The Gamble

The poker chip feels cold and smooth in my hand as I nervously roll it around in my sweaty palm. All around me, people crowd the tables where people lay down their chips and take their chance at rolling the dice. The room is filled with anxious souls awaiting their fate, each one hoping to leave a winner. 

Several tables occupy the dank, low-lit space, which has an inexplicable layer of smokey fog blanketing my line of sight. I elbow my way in to stand at the edge of one of the tables, just in time to see someone turn in their chip and roll the dice. 

He gives them a rough toss as if attempting to bully them into doing his bidding. The pair of dice dance and clack along the length of the table, before coming to rest. As they settle, two pictures emerge on each one, revealing prayer hands on one of them, and dollar bills on the other. 

“Very nice!” cries the attendant. “Looks like you’ve won a lifetime as a televangelist. Great gig, all you have to do is shout convincingly, sprinkle the words, “Amen,” and “Jesus” around a few times, and you’ll make a ton of cash. Great roll!”

The man who has just won his prize squeals like a child and eagerly grabs the prize ticket from the attendant before turning and heading toward a glowing neon sign that reads, “Claims Counter.”

“I’ve never rolled anything this good! No sense in trying to trade up, I’m cashing out right now. See you later, assholes!”

And with that he disappears into the din of people and mist. 

I will have to take my turn soon enough, and use my last chip, but I am in no hurry. Unlike that lucky gentleman before me, I’ve never scored a prize anything as good as Televangelist. I’ve been in this room countless times before, and the only mediocre success I’ve ever managed is Used Car Salesman. 

Before I have the chance to consider stepping up to be the next person, a small woman timidly hands over her chip, receiving the dice with the utmost care. Her toss barely rolls the dice a few feet, but this is of no consequence, as they reveal their artwork just the same. 

“Awwww, a shopping cart and a needle. Looks like you landed Homeless Drug Addict. So sorry, maybe in another life, dear.”

The attendant looks as despondent as the woman whose fate is already sealed for a lifetime. She holds her ticket with an air of disbelief which slowly morphs into horror. She waves her ticket above her head and with the loudest mousey voice she can muster, she pleads, “Anyone need their “lesson in empathy” checked off their Lifetimes List? Anyone? I’ve already done two lifetimes like this, I think I’m good. Anyone want to get it out of the way…..”

Her voice fades as she mills toward the other side of the room, desperately seeking another soul with which to trade. I have the feeling she will not have much luck. 

I pull my last chip up close to my face to examine it. I have never really paid much attention to them before, when my pockets were full and lifetimes were endless. It had been so easy to blow straight through them, throwing away life after life, completely ignoring any lesson or virtue that I had been meant to learn along the way. It always felt like I had more time, but now, as I hold the final chip, the serious nature of my circumstances causes a wave of nausea to sweep over me. 

Not only is this my last chance at a comfortable life, it is also my last chance to cash in and call it quits. Even though that is the safe option, the wisest option, because it means leaving this endless loop of live-die-gamble, I still am not sure. If I cash it in, sure, I can find rest and peace, and if I use the chip for one more life, then I simply cease to exist after it is over. This is an incredibly high stakes game of dice, and yet I am drawn to consider playing one, last time. 

What is it about the thrill of the potential of a new life that causes us all to take the risk, to discard the predictable numb safety of eternal repose, at a fleeting chance of worldly riches and comforts? How can such sentient, knowledgeable beings be so quick to gravitate toward the finite in favor of the forever?

And yet here I stand, my last chip burning a hole in my pocket, imploring me to make my choice. There is no external pressure, no ticking clock that forces me to choose at any particular pace, and yet my skin crawls with the overwhelming angst of a self-made timeline.

Perhaps it is the gamble itself that draws us all here, and keeps so few from choosing to cash in that last chip. Each life, good or bad, brings a rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the chase, the excitement of emotions, the delight of physical sensation. Being at peace for all of eternity always felt so dull to me, so humdrum and dry, completely devoid of anything interesting. 

I make my decision, and toss my chip on the table. To hell with it. I’d rather live one more short, wild ride, than reside in a pleasant nothingness. 

The attendant hands me my dice, and I barely take them in my hands before I throw them down without regard. They clack down the table, coming to a stop. I look down at the pictures. 

Crap. 

“Oh wow, tough luck, my friend,” the attendant empathizes softly, patting me on the shoulder. “An American flag and a hay bale. Low-level American politician. What a bad break.”

There is pain in his eyes as he hands me my ticket. Eternal peace is looking really good right about now, and regret takes residence in my heart. I briefly consider trying to trade, but honestly, I don’t wish this lifetime of torture on anyone. 

Without any other options, I shuffle to the Claims Counter, downcast and crestfallen. The woman at the counter takes my ticket, reads it and winces. She looks up at me, makes sure no one is looking, and quietly throws it into a trash bin. Winking, she smiles and subtly pushes an extra chip across the counter. 

“Did you want to cash that in, dear?”