Randomize

The phone on Rutledge’s desk buzzed. He pressed a button. “Yes?”

“Sir, LVPD are here,” came a voice through the speaker. “They say you called them?”

“Yes, send them up.” He terminated the call and looked back to Sumi. “Feel free to keep ranting.”

She knew from earlier that the elevator ride took about ninety seconds. She had that long remaining. She slapped both hands down on his desk. “At a prearranged time, a couple of years from now, all of the randomizer units will simultaneously fail. Because we’ll program them to do that from the start.”

He frowned. Was that a spark of interest? “Define ‘fail.’”

“They’ll all output a steady stream of zeroes. Most gambling machines using them will crash because their software doesn’t account for getting the same ‘random’ number every time. At the very least, they would shut down. Other systems might even remain online, giving the same result every use. That’s even worse—especially if it happens to be a player-win. Every casino in town would be in utter chaos.”

He looked to the ceiling, realization dawning. “Except the Babylon.”

“Right! Not the Babylon.” She pointed at him. “Because you already have a different system in place. You can just say you never bothered to upgrade. Lucky you. Then what happens, Mr. Rutledge? What happens when the Babylon is the only casino in Vegas with functioning machines?”

“We get all the customers. Every last one.” He downed his scotch and spun his chair to face the cityscape. “And our competitors lose hundreds of millions of dollars.”

She crept around his desk. “It would take them time to retrofit all their machines,” she said. “They couldn’t go back to the old non-quantum randomizers. By then everyone will have quantum computers to crack pseudorandom-number generators. They’d have to set up a central quantum computer randomizer like you have.”

He pinched his chin. “The spike in demand for those systems would slow everyone down even more. We’d probably have a week, maybe two, of exclusive control over the entire machine-gaming market. Hmm.”

She stood beside him and looked out over the unwitting town. “Of course, well before that day, my husband and I will have arranged for new identities, and you will have paid us a large sum of money. Say, ten million dollars? A tiny fraction of what you’ll gain.”

He remained quiet.

“This is an opportunity, Mr. Rutledge. It comes with great risk but has the potential for a huge reward. I think you’re a gambler at heart. What do you say?”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Two policemen walked through the reception area and into the office. One was young and wiry, while the other was at least twenty years older. The older officer, obviously the one in charge, said, “We got a call saying you needed us?”

Rutledge rotated his chair to face them.

He looked to Sumi, then back to the police. “Mrs. Singh here has just won over seven hundred thousand dollars. She’s new to the country. Can you please see to her protection when she returns to her hotel tonight?”

“Sure thing,” said the officer. “Congratulations, ma’am.”

Sumi breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Officer. Mr. Rutledge, if it’s still available, I’ll take that drink now. Double gin and tonic with a heavy squeeze of lime?”

He smiled and headed to the wet bar. “It would be my pleasure.”

A NOTE FROM THE CURATOR OF THE FORWARD COLLECTION

A year and a half ago, my partner and I were driving across the Rocky Mountains, not far from where I live. The aspens had just begun to turn, and the air was redolent with all the smells I associate with fall: incense, dirt, the start of decay. As we drove, we were debating some emerging technology I’d read about in Scientific American and circling around the larger topic of growing up in the bubble of rapid change and technological advancement. While a lot of it has been amazing, some of the change has come with effects we’d rather roll back.

How does anyone know at the moment of discovery where their work will ultimately lead?

Should we let that uncertainty stop forward momentum, or do we roll the dice and let the chips fall where they may?

How does it feel to change the world?

These questions intrigued me, so much so that I wrote a story about it. But my obsession didn’t stop there—I also wanted to know what other writers would write when posed with the same questions.

And so this collection was born and filled with writers whose minds work in ways that fascinate me.

N. K. Jemisin (the Broken Earth trilogy) is writing fantasy and speculative fiction like you’ve never even fathomed. Paul Tremblay is the greatest horror novelist working today, and his novel A Head Full of Ghosts still gives me nightmares. Veronica Roth created an unforgettable world and populated it with amazing characters in her iconic Divergent trilogy. Andy Weir captured the imagination of the world and scienced the shit out of his already-a-classic The Martian. And Amor Towles, with A Gentleman in Moscow, has simply written one of the best novels I’ve ever read. I recommend it every day.

I asked these writers to be a part of a collection that explores the resounding effects of a pivotal technological moment, and to my great delight, they said yes. I knew they’d deliver the goods when it came time to write their stories, but I was not prepared for what an abundance of riches this collection would turn out to be.

I hope, once you’ve read these six mind-bending stories, that you’ll agree.