Mardock Scramble полностью

“So, think you’ve got the measure of the wheel?”

Balot nodded.

–It’s very level.

“Yes. Yes, it is. Too level, in fact. Its only bias is luck.”

–Luck?

“To put it in terms of probability, it’s unlikely in the extreme that the ball will continue to fall in any sort of predictable way, over time. Rather, you’ll be looking at an average distribution. It’s a struggle. Fighting against Fortuna herself.” Bell Wing seemed to exercise her jaw, moving her chin from left to right. “To a greater or lesser extent, all croupiers enjoy watching their customers crash and burn. Whether they’re old or young, male or female, all people have this desire to dominate others. With croupiers, it’s a particularly cunning sort of desire.” Bell Wing continued in a disinterested tone, yet her words seemed to affect Balot deeply.

But your voice is so clear, Balot thought. How can you speak such depressing thoughts with such a clear tone?

–Why does someone like you work in a casino like this?

Balot hadn’t meant to vocalize this, but the words had come out anyway.

“What do you know about this casino?”

Balot was silent. She wasn’t ready to pour her heart out and explain what she and Oeufcoque and the Doctor were all doing at the casino, and she certainly didn’t want to talk about Shell and OctoberCorp.

“I see… You have a grudge against the boss.” Bell Wing’s eyes creased at the corners as she spoke. Balot’s eyes, on the other hand, flew open.

“The manager of this casino doesn’t concern me. I needed money, so I took a job. My husband was ill, you see. He wasn’t of our world—he was an honest man. Not that he wasn’t like me in many respects; he had a cunning and greedy streak. Even so, all his children were left with when he died were his teachings—and each other. He did well on that point, at least, taught them well. But it was left to me to bring the money in.”

Bell Wing seemed as if she were about to bring the conversation to an end. But then, whether she changed her mind or whether she was simply waiting for the two dealers to finish distributing the chips, she continued. “After my husband died, I felt that everything was taking a turn for the sinister. So I did what I had to in order to find a way of turning right. That’s why I ended up staying here, rolling the ball.”

–Sinister?

Balot asked the same question she had before.

Bell Wing averted her eyes from Balot. Balot thought that she was going to refuse to answer again, but Bell Wing did speak, with her eyes fixed to the roulette wheel. “The wheel of fortune can spin two ways. When it spins counterclockwise, to the left, it’s sinister. It brings bad luck. Clockwise, to the right, brings joy. My life now is about trying to find what happiness I can by calling up the right.”

She sounded almost as if she were talking to the wheel.

Then she touched the wheel. She spun the numbers for another battle, and released the ball. The wheel spun to the left, the ball to the right.

Balot picked up on the movements and grabbed her chips. She was ready to place her thousand-dollar chips down, and she thought to herself that this was something that she had decided on for herself. Oeufcoque had suggested they switch tables, and even Bell Wing had warned her to leave. Yet Balot had stayed—it was what she wanted and what she valued.

It was just like when she was back at Paradise, when she took on the giant pool and all its attendant risks in order to determine the whereabouts of Shell’s lost memories. Her choice.

Balot’s chips were placed on North West 13-1.

Straight bets, one thousand dollars on each.

Bell Wing looked at the ball as it spun around the circumference of the wheel, then closed her eyes. “My luck seems to have taken a turn for the sinister again,” she said, her voice detached. “No more bets,” she called out, her voice as clear and soft as ever.

The ball touched a pin, then fell to the right.

It hit the bowl that was spinning counterclockwise, slid over the dome, and was sucked in.

The atmosphere at the table was electric. The dealers could only stop and stare. They were like market stallholders helplessly standing by during a riot, watching their shops being looted bare by the angry crowds.

Bell Wing picked up the crystal. “One red,” she called.

The chips on the table seemed to dance around wildly before settling down in a single location: right in front of Balot. A total of thirty-four thousand dollars after deductions.

Bell Wing watched the pile of chips with silent eyes.

–Could you please spin the wheel clockwise this time, ma’am?

Balot spoke.

Bell Wing lifted her gaze from the mountain of chips to Balot’s face.

–I’ll try and win again.