After Sandra had watched the games (the players' faces, rather—she had a really good pair of zoomer glasses) for a half hour or so, she had gone to her hotel room, written her first article (interview with the famous Dr. Krakatower), sent it in and then come back to the hall to see how the games had turned out.
They were still going on, all five of them.
The press section was full, but two boys and a girl of high-school age obligingly made room for Sandra on the top tier of seats and she tuned1 in on their whispered conversation. The jargon2 was recognizably related to that which she'd gotten a dose of on the floor, but gamier. Players did not sacrifice pawns4, they sacked them. No one was ever defeated, only busted5. Pieces weren't lost but blown. The Ruy Lopez was the Dirty Old Rooay—and incidentally a certain set of opening moves named after a long-departed Spanish churchman, she now discovered from Dave, Bill and Judy, whose sympathetic help she won by frequent loans of her zoomer glasses.
The four-hour time control point—two hours and 30 moves for each player—had been passed while she was sending in her article, she learned, and they were well on their way toward the next control point—an hour more and 15 moves for each player—after which unfinished games would be adjourned6 and continued at a special morning session. Sherevsky had had to make 15 moves in two minutes after taking an hour earlier on just one move. But that was nothing out of the ordinary, Dave had assured her in the same breath, Sherevsky was always letting himself get into "fantastic time-pressure" and then wriggling7 out of it brilliantly. He was apparently8 headed for a win over Serek. Score one for the USA over the USSR, Sandra thought proudly.
Votbinnik had Jandorf practically in Zugzwang (his pieces all tied up, Bill explained) and the Argentinian would be busted shortly. Through the glasses Sandra could see Jandorf's thick chest rise and fall as he glared murderously at the board in front of him. By contrast Votbinnik looked like a man lost in reverie.
Dr. Krakatower had lost a pawn3 to Lysmov but was hanging on grimly. However, Dave would not give a plugged nickle for his chances against the former world's champion, because "those old ones always weaken in the sixth hour."
"You for-get the bio-logical mir-acle of Doc-tor Las-ker," Bill and Judy chanted as one.
"Shut up," Dave warned them. An official glared angrily from the floor and shook a finger. Much later Sandra discovered that Dr. Emanuel Lasker was a philosopher-mathematician who, after holding the world's championship for 26 years, had won a very strong tournament (New York 1924) at the age of 56 and later almost won another (Moscow 1935) at the age of 67.
Sandra studied Doc's face carefully through her glasses. He looked terribly tired now, almost a death's head. Something tightened9 in her chest and she looked away quickly.
The Angler-Jal and Grabo-Machine games were still ding-dong contests, Dave told her. If anything, Grabo had a slight advantage. The Machine was "on the move," meaning that Grabo had just made a move and was waiting the automaton's reply.
The Hungarian was about the most restless "waiter" Sandra could imagine. He twisted his long legs constantly and writhed10 his shoulders and about every five seconds he ran his hands back through his unkempt tassle of hair.
Once he yawned selfconsciously, straightened himself and sat very compactly. But almost immediately he was writhing11 again.
The Machine had its own mannerisms, if you could call them that. Its dim, unobtrusive telltale lights were winking12 on and off in a fairly rapid, random13 pattern. Sandra got the impression that from time to time Grabo's eyes were trying to follow their blinking, like a man watching fireflies.
Simon Great sat impassively behind a bare table next to the Machine, his five gray-smocked technicians grouped around him.
A flushed-faced, tall, distinguished-looking elderly gentleman was standing14 by the Machine's console. Dave told Sandra it was Dr. Vanderhoef, the Tournament Director, one-time champion of the world.
"Another old potzer like Krakatower, but with sense enough to know when he's licked," Bill characterized harshly.
"Youth, ah, un-van-quish-able youth," Judy chanted happily by herself. "Flashing like a meteor across the chess fir-ma-ment. Morphy, Angler, Judy Kaplan...."
"Shut up! They really will throw us out," Dave warned her and then explained in whispers to Sandra that Vanderhoef and his assistants had the nervous-making job of feeding into the Machine the moves made by its opponent, "so everyone will know it's on the level, I guess." He added, "It means the Machine loses a few seconds every move, between the time Grabo punches the clock and the time Vanderhoef gets the move fed into the Machine."
Sandra nodded. The players were making it as hard on the Machine as possible, she decided15 with a small rush of sympathy.
Suddenly there was a tiny movement of the gadget16 attached from the Machine to the clocks on Grabo's table and a faint click. But Grabo almost leapt out of his skin.
