Al's return
Some people would be worried if they saw a tiny pair of goat's hooves begin to emerge from the USB port of their computers. I, however, had been there before so it didn't worry me too much.
“Oooph”, said Al, the Turing demon, “I'm going to have to lay off the brimstone for a while, that was a bit of a squeeze.”
“Shh! I'm trying to figure out how to stack this guy.” Unusually, I was playing some cash NLHE, rather than an MTT or SNG. I'd flopped bottom set in position against what I suspected was top two pair, and the turn had been a brick.
Al turned and looked at the screen. “Don't bother, he's going to hit his boat on the river.”
I paused to think. Certainly, Al was privy to the inner workings of the random number generators at all the world's poker sites. Indeed he'd claimed that there was some vast demonic conspiracy to inflict perfectly timed bad beats against most online poker players in order to drive us into the arms of the “big guy” as he euphemistically referred to his lord and master. But then again, he was a demon. As the time ticked down on the screen I decided, on the balance of probabilities, to take his word for it, and just checked. Sure enough, the river paired one of the overcards on the board, and I confidently folded to a pot sized bet. Since it looked like Al had something to say, I sat out. But then I began to reflect on the phrase “balance of probabilities”. What did that mean exactly in relationship to a being whose very raison d'être was to manipulate those same probabilities? This pleasant reverie was interrupted by a loud cough from Al.
“Look, all three of your readers know that you're an academic right? And we all know that, academics love to engage in prolonged and detailed introspection on the smallest of issues.” Then he began to shout, “But is there any reason to subject the rest of us to it? It's a given, ok, let's move on.”
“You've changed your look -- what was wrong with Elvis Costello?”
“Oh nothing really, just felt like a change. At first I thought I might try this
, but I decided that was a bit too weird”, I shuddered in agreement, “So I decided to stick with a musician
. Besides, this way I don't have to change the monogram on my briefs.”
“Good choice, but uh ..., you don't actually wear briefs. Anyhow, what's up?”
Al looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, it's the big guy's birthday, and I drew the short pitchfork, so I'm responsible for getting his gift. I thought you might be able to help.”
“Sure, but hang on, Halloween is the big guy's birthday?”
“Well, I guess that anthropomorphic embodiments of aspects of the collective unconscious, or whatever he says he is these days, don't actually have birthdays as such. But he likes presents as much as the next anthropomorphic etc. and Halloween seemed an appropriate day for it. So, what's your plan?”
“Oh, shouldn't be a problem. After all, GIMF!”
“GIMF?”
“Google Is My Friend!”
Suddenly, Al looked very uncomfortable, “Umm ..., you couldn't use MSN search, or Yahoo or something could you?”
“Why?”
“Well it's just, ...., oh never mind, but make it fast.” He still looked very awkward and ill at ease. I filed that away into the “things to be introspective about later” folder.
“Ok, what about something from here? It's just the kind of gear that he could wear for his next trip to the WSOP. He could pretend to be an online qualifier, if there were any.”
“That looks good -- I'll take care of the ordering. Thanks a lot -- here have this token.” He tossed me a small disc.
“A token? Brilliant, I'll be able to play in the big game this weekend.”
“It's not that kind of a token you idiot. It's a ‘call one card’ token. You can use it once, to ask for a specific card on the flop, turn, or river. But you need to use it up pretty soon -- they self destruct after about a week if you don't use them, and the smell is something awful.”
“Why do they do that?”
“Some accounting thing. We have to carry them on the books as a liability and the bean counters get worried if there are too many of them floating around. Anyway, thanks for your help, see you around.” He crawled back through the USB port into my laptop.
A ‘call one card’ token eh? That could be useful, very useful indeed. But first, some preparation would be required.
“Oooph”, said Al, the Turing demon, “I'm going to have to lay off the brimstone for a while, that was a bit of a squeeze.”
“Shh! I'm trying to figure out how to stack this guy.” Unusually, I was playing some cash NLHE, rather than an MTT or SNG. I'd flopped bottom set in position against what I suspected was top two pair, and the turn had been a brick.
Al turned and looked at the screen. “Don't bother, he's going to hit his boat on the river.”
I paused to think. Certainly, Al was privy to the inner workings of the random number generators at all the world's poker sites. Indeed he'd claimed that there was some vast demonic conspiracy to inflict perfectly timed bad beats against most online poker players in order to drive us into the arms of the “big guy” as he euphemistically referred to his lord and master. But then again, he was a demon. As the time ticked down on the screen I decided, on the balance of probabilities, to take his word for it, and just checked. Sure enough, the river paired one of the overcards on the board, and I confidently folded to a pot sized bet. Since it looked like Al had something to say, I sat out. But then I began to reflect on the phrase “balance of probabilities”. What did that mean exactly in relationship to a being whose very raison d'être was to manipulate those same probabilities? This pleasant reverie was interrupted by a loud cough from Al.
“Look, all three of your readers know that you're an academic right? And we all know that, academics love to engage in prolonged and detailed introspection on the smallest of issues.” Then he began to shout, “But is there any reason to subject the rest of us to it? It's a given, ok, let's move on.”
“You've changed your look -- what was wrong with Elvis Costello?”
“Oh nothing really, just felt like a change. At first I thought I might try this
, but I decided that was a bit too weird”, I shuddered in agreement, “So I decided to stick with a musician. Besides, this way I don't have to change the monogram on my briefs.”“Good choice, but uh ..., you don't actually wear briefs. Anyhow, what's up?”
Al looked a bit embarrassed. “Well, it's the big guy's birthday, and I drew the short pitchfork, so I'm responsible for getting his gift. I thought you might be able to help.”
“Sure, but hang on, Halloween is the big guy's birthday?”
“Well, I guess that anthropomorphic embodiments of aspects of the collective unconscious, or whatever he says he is these days, don't actually have birthdays as such. But he likes presents as much as the next anthropomorphic etc. and Halloween seemed an appropriate day for it. So, what's your plan?”
“Oh, shouldn't be a problem. After all, GIMF!”
“GIMF?”
“Google Is My Friend!”
Suddenly, Al looked very uncomfortable, “Umm ..., you couldn't use MSN search, or Yahoo or something could you?”
“Why?”
“Well it's just, ...., oh never mind, but make it fast.” He still looked very awkward and ill at ease. I filed that away into the “things to be introspective about later” folder.
“Ok, what about something from here? It's just the kind of gear that he could wear for his next trip to the WSOP. He could pretend to be an online qualifier, if there were any.”
“That looks good -- I'll take care of the ordering. Thanks a lot -- here have this token.” He tossed me a small disc.
“A token? Brilliant, I'll be able to play in the big game this weekend.”
“It's not that kind of a token you idiot. It's a ‘call one card’ token. You can use it once, to ask for a specific card on the flop, turn, or river. But you need to use it up pretty soon -- they self destruct after about a week if you don't use them, and the smell is something awful.”
“Why do they do that?”
“Some accounting thing. We have to carry them on the books as a liability and the bean counters get worried if there are too many of them floating around. Anyway, thanks for your help, see you around.” He crawled back through the USB port into my laptop.
A ‘call one card’ token eh? That could be useful, very useful indeed. But first, some preparation would be required.
Labels: fiction
posted by Michael Albert at 7:32 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home