“The first round will be a standard game of Mardok’s Pairs.” The House stated, his eyes looking at the camera placed just above the bar. “I know you lot know what that is, but I’ll explain it for the folks watching back home.”
Mardok’s Pairs was as vanilla as a game of cards could get. It made sense to start with it for the uninitiated to observe, but it still felt like an insult to my expertise.
“The rules are simple:
Everyone starts with two cards of any suit and kind. To play, you buy in with an ante of 5,000 credits - and one contestant per round has a rotating ‘big blind’ of 10,000 credits, otherwise, you can fold and not pay up at all. Three cards are played in the center, called a river, that everyone has the right to add to their hand. The first round of betting occurs, followed by another card played to the river. The chip colors correspond to their credit value: White = 5,000 , Yellow = 10,000 , Red = 50,000 , and Blue = 100,000.”
The mustached man cleared his throat. “Pardon. This process carries on until five cards are played in the river, and a final round of betting takes place. The remaining players show their hands and the highest hand according to this chart wins-” a graphic image of the various hands achievable in Mardok’s Pairs popped up on my HUD. I didn’t even bother to look at it.
“These rounds will continue until three contestants are flat broke. That is - they gamble all their money away. That means this’ll probably be the longest round, so buckle up and enjoy folks!” House wiped the paltry smile from his face as the camera’s light went red. “Hate that showy act shit. Anyways, get ready people. We’re starting as soon as the commercial break’s done. Your cards will pop out of the slot on your side of the table. No peeking!”
When the camera lights flashed green, a black slit on the edge of the table spat out my cards. I gingerly wiped them along the wooden edge and brought them up to my face, carefully protecting the contents from prying eyes.
A 2 of spades and 4 of hearts.
> 4% chance to win
Complete garbage. Conventional wisdom said to fold every hand that didn’t have some kind of pocket pair, matching suit/color, or face card - and this failed every item on that list. Around me, the other contestants forked in the white chips that symbolized 5,000 credits.
“I fold,” I said, shoving my cards back into the black slot when my turn came around.
The House snorted. “Round one and you’re backing out? A bold move of cowardice there, chicken bone. What about you, honey bun?” He moved on to the woman to my left. She forked over her white chip with a sigh.
It looked bad to go out on round one like that, I know. I figured it lent me a few key advantages, though. I would be able to observe the other contestants play without the tunnel vision of trying to win the round. It might also make cavalier gamblers like the Undu underestimate me in the future. My bluffs would be more powerful if everyone thought I was a cautious gambler. Really, I was just a fundamentalist.
Over half of the remaining contestants folded when the fifth and final card hit the river. 6 of Clubs, Jack of Diamonds, 3 of Diamonds, 10 of Hearts, and an Ace of Clubs. If I had stayed in I’d only have a high card 4. While eight other people had lost their ante and subsequent bets, I’d lost nothing. Four contestants now fought it out over the 120,000 credits lingering in the pot. The Undu Shadow and female, the Dralid man, and the old bum.
I scanned each of their faces and got fairly typical physiological responses. Each of them showed a degree of nervousness, backed by a cocky outline that old expertise lent them. The Undu Shadow, though, gave a slightly different reading.
> Current Emotion: Invigorated, Confident
>
> Physiological Status: Heart pumping with adrenaline
>
> Pupil Display: Showed him staring at his hand - An Ace of Hearts and 3 of Hearts. His eyes flicked repeatedly to the Undu woman and Dralid man. The eyelids blinked rapidly as if preparing for a fight.
When I stopped on the bum, something else stood out.
> Current Emotion: ?? - Error
>
> Physiological Status: Calm, abnormally low pulse
>
> Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
>
> Pupil Display: A white, glassy film covered the lens of my HUD. Was this guy blind? Was he wearing some form of contacts over his eyes?
“Show me what you got!” The House proclaimed.
“Vushk knows he has the best hand. Two pairs, Ace and 3s.” He slammed his curled fist down to the table, releasing his bent-up cards.
Vushk knew correctly. The second highest hand was the Dralid, who had a pair of 10s and 6s - just narrowly losing to the boisterous reptilian.
Out of curiosity, I peered over at the old man’s cards. He had a high card 5, nothing else. “Maybe he really is blind,” I thought to myself.
-----
Several rounds went by similarly. I played cautiously, bowing out hands I knew wouldn’t have great odds. My pool 500,000 dwindled to 450,000, but I was far from the bottom of the pack.
One of the contestants, an increasingly jittery young man with a red visor over his eyes, only had 10,000 credits remaining. He tried to face off with Vushk a few rounds ago - betting 250,000 apiece and losing to a Full House (Three of a Kind and One Pair). Since then he had tried to aggressively recoup his losses to no avail. I felt for the poor kid, but he clearly lacked the refined touch of his peers.
