hit the button on the top. There was a brief pause before the machine suddenly sprang to life, spinning and spitting cards at each of the players.
For a moment Sam thought that maybe it had gone. That he wouldn’t be able to do it any more, but it turned out that it was just a matter of getting back into the swing and soon he knew every card even before it left the deal chute. He won the first hand easily, retrieved the credit stick, and continued to play with the much-sought after Century City Primos, deliberately losing the second hand (no point being too good) then winning the next two. By this time a few of the players were beginning to look unhappy so Sam lost another hand and called Nathan over under the pretence of asking him to get a drink.
“Here,” he whispered, handing him a wad of cash. “Bring me a drink and tell the guy what you found on the floor.”
Nathan looked confused but quickly caught on when he felt the credit stick in between the paper notes. Sam watched him make his way to the bar and tap the stick owner on the shoulder. At first the guy looked hostile, but Nathan was all wide-eyed innocence, pointing towards the floor near the door and gesticulating wildly. Eventually the guy nodded, then smiled and took the card back. The next time Sam glanced over, he had his arm around Nathan and seemed to be insisting on buying him a drink.
“This should be interesting…”
“What?” said the woman to his left.
“Sorry. Just looking at my friend, there. He told me he doesn’t drink alcohol.”
The woman looked over to the bar, where Nathan knocked back his drink and was quickly encouraged to have another.
“Well, he was lying. Are we playing or not?”
Sam nodded and threw some notes into the pot. If Nathan was going to get drunk, it would probably be best to get out of there sooner rather than later. Nathan tended to be a bit blunt when he was stone cold sober, Sam shuddered to think what he’d be like once he had a few in him.
The grizzled man dealt once more, but just as Sam picked up his cards there was a loud bang and silence briefly fell as everyone turned to look at the source of the noise. It was the door, which had opened and closed with barely a sound all evening, but this time the person coming in wanted to make an impression.
He needn’t have bothered slamming the door. Sam was reasonably sure that this guy made an impression wherever he went. He was tall, taller than Sam, and much bigger, a fact that was made even more obvious by the patchwork of leather and body armor that comprised his clothing. The man was pretty much patchwork too, covered in scars, with what looked like a titanium arm as well as an imager where his right eye ought to have been. The imager looked like it had been tweaked and improved over many years and bit into the flesh around his eye socket like an invasive disease.
The man walked towards the bar and Sam felt himself tense up. But he strode right past Nathan and the box and was greeted by three only slightly less scary looking companions. All the men were armed to the teeth and, in spite of a notice behind the bar pointing out that weapons were to be surrendered while drinking, no one suggested that they hand over their not inconsiderable arsenals to the bartender.
Sam turned back to the game, just in time to see the grizzled man quickly switch out some of his cards. So that was why he used the randomizer—he had a duplicate deck. It was a bit risky, though. The duplicates would get soiled and used-looking, whereas the ones from the machine always looked new. Plus, he’d have to switch them back at the end of the hand. Sam doubted it could really be worth it. It would only be worth the risk once a night at most, and you’d have to make sure the pot was big enough. The grizzled man glanced at Sam with that mixture of shame and aggression that almost always comes when people are caught doing something they know they shouldn’t.
Sam just smiled as if
For a moment Sam thought that maybe it had gone. That he wouldn’t be able to do it any more, but it turned out that it was just a matter of getting back into the swing and soon he knew every card even before it left the deal chute. He won the first hand easily, retrieved the credit stick, and continued to play with the much-sought after Century City Primos, deliberately losing the second hand (no point being too good) then winning the next two. By this time a few of the players were beginning to look unhappy so Sam lost another hand and called Nathan over under the pretence of asking him to get a drink.
“Here,” he whispered, handing him a wad of cash. “Bring me a drink and tell the guy what you found on the floor.”
Nathan looked confused but quickly caught on when he felt the credit stick in between the paper notes. Sam watched him make his way to the bar and tap the stick owner on the shoulder. At first the guy looked hostile, but Nathan was all wide-eyed innocence, pointing towards the floor near the door and gesticulating wildly. Eventually the guy nodded, then smiled and took the card back. The next time Sam glanced over, he had his arm around Nathan and seemed to be insisting on buying him a drink.
“This should be interesting…”
“What?” said the woman to his left.
“Sorry. Just looking at my friend, there. He told me he doesn’t drink alcohol.”
The woman looked over to the bar, where Nathan knocked back his drink and was quickly encouraged to have another.
“Well, he was lying. Are we playing or not?”
Sam nodded and threw some notes into the pot. If Nathan was going to get drunk, it would probably be best to get out of there sooner rather than later. Nathan tended to be a bit blunt when he was stone cold sober, Sam shuddered to think what he’d be like once he had a few in him.
The grizzled man dealt once more, but just as Sam picked up his cards there was a loud bang and silence briefly fell as everyone turned to look at the source of the noise. It was the door, which had opened and closed with barely a sound all evening, but this time the person coming in wanted to make an impression.
He needn’t have bothered slamming the door. Sam was reasonably sure that this guy made an impression wherever he went. He was tall, taller than Sam, and much bigger, a fact that was made even more obvious by the patchwork of leather and body armor that comprised his clothing. The man was pretty much patchwork too, covered in scars, with what looked like a titanium arm as well as an imager where his right eye ought to have been. The imager looked like it had been tweaked and improved over many years and bit into the flesh around his eye socket like an invasive disease.
The man walked towards the bar and Sam felt himself tense up. But he strode right past Nathan and the box and was greeted by three only slightly less scary looking companions. All the men were armed to the teeth and, in spite of a notice behind the bar pointing out that weapons were to be surrendered while drinking, no one suggested that they hand over their not inconsiderable arsenals to the bartender.
Sam turned back to the game, just in time to see the grizzled man quickly switch out some of his cards. So that was why he used the randomizer—he had a duplicate deck. It was a bit risky, though. The duplicates would get soiled and used-looking, whereas the ones from the machine always looked new. Plus, he’d have to switch them back at the end of the hand. Sam doubted it could really be worth it. It would only be worth the risk once a night at most, and you’d have to make sure the pot was big enough. The grizzled man glanced at Sam with that mixture of shame and aggression that almost always comes when people are caught doing something they know they shouldn’t.
Sam just smiled as if
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