Part 8 (1/2)
”Reptiles,” Konstantin said, and turned away, heading for the exit.
Darwin seemed to have hit a winning streak. Konstantin wondered if that was why Dervish and his bird-people had moved on. His place was now occupied by a Chinese cyborg that seemed to have been built more for heavy labor than hanging out in casinos. Konstantin could hear the gears and hydraulics as she moved to pick up her cards or put them down. The brushed metal shoulders must have been three feet across, or close to it. But then, they would have to be to support that kind of cleavage. You can take the mammal out of reality, Konstantin thought, but you'll never take the mammal away from anything else.
Konstantin found an empty chair at a nearby table and dragged it over next to Darwin. ”I see you survived,” she said as he looked over his fan of cards. The game had gone back to one-handed something-or-other.
”No thanks to you,” he said airily, rearranging the cards in an order Konstantin couldn't figure out.
”Not just survived but thrived. What do you get when you cash in your chips here -- coupons for free travel? Data-lottery tickets? Free admission to the hottest club of the moment?” She reached over to pick up one of the large yellow poker chips from the stack nearest to her. Darwin slapped her hand away without looking up and went about rearranging his cards again.
”Get your own stake,” he said. ”This one's mine and I gambled my a.s.s off for it.”
Konstantin looked down. Naked metal hip joints dug into the chair cus.h.i.+on; the position of his thigh concealed his groin area, much to her relief. ”Looks like you've won enough to buy a better one.
What happened to Mr. Dervish?”
There was a smooth whine of gears as the cyborg across the table leaned forward. ”Who wants to know?” she asked in a l.u.s.ty whisper.
Konstantin looked at her. ”I do.”
The cyborg showed perfect ivory teeth in a smile that, to Konstantin's surprise, was not without a certain amount of charm. Her face had been beautifully designed, complete flesh without even minor metal accents. The long, snow-white hair looked like nylon, though. ”Dervish is having a tune-up. He'll be back later.”
”Where does he go for these tune-ups?” Konstantin asked.
The other players around the table suddenly came into sharp focus; either that, or she was just now noticing them. ”You don't get something for nothing in this joint,” said a Moulin Rouge type showgirl. ”Put up or shut up.”
Konstantin frowned, looking at Darwin for a hint.
The white-haired cyborg across the table leaned forward again. ”She means, get yourself some chips and we'll deal you in. Win a hand, and find out what you want to know.”
Konstantin was trying to think of a way around it when Taliaferro chimed her. ”Put a riverboat gambler suit in the lav for you, with cribs for all the games. Just don't waste any more time with that d.a.m.ned coffee table.”
Konstantin nodded at everyone around the table. ”Be right back,” she said. ”Save me a seat.”
”That's extra,” Darwin called after her without looking up.8.
Gambling for information, Konstantin found, was one of those things that could become as addictive as gambling for money. Thanks to the casino's system, the stakes were whatever you made them. You bought the chips; whatever you cashed them in for was your own business.
Unless, as Konstantin discovered, you decided to buy specific kinds of chips, something it was better not to do. It was like trying to play with a currency different from everyone else's, and an unstable one at that.
The strangest part about it for Konstantin however was discovering the potential of being addicted to something she didn't like. Gambling had never interested her -- at least, not this type of gambling. Life was risky enough, she thought; introducing elements of chance into the leisure-time aspects of existence was overkill. Or maybe her ex had been right about her not wanting to play unless she was sure she could win. Konstantin preferred to believe winning wasn't always the point of playing, but that might have been more or less the same thing.
The card games themselves would have been incomprehensible without Taliaferro's crib notes and, from time to time, active coaching. Even then, she wasn't always sure of what she was doing, which made her feel especially silly all tricked out as a riverboat gambler, or what General Stores thought a riverboat gambler looked like. At least the illusory hat had no weight to it, though the brim was wide enough for her to touch convincingly. The string tie, the brocade coat and the satin pants all had a cheesiness that seemed to contaminate her surroundings for her, giving the glitter of wealth the flat s.h.i.+ny quality of cheap gold paint and nylon.
