A NEWCOMB GOES GAMBLING

Here's the newest story.

For the previous installment, here's the link.

https://wizardofvegas.com/forum/off-topic/general/3905-a-newcomb-beings-paradox/

Let me know what you think of this one. Thanks, guys.


A NEWCOMB BEING GOES GAMBLING
BY
AARON DENENBERG

Stuart Masterton had spent the last solar month in preparation for the upcoming week. As head of security for the galaxies largest casino, it was his duty to guarantee a smoothness to the upcoming events. His family had been in the casino security business for five generations and he took some relish in the fact that nothing of major import had ever happened inside a casino whose security had been managed by his family since five generations ago when a guest was murdered with a blastgun in a casino elevator.

Stuart had been head of security at the Galactic Aces Casino for the past fifteen years, happily without incident, even though this casino, due to its staggering size and location in a quadrant of the explored galaxy that was considered neutral territory for warring factions now served as the de facto camp for peace negotiations. It was precisely this type of congregation that always gave Stuart the most concern and which were scheduled for the next week and a half.

The delegates for IO and an orbiting space station above IO were scheduled to discuss the state of affairs between their two nations. IO was first established as a human settlement a few generations back when the oft persecuted Jews For Jesus faction split off from their Hebrew counterparts on Earth and traveled in a "Mayflower", which was a spaceship designed for carrying entire communities through space on pilgrimages. The Jews For Jesus had been quite content on their small sliver of space until another "Mayflower" had arrived, falling into orbit around IO and claiming they had rights to some of the riches from the IO Moonists. This new faction was also a recently persecuted bunch, the Jews For Mohammed faction and they claimed everything the opposite to the Jews For Jesus. At any rate, the J4J as they were sometimes called for short, were the established Moonists and would not give up any of their rights. The Jews for Mohammed, called J4M or Spacists as they were stuck in the orbitting satellite above aggressively had pursued a campaign of warfare and terror on the Moonists in an attempt to depose their tenure on IO.

Both groups had finally agreed to a peace settlement which most of the Galaxy watched with bated breath. Very few people had faith the negotiations would amount to anything, but as one of the principle exports of IO was Neuronic Plutons, a newly discovered energy source that powered many of the spaceships in the galaxy and allowed for newly constructed interstellar vessels, there was hope of a resolution to the conflict. The flow of Neuronic Plutons had been disrupted many times by terrorist plots.

Stuart sat at his desk pouring over security details when the Holocom buzzed. He saw it was his very competent Man Friday named Jill. Jill had served him well for four years now and Stuart knew better than to ignore one of his Holocom calls, even if his servants name was feminine. "Jill, what's up?"

The beefy voice answered back, "Stuart, I've just been informed a major celebrity is going to be visiting for this entire upcoming week. He arrives on tomorrows shuttle and specifically requested audience with head of security."

"CELEBRITY? NO WAY! Jill, inform him that this week we are spread thin with security due to this peace settlement negotiation. We'd be more than pleased to offer all of our security measures to him any other week other than this one."

"That's what I informed him. But, he stated he foresaw his arrival here. What could I say to that?"

"What does his ridiculous assessment of the future have to do with any of this? Unless he's a Newcomb Being!"

"Precisely!"

Stuart Masterton felt the pangs of an early headache. "Are you telling me we have a Newcomber about to stay at our casino?"

"Not just any Newcomber. It's KetchlKoachl, the star of that holovid gameshow."

Those pangs suddenly bumped up into sharp throbs. The most successful game show of the last decade, "Are You More Prescient Than A Newcomb Being" had made a star of KetchlKoachl, name shortened to Ketch for ease, and made his face easily recognizable in homes and settlements across the inhabited universe. Whereas most humans couldn't tell one Newcomb Being from the next, and very few persons had even laid eyes on one, Ketch would be recognized by all and nothing but a security risk of the highest celebrity magnitude.