Simultaneously17 a red castle-topped piece (one of the Machine's rooks, Sandra was informed) moved four squares sideways on the big electric board above the Machine. An official beside Dr. Vanderhoef went over to Grabo's board and carefully moved the corresponding piece. Grabo seemed about to make some complaint, then apparently thought better of it and plunged18 into brooding cogitation19 over the board, elbows on the table, both hands holding his head and fiercely massaging20 his scalp.
The Machine let loose with an unusually rapid flurry of blinking. Grabo straightened up, seemed again about to make a complaint, then once more to repress the impulse. Finally he moved a piece and punched his clock. Dr. Vanderhoef immediately flipped21 four levers on the Machine's console and Grabo's move appeared on the electric board.
Grabo sprang up, went over to the red velvet22 cord and motioned agitatedly23 to Vanderhoef.
There was a short conference, inaudible at the distance, during which Grabo waved his arms and Vanderhoef grew more flushed. Finally the latter went over to Simon Great and said something, apparently with some hesitancy. But Great smiled obligingly, sprang to his feet, and in turn spoke24 to his technicians, who immediately fetched and unfolded several large screens and set them in front of the Machine, masking the blinking lights. Blindfolding25 it, Sandra found herself thinking.
Dave chuckled26. "That's already happened once while you were out," he told Sandra. "I guess seeing the lights blinking makes Grabo nervous. But then not seeing them makes him nervous. Just watch."
"The Machine has its own mysterious pow-wow-wers," Judy chanted.
"That's what you think," Bill told her. "Did you know that Willie Angler has hired Evil Eye Bixel out of Brooklyn to put the whammy on the Machine? S'fact."
"... pow-wow-wers unknown to mere27 mortals of flesh and blood—"
"Shut up!" Dave hissed28. "Now you've done it. Here comes old Eagle Eye. Look, I don't know you two. I'm with this lady here."
Bela Grabo was suffering acute tortures. He had a winning attack, he knew it. The Machine was counter-attacking, but unstrategically, desperately29, in the style of a Frank Marshall complicating30 the issue and hoping for a swindle. All Grabo had to do, he knew, was keep his head and not blunder—not throw away a queen, say, as he had to old Vanderhoef at Brussels, or overlook a mate in two, as he had against Sherevsky at Tel Aviv. The memory of those unutterably black moments and a dozen more like them returned to haunt him. Never if he lived a thousand years would he be free of them.
For the tenth time in the last two minutes he glanced at his clock. He had fifteen minutes in which to make five moves. He wasn't in time-pressure, he must remember that. He mustn't make a move on impulse, he mustn't let his treacherous31 hand leap out without waiting for instructions from its guiding brain.
First prize in this tournament meant incredible wealth—transportation money and hotel bills for more than a score of future tournaments. But more than that, it was one more chance to blazon32 before the world his true superiority rather than the fading reputation of it. "... Bela Grabo, brilliant but erratic33...." Perhaps his last chance.
When, in the name of Heaven, was the Machine going to make its next move? Surely it had already taken more than four minutes! But a glance at its clock showed him that hardly half that time had gone by. He decided he had made a mistake in asking again for the screens. It was easier to watch those damned lights blink than have them blink in his imagination.
Oh, if chess could only be played in intergalactic space, in the black privacy of one's thoughts. But there had to be the physical presence of the opponent with his (possibly deliberate) unnerving mannerisms—Lasker and his cigar, Capablanca and his red neck-tie, Nimzowitsch and his nervous contortions34 (very like Bela Grabo's, though the latter did not see it that way). And now this ghastly flashing, humming, stinking35, button-banging metal monster!
Actually, he told himself, he was being asked to play two opponents, the Machine and Simon Great, a sort of consultation36 team. It wasn't fair!
The Machine hammered its button and rammed37 its queen across the electric board. In Grabo's imagination it was like an explosion.
Grabo held onto his nerves with an effort and plunged into a maze38 of calculations.
Once he came to, like a man who has been asleep, to realize that he was wondering whether the lights were still blinking behind the screens while he was making his move. Did the Machine really analyze39 at such times or were the lights just an empty trick? He forced his mind back to the problems of the game, decided on his move, checked the board twice for any violent move he might have missed, noted40 on his clock that he'd taken five minutes, checked the board again very rapidly and then put out his hand and made his move—with the fiercely suspicious air of a boss compelled to send an extremely unreliable underling on an all-important errand.
