the same side, Bell.With a stunned expression, Ashley reached for the box at the edge of the table.Waving her hand as if she were clearing away the smoke from a cigarette, Bell said, If the matchwere to end that easily, it wouldn't be interesting.Ashley shrugged. He lifted the box of golden chips into his hands and said, There's still plenty left.He offered the box to Balot as if the weight of it pulled down on his arm.For a moment, she wanted to say that she wasn't after all the chips, but she stopped herself andreached for the box. She wasn't after the chips themselves. She didn't want the shell or the white. Shekept her mouth shut and repeated to herself the Doctor's words: Go for the golden yolk.Her bare fingers grabbed a chip. One with the OctoberCorp emblem stamped on itone tightlypacked with the rotten insides of certain man's egg.She squeezed the chip in the palm of her left hand and placed it atop her gloves. Then she pushed thebox aside with an almost foolish reverence. She watched Ashley begin the shuffle as she stashed the chipbetween the two gloves.As Balot's senses followed Oeufcoque's work and Ashley's shuffle, Bell Wing placed a hand uponher shoulder.I have a little soliloquy to mutter to myself. I don't want to get in your way. This was Bell's way oftalking to Balot without causing the girl to turn around. There's just one thing I want you to remember.One thing I taught to you. Even if unnecessarily. Something I couldn't help but say.Balot, still focused on the shuffle, nodded.To aspire to womanhood.Yes. It's simple. All you have to do is be a woman, and you'll be all right. Be the person you shouldbe, you'll be all right. If not, you won't be able to talk with the cards. And if you can't talk with the cards,you can't beat this man. You don't want to lose, do you?No, I don't.Good. You have a pretty face.Thank you, Bell.Balot touched Bell's hand. It was a kind hand. And it was a stern hand. It gently moved away from herand settled on the back of her chair. Both Bell and the Doctor placed their hands on her chair, watchingover her.Facing down the three of them, Ashley frowned. Over the sound of the cutting cards, he growled, Ishould have asked someone else to come be my witness.05There's something I'm having trouble believing, Ashley said, casually shuffling the cards. Youseem to be trying to understand luck. And what's even harder to believe is I think you may alreadyunderstand it. What I've wagered my entire life to understand. All while you haven't yet been at this tablefor a single hour.I'm learning from you.Her answer was candid. Balot felt gratitude for the man before her.I feel like I'm learning a lot at this table. Thank you.Ashley scowled, resentful of hearing those words from a fifteen-year-old kid. But then, his dourexpression was tinged with a bit of affinity for the girl as he said, Are you trying to learn the secret of myshuffle? Is that your aim?Balot's vague expression seemed to say Maybe I am.Well, it's impossible. I wouldn't even know how to teach it if I wanted to. I have no way of nurturinga successor. It's a problem, really. Ashley shook his head, and from his expression, he seemed to begenuinely wrestling with the problem.I think I know.You do?Not your shuf le itself. How no one else can understand it.I see. Yes Have you ever thought about luck?I think it's bad. I've thought that often.Life is like that sometimes. But have you ever thought about how luck controls us?I've thought that I was at fault.Well, people can think that way sometimes.I never think about the times I wasn't at fault.Yeah. You're modest. Well, kids can end up thinking that way when they don't have any decent adultsaround them Nowand I'm talking about practicalityhave you ever thought more deeply aboutluck?You mean, can I win against you?Yes.And the secret of your shuf le?Exactly.He spoke like a kindly teacher explaining multiplication tables to his elementary class. Like he waspresenting it as a new concept to kids who knew nothing of arithmetic other than adding and subtracting.For example, you speak in words, don't you?Balot tilted her head. Of course she did.So, what makes words?Mouthsand pencils?Yes. And computer keyboards, and voice recorders, and sign language, and so on. But how were thewords themselves made? What caused the words to be created?God did.Ashley paused his shuffle to say, No, but you're not far off.He conversed skillfully, as if that were the true role of a dealer. At the same time, Balot sensedOeufcoque draw out the yolk from the million-dollar chip. As she participated in Ashley's conversation,she was careful not to lose the tension and rhythmof the game.Let me tell you a story. Some time ago, a large amount of research was conducted in an attempt toteach computers to speak like humans. The laws governing language were programmed in, and whenpeople talked to them, the computers would respond with computer answers. But it didn't go very well. Ifthe words spoken to the computer were even a