"Hold on while I contact legal." Stuart had major reservations about this entire situation. Newcombers were a newly discovered race of aliens that utilized a natural formation in their brain to 'ping' the future, giving them an oracular ability that had led to the development of said Holovid show. So, there was no way one of these beings, even one with status such as Ketch was going to be 'guessing' at games of chance in his casino. After a moment of holding, Mr. Holden of legal had come up on the Holocom.

Stuart explained the situation. "So, how do we explain to this Ketch that he is prohibited from playing any games of chance?"

"Legally, you have no ability to do so," warned Mr. Holden.

"With his precognitive skills, he could wipe out the casino. Not to mention the unfair advantage over other players. Since when does a Newcomb Being have rights when it comes to gambling.?"

"Blame your senators. Although we operate in neutral territory, we have chosen to be stringently enforced by the gaming laws of the U.S.A. The constitution of the United Space of America specifically prohibits anyone from being barred a game regardless of advantage if said advantage is not an external device but a natural ability perpetrated by use of thinking and mind only. This bill was designed to prohibit card counters from being unfairly backed off games just for using their brains. The Newcomb Being's predictions are an operational ability of his thinking and mind. He could raise an objection with the gaming control commission if we bar him on his usage of natural ability alone, and he is a celebrity so we would be talking quite a public brouhaha. And Ketch is a well-liked celebrity. It would be negative brouhaha for us."

"I understand the ramifications, but was not the gaming laws designed by and for humans? Certainly there was no thought to the Newcombers when they were drafted? How can we be expected to operate a casino under such circumstances?"

"Stuart, it's precisely because they were not considerate of this situation that we have one. It's the wording of the bill. They specifically stated no 'individual' may be barred. Had they said no human, we would have legal standing to bar Newcombers. As this Ketch obviously has the ability to sign contracts, partakes of a game show on a regular basis and is not owned by anyone, i.e., he is not considered someone's pet or property, then as a sentient being he can claim to be an individual. And once again, thanks to your myopic senators, we can bar no individual from playing, sans cheating which a natural function of his brain cannot be considered."

"Fantastic! So, we just sit back and watch while a Newcomb Being goes gambling!?"



An emergency meeting of senior casino personnel was convened to discuss the ramifications. Mr. Holden of legal had put together some quick thoughts on the matter. "My suggestion is we move in the opposite direction. We don't look for means to deny him play, but opportunities arising from having him play. He is a celebrity, after all and an alien. We call in our news contacts and media sources, Holovid the entire week of him gaming and present a show where a Newcomb Being beats, assuming his predictions are accurate, most or all of our games. The general public will eat that up especially with Ketch's involvement. At any rate, we just have all of our losses subsidied by the sponsors of the show. Who knows, we may end up making more profit off the deal than Ketch."

There was a murmur of consent from most everyone at the table barring Stuart Masterton. He had other concerns. "Primarily, security. We already are at the breaking point. I have every aspect of presence pre-arranged based on the timetable of these Jews For Jesus and Jews For Mohammed ambassadors and now I have to pull some guys off of that? And that's just for security of the Newcomber. Add dozens of additional camera crews, judges, technicians for the show, and reporters covering this story and I don't see how I can honestly be expected to guarantee anyones safety much less these new players. And I don't know about anyone else in this room, but I have a care more for the security of meetings designed to save hundreds of thousands of lives by the propagating of peace, than whether a Newcomb Being guesses black or red at roulette."

Stuart was finished delivering his speech. His rationale had not been purchased. Mr. Holden explained the rejection. "I respect those considerations but this could become an inter-species incident if we do not tread lightly. We do not wish for claims of elitism, racism, against Newcombers to be raised. We still do not know all about their race. And we could hurt our standing with the gaming commission of the U.S.A., as well, if we simply choose to back him off. We chose to be held by their standards in return for protection. Space piracy is an ongoing concern but no space pirate would dare attack us for fear of an armada of U.S.A. troops surrounding them at the speed of light. I say we have no choice but to pursue this angle and allow Mr. Ketch to partake of our sins."