“Next hand deal.” The House muttered, seemingly bored with the proceedings. The Big Blind chip shuffled to the visor kid and he begrudgingly shoved the last yellow chip into the center.
“Better pull something off, kid.” The burly man remarked.
A grunt was all he got in return.
This was the first good hand I had gotten all game. A pocket pair of 8s, one of clubs and the other of spades. I didn’t let the urge to smile express itself on my face. I calmly placed a white chip in the center when prompted and scanned the rest of the room.
A few of the trailing contestants looked sour and folded as their turn came around. The Undu female, the soft-eyed man to my right, and the bum all flipped their cards one by one.
> 35% chance of victory
I rubbed the face of Lady Luck in my pocket just to be sure. This could be my first win of the evening.
The river revealed a Queen, a Ten, and a 9 - nothing promising yet but it may lead to a Straight. I mulled over my options, recalculating the odds in my head. My palms were starting to sweat. I didn’t want to give up the pocket so easily but I didn’t have an obvious lead anymore.
The Dralid broke the silence for once. “10,000 in.” He flicked a yellow chip into the center. I eyed him. He had been on a slight losing streak, only 330,000 credits remained in his pile. He could be an aggressive better at times, but just as frequently shirked rounds before betting even began. I couldn’t get a tell out of him. I didn’t want to try my scanner either, between all those cybernetics he was bound to have something that could catch me. Images of that cold concrete parking lot so many weeks ago flashed through my head. Lesson learned.
I called, adding nothing more to the pot. The jerky kid didn’t have anything else to contribute so a side-pot was made for the amounts that exceeded his contributions so that he couldn’t win more than he bet.
The bum and the frazzled woman, who was on her third glass of wine by now, stayed in as well.
Flip.
And my heart skipped a beat. Another 8 made its way into the river, this one gleaming the crimson of hearts. That gave me three of a kind, substantially improving my odds over the others.
> 50% chance of victory
When the opportunity came I pressed it, throwing in 50,000 to the center. My reputation for caution paid off and the bum and Dralid went out instantly.
“No playin’ with the slow-burning fire,” the codger wheezed.
Now only the alcoholic and the kid remained.
Flip.
4 of Clubs. It didn’t upgrade my position but I felt good anyway. One more round of betting came through, and this time the woman spoke up.
“Uh. 50,000 more.” She casually rolled a Red into the middle. The visor’s brows furrowed at this. I tried to be more discrete with my concern.
I flashed over her face for a brief moment with my scanner, trying to get a read of what she had.
> Current Emotion: Cloyed, mellow
>
> Physiological Status: Sluggish, slow responses
>
> Pupil Display: -
>
>
“Hey chicken bone, hurry up. You callin’ or what? Don’t put the audience to sleep!” House snapped before my optics had a chance to load.
Too slow. I’d have to fire from the hip.
“Call,” I said between gritted teeth.
“Alright. Show us your faces lady and gents.” He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.
The visor showed his hand - pair of Queens. A decent hand, but trumped by the revelation of my Three of a Kind 8s. He sunk into his chair, face turning to ash.
The House snorted. “First one bites the dust. What about you, ma’am?”
The woman lazily revealed the cards she clutched between tautly stretched fingers. A King and a 7. That bitch had a Straight two ways. I let out a soundless sigh, letting my lungs flatten in my chest. That was over 100,000 credits gone in the blink of an eye.
But at least I was still in. I glanced over at the despondent young man slumped in his chair. Tears started to streak down the sides of his ruddy face.
“Now, that’s just shameful. Don’t go disgracing yourself on camera like that.” The House reached out and slapped the man’s neck as if chiding his son.
“You still got the chance to buy back in.”
“I’m out of credits. I got nothin'.” He murmured.
“Ahuh. I see.” House nodded to the corner of the room and Old Jack moved from his statue-like position. When the Retan gripped the back of Visor’s chair, he stood up in compliance with stooped shoulders. The guard escorted him out of the room, thrusting him behind the sliding doors at the end of the Penthouse.
The rest of us watched in silence. Even Vushk had nothing to say this time. That could easily be any of us in the coming rounds.
A cackling sound brought our attention back to the table. The old man wiped leaky white fluid from the corners of his eyes. His mouth had curled to reveal the sparse yellow teeth that jutted from his gray gums. The wiry hair that sat on his egg-shaped head shone in the chandelier’s glow.
“Play the devil’s game and bear his price.” He waggled a mottled finger about. “Oh yes! The sun cow drinks foolish blood!”
My own blood ran cold at the geezer’s cryptic words. I now realized the old man’s stratagem for this competition: he was batshit insane.