Short Fiction Fritz Leiber (free e books to read .txt) 📖

improvements always come) it would outclass us completely. We are at that fleeting moment of balance when genius is almost good enough to equal mechanism. It makes me feel sad, but proud too in a morbid fashion, to think that I am in at the death of grandmaster chess. Oh, I suppose the game will always be played, but it won’t ever be quite the same.” He blew out a breath and shrugged his shoulders.

“As for Willie, he’s a good one and he’ll give the Machine a long hard fight, you can depend on it. He might conceivably even draw.”

He touched Sandra’s arm. “Cheer up, my dear,” he said. “You should remind yourself that a victory for the Machine is still a victory for the U.S.A.”

Doc’s prediction about a long hard fight was decidedly not fulfilled.

Having White, the Machine opened Pawn to King Four and Angler went into the Sicilian Defense. For the first twelve moves on each side both adversaries pushed their pieces and tapped their clocks at such lightning speed (Vanderhoef feeding in Angler’s moves swiftly) that up in the stands Bill and Judy were still flipping pages madly in their hunt for the right column in M.C.O.

The Machine made its thirteenth move, still at blitz tempo.

“Bishop takes Pawn, check, and mate in three!” Willie announced very loudly, made the move, banged his clock and sat back.

There was a collective gasp-and-gabble from the stands.

Dave squeezed Sandra’s arm hard. Then for once forgetting that he was Dr. Caution, he demanded loudly of Bill and Judy, “Have you two idiots found that column yet? The Machine’s thirteenth move is a boner!”

Pinning down the reference with a fingernail, Judy cried, “Yes! Here it is on page 161 in. footnote (e) (2) (B). Dave, that same thirteenth move for White is in the book! But Black replies Knight to Queen Two, not Bishop takes Pawn, check. And three moves later the book gives White a plus value.”

“What the heck, it can’t be,” Bill asserted.

“But it is. Check for yourself. That boner is in the book.”

“Shut up, everybody!” Dave ordered, clapping his hands to his face. When he dropped them a moment later his eyes gleamed. “I got it now! Angler figured they were using the latest edition of M.C.O. to program the Machine on openings, he found an editorial error and then he deliberately played the Machine into that variation!”

Dave practically shouted his last words, but that attracted no attention as at that moment the whole hall was the noisiest it had been throughout the tournament. It simmered down somewhat as the Machine flashed a move.

Angler replied instantly.

The Machine replied almost as soon as Angler’s move was fed into it.

Angler moved again, his move was fed into the Machine and the Machine flashed:

I am checkmated. Congratulations