The decision was to go ahead with the show. Although, all this was contingent upon acceptance from the Newcomb Being. He could not be forced to participate in a Holovid show although that was precisely what was insinuated when his representatives call was returned by the Galactic Aces Casino upon the following morning.




Stuart was on-hand to greet KetchlKoachl as he disembarked from his first-class seating onboard the shuttle. Ketch's accomodations had included specially designed seats for his pony-sized frame. Ketch glided onto the casino entryway followed by a train of followers of human origin. After introductions, Ketch instructed his entourage to set themselves up in their rooms while he went with head of security to his office. An instruction to three of his human counterparts for them to carry his luggage irritated Stuart--was that where our species was going? A Newcomb Being gave orders to his human servants? He noted they did not flinch as they lifted up Ketch's bags and noted that both of this weeks ambassadors who were set to arrive soon would most likely have their own pissants to serve them. It was a matter of class and wealth, not species or race. Stuart forcefully put his animosity behind him.

Ketch was given the grand tour by Stuart who was surreptitiously aware of the shocked glances that greeted their passage. Snippets of conversation that intruded on his consciousness led him to understand it was celebrity more than alien unawareness that led to the surprise.

As with most casinos, in order to make it to the lodgings, one had to pass through the gaming areas. This intentional psychological tactic to make all guests forced to view the action was just one of the ways a casino snagged their players. But today, as Ketch was led past the gaming tables, Stuart was unusually nervous. Ketch seemed unconcerned and uninterested in the hustling patrons as he passed but upon moving through the roulette pit, his gliding came unmistakably to a surprised halt as he viewed the mechanics of the game.

Should he explain how roulette works to a Newcomb Being? Stuart wasn't sure if precognitive powers also meant everything was fully explained. After all, would one simply look into the future for an explanation so that one already was familiar with said material? Rather than place his foot in his mouth, Stuart went into a little history of the game. Roulette was a centuries old money-maker for the casino. Originally it had been played with no zero's which meant no edge for the house. Eventually a single zero had been added and then eventually a double zero. Of course, nowadays one rarely saw double zero wheels and single zero didn't exist except in museums. Just about the de facto standard for roulette was a quadruple zero wheel. Profits were extremely good!

As the table went about it's business, one human could be overheard stating to a friend, "Look behind you. A Newcomb Being. He's really scary."

His friend had turned and startled, returned back with, "He's not scary. He's Ketch from that Holovid show."

Suddenly, Ketch cried out unmistakebly, "SIXTEEN, RED."

Stunned silence. The dealer and everyone else present oggled the Newcomb Being.

Just as suddenly a mad dash occurred as players from all around shoved to get their chips onto the felt covering number sixteen straight-up. The chips were climbing higher until they looked like a veritable Tower of Babylon, a huge jenga that threatened to topple and still more chips were being laid down. The bets surrounding sixteen were all covered with chips as well. Almost every other number at the table was empty, their chips having been quickly shoved towards the sixteen, seventeen, eighteen street of the game.

The dealer looked uncertain. He glanced over to the pit boss, sweating profusely and who only could direct his own gaze to Stuart Masterton. The look was obviously a question. Should he allow the spin? Stuart reminded himself they were treading thin legal ground and interestingly, Ketch himself was not betting. It might make an interesting test of how dangerous Ketch's predictive powers could be. Stuart gave the nod to the pit boss who okayed the spin for the dealer.

A flick of the wrist and the ball was off. The dealer yelled "NO MORE BETS" extremely quickly, after the first revolution to a load of boos and ostentatious upset. Then it was as if the casino had entered a vacuum as silence fell along with the ball into the curves of the wheel, smacking with a clack off the multi-directional struts and bouncing several different directions until the ball hop-skipped into the slots of three different numbers and finally settled inside the wheel-well of...number sixteen.

