Mardock Scramble

Ashley revealed his hole card. A 9. With the 8, seventeen.

It was Balot’s ninth win. Her winnings were now virtually spilling forth from her pot. But it wasn’t yet certain. It wasn’t yet a one-hundred-percent answer. She had to find her hundred-percent answer to equal that of the dealer’s.

Winning made her far more nervous than losing had. To have a winning streak is to keep running at the same speed—or even accelerate—down a narrowing foothold.

If she lost her balance for a second, she’d fall.

For the first time, Balot realized that Mardock, the Stairway to Heaven, placed even more hardships on people as they climbed toward greatness than it did on those who fell.

She added a fourth of her winnings to the pot, enduring the strain of the weight of it as she climbed one step at a time. When the cards came, the weight only became harder to tolerate, and she was struck by the desire to look away. That was her biggest temptation. Just look away, just for a second. She knew it would make her feel better. She ground her teeth together, resisting. If there was only one moment in her life when she had endured for something worthwhile, this was that moment.

Ashley’s upcard, 3. Balot’s cards, K-6.

Balot hit. A 3.

–Stay.

Ashley showed his hole card: 2. Five. He drew another card: 8. And another: 6. Nineteen to nineteen. Ashley’s luck had shown itself again.

“Push.”

It was almost a whisper.

Balot left her bet as it was and called for the next hand.

Ashley’s upcard, a king. Balot’s cards, 8-9.

–Stay.

Ashley’s hole card, 2.Twelve. He drew another card and found a 5.

Another push. Worse still, if Balot had hit, she would have bust.

It was a critical back-and-forth match. And the next game was another tie. The chips in her pot remained unmoved. The center point pulled at by two opposing forces, motionless as the locus of their struggle.

Ashley had stopped talking. Balot was also silent. Only the game moved on. Dr. Easter and Bell Wing simply watched. The gallery was growing in number, one by one. Music played, passing through the rhythm of the cards before disappearing again.

The ties continued. Not just once or twice. Balot trudged through the dark desert. But this time there were morning stars twinkling in the sky. She could see them. They were fellow travelers, walking beside her. Cold tension and anxiety. Impatience and fatigue. Their footsteps in time as they marched in the same direction. The same direction as her. This wasn’t as foolish and simple as when she was worried about averting her eyes.

After a time, the twentieth hand passed in a tie, and with the twenty-first hand’s tie, the cards began to unravel, and with the twenty-second hand’s tie, like a wave cresting against the cliffside and shattering into pieces, an inevitability started to form.

Ashley placed his upcard for the twenty-third hand. A king.

Balot’s hand was filled with a 3-5.

Balot hit and received a 2. She hit again and the 4 came to her heavy. She steadied her breath, preparing herself for whatever was to come, and said,

–Hit.

She willed her eyes not to turn away. A 5. Nineteen. Stay.

Ashley turned over his hole card. It was an ace.

Ashley won. Balot’s chips were wiped from her pot.

Balot watched it happen. The empty space where her chips had been seemed to whisper to her. Now is the time. Your lost chips were your high ground. Now you must jump as it vanishes out from under you. You’re jumping from the high ground you’ve built up.

If you miss your landing, you’re dead by the very height you built.

Balot prayed for courage. It wasn’t that hard. If what she had gained was everything, and it was being tested, all she had to do was open her hand and show it.

She opened her left hand. She pulled out her first golden chip and placed it softly on the empty table. The crowd suddenly began to boil.

–Next hand.

Ashley nodded.

The cards came. His upcard, an ace. Balot’s cards, 7-7.

The red card appeared in the shoe.

Ashley removed the red card. Balot inhaled and exhaled. She touched her hand to the second gold chip. She could sense that its contents had been extracted.

She set the second chip on top of the first.

–Double down.

All sound vanished from the room.

It only took two chips to freeze the entire casino. Two million-dollar chips.

Amid the stinging silence, Ashley solemnly touched his hand to the card shoe.

The card came vividly, the burning red suit striking Balot’s gaze.

A 7.

A red 7.

This was a clear sign: this would be Balot and Ashley’s final round.