“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:
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?
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,
As soon as the word left her mouth, she stopped herself. But it was already too late.
Ashley grinned. He mouthed the word
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 would have been shaking.
Oeufcoque read Balot’s emotions and tried to calm her, saying,
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.
