"Thirty," Bill said.
"Twenty-five is enough time to be a meteor," said Judy.
Sandra thought to herself: _the Unbeat Generation_.
* * * * *
Next day Sherevsky played the Machine to a dead-level ending. Simon
Great offered a draw for the Machine (over an unsuccessful interfering
protest from Jandorf that this constituted making a move for the
Machine) but Sherevsky refused and sealed his move.
"He wants to have it proved to him that the Machine can play end
games," Dave commented to Sandra up in the stands. "I don't blame him."
At the beginning of today's session Sandra had noticed that Bill and
Judy were following each game in a very new-looking book they shared
jealously between them. _Won't look new for long_, Sandra had thought.
"That's the 'Bible' they got there," Dave had explained. "MCO-_Modern
Chess Openings_. It lists all the best open-moves in chess, thousands
and thousands of variations. That is, what masters _think_ are the
best moves. The moves that have won in the past, really. We chipped in
together to buy the latest edition--the 13th--just hot off the press,"
he had finished proudly.
Now with the Machine-Sherevsky ending the center of interest, the kids
were consulting another book, one with grimy, dog-eared pages. "That's
the 'New Testament'--_Basic Chess Endings_," Dave said when he noticed
her looking. "There's so much you must know in endings that it's
amazing the Machine can play them at all. I guess as the pieces get
fewer it starts to look deeper."
* * * * *
Sandra nodded. She was feeling virtuous. She had got her interview with
Jandorf and then this morning one with Grabo ("How it Feels to Have a
Machine Out-Think You"). The latter had made her think of herself as a
real vulture of the press, circling over the doomed. The Hungarian had
seemed in a positively suicidal depression.
One newspaper article made much of the Machine's "psychological
tactics," hinting that the blinking lights were designed to hypnotize
opponents. The general press coverage was somewhat startling. A game
that in America normally rated only a fine-print column in the back
sections of a very few Sunday papers was now getting boxes on the front
page. The defeat of a man by a machine seemed everywhere to awaken
nervous feelings of insecurity, like the launching of the first sputnik.
Sandra had rather hesitantly sought out Dr. Krakatower during the close
of the morning session of play, still feeling a little guilty from her
interview with Grabo. But Doc had seemed happy to see her and quite
recovered from last night's defeat, though when she had addressed him
as "Master Krakatower" he had winced and said, "Please, not that!"
Another session of coffee and wine-and-seltzer had resulted in her
getting an introduction to her first Soviet grandmaster, Serek, who had
proved to be unexpectedly charming. He had just managed to draw his
game with Sherevsky (to the great amazement of the kibitzers, Sandra
learned) and was most obliging about arranging for an interview.
Not to be outdone in gallantry, Doc had insisted on escorting Sandra
to her seat in the stands--at the price of once more losing a couple
of minutes on his clock. As a result her stock went up considerably
with Dave, Bill and Judy. Thereafter they treated anything she had
to say with almost annoying deference--Bill especially, probably in
penance for his thoughtless cracks at Doc. Sandra later came to suspect
that the kids had privately decided that she was Dr. Krakatower's
mistress--probably a new one because she was so scandalously ignorant
of chess. She did not disillusion them.
Doc lost again in the second round--to Jal.
* * * * *
In the third round Lysmov defeated the Machine in 27 moves. There was
a flaring of flashbulbs, a rush of newsmen to the phones, jabbering in
the stands and much comment and analysis that was way over Sandra's
head--except she got the impression that Lysmov had done something
tricky.
The general emotional reaction in America, as reflected by the
newspapers, was not too happy. One read between the lines that for the
Machine to beat a man was bad, but for a Russian to beat an American
machine was worse. A widely-read sports columnist, two football
coaches, and several rural politicians announced that chess was a
morbid game played only by weirdies. Despite these thick-chested
he-man statements, the elusive mood of insecurity deepened.
Besides the excitement of the Lysmov win, a squabble had arisen in
connection with the Machine's still-unfinished end game with Sherevsky,
which had been continued through one morning session and was now headed
for another.
Finally there were rumors that World Business Machines was planning to
replace Simon Great with a nationally famous physicist.
Sandra begged Doc to try to explain it all to her in kindergarten
language. She was feeling uncertain of herself again and quite subdued
after being completely rebuffed in her efforts to get an interview with
Lysmov, who had fled her as if she were a threat to his Soviet virtue.
Doc on the other hand was quite vivacious, cheered by his third-round
draw with Jandorf.
"Most willingly, my dear," he said. "Have you ever noticed that
kindergarten language can be far honester than the adult tongues? Fewer
fictions. Well, several of us hashed over the Lysmov game until three
o'clock this morning. Lysmov wouldn't, though. Neither would Votbinnik
or Jal. You see, I have my communication problems with the Russians too.
"We finally decided that Lysmov had managed to guess with complete
accuracy both the depth at which the Machine is analyzing in the
opening and middle game (ten moves ahead instead of eight, we think--a
prodigious achievement!) and also the main value scale in terms of
which the Machine selects its move.
"Having that information, Lysmov managed to play into a combination
which would give the Machine a maximum plus value in its value scale
(win of Lysmov's queen, it was) after ten moves but a checkmate for
Lysmov on his second move _after_ the first ten. A human chess master
would have seen a trap like that, but the Machine could not, because
Lysmov was maneuvering in an area that did not exist for the Machine's
perfect but limited mind. Of course the Machine changed its tactics
after the first three moves of the ten had been played--it could see
the checkmate then--but by that time it was too late for it to avert a
disastrous loss of material. It was tricky of Lysmov, but completely
fair. After this we'll all be watching for the opportunity to play the
same sort of trick on the Machine.
* * * * *
"Lysmov was the first of us to realize fully that _we are not playing
against a metal monster but against a certain kind of programming_.
If there are any weaknesses we can spot in that programming, we can
win. Very much in the same way that we can again and again defeat a
flesh-and-blood player when we discover that he consistently attacks
without having an advantage in position or is regularly overcautious
about launching a counter-attack when he himself is attacked without
justification."
Sandra nodded eagerly. "So from now on your chances of beating the
Machine should keep improving, shouldn't they? I mean as you find out
more and more about the programming."
Doc smiled. "You forget," he said gently, "that Simon Great can change
the programming before each new game. Now I see why he fought so hard
for that point."
"Oh. Say, Doc, what's this about the Sherevsky end game?"
"You are picking up the language, aren't you?" he observed. "Sherevsky
got a little angry when he discovered that Great had the Machine
programmed to analyze steadily on the next move after an adjournment
until the game was resumed next morning. Sherevsky questioned whether
it was fair for the Machine to 'think' all night while its opponent had
to get some rest. Vanderhoef decided for the Machine, though Sherevsky
may carry the protest to FIDE.
"Bah--I think Great wants us to get heated up over such minor matters,
just as he is happy (and oh so obliging!) when we complain about how
the Machine blinks or hums or smells. It keeps our minds off the main
business of trying to outguess his programming. Incidentally, that is
one thing we decided last night--Sherevsky, Willie Angler, Jandorf,
Serek, and myself--that we are all going to have to learn to play the
Machine without letting it get on our nerves and without asking to be
protected from it. As Willie puts it, 'So suppose it sounds like a
boiler factory even--okay, you can think in a boiler factory.' Myself,
I am not so sure of that, but his spirit is right."
Sandra felt herself perking up as a new article began to shape itself
in her mind. She said, "And what about WBM replacing Simon Great?"
Again Doc smiled. "I think, my dear, that you can safely dismiss that
as just a rumor. I think that Simon Great has just begun to fight."