A raucous cloud of cat-calls and cheers erupted and echoes of "Thanks, Ketch" and "mucho gracias, Ketch" and over all could be heard "Come on, one more time, Ketch." As the din died down, Ketch turned to Stuart Masterton. "A silly game!" the Newcomb Being stated and then continued on his way to the main security office. Stuart's head ached.



Stuart breathed easier once inside his office. He welcomed Ketch to a seat, although he recognized it having been sized for humans would make an uncomfortable fit for a Newcomb Being. Ketch did not comment on the seating suggestion but took up a position at his main window that afforded a view of surrounding space. Stuart imagined ketch was looking for his homeworld although it would not be viewable from here.

Time to breach the subject of Ketch's gambling. "The board of the casino welcomes you with open arms, Ketch. However, we have natural concerns about your playing games of chance in our casino. As you can imagine, I am certain, our entire livelihoods are based on the predilection towards people guessing as opposed to knowing what is the expected outcome of any given hand..."

"May I interrupt you a moment," interrupted Ketch.

"Um, yes. Certainly. Go ahead."

"I have not come here to play games!"

Stuart thought he saw a slight inclination of Ketch's face, but it was difficult to tell. Newcomb Beings had unemotional faces. "I'm not following you. You came all the way here but do not intend to partake of the games?"

"That is correct! Your fear that I will take advantage of the mechanics of your games is unfounded anyway. I would not ping the future just to get the outcome of a spin of a ball or the throw of a dice. Knowing the outcome of such an event would not be fun and would prove ultimately unsatisfying."

Stuart swallowed a partially unbelieving laugh. "I'm sorry. I don't believe my ears. You would not..." he was going to say cheat but that word according to legal did not apply here, "...foretell outcomes? I just witnessed you do that on a single spin of roulette!"

"I did not! I took a guess."

"You named the number precisely!"

"I guessed...correctly!"

So, that was the angle where Ketch was going to come from? Stuart swallowed a swelling lump in his throat. Ketch's face was completely impassive as usual.

But then, Ketch caught him completely off-guard with his next pronouncement. "All this is beside the point. I am here in relation to the peace process about to proceed between the IO Moonists and the IO Spacists."

Stuarts brows lifted. "Excuse me for my ignorance, but why would a Newcomb Being have any interest in human politics?"

"I have an interest in saving human lives. Both sides are sending their prime ambassador to the meeting. On one of them, you will find a Neuronic Pluton Bomb!"

Stuart's headache was now pounding like thunder. A Neuronic Pluton bomb was a planet-killer. Detonated on this space station, it would pretty much obliterate its existence. "Which delegate?"

"I cannot determine which one. It is either the delegate for the Jews for Jesus or the delegate for the Jews for Mohammed."

"Well, those are the only two groups showing up as part of the negotiation!!! Of course, both delegations are protected from unwarranted searches by diplomatic immunity. But under the circumstances, we would be well within our rights to conduct such a course of action. The obvious solution then is simple. I shall submit both delegations to a search until we find the bomb. I most definitely want to thank you for this invaluable information..."

"It is not that simple," interrupted Ketch again. Stuart's bowels foresaw even worse news. "I am only ninety percent certain of my prediction. There is a ten percent chance that neither delegate is carrying any bomb whatsoever."

Stuarts mouth dropped. "I cannot break diplomatic immunity laws and then come up empty handed!"

"Which is precisely why you have such a complicated scenario. I look forward to your solution of such a conundrum!"



Stuart was on his third stim of caff-coff when the second emergency meeting of senior casino staff was convened. Everyone was present from before with the addition of a Holocom uplink to Earth so that an expert of inter-galactic diplomacy could be brought in on the discussion. The rep was more than just a figurehead--his word had to be followed as he was chairman of the U.S.A.'s martial body and was overseeing the peace negotiations.

Stuart laid everything out on the table and all eyes turned to the representative from Earth. His face was stern. "I sympathize with your predicament. Nonetheless, you are forbidden from making any move at the moment. Inter-galactic law prohibits you from searching these delegates and their train under diplomatic rules. If you could show definitive proof that a Neuronic Pluton Bomb was being smuggled by one of them, proof of one hundred percent certainty, then a request for search and seizure could be granted. But not under the current circumstances."