Then he punched his clock, sprang to his feet, and once more waved for Vanderhoef.
Thirty seconds later the Tournament Director, very red-faced now, was saying in a low voice, almost pleadingly, "But Bela, I cannot keep asking them to change the screens. Already they have been up twice and down once to please you. Moving them disturbs the other players and surely isn't good for your own peace of mind. Oh, Bela, my dear Bela—"
Vanderhoef broke off. Grabo knew he had been going to say something improper41 but from the heart, such as, "For God's sake don't blow this game out of nervousness now that you have a win in sight"—and this sympathy somehow made the Hungarian furious.
"I have other complaints which I will make formally after the game," he said harshly, quivering with rage. "It is a disgrace the way that mechanism42 punches the time-clock button. It will crack the case! The Machine never stops humming! And it stinks43 of ozone44 and hot metal, as if it were about to explode!"
"It cannot explode, Bela. Please!"
"No, but it threatens to! And you know a threat is always more effective than an actual attack! As for the screens, they must be taken down at once, I demand it!"
"Very well, Bela, very well, it will be done. Compose yourself."
Grabo did not at once return to his table—he could not have endured to sit still for the moment—but paced along the line of tables, snatching looks at the other games in progress. When he looked back at the big electric board, he saw that the Machine had made a move although he hadn't heard it punch the clock. He rushed back and studied the board without sitting down. Why, the Machine had made a stupid move, he saw with a rush of exaltation. At that moment the last screen being folded started to fall over, but one of the gray-smocked men caught it deftly45. Grabo flinched46 and his hand darted47 out and moved a piece.
He heard someone gasp48. Vanderhoef.
It got very quiet. The four soft clicks of the move being fed into the Machine were like the beat of a muffled49 drum.
There was a buzzing in Grabo's ears. He looked down at the board in horror.
The Machine blinked, blinked once more and then, although barely twenty seconds had elapsed, moved a rook.
On the glassy gray margin50 above the Machine's electric board, large red words flamed on:
CHECK! AND MATE IN THREE
Up in the stands Dave squeezed Sandra's arm. "He's done it! He's let himself be swindled."
"You mean the Machine has beaten Grabo?" Sandra asked.
"What else?"
"Can you be sure? Just like that?"
"Of cour.... Wait a second.... Yes, I'm sure."
"Mated in three like a potzer," Bill confirmed.
"The poor old boob," Judy sighed.
Down on the floor Bela Grabo sagged51. The assistant director moved toward him quickly. But then the Hungarian straightened himself a little.
"I resign," he said softly.
The red words at the top of the board were wiped out and briefly52 replaced, in white, by:
THANK YOU FOR A GOOD GAME
And then a third statement, also in white, flashed on for a few seconds:
YOU HAD BAD LUCK
Bela Grabo clenched53 his fists and bit his teeth. Even the Machine was being sorry for him!
He stiffly walked out of the hall. It was a long, long walk.
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1
tuned
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| adj.调谐的，已调谐的v.调音( tune的过去式和过去分词 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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2
jargon
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| n.术语，行话 | |
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3
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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pawns
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| n.（国际象棋中的）兵( pawn的名词复数 )；卒；被人利用的人；小卒v.典当，抵押( pawn的第三人称单数 )；以（某事物）担保 | |
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5
busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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6
adjourned
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| （使）休会， （使）休庭( adjourn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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8
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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9
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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10
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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12
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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13
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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14
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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15
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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16
gadget
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| n.小巧的机械，精巧的装置，小玩意儿 | |
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17
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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18
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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19
cogitation
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| n.仔细思考，计划，设计 | |
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20
massaging
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| 按摩，推拿( massage的现在分词 ) | |
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21
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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22
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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23
agitatedly
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| 动摇，兴奋； 勃然 | |
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24
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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25
blindfolding
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的现在分词 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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26
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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28
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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29
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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30
complicating
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| 使复杂化( complicate的现在分词 ) | |
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31
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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32
blazon
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| n.纹章，装饰；精确描绘；v.广布；宣布 | |
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33
erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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34
contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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35
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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36
consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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37
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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38
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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39
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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40
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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41
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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42
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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43
stinks
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| v.散发出恶臭( stink的第三人称单数 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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44
ozone
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| n.臭氧，新鲜空气 | |
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45
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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46
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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48
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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49
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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50
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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51
sagged
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| 下垂的 | |
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52
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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53
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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