* * * * *
Come the morning session, Votbinnik played on for a dozen moves then
resigned.
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 3-1/2--1/2, meaning 3-1/2 in the win column and 1/2 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 3-1/2--1/2 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
2-1/2--1-1/2 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 cafe 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 WBM 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 rooks though not with one. Judy had asked her, "Is _he_ pleased
that you're learning chess?"
Sandra had replied, "No, he thinks it is a madness." The kids had all
whooped at that and Dave had said, "How right he is!"
Sandra was scraping the bottom of the barrel for topics for her
articles, but then it occured to her to write about the kids, which
worked out nicely, and that led to a humorous article "Chess Is for
Brains" about her own efforts to learn the game, and for the nth time
in her career she thought of herself as practically a columnist and was
accordingly elated.
After his two draws, Doc lost three games in a row and still had the
Machine to face and then Sherevsky. His 1--6 score gave him undisputed
possession of last place. He grew very depressed. He still made a
point of squiring her about before the playing sessions, but she had to
make most of the conversation. His rare flashes of humor were rather
macabre.
"They have Dirty Old Krakatower locked in the cellar," he muttered just
before the start of the next to the last round, "and now they send the
robot down to destroy him."
"Just the same, Doc," Sandra told him, "good luck."
Doc shook his head. "Against a man luck might help. But against a
Machine?"
"It's not the Machine you're playing, but the programming. Remember?"
"Yes, but it's the Machine that doesn't make the mistake. And a mistake
is what I need most of all today. Somebody else's."
Doc must have looked very dispirited and tired when he left Sandra in
the stands, for Judy (Dave and Bill not having arrived yet) asked in a
confidential, womanly sort of voice, "What do you do for him when he's
so unhappy?"
"Oh, I'm especially passionate," Sandra heard herself answer.
"Is that good for him?" Judy demanded doubtfully.
"Sh!" Sandra said, somewhat aghast at her irresponsibility and
wondering if _she_ were getting tournament-nerves. "Sh, they're
starting the clocks."