"Sir, if I may," asked Stuart. "The Newcomb Beings predictions are rarely wrong. If he says there is such a device onboard, I'm inclined to believe him."

"Proof must be definitive! It cannot be a hunch or a guess. You must be able to deliver physical and clearly delineated proof to avoid an inter-galactic incident. You say this Newcomb Being is ninety percent sure? Well, you know what that qualifies as? A guess! A better guess than you or I might make but a guess nonetheless.

"We are dealing with two sensitive and highly strung groups of people. If you violate rules of diplomacy and for arguments sake uncover such a dangerous device, you might be able to shuffle past an incident but what if you don't? Is the casino prepared to be the reason peace talks failed before they began, responsible for the deaths of thousands as a new war erupts?

"Negative. You are not to move forward. What you can do is initiate a strong investigation using traditional forms of detective work. If you gather the evidence you need, I will allow you to move forward with prohibitive actions. Until then, I'm afraid, you are on your own. I wish you the best of luck."



"And so you see, Ketch, my hands are tied. And yet, all of our lives are in danger. I'm surprised you even stayed. No one would fault you if you left. You have a promising career at stake."

"I have already foreseen my death with ninety percent accuracy. It holds no fear for me. There is a ninety percent certainty I will not perish on board this casino. Which puts me in a position to state that I have a ninety percent certainty of solving this situation for you if I stay."

"I'm not certain I could deal with foreseeing my death. But you still gain major points in my book. You're still risking your life."

"Newcombers are expected to deal with the vision of our death. I cannot imagine going through life with complete uncertainty on the matter as you do. But that is a matter of difference between our kind and it is to be expected."

Stuart had a keen eye for facial nuance, a requisite of any casino security position and he was confident he was gaining insight into the inscrutable features of the Newcomb Being. It would not be long before he could 'read' Ketch. A curious irony, he thought.

Ketch shook his head. "We Newcombers are not deity or God. Although some believed us to be upon first contact. We have our foibles. Our failures. Our ability to see into the future is a very strange thing for your people to grasp. I see things like you see images on a sonar screen or a radar screen. They are definitive but only in the sense that they are blips that exist. It is up to me to decipher the meaning, determine true outcomes."

Ketch turned to face Stuart Masterton, the import of his words stressed. "There is a way I can tell who has the bomb with one hundred percent certainty, so that I can see the blips down the time-stream with full clarity."

Stuart perked up. "How?"

"I would have to do a 'reading' of both ambassadors."

Stuart shook his head. "There would be no reason for either to submit to a reading and any such request might trigger suspicion and an early detonation."

"Greed cannot be overlooked. I propose a special episode, beamed live from this casino of my gameshow, with the contestants the ambassadors. A million dollar opportunity comes along rarely. Such an infusion of cash would be good for their causes."

Stuart thought about that. The casino actually had voted for a holovid show and several triggers had already been depressed to make that happen. It didn't make much difference to him at this point as he had been forced to re-deploy manpower and if it meant defusing this terrorist situation...

"And when you read these guys for the gameshow, you can read about the bomb without them knowing?"

The gameshow in question required Ketch to 'read' the contestant. At that point, the Newcomb Being would place either a million dollars into a first box or he would leave it empty dependant on what he believed the contestants choice would be--if Ketch read that only box A would be opened, then Ketch placed the million into the box. He also would fill a second box with a guaranteed thousand dollars. The conundrum for the contestant was whether to pick the guaranteed thousand dollars by picking both boxes or to risk not winning anything and pick box A only. Of course, the real issue was how prescient was Ketch. If Ketch was wrong then the player would go home with either nothing, or over a million dollars. Ketch's predictions, as was the case with all Newcomb Beings, were ninety percent accurate.