little wrong, all kinds of problems would result. Eventhough they taught the computers human language, the human side was flawed. To solve the problem, theyintroduced all sorts of new laws into the computer, but it was all of no use.Why did people want computers to learn how to talk?Haven't you ever tried to use a computer without the benefit of language recognition? If computersmalfunctioned after every little email, what would happen? Isn't your own voice thanks to a computer?So how did theyteach the computers?They shuffled the words.Theyshuffled them?They gathered up twenty years of newspapers and fed all of the articles into the computer. Millionsand millions of words entered sentence by sentence. From that, they instructed the computers to determinewhich words had the highest probability of following each word. The words most likely to follow Hi'were how are you doing?' And so on.So it's based on probabilities.Yes, the probability of occurrence. That's how computers understand words. And there are no flaws.No matter what word they encounter, they learn from it, and they learn how to use it. That's how languagerecognition software finally became robust enough for the commercial market.You're saying we speak bychance?Ashley grinned like a man atop a mountain welcoming another climber to the summit.The fact that we even exist is by chance. Don't you think that's a miracle? Chance is the mostessential thing given by God to man. And humans, we strange creatures, find our own foundation withinthat chance. It's inevitability.What do you mean, inevitability?These cards, for examplethe number of cards in this deck is determined, right?Right.But sometimes it increases and decreases, right?Right.As Balot answered, she realized it was a self-implication of cheating. She looked at him with asurprised expression.But the cards are the cards. A never-before-seen upcard won't just suddenly appear. There's no B'card after the ace. It's only a game because you know what cards are in the stack. Just like our words, theorder of the cards comes about by chance. But when it settles into shape, an inevitability is created.Without chance, there would be nothing.Balot nodded. She noticed that Ashley's artful shuffle was nearing its finale. And his speech was too.Dam up a river, and the water will overflow. Split it into tributaries and the volume of water in themain branch will lessen. And without any rain, it will dry up. Inevitably. Luck is like the flow of a river.The issue isn't whether or not the flow really exists. The question is, will the river keep flowing? We alllive inside the flow of the river. And if there are those who drown in the river, some of them will dragdown the swimmers so that they alone float. But what the river has to teach us is that once you become apart of the flow, you become the river itself.The last words perfectly coincided with the readying of the deck. Ashley placed the red card in frontof the stack and looked at Balot. Fondness glimmered in his gaze.Balot took the red card and, in a declaration of respect to the dealer and his finely crafted stack ofcards, inserted it squarely into the center of the deck. The cards were already full of her influence, just asthe words exchanged between two friends differed fromthe words others used to talk to them.Ashley cut the cards. It happened in an instant. And within that instant, the dizzying swirl of numbersunderneath Balot's arms had already begun to respond. The order and probabilities of the cards werenearly squeezed onto a single point. It was as Bell said. Balot's only chance was to strive to be who sheshould be.She placed her chipsthe amount required to draw out her moment of victory.The cards came. Ashley's upcard, a queen.Balot's cards, A-5. Balot hit: 7.Again she hit: 6. Nineteen. She stayed.Ashley kept up his smooth rhythm like the game was a conversation and their cards the words. Theyunderstood each other completely, and he had no need to pause.Ashley's hole card was a 6. With the queen, he had sixteen.He drew another card and found a 2. But that was it. Balot won.Ashley counted out her winnings and placed thembeside her pot.She took half of the chips and added themto her bet.Next hand.The next hand, Balot received a J-9 and stayed.Ashley's upcard was a king, his hole card an 8. Balot won.In the next hand, Balot had a 9-4, drawing an 8. Ashley's upcard was a 10 and his hole card, a king.Balot won.Neither Balot nor Ashley made any comment about Balot's sudden winning streak.Beneath Balot's arms, Oeufcoque crunched the numbers and adapted his display. His powers ofcalculation were now a part of her. And Balot's senses passed through to Oeufcoque. Hit or stay. Split ordouble down. They reached the same decisions simultaneously, and each time the answer came fromplace. A place they had constructed over all the previous games, a wave just big enough to win on. Shewas entranced, but it was natural to her now, and she wouldn't have known it unless she looked