players. At the end of the hand the cards were re-inserted into the machine, which wiped them clean and started again. They’d been popular in the Wilds a few years back, but most of them had eventually broken down and everyone had returned to the old-fashioned decks, which was a shame because Sam had discovered that he could predict every card with almost one hundred percent accuracy. He had no idea how or why, but had assumed the machines must make some kind of almost imperceptible noise when they produced the cards. Whatever it was, he couldn’t believe his luck in finding one in Century City. Not to mention that the stack of money in the middle of the table was exactly what he had in mind…and there was an empty chair.
“There!” he whispered to Nathan. “That’ll do.”
“But—”
Nathan began to protest as a couple of new customers came in through the door, pushed past them and made their way to the bar. He waited until they were out of earshot.
“But what are you going to use for money?”
Sam smiled and held up a slim blue stick.
“What? Where’d you get…?”
One of the men at the bar was going through his pockets and looking around. His friend slapped him on the back and paid for their drinks.
“You picked that guy’s pocket?” hissed Nathan. “But you can’t…I mean, they’re linked to the owner’s subcut—you won’t be able to use it!”
“I won’t have to use it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll win. Then I can use cash and we can give the nice man his stick back. No one will be the wiser.”
“What d’you mean, you’ll win? You can’t know that!”
Sam handed Nathan the box.
“Watch and learn.”
Nathan hung back by the door as Sam strode confidently through the crowds of people and up to the table. He wasn’t actually as confident as he’d tried to sound—it had been years since he’d done this and while he nearly always won, it tended to irritate the other players. The best plan was to go in, play a couple of high-stakes hands and leave before anyone noticed that the laws of probability were being shattered before their eyes.
“Hi,” he said, cheerily. “Space for another?”
The people at the table looked him up and down, then a grizzled man with his back to the wall nodded once. Sam sat down and pulled his chair in. No sooner had he done so than it started again—the sibilant sounds of whispering and the piercing headache. He took out his pillbox and threw another green pill into his mouth with a shaking hand. When he looked up everyone was staring. The grizzled man didn’t seem pleased, but a few of the others smirked at each other. Obviously the kid was going to be an easy mark.
“You okay now?” growled the grizzled man.
“Yes, thanks.” Sam smiled and leaned forward in a way that he hoped made everyone think he had never done this before.
“Ante up.”
The grizzled man pushed a small box toward him. There were already three credit sticks inserted so he added his newly acquired blue one and pushed it back. The grizzled man perched a pair of impossibly small wire spectacles onto the end of his nose and peered at the tiny screen.
“Jeb,” he read. “Jeb Belloq. That how you pronounce that?”
“Yep.”
“Now you understand house rules says that we don’t charge your card until you lose a hand. You win a hand, you’re free to take your stick back and play on with cash. Right?”
Sam nodded. It was the same everywhere. Most people didn’t want their gambling history all over the net and wouldn’t even sit down if they thought they’d only be able to use a credit card. Plenty of people had been booted into the outlands for less, particularly in the more self-righteous cities. Of course, once they did sit down and play a hand, they were usually there for the night.
The grizzled man loaded the cards into the randomizer with a careless familiarity that Sam guessed meant the machine was his, then placed it in the middle of the table and
“There!” he whispered to Nathan. “That’ll do.”
“But—”
Nathan began to protest as a couple of new customers came in through the door, pushed past them and made their way to the bar. He waited until they were out of earshot.
“But what are you going to use for money?”
Sam smiled and held up a slim blue stick.
“What? Where’d you get…?”
One of the men at the bar was going through his pockets and looking around. His friend slapped him on the back and paid for their drinks.
“You picked that guy’s pocket?” hissed Nathan. “But you can’t…I mean, they’re linked to the owner’s subcut—you won’t be able to use it!”
“I won’t have to use it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll win. Then I can use cash and we can give the nice man his stick back. No one will be the wiser.”
“What d’you mean, you’ll win? You can’t know that!”
Sam handed Nathan the box.
“Watch and learn.”
Nathan hung back by the door as Sam strode confidently through the crowds of people and up to the table. He wasn’t actually as confident as he’d tried to sound—it had been years since he’d done this and while he nearly always won, it tended to irritate the other players. The best plan was to go in, play a couple of high-stakes hands and leave before anyone noticed that the laws of probability were being shattered before their eyes.
“Hi,” he said, cheerily. “Space for another?”
The people at the table looked him up and down, then a grizzled man with his back to the wall nodded once. Sam sat down and pulled his chair in. No sooner had he done so than it started again—the sibilant sounds of whispering and the piercing headache. He took out his pillbox and threw another green pill into his mouth with a shaking hand. When he looked up everyone was staring. The grizzled man didn’t seem pleased, but a few of the others smirked at each other. Obviously the kid was going to be an easy mark.
“You okay now?” growled the grizzled man.
“Yes, thanks.” Sam smiled and leaned forward in a way that he hoped made everyone think he had never done this before.
“Ante up.”
The grizzled man pushed a small box toward him. There were already three credit sticks inserted so he added his newly acquired blue one and pushed it back. The grizzled man perched a pair of impossibly small wire spectacles onto the end of his nose and peered at the tiny screen.
“Jeb,” he read. “Jeb Belloq. That how you pronounce that?”
“Yep.”
“Now you understand house rules says that we don’t charge your card until you lose a hand. You win a hand, you’re free to take your stick back and play on with cash. Right?”
Sam nodded. It was the same everywhere. Most people didn’t want their gambling history all over the net and wouldn’t even sit down if they thought they’d only be able to use a credit card. Plenty of people had been booted into the outlands for less, particularly in the more self-righteous cities. Of course, once they did sit down and play a hand, they were usually there for the night.
The grizzled man loaded the cards into the randomizer with a careless familiarity that Sam guessed meant the machine was his, then placed it in the middle of the table and
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