Here, Ketch was proposing they use that 'reading' or 'pinging' to also identify the bomber. It made perfect sense, thought Masterson.

"Alright. They might consent to participating on your show. It's popular enough. Let's see if we can make it a go."




Ketch contacted Head of Programming for his Holovid station, Wendy Wisher, and explained the need for quickness. "These peace negotiations will be occurring in just a few days."

"Understood," nodded Wendy. She had a crew ready to cover the peace workshop installed at the station. She re-routed them and placed a fire up everyones butt to insure the extreme late notice was not a hindrance. "It'll be close but we'll get it done."

Ketch had declined to mention that anyone was in danger from the detonation of a planet-killing weapon of mass destruction. Wendy Wisher still inwardly blamed herself for the death of Jane Vascomb many years earlier who had time-slipped to uncover some anomalies involving their game show and had wound up with a bullet in her brain. At least twice, it had been Wendy Wisher who had thought it wise and safe for Jane to investigate as if she was a reporter and which had led to her demise. Ketch was certain if Wendy thought anyone else's life was in danger due to her decisions, she would pull the plug immediately.

Quickly announcements were made about the show and even though it was short notice, everything went smoothly and excitement built up throughout the casino towards the upcoming broadcast, although they decided the Live show would be taped for later distribution across the galaxy. Setting up the live feed under such time constraints proved impossible.

The only hitch came, therefore, on the day of the show, when Stuart Masterton arrived at Ketch's room clearly shaken. "Ketch, we have a problem. The delegate for the Moonists is fine with participating tonight, but not his opposite number. The Spacist delegate has cited lack of time in preparing for the upcoming peace discussions. He feels playing a game show while making such important preparations would also cast negative aspersions on his character. How does this affect us, Ketch?"

Ketch was stoic. "I will read our only contestant and then we shall see."

"For my money, it's the Spacist who is our bomber. He may suspect your ability to read him and would not want to take any chance. And if he's planning on going up with the bomb to make his statement, then what would the money mean to him, anyway? I'd say I am correctly predicting this with ninety percent accuracy!"

"I suppose a human being can also make accurate predictions from time to time," commented Ketch. "Do you feel comfortable enough with your prediction to search and seize the Spacists rooms and property?"

Stuart sadly shook his head. "I don't. All this nonsense makes me supremely nervous. I don't know how you keep your nerves."

Ketch didn't respond although Stuart was certain he detected a twitch in the masked emotions of the Newcomber.



A huge turnout made the taping of Ketch's appearance on the show a success. The interim host performed his role stolidly if not precise but the ongoing applause masked any imperfections. The time came when the delegate for the Jews For Jesus had to be 'read' by Ketch and he submitted humbly to the analysis. Ketch then disappeared into a secured room in the casino converted for this purpose where he placed money into one or both of the boxes supplied him. These were wheeled by staff back on stage where the host placed static locks on both boxes and with a bit of hulaballoo committed their safety to the care of KetchlKoachl.

Everyone would now return the following day for the opening of the boxes by the contestant who would make a choice of either box A only or both box A and B. As everyone left for the evening, Stuart Masterton approached Ketch anxiously. "What is the determination?" he queried.

Ketch turned to him. "I can state with ninety percent certainty, that the Moonist delegate is not carrying a Neuronic Pluton bomb--or any other incendiary device, for that matter."

Stuart was flabbergasted. "Only ninety percent accuracy? I thought the whole purpose of this reading was to eliminate variables, guarantee results?"

"Yes. The final determination will come tomorrow after the show."

"I don't understand."

"I have pinged his future. I can see the blips and have translated their meaning. If I am correct in my prediction of his choice of boxes tomorrow, then I am correct in my prediction of his carrying the bomb. If I am wrong about the boxes, then likewise I am wrong about the bomb. Both predictions are tied together based on my simultaneous ping. So, we wait for tomorrow."



"We must make every attempt to keep this historic peace summit problem-free. With that in mind, what can you inform me with this gameshow plan of yours," queried the chairman of the United Space of America's martial body.

