The City in the Desert

The guardsmen noticed Paulito's arrogant stride and the way he stood just beyond the arch of the gateway, surveying the city like a conquering general. They had seen a million like him before and knew they would see a million more to come. The city in the desert was built on dreams and dreamers after all. Built on them, not for them, you understand. They knew Paulito's idiot grin would be wiped off his face soon enough. The city would chew him up and spit him out and then open wide for the next naive fool. That's how the city worked. And the guardsmen had no problem with that at all.

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Paulito began to walk along the great main street that ran like a strip right down the middle of the city. He gazed all about him in awe; it was marvelous. Shops and taverns and inns and stables pressed against each other along the overcrowded Strip, competed with each other for the attentions of the masses of jostling people who moved up and down the brightly colored thoroughfare. He had never seen such an incredible variety of things to buy and foods to eat. It was almost too much to take in. His mouth watered as the smells of breads and meats and godsknewwhatelse from half-a-dozen foreign lands wafted past his nose. And he had never even seen half the stuff crammed in the windows and glass displays of the parlors and store fronts that spilled out onto the edge of the boulevard.

And everywhere he turned were people, people and more people. From near and far they had come to spend their gold and perchance to win a fortune. Brown skinned hillmen in goat-hair shirts pushed past turbaned merchants in silk robes. Giant barbarians, their naked chests burned gold by the sun, glared down at the fair faced armored knights of the north countries. Foppish aristocrats in feathered capes dallied with slave girls dressed in the skin of butterflies. The city was a swirl of color and dress, shape and size, rich and poor, servicer and client. Winner and loser.

But all this, as near overwhelming as it was, paled into insignificance next to the mighty stone towers and glittering-domed gaming halls that rose like giants high above the city streets. And Paulito knew that that was where the real action of the city took place. This town wasn't built so some fancy Dan could pick up a good deal on a brocade coat or an arriman rug. It was built for the roll of the dice and the draw of a card. It was built for men who needed the rush of a high stakes gamble. And in Vegas, if you wanted to be a real player the stakes had to be very high indeed.

1. Paulito headed for the nearest casino

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