Mardock Scramble полностью

The display on Balot’s left hand transfigured again. Another level of detail had been added. More numbers, the fluctuations in the count. In terms of the quantity of displays, there was now actually slightly less to take in—the other players’ data was no longer there—but the numbers that remained were now of another order of complexity, far beyond the computational power of the average person.

The point tally was no longer a simplistic one or two points at a time, either.

A 9 was now minus one, a 10 worth minus three and an ace minus four. The other numbers, too, were assigned values between plus and minus four. The resulting tally would then be used as a coefficient to other factors, namely the number of cards already played compared to the number left. The result of these calculations would in turn produce the ultimate optimized betting strategy.

In particular, the most important new development was that they were now keeping track of every single card that was played in the course of a round.

This was the one and only way to achieve their aim: absolute victory.

They would memorize all the cards that had appeared so that they could work out with mathematical certainty their odds of winning. Hence the true count.

There were six decks of cards in play in total, or 312 cards. Of those, thirty-odd would be excluded from a round because they would come below the red marker. The remaining 280 or so could be memorized, though, and if done properly the true count would be able to pinpoint the precise moment when the odds were most in Balot’s favor—the moment to strike.

This was what Balot and the Doctor had been waiting for all along, and it was the reason they had been playing the waiting game.

–Sooner or later the moment will definitely come. The right moment to bet everything on a single hand. Until then you need to preserve your bankroll at all costs.

Balot squeezed her hand again—roger that.

She turned to the Doctor.

–Come on, Uncle! Your turn!

“Sure, sure…”

–No fair! Just because the other players have gone doesn’t mean you can dawdle around and hold up the game, you know!

She knocked the Doctor’s arm as if to hurry him along. Really, though, she was thinking that they’d managed that well. In order to win through card counting they needed to get through the earlier hands as quickly as possible in order to get to the good stuff. The Doctor’s dallying was the perfect smokescreen—no one who was deliberately taking their time was likely to be a card counter.

The Doctor raised his head and hit. He drew a 3 on fifteen, total eighteen.

The Doctor called stay, and exhaled deeply, as if he’d struggled to make the decision.

Balot hit on sixteen. The dealer flipped her card over: 8.

The dealer’s upcard was a 9. It wasn’t the wrong decision for Balot to have hit—her move was tactically sound. It just didn’t help her very much; the result was that she bust, plain and simple. The cards and chips were collected, and Balot was about to take her eyes off them when Oeufcoque gave her an unusual instruction.

–Keep your eyes glued to your losing hand.

Balot did so, staring at the discard pile where her cards now rested.

The dealer turned his hidden card over: 9 and 8, which made seventeen—the Doctor won the hand.

–Try and make out that you’re somehow winning.

–Even though I’m obviously not?

–Yes. As if you can’t bear losing, so you’re changing the rules in your own mind so that you’re somehow winning.

Not the easiest request in the world, and Balot had to give some thought as to how she was going to do this. But then the Doctor fed her a lifeline, almost as if he had read her mind.

“There you are, you see? Less haste, more speed. Sometimes you do need to think about it in order to pull off a good win!”

–Whatever. My score was higher than yours, anyway.

“What are you talking about?”

–I had twenty-four. You only had eighteen, Uncle.

Balot had no idea how she’d come up with this or where she was going with it. Judging by their reactions, neither did the dealer, or indeed the Doctor.

“Erm…you do understand the rules, don’t you, my dear? That’s not quite how the game is played.” The Doctor peered over at her, somewhat nonplussed.

–It’s my money, I can play how I like!