'GAMBIT' - a love story in a sci-fi setting
By Colin Ferguson


Elbows resting on the table, chin settling on the cradle of clenched fists. Face now pressed against the toughened glass, peering along the slowly curving corridor in anticipation. A corridor just wide enough for a large metal ball to pass through. Some say it's made of solid gold, but maybe it's just gold plated.

I pick up the binoculars in front of me and have a look around the table. On a clear day I can see for miles along each length of the delicately arching table, but today visibility is poor, maybe a mile or so. To keep track of the table I've picked out people I use as landmarks. One in particular stands out; he sits half a mile or so to the west. He wears a tall Texan hat and dark sunglasses. Always wears those hat and glasses whatever the weather. He's been here since I took my place four years ago, but he'd already been there two years by then. So says Rebecca, six years 38 days. She's struck up a bit of a rapport with him, well it gives us something to do. We ask him questions and vice versa. All accomplished through an elaborate sign language and binoculars.

Rebecca. I look over at her now as she combs her long jet-black hair. She smiles her sweet, mellow smile and I find myself reciprocating without realising. Of course she has a family at home like most of us, beavering away to raise the money for her to keep playing. It's a big responsibility to be the one chosen to play the game. If you fail, your family fails and if your family fails to bring money, you fail. The families of those who are playing work for the Elites for a meagre wage, but are treated well as one day they might be Elite. That's the beauty of the system, or so we are told. It is everyone's interest to look after everyone else.

I received a letter from my wife this morning. She was tending to the garden when her Elite came over and demanded to know why the laundry hadn't been done. My wife apologised but the Elite just flew into a rage, where on my wife reminded her that she shouldn't speak to her that way. The Elite laughed and said, 'Darling, I'll be cold in the ground long before your husband wins the game, if he does at all.' And with that she strode off to the big house, back to her guests.

Sheewwww... there goes the ball on it's first circuit. It will probably pass another two or three times before it settles, depending on the speed of the launch. I hear I should be performing the launch in the next couple of months. It's quite a privilege to perform the launch. You choose the speed and direction of the ball. It doesn't increase your odds of winning, but it's quite a privilege never the less.

I've written a letter to my wife, I wrote it months ago, explaining the situation should the unlikely happen. It sat on my desk for a couple of weeks but I've kept it in the drawer since then. It made me uncomfortable having it roost there, with her name staring at me and the address of where she was living in Luneville, and where she would continue to live even if I did win.

You see, while I've been sitting here waiting and hoping something amazing has happened. Love blossoms in the strangest of places. Sweet Rebecca, dark enchantress of the table, there is nobody else I would rather be with. I watch her hands move in an elegant flowing motion as she signs a message to the Texan. She stops and picks up the binoculars to see his reply.

Rebecca suggested it. It is not unheard of to make a pact with a fellow player, illegal but not unheard of. My family are a distant memory, but Rebecca is here and now and real. We will go off together, leave our families and live out our lives. We will go down to Monaco, they ask very few questions there as long as you have status.

Sheewwww......there it goes again, rushing past and on through Lorraine and across the old border to skirt past Saarbrucken. Then across the vast expanses of the Saarland eventually meeting the river Mose and passing Trier to emerge in the Rheinland. Then curving outside the northern border of Luxembourg it moves onto the Ardenne and back across the border, past Sedan then twice over the river Meuse until it returns, just north of Metz where I sit waiting.

My cubicle vibrates and I turn to see Rebecca banging on the partition. She holds a letter up against the thick glass so that I may read it. It's from her family, not too uncommon, they are struggling for money, don't no how much longer they can go on. We all get those from time to time yet this might be more serious. It seems her brother has run off, fled to the north-lands to escape the game, but there is no escape. I sign to her that he will probably return within the week, she's not so sure.

The food hatch opens at the back of the cubicle and a meal emerges onto the small dining table flanked by the bathroom cupboard on one side and the z-bed on the other. As I eat I hear the ball zoom by again, it should be stopping soon, and another Elite will be added to the ranks.

I return to my desk in anticipation of the result. I look over and see Rebecca smiling, she holds up her hands. She has her fingers crossed as usual. I adore the way she still has faith in luck and love, even after all this time. 'Maybe today' I sign and return my gaze to the glass window in front of me.

Sheeeewww.....darn not this time, you never hear the ball pass a fourth time, but it was going much slower, probably someone in this sector will win. Poor Rebecca, I turn to her but she is holding up her binoculars, she must have thought the same thing. Funny that, how when you are in love, you can anticipate each others thoughts. Now she's jumping up and down excitedly. I bang on the partition. She signs for me to use my binoculars. I lift them and begin scanning along the table. Well I never, it's the Texan. The light above his cubicle is flashing and the door has already opened. Lucky beggar, he's free. Well I suppose I'd prefer him winning rather than a stranger. I'll miss him however, one less familiar face in the crowd.

The players settle down and the buzzer sounds to insert a Credit for the next spin. I place my coin in the slot and wait for the timer to expire. Ten seconds to spin. Wait! Something is wrong. Rebecca's display is flashing bright red numbers as the time counts down. I bang on the glass and signal for her to put a Credit in the slot. But she just sits there staring at the screen with a Credit in her hand which is hovering over the slot. No!..3...Rebecca!...2.....REBECCA!.....1.

The Buzzer sounds and the game begins. Tears runs down my checks as I collapse against the glass. Why, why have you done this to yourself. The door at the back of the cubicle opens and a leather clad officer steps into the room to escort her out to her life of servitude. She looks over as she goes and smiles a sweet, loving smile.

Just as the door closes, through my watering eyes, I catch a glimpse of a tall white Texan hat. The door slams shut and the flap on the food hatch swings angrily back and forth.

I gather my thoughts and wiping my face with my sleeve, walk over to the desk. I open the drawer and tear up the letter inside. I take a fresh sheet of paper, dip my pen in the ink well and begin writing. 'My dearest darling wife,".





The End
