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The yellow came back. This time he sent it in a phenomenally high shot, a towering trajectory that sent
it as far aloft as the crown of a tree. That effectively put it out of play for a few seconds. Meanwhile he
returned the red one with a backspin so strong that the ball actually bounced backward, back across the
net, rather than on forward for Mach's return.
Would Mach be so surprised that he let the ball go? If so, he would lose the point. Then Bane would
have the lead, and the advantage on the remaining ball.
Mach stepped around the table and went for the red ball. This was legal; a player could strike the ball on
the opponent's side of the table, if its natural impetus carried it there. Many players did not know that,
but of course Mach did. But how would he play it when he was unable to cross the curtain? That was
the question, and because Bane did not know the answer, it was the essence of his gamble.
Mach stepped forward, across the midline and disappeared. He was now entering the magical
representation on the other side of his table. No provision had been made to project his image, here. He
was in limbo.
Abruptly the red ball changed course, taking off at right angles, crossing the table, bouncing, and sailing
off the far side near the net. Bane had no chance to get it. He had lost the gamble; Mach had struck the
ball he saw in his frame, and the question of its nature in Proton now was answered: it was illusion, and
was affected by Mach's stroke.
Twenty-twenty-one. Bane was behind, and now the yellow ball was coming down. Mach reappeared,
circled the table, and set up for a left-handed slam. The element of surprise had failed, and now Mach
had a setup to put away. Bane might return it, but he had lost the initiative, and the point would almost
certainly be Mach's.
Mach slammed it and it touched the comer of Bane's side and veered crazily away, an unplayable ball.
Mach had taken his own gamble, striving for a placement ordinarily beyond human ability, and won.
Won everything.
And Bane, knowing that he had tried his best, honestly, and lost despite it, was relieved. He had given
Citizen Blue the key to a possible reversal of the situation, while he was on Blue's side; now he was on
the other side, by the terms of the deal, and was no longer free to provide such information. The
Contrary Citizens and Adverse Adepts had no more wish than Adept Stile or Citizen Blue to see the
frames destroyed; perhaps some mutually satisfactory accommodation would yet be worked out. So it
was not necessarily the end of decency.
Or so he hoped.
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