back.Balot did what she had to. That was the answer. And yet, it wasn't enough.The fifth hand ended. Balot had won themall.The stack of chips in her pot grew ever larger.At times, it supported her as she pushed through the game, and at other times, it was a burden.The answers reached by Balot and Oeufcoque had leveled out.Like her fifty-percent answers to Ashley's carjack question.After the seventh hand ended in Balot's win, Ashley suddenly interjected.Do you remember our talk about the hitchhiker?Balot glanced up at himand nodded.There's more to the story. Can I tell you?He placed her winnings beside her pot as if to say, I'm not trying to get in the way of the game.Balot nodded and added a third of her winnings to the pot.Yes, please tell me.I don't usually tell anyone this.The cards came.I had an older brother. My only brother. He was irreplaceable.His upcard, a king. Balot's cards, A-8.One day, he saw a hitchhiker on the side of the road. He stopped his car and let the man in.Okay.She indicated a stay. Ashley turned over his hole card.And he killed my brother. The murderer was never found.An 8. Balot won. Ashley took in the cards.He was shut in the trunk. Left under the hot sun. For hours upon hours he suffered dehydration andsuffocation, and then he died. In the darkness, alone.He distributed her winnings. She added themall to the pot. The cards came.After my brother's funeral, I went with my father to the place his body was discovered. I got into thetrunk and had my dad close the lid. I wanted to know how my brother had felt.His upcard, a 5.It was awful. It was terrifying.Balot's cards, J-2.I thrust out my arms into the darkness. Then came my father's voice. Pull on the hook, there's a hook.I listened to him, found the hook, and opened the trunk.Balot signaled hit.I, in my brother's place, escaped fromthe death trap.A 9. She signaled stay. The hole card was turned. A 9.His next card, 6. Twenty-one and twenty. A narrow win.If only my brother had had knowledge of the car.The cards were taken and her winnings stacked.Or if only someone had come by to tell himabout the hook.She added her winnings to the pot. The cards came.Or if only he had the luck to find it on his own If any of those three things had happened to mybrother then, he wouldn't have died.His upcard, 8.Which of those three a person hasthat's what separates people from other people. People withoutany will lose in turn.Balot's cards, 5-Q.I don't know which of those threeknowledge, someone else's assistance, or luckyou have, butbecause of it, you live. And you must never forget it.I won't.Balot nodded. Her finger tapped the table, requesting a card.It was a 6. In a display of respect for his heartfelt talk, she held the tension of the game for a momentas she silently considered his words. Then she stayed.Ashley revealed his hole card. A 9. With the 8, seventeen.It was Balot's ninth win. Her winnings were now virtually spilling forth fromher pot. But it wasn't yetcertain. It wasn't yet a one-hundred-percent answer. She had to find her hundred-percent answer to equalthat of the dealer's.Winning made her far more nervous than losing had. To have a winning streak is to keep running at thesame speedor even acceleratedown a narrowing foothold.If she lost her balance for a second, she'd fall.For the first time, Balot realized that Mardock, the Stairway to Heaven, placed even more hardshipson people as they climbed toward greatness than it did on those who fell.She added a fourth of her winnings to the pot, enduring the strain of the weight of it as she climbed onestep at a time. When the cards came, the weight only became harder to tolerate, and she was struck by thedesire to look away. That was her biggest temptation. Just look away, just for a second. She knew itwould make her feel better. She ground her teeth together, resisting. If there was only one moment in herlife when she had endured for something worthwhile, this was that moment.Ashley's upcard, 3. Balot's cards, K-6.Balot hit. A 3.Stay.Ashley showed his hole card: 2. Five. He drew another card: 8. And another: 6. Nineteen to nineteen.Ashley's luck had shown itself again.Push.It was almost a whisper.Balot left her bet as it was and called for the next hand.Ashley's upcard, a king. Balot's cards, 8-9.Stay.Ashley's hole card, 2.Twelve. He drew another card and found a 5.Another push. Worse still, if Balot had hit, she would have bust.It was a critical back-and-forth match. And the next game was another tie. The chips in her potremained unmoved. The center point pulled at by two opposing forces, motionless as the locus of theirstruggle.Ashley had stopped talking. Balot was also silent. Only the game moved on. Dr. Easter and Bell Wingsimply watched. The gallery was growing in number, one by one. Music played, passing through therhythmof the cards before disappearing again.The ties continued. Not just once or twice. Balot trudged through the dark desert. But this time therewere morning stars twinkling in