Stuart Masterton took a deep breath. "Ketch will be able to definitively determine if the Moonist delegate has a bomb. He was unable to read the Spacist delegate who did not participate in the proceedings."

"If it is determined with one hundred percent accuracy by this Newcomber that the Moonist delegate has indeed the bomb, then you have full authorization to place him into custody and search his property and that of his entourage. However, if with certainty, he does not have the bomb, then what course of action are you planning?"

"Well, then the Spacist delegate is our suspect."

The chairman's face became an obelisk of determinacy. "I might remind you he is not a suspect as no crime has been committed yet. And according to Ketch, there is the ten percent probability no crime has or will intend to happen from either delegate. Ketch was unable to read the Spacist which I assume means you are left in a similar predicament as before if the Moonist is not the guilty party. You cannot move on the Spacist without one hundred percent accuracy and surety. You only have authorisation on the Moonist if it is determined he has the bomb. Am I completely clear on this?"

"Crystal clear, sir. I can move on the Spacist if a one hundred percent determination is made as to his culpability?"

"Of course, and under the time constraints and seriousness of the situation, I will allow you some autonomy. But you had better be sure you have total and infallible information before moving. If there is an inter-galactic incident over this, you will be held directly responsible."

Stuart nodded understanding. His head was exploding with throbs of pain!



For Stuart, the evening show seemed like it would never arrive. But finally, the Moonist ambassador had returned onstage to make his choice. The damned show was designed to whet everyones appetite for full on a half-hour and the producers had created segments about the ambassador, his career and upbringing, and of course the conflict that had been so prevalent between the Moonists and the Spacists for so many years. The upcoming peace talks were laid out as the hope of the universe and finally, after a nerve-wracking time, Stuart saw the time had come for a decision to be made.

The host still managed to milk some angst of the situation and finally he asked the all-important query. "What is your choice? Will you open Box A only, or both boxes?"

The ambassador did not hesitate. Most contestants were instructed to fidget and bluster in order to add to the show but the Moonist was not chosen by the producers for his shtick. "I choose to open Box A only."

"Box A only. Final choice?" The ambassador replied in the affirmative. "Then here are the keys and code for opening the static locks. Please open Box A now."

Stuart watched intently as the static locks were opened by key, revealing a combination that the ambassador entered. Upon the final sequence, the box began a rubiks cube style re-arranging with hisses and clicks until settling into place and with a drum roll supplied by the Holovids musical band, the box proceeded to open and...

One million dollars comprised of the most recent printings of Obama's and Kennedy's spewed out over the table. The audience screamed for joy and the contestant had the most cherubic smile of glee on his face. Stuart Masterton looked over at KetchlKoachl who had a seat overlooking the proceedings. His face and demeanor were quiet and venerable. But Stuart was almost certain he read a slight amount of alarm on his face. But who could tell. A Newcomb Being's face was just so impassive.




It was just a few minutes after the shows conclusion that Stuart had a quiet moment with Ketch in his dressing room. "So, what do we do now? We know, at the very least, that the Moonist delegate is not carrying a bomb. Correct?"

"Correct," replied Ketch.

"I cannot move on the Spacist ambassador unless I have one hundred percent proof of his culpability. I must know without one whiff of doubt that he is carrying a Neuronic Pluton bomb and plans to detonate it at the peace talks."

Ketch stood silent for a moment. "I can tell you now, that the Spacist ambassador is most definitely carrying the bomb. Measures should be taken to stop him."

Stuart was confused. "I thought you could only tell with ninety percent accuracy? Unless you read him?"

"That was before. Now that the Moonist variable is out of the equation, I can read the pinging of the future much more easily. A bomb is being carried by the Spacist. Without a doubt."

Stuart stood up straight. "Then, I have a lot to do. Ketch, I want to thank you."

"Thank me after you have retrieved the bomb."

"I will."