She had had three modest wins before she realized that the cheesiness she perceived had to do with the level she was now on, which was somehow connected both to the game itself and to the riverboat gambler outfit she was wearing. The change had occurred so subtly and/or gradually that even Taliaferro had not distinguished it right away. Now it was coming through even as part of the transmission. The colors on his monitor, he told her, had gone garish, with overdone contrast; was she getting anything similar?
”Trust me, even the expensive cyborgs look like baking foil,” she told him, trying to remember what to do with the seven cards in her hand. ”I think it has something to do with this outfit I'm wearing.
Maybe there's a filter on it we didn't notice.”
Taliaferro was silent while she took a win from some sort of furred creature in a jeweled tuxedo.
The s.e.x was ambiguous but she was pretty sure that it was based on some sort of vermin. The Moulin Rouge showgirl kept eyeing it as if she were imagining what sort of coat the fur might make. On the other side of the white-haired cyborg, the ghost of a platinum blonde s.e.x G.o.ddess Konstantin didn't recognize but knew she was supposed to pouted with genuine displeasure as she looked around the table. Her gaze stopped on Konstantin.
”What?” she asked the s.e.x G.o.ddess finally.
”Are you the one doing it?” the G.o.ddess asked.
”Doing what?”
”Lowering the property values.”
Taliaferro chimed. ”Yes, you are. Don't admit or deny it,” he added quickly as Konstantin opened her mouth to say something. ”I've just figured it out -- Dervish put a curse on you. You're out of phase with the rest of the casino. If you sit there any longer, you're going to end up on the lowest level of lowdown mound.”
”How did he know who to curse?” Konstantin asked him.
”He didn't.” Taliaferro laughed a little. ”He left a curse that would stick to the first person who talked about him specifically.”
”Clever little b.a.s.t.a.r.d,” Konstantin said with reluctant admiration. ”How do I counteract this?”
”I'm still working on that part.”
”Maybe I should leave the game.” Konstantin folded her cards and pushed back from the table. ”So,” said the furry creature, ”it is you.”
”We don't know that,” Konstantin said. ”I'm running a diagnostic. Maybe it's you. You're the one who showed up here as a rat.”
”I was a chinchilla when I started out,” the vermin said huffily.
”Weren't we all,” said the showgirl, giving the s.e.x G.o.ddess a significant look.
The white-haired cyborg put her elbows on the table; the discreet machinery sound had become a mechanical clunking. ”You're going to have to buy our way back up to the old level. It's only fair. We didn't ask to come down here with you.” She looked pointedly at the chips sitting in front of Konstantin.
Konstantin sighed. ”How did I know?”
”Maybe you're just starting to get smart,” Darwin said boredly. He swept all her chips into his pile and Konstantin smacked his arm, wincing at the contact. It may have looked like aluminum foil but it felt like boilerplate.
Taliaferro chimed again. ”They'll try to get all your chips. You actually only need to give one to the Chinese cyborg.”
”Too late,” said Konstantin.
”Just get out. Make a full exit. We'll get you back in another way.”
”Can you put a tracer on Dervish?” Konstantin asked.
”If he existed, yes. But he doesn't. Don't ask now, just leave.”
Konstantin nodded as if to herself and flipped the white-haired cyborg one of her chips. The cyborg plucked it out of the air and tilted her head questioningly. Konstantin pushed back from the table and stood up. ”She's got your re-entry fare,” she told the people around the table, gesturing at the cyborg. ”Meanwhile, I'll be off now--”
The exit prompt seemed to have disappeared. Annoyed, she transported to the first place she could think of, which happened to be General Stores. The area was more crowded than usual, and far more disorganized than she had ever seen it, with avatars milling around like movie actors on coffee break. A walking red machine that looked like a cross between a toy robot and a motorized mailbox marched up to her and spat a small fluorescent yellow square at her. The square ballooned up to the size of a window in front of her face; there was a number printed on it in dead-serious black type: 107. It hung there for a second before shrinking to the size of a postage stamp and sticking itself to her cuff.
”Hey,” she said to the machine, which had started to march away. She tapped one finger on the top, hard, and winced at the feeling. ”What's that about?”