Mardock Scramble

“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 only you 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 my senses 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 from which 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.