of gleaming steel gates. Sam’s heart sank.
“What…they can’t do this! That’s our car!” Nathan looked around frantically for someone to complain to. “This is…Wait, maybe there’s another way in. Stairs or something.”
“No. Look.”
Sam had noticed a large sign above the elevator doors, in exactly the position no one leaving the parking lot would ever see.
WELCOME TO CENTURY CITY
NOTICE
Parking facility is closed between
6:30 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. daily
Except for approved holidays
Have a Nice Day
“What!?” Nathan stared at the sign in disbelief. “I mean, setting aside the fact that they put ‘Welcome to Century City’ on a sign that you’ll only see when you’re leaving, how can they stop us from getting our car? It’s our car. They were the ones who insisted we park it in their poxy garage.”
“Yes, well, now we know why.”
Nathan sighed. “So we’ll spend more money.”
“Yeah.”
“Which we don’t have.”
“Maybe we could break in,” suggested Sam. “That door doesn’t look any too sturdy. Kinda pretty, but not that strong.”
“Yeah, uh, I’d just like to address the tour’s attention to the remarkable detail on the decorative eaves of the lovely bar across the street.”
“What?”
Sam glanced back at the Entropy Inn. It was a sort of faux Victorian structure, trying to look old but probably not predating the skyscrapers. Up near the gutters was a frieze of interlocking geometric shapes…and a small bullet-shaped object.
“Oh. Cameras.”
“There’s always someone watching in places like this.”
Sam nodded, then stared at the camera more closely.
“Hang on…” He crossed the street and stood underneath it, then turned back, grinning. “And someone’s watching the watchers. Look.”
Nathan peered up into the shadows where a much smaller device had been carefully patched into the larger one. As they watched, it swung around and stared directly at them.
“Whoa!” said Nathan, backing away.
“Yeah,” Sam turned his back on the cameras. “Come on, let’s raise some money so we can get a bed for the night.”
“What? How are we gonna raise money with no money to start with? And what’s that thing under your arm? Can we sell it?”
“Almost certainly, but we’re not going to. We need to find a game.”
“What kind of game?”
“Any game. Just so long as people bet on it. Come on.”
He strode into the bar, followed by a very nervous Nathan. The place was almost dark inside, with a miasma of smoke that stung the eyes and made it even more difficult to see. Sam waited by the door until he could make out the room better. If there was one thing he’d learned in his travels, it was never to march into a darkened room unless you knew exactly what was in it.
The Entropy Inn was small and not unlike most of the bars and cafes in the Wilds. Although, judging by the glittering rows of bottles behind the bar, it was much better stocked. The bar itself had been made to look like a single long piece of gleaming mahogany. But as there hadn’t been any trees of any size for nearly forty years, it was clearly synthetic. The barman was grey and hunched but not as old as he looked, and Sam noticed that, while he seemed to be deep in conversation, he was actually watching the newcomers with a practiced gimlet eye.
The clack-clackity-clack of dominoes drew Sam’s attention away from the bar and to a table near the door. Two old men were playing and they seemed to be wagering on the result, but the amount involved was too small to be of help. There was a game of chess on the far side with a little knot of observers. Chess was good—he could always win at that, but again the stakes were clearly going to be too small. Then he saw it. In the darkness near the back, lit by an ancient overhead lamp: six men and two women playing poker. They were using one of those old randomizer devices to deal—it printed each card and shot it across the table to the
“What…they can’t do this! That’s our car!” Nathan looked around frantically for someone to complain to. “This is…Wait, maybe there’s another way in. Stairs or something.”
“No. Look.”
Sam had noticed a large sign above the elevator doors, in exactly the position no one leaving the parking lot would ever see.
WELCOME TO CENTURY CITY
NOTICE
Parking facility is closed between
6:30 p.m. and 6:00 a.m. daily
Except for approved holidays
Have a Nice Day
“What!?” Nathan stared at the sign in disbelief. “I mean, setting aside the fact that they put ‘Welcome to Century City’ on a sign that you’ll only see when you’re leaving, how can they stop us from getting our car? It’s our car. They were the ones who insisted we park it in their poxy garage.”
“Yes, well, now we know why.”
Nathan sighed. “So we’ll spend more money.”
“Yeah.”
“Which we don’t have.”
“Maybe we could break in,” suggested Sam. “That door doesn’t look any too sturdy. Kinda pretty, but not that strong.”
“Yeah, uh, I’d just like to address the tour’s attention to the remarkable detail on the decorative eaves of the lovely bar across the street.”
“What?”
Sam glanced back at the Entropy Inn. It was a sort of faux Victorian structure, trying to look old but probably not predating the skyscrapers. Up near the gutters was a frieze of interlocking geometric shapes…and a small bullet-shaped object.
“Oh. Cameras.”
“There’s always someone watching in places like this.”
Sam nodded, then stared at the camera more closely.
“Hang on…” He crossed the street and stood underneath it, then turned back, grinning. “And someone’s watching the watchers. Look.”
Nathan peered up into the shadows where a much smaller device had been carefully patched into the larger one. As they watched, it swung around and stared directly at them.
“Whoa!” said Nathan, backing away.
“Yeah,” Sam turned his back on the cameras. “Come on, let’s raise some money so we can get a bed for the night.”
“What? How are we gonna raise money with no money to start with? And what’s that thing under your arm? Can we sell it?”
“Almost certainly, but we’re not going to. We need to find a game.”
“What kind of game?”
“Any game. Just so long as people bet on it. Come on.”
He strode into the bar, followed by a very nervous Nathan. The place was almost dark inside, with a miasma of smoke that stung the eyes and made it even more difficult to see. Sam waited by the door until he could make out the room better. If there was one thing he’d learned in his travels, it was never to march into a darkened room unless you knew exactly what was in it.
The Entropy Inn was small and not unlike most of the bars and cafes in the Wilds. Although, judging by the glittering rows of bottles behind the bar, it was much better stocked. The bar itself had been made to look like a single long piece of gleaming mahogany. But as there hadn’t been any trees of any size for nearly forty years, it was clearly synthetic. The barman was grey and hunched but not as old as he looked, and Sam noticed that, while he seemed to be deep in conversation, he was actually watching the newcomers with a practiced gimlet eye.
The clack-clackity-clack of dominoes drew Sam’s attention away from the bar and to a table near the door. Two old men were playing and they seemed to be wagering on the result, but the amount involved was too small to be of help. There was a game of chess on the far side with a little knot of observers. Chess was good—he could always win at that, but again the stakes were clearly going to be too small. Then he saw it. In the darkness near the back, lit by an ancient overhead lamp: six men and two women playing poker. They were using one of those old randomizer devices to deal—it printed each card and shot it across the table to the
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