By the time the sun slipped behind the crooked roofs of our little neighborhood and the tuk-tuks sounded like metal beetles chirping in the streets,ย Bima Santosoย had already taken his seat on the throne no one could see: the swiveling plastic chair in front of his battered laptop. King of online gamblingโat least on our block, maybe in the district, definitely in his own mindโhe ruled a glowing empire ofย virtual slot machinesย whose cherries spun like possessed marbles, andย digital cockfightsย where pixelated roosters flared their neon hackles with a drama that would have made a soap-opera director proud. His fingers fluttered over the trackpad as if he were conducting an orchestra that only played a single, relentless note:ย bet, bet, bet.