The sting took several hours. Stuart Masterton headed up the investigation. They did not want any suspicion to cause an early detonation of the bomb and until they were certain it was not on the Spacist delegate or a remote detonation was possible, they tread very cautiously. Eventually, security made its move and the authorities stung quickly and decisively.

The Neuronic Pluton bomb was located in the Spacists hotel room, already primed and it took several sweat-beaded hours for the bomb squad specialists to disable it. It was at this point that a quiet and controlled evacuation of the casino onto the specialized life-ships was conducted. To avoid a panic, it was passed off as a routine test of emergency procedures, however several patrons were probably wiser. The life-ships did not just load but moved to a part of space that was out of range if the bomb went off and this was unusual in a drill.

Although inconvenienced, everyone was back onboard the casino by the next artificial morning. At that time, the announcement was made to news media of the plot to destroy the casino. Many people were shocked and horrified at how close they had come to becoming spacedust. The government of the IO spacists claimed their ambassador had acted independently and expressed heartfelt dismay. A new ambassador was currently en route to resume the talks. It was hoped this rogue politician would not endanger the talks.

Of course, the Moonists expressed their outrage at the whole situation and milked their position for everything they could. However, the peace summit did begin after only a days delay and both sides were seemingly cooperative.

Stuart was very happy and greeted the Newcomb Being, Ketch in his office. "Everything has worked out thanks to you, ketch. You said to thank you after all this was completed satisfactorily and I do." Stuart thought about his own prediction and smiled. "You remember I said it was the Spacist who was the guilty party. I got my prediction correct. Of course, I was still guessing. You knew with absolute certainty."

Ketch remained silent and Stuart was absolutely certain he had learned how to read the Newcomb Being. Ketch's face flickered, twitched.

Stuart's smile disappeared. "You didn't know, did you?"

"The detonation was imminent. A decision had to be made. The deaths of thousands were at stake not to mention the furtherance of hostilities if the plot was successful. With the odds in my favor, I made a decision..."

"You lied," accused a shocked head of casino security.

"I took a gamble!"




Stuart escorted the Newcomb Being through the casino towards the shuttle scheduled back to Earth. All eyes followed them just as before and it was passing the very same table which Ketch had stopped at before in the roulette pit, that Ketch again hesitated. Many of the same players were there, regulars excited at the chance for another quick guaranteed win.

"Come on, Ketch, give us the number," could be heard from several of the patrons. Ketch studied the felt and pronounced, "Green, Triple Zero." An almost exact duplicate of the events just a few days earlier occurred, with chips being rushed in a flurry onto the felt over and surrounding the triple zero. The stack of chips was so high, the dealer had to steady it three times to keep from falling over.

He looked nervously at his pit boss again who glared at Stuart Masterton. Stuart swallowed. What the hell? The Newcomb Being had saved the entire casino. So what if he helped some players on their luck. Chances were, they would have lost it all back in a few hours anyway. He gave the nod to the pit boss and the dealer.

Another flick of the wrist and the ball was in motion, followed by a very quick shut off of all bets and the game was on. The white plastic inanimate object did several revolutions, slowed down and went past the metal struts, doing a quick single bounce and landing in the wheel-well of...number twenty-seven.

A hush fell from the excited voices of a moment earlier. The dealer himself seemed too shocked to move. Then, he began raking in all the chips to the horror of most of the casino patrons at the table.

Stuart glared at Ketch whose face seemed like a poker players.

Anger stewed on players faces. "You cheated," came the accusation from one of the many regulars who had lost a bundle on the previous spin. "You deliberately gave out the wrong number so we would lose!"

Ketch looked at the sullen gamers. "No. I simply guessed...wrong!"

And with that, Ketch, the Newcomb Being turned and left the casino.

The story needs a fair amount of editing, and many constructions like "anger stewed" need to be taken out behind the barn and shot, but the story's fun, and the idea is good---I would just worry that any readers outside this forum might have no idea who (or what) the Newcomb Being is.

Who has this kind of time?

Thanks Aaron -- I enjoyed it.