Mardock Scramble

by Ubukata, Tow

  Ashley, already having lost interest in the Doctor’s words, paid him no attention.

  Bell Wing watched this would-be meddler, aloof—then, seeing through to the seriousness behind his words, wiped the expression from her 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 problem and 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 room to 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 him to 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 wo
uld have been shaking.

  Oeufcoque read Balot’s emotions and tried to calm her, 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 them with 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, am I 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 they looked 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 him on 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 from his 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 from doing.

 
; –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 them onto the table. She crossed her naked arms, resting them on 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 easy to 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 arm was atop her gloves, which she had spread flat like a tablecloth. The fingers of her left hand were soothingly caressing the gloves.