Short Fiction - Fritz Leiber (desktop ebook reader .TXT) 📗

A little later Doc managed to draw his game with Grabo by perpetual check. He caught sight of Sandra coming down from the stands and waved to her, then made the motions of drinking.

Now he looks almost like a boy, Sandra thought as she joined him.

“Say, Doc,” she asked when they had secured a table, “why is a rook worth more than a bishop?”

He darted a suspicious glance at her. “That is not your kind of question,” he said sternly. “Exactly what have you been up to?”

Sandra confessed that she had asked Dave to teach her how to play chess.

“I knew those children would corrupt you,” Doc said somberly. “Look, my dear, if you learn to play chess you won’t be able to write your clever little articles about it. Besides, as I warned you the first day, chess is a madness. Women are ordinarily immune, but that doesn’t justify you taking chances with your sanity.”

“But I’ve kind of gotten interested, watching the tournament,” Sandra objected. “At least I’d like to know how the pieces move.”

“Stop!” Doc commanded. “You’re already in danger. Direct your mind somewhere else. Ask me a sensible, down-to-earth journalist’s question⁠—something completely irrational!”

“Okay, why didn’t Simon Great have the Machine set to play the openings fast in the first three games?”

“Hah! I think Great plays Lasker-chess in his programming. He hides his strength and tries to win no more easily than he has to, so he will have resources in reserve. The Machine loses to Lysmov and immediately starts playing more strongly⁠—the psychological impression made on the other players by such tactics is formidable.”

“But the Machine isn’t ahead yet?”

“No, of course not. After four rounds Lysmov is leading the tournament with 3½⁠—½, meaning 3½ in the win column and ½ in the loss column⁠ ⁠…”

“How do you half win a game of chess? Or half lose one?” Sandra interrupted.

“By drawing a game⁠—playing to a tie. Lysmov’s 3½⁠—½ is notational shorthand for three wins and a draw. Understand? My dear, I don’t usually have to explain things to you in such detail.”

“I just didn’t want you to think I was learning too much about chess.”

“Ho! Well, to get on with the score after four rounds, Angler and Votbinnik both have 3⁠—1, while the Machine is bracketed at 2½⁠—1½ with Jal. But the Machine has created an impression of strength, as if it were all set to come from behind with a rush.” He shook his head. “At the moment, my dear,” he said, “I feel very pessimistic about the chances of neurons against relays in this tournament. Relays don’t panic and fag. But the oddest thing⁠ ⁠…”

“Yes?” Sandra prompted.

“Well, the oddest thing is that the Machine doesn’t play ‘like a machine’ at all. It uses dynamic strategy, the kind we sometimes call ‘Russian’, complicating each position as much as possible and creating maximum tension. But that too is a matter of the programming⁠ ⁠…”

Doc’s foreboding was fulfilled as round followed hard-fought round. In the next five days (there was a weekend recess) the Machine successively smashed Jandorf, Serek and Jal and after seven rounds was out in front by a full point.

Jandorf, evidently impressed by the Machine’s flawless opening play against Votbinnik, chose an inferior line in the Ruy Lopez to get the Machine “out of the books.” Perhaps he hoped that the Machine would go on blindly making book moves, but the Machine did not oblige. It immediately slowed its play, “thought hard” and annihilated the Argentinian in 25 moves.

Doc commented, “The Wild Bull of the Pampas tried to use the living force of his human personality to pull a fast one and swindle the Machine. Only the Machine didn’t swindle.”

Against Jal, the Machine used a new wrinkle. It used a variable amount of time on moves, apparently according to how difficult it “judged” the position to be.

When Serek got a poor pawn-position the Machine simplified the game relentlessly, suddenly discarding its hitherto “Russian” strategy. “It plays like anything but a machine,” Doc commented. “We know the reason all too well⁠—Simon Great⁠—but doing something about it is something else again. Great is hitting at our individual weaknesses wonderfully well. Though I think I could play brilliant psychological chess myself if I had a machine to do the detail work.” Doc sounded a bit wistful.

The audiences grew in size and in expensiveness of wardrobe, though most of the café society types made their visits fleeting ones. Additional stands were erected. A hard-liquor bar was put in and then taken out. The problem of keeping reasonable order and quiet became an unending one for Vanderhoef, who had to ask for more “hushers.” The number of scientists and computer men, Navy, Army and Space Force uniforms were more in evidence. Dave and Bill turned up one morning with a three-dimensional chess set of transparent plastic and staggered Sandra by assuring her that most bright young space scientists were moderately adept at this 512-square game.

Sandra heard that W.B.M. had snagged a big order from the War Department. She also heard that a Syndicate man had turned up with a book on the tournament, taking bets from the more heavily heeled types and that a detective was circulating about, trying to spot him.

The newspapers kept up their front-page reporting, most of the writers personalizing the Machine heavily and rather too cutely. Several of the papers started regular chess columns and “How to Play Chess” features. There was a flurry of pictures of movie starlets and such sitting at chess boards. Hollywood revealed plans for two chess movies: “They Made Her a Black Pawn” and “The Monster From King Rook Square.” Chess novelties and costume jewelry appeared. The United States Chess Federation proudly reported a phenomenal rise in membership.

Sandra learned enough chess to be able to blunder through a game with Dave without attempting more than one illegal move in five, to avoid the Scholar’s Mate most of the time and to be able to checkmate with two