Mardock Scramble полностью

–If we stay on any number between twelve and sixteen when the dealer has an upcard of seven or higher, we stand a 75 percent chance of losing. Conversely, when we have a total of seventeen or over and the dealer has an upcard of between two and six, we’re better off staying—the odds are overwhelmingly in our favor.

–Seven up. Seventeen or higher for the player, seven or higher for the dealer.

Again the lessons that Balot had been taught came flooding back.

–Exactly right. Whereas the worst sort of hand for us is a fifteen or sixteen, when we can expect to lose. Here, hitting reduces our chance of losing from 75 percent to 63 percent. Better to move than not.

Balot obeyed and hit, drawing her third card.

Unfortunately it was a king. Well and truly bust.

The dealer’s next card turned out to be a jack, also worth ten. Total seventeen. Whatever Balot had done she would have lost. Better to have gone out fighting and taken the chance to improve the odds, even if she happened to have been unsuccessful this time.

Blackjack was a losers’ game. It was simply impossible to win all the time. The key was not to expect to win every hand but to play the odds so that you created conditions that were as favorable as possible.

To win, a player needed great staying power—the force of mind to keep on going down that long and winding road.

The next hand was a case in point. Balot’s hand was a 10 and 5—and a fifteen was fully expected to lose.

The dealer’s upcard was a queen. Not the time to stay, then. There was the option of surrendering, but now wasn’t the right time to start retreating and playing defensively. The bankroll was still nice and thick, and even the first mini-bank was still intact, so it was no time to roll over and play dead.

–Hit.

The dealer glanced at Balot again. He dealt her a 4.

–Stay.

It was Balot’s reflexes that spoke now. Her new total was nineteen. The dealer drew his card. An 8.

Balot and the monocled man were the only winners.

For a brief moment, Balot felt that she had accomplished something tangible, however slight. She exhaled, deeply.

02

–I think the time is ripe for you to start paying some attention to your surroundings.

Oeufcoque said this, attuned as he was to the subtleties of her feelings, in response to Balot’s increasing interest in the players all around her. He was now allowing Balot to progress, to do something that he had previously forbidden.

–Thanks. It’s just that I really want to know how other people are playing. She started to explain herself, why she was getting so impatient, but Oeufcoque cut her off.

–No need to apologize. It really is most impressive how quick you are at picking up on all this. It’s on the early side to do so, but I really think you are ready to move on to the third stage.

No sooner had the words floated up on Balot’s hand and registered with her than they disappeared, replaced by a new set of tables. There was now roughly six times as much information displayed as there had been before. Specifically tables showing the collated tactics of everyone at the table up to this point, including the dealer. And the results: how many hands won, how many lost.

The monocled man was in the lead, with the old man and the Doctor not too far behind. The lady and Balot seemed to be losing hands in equal measure.

Also shown was the regularity with which the dealer bust, roughly one in five times.

The statistics that most interested Balot were those relating to the monocled man. He was on a winning streak, and an impressive one at that. He was riding the crest of the wave of victory. The question was whether this was due to the man’s skill or his luck.

The cards were dealt. Balot received a jack and 2.

The monocled man, on the other hand, had a 4 and 6—a total of ten.