Casinos used to be flesh and brick. You could smell the carpet glue and cigarette ash, hear the machines bleating like goats in the desert, feel the cold chips slide between your fingers. That world had walls. When the walls came down and the games spilled into laptops and phones, something essential was lost and something dangerous was born. The glitz was replaced by a glowing interface, the dealer by an algorithm, and suddenly you were alone at your kitchen table staring at a wheel that could be fair or fixed. The question shifted from how to play to who can you trust.