the sky. She could see them. They were fellow travelers, walking besideher. Cold tension and anxiety. Impatience and fatigue. Their footsteps in time as they marched in the samedirection. The same direction as her. This wasn't as foolish and simple as when she was worried aboutaverting her eyes.After a time, the twentieth hand passed in a tie, and with the twenty-first hand's tie, the cards began tounravel, and with the twenty-second hand's tie, like a wave cresting against the cliffside and shatteringinto pieces, an inevitability started to form.Ashley placed his upcard for the twenty-third hand. A king.Balot's hand was filled with a 3-5.Balot hit and received a 2. She hit again and the 4 came to her heavy. She steadied her breath,preparing herself for whatever was to come, and said,Hit.She willed her eyes not to turn away. A 5. Nineteen. Stay.Ashley turned over his hole card. It was an ace.Ashley won. Balot's chips were wiped fromher pot.Balot watched it happen. The empty space where her chips had been seemed to whisper to her. Now isthe time. Your lost chips were your high ground. Now you must jump as it vanishes out from under you.You're jumping from the high ground you've built up.If you miss your landing, you're dead by the very height you built.Balot prayed for courage. It wasn't that hard. If what she had gained was everything, and it was beingtested, all she had to do was open her hand and show it.She opened her left hand. She pulled out her first golden chip and placed it softly on the empty table.The crowd suddenly began to boil.Next hand.Ashley nodded.The cards came. His upcard, an ace. Balot's cards, 7-7.The red card appeared in the shoe.Ashley removed the red card. Balot inhaled and exhaled. She touched her hand to the second goldchip. She could sense that its contents had been extracted.She set the second chip on top of the first.Double down.All sound vanished fromthe room.It only took two chips to freeze the entire casino. Two million-dollar chips.Amid the stinging silence, Ashley solemnly touched his hand to the card shoe.The card came vividly, the burning red suit striking Balot's gaze.A 7.A red 7.This was a clear sign: this would be Balot and Ashley's final round.Two sevens and an even number of eights remained in the deck: a card order designed to prevent aninstant victory for the player. The third seven only appeared due to the skill of the dealer and the judgmentof the player, both of them exceptional. The three cards known as the Glory Sevens sat before Balot'seyes. Between diamonds on the left and on the right pulsed the seven of hearts.Their suits as red as blood. In truth, the three cards were blood. Not spilled blood, tragic and bereft ofhope. But blood shed in spirit during their long battle.To properly respondto give her one-hundred-percent answerwas not only her own personal goal,it was merited.Even money.Ashley gulped. His hand, prepared to reveal his hole card as soon as she stayed, trembled in midair.It was the choice to throw away the blackjack payout. And the path to the minimum guaranteedwinnings.You want to throw away a six-million-dollar payout? You know that's a difference of four milliondollars!Balot sat motionless.The Doctor's hands shook on the back of her chair.Next to him, Bell Wing closed her eyes, then opened them again when the moment of silence hadpassed.I never thought you'd be able to throw away a chance of winning six million dollars. I miscalculated.I am utterly defeated. Now I've seen courage. I've seen humility. For the first time, I've seen somebodybeat me completely.He slowly lowered his hovering hand to the table.Suddenly, Balot's vision clouded, and she could no longer see.Tears filled her eyes. They wouldn't stop. Their warmth flowed down her cheeks and, mixed with thethin layer of silver powder on her skin, fell to the table. As it all spilled, her only thought was, I did this.She had climbed the last step of the stairway to heaven and jumped into space. There she set foot on anew stairwayone entirely her own.She was frightened. Her body shook. She summoned the courage to take one step forward.Only later did she realize she had been crying endless tears. And from her trance, she spoke to herrival. How she had won. Why she had been able to win.I was trapped in a car when people came to save me. Like your brother, I too have died.Ashley sighed.You're like a mermaid. He shrugged. You remind me of the story of the fish who exchanged hervoice for a pair of legs to walk on land. Even if she did end up dissolving into foam, she was a bravewoman. Even though each step felt like a sword passing through her, she walked the land because shewanted to know the truth.He turned the hole card. Balot couldn't see anything through her tears.I didn't think this card would be defeated.I can't see it.It doesn't matter. You won. A perfect victory.Two cards rose through the haze, symbolic of the man before her.The ace and the jack of spades. The strongest blackjackthe one-eyed jack.