Mardock Scramble

by Ubukata, Tow

  “Well, it’s true. This is by my will. And nobody has the right to criticize it. Who said I was going to retire from the 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 them to 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 him have 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, Ru
ne-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 seem like 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’m here 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 minimum will 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 seem to 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’m riveted.”

  –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 off 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 hersel
f. 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. From those 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.