Gamblers World | Page 6

looked from Retief to Magnan.
"Pick another game, strangers," he said. "Kippy made a little mistake."
"This is small-time stuff," Retief said. "I'm interested in something
big."
The broad-shouldered man lit a perfumed dope stick. "What would you
call big?" he said softly.
"What's the biggest you've got?"
The man narrowed his eyes, smiling. "Maybe you'd like to try Slam."
"Tell me about it."
"Over here." The crowd opened up, made a path. Retief and Magnan
followed across the room to a brightly-lit glass-walled box.
There was an arm-sized opening at waist height. Inside was a hand grip.
A two-foot plastic globe a quarter full of chips hung in the center.
Apparatus was mounted at the top of the box.
"Slam pays good odds," the man said. "You can go as high as you like.
Chips cost you a hundred credits. You start it up by dropping a chip in
here." He indicated a slot.
"You take the hand grip. When you squeeze, it unlocks. The globe
starts to turn. You can see, it's full of chips. There's a hole at the top. As
long as you hold the grip, the bowl turns. The harder you squeeze, the
faster it turns. Eventually it'll turn over to where the hole is down, and

chips fall out.
"On the other hand, there's contact plates spotted around the bowl.
When one of 'em lines up with a live contact, you get quite a little
jolt--guaranteed nonlethal. All you've got to do is hold on long enough,
and you'll get the payoff."
"How often does this random pattern put the hole down?"
"Anywhere from three minutes to fifteen, with the average run of
players. Oh, by the way, one more thing. That lead block up there--"
The man motioned with his head toward a one-foot cube suspended by
a thick cable. "It's rigged to drop every now and again. Averages five
minutes. A warning light flashes first. You can take a chance;
sometimes the light's a bluff. You can set the clock back on it by
dropping another chip--or you can let go the grip."
Retief looked at the massive block of metal.
"That would mess up a man's dealing hand, wouldn't it?"
"The last two jokers who were too cheap to feed the machine had to
have 'em off. Their arms, I mean. That lead's heavy stuff."
"I don't suppose your machine has a habit of getting stuck, like
Kippy's?"
The broad-shouldered man frowned.
"You're a stranger," he said, "You don't know any better."
"It's a fair game, Mister," someone called.
"Where do I buy the chips?"
The man smiled. "I'll fix you up. How many?"
"One."

"A big spender, eh?" The man snickered, but handed over a large
plastic chip.

IV
Retief stepped to the machine, dropped the coin.
"If you want to change your mind," the man said, "you can back out
now. All it'll cost you is the chip you dropped."
Retief reached through the hole, took the grip. It was leather padded
hand-filling. He squeezed it. There was a click and bright lights sprang
up. The crowd ah!-ed. The globe began to twirl lazily. The four-inch
hole at its top was plainly visible.
"If ever the hole gets in position it will empty very quickly," Magnan
said, hopefully.
Suddenly, a brilliant white light flooded the glass cage. A sound went
up from the spectators.
"Quick, drop a chip," someone called.
"You've only got ten seconds...."
"Let go!" Magnan yelped.
Retief sat silent, holding the grip, frowning up at the weight. The globe
twirled faster now. Then the bright white light winked off.
"A bluff!" Magnan gasped.
"That's risky, stranger," the gray-templed man said.
The globe was turning rapidly now, oscillating from side to side. The
hole seemed to travel in a wavering loop, dipping lower, swinging up
high, then down again.

"It has to move to the bottom soon," Magnan said. "Slow it down."
"The slower it goes, the longer it takes to get to the bottom," someone
said.
There was a crackle and Retief stiffened. Magnan heard a sharp intake
of breath. The globe slowed, and Retief shook his head, blinking.
The broad-shouldered man glanced at a meter.
"You took pretty near a full jolt, that time," he said.
The hole in the globe was tracing an oblique course now, swinging to
the center, then below.
"A little longer," Magnan said.
"That's the best speed I ever seen on the Slam ball," someone said.
"How much longer can he hold it?"
Magnan looked at Retief's knuckles. They showed white against the
grip. The globe tilted farther, swung around, then down; two chips fell
out, clattered down a chute and into a box.
"We're ahead," Magnan said. "Let's quit."
Retief shook his head. The globe rotated, dipped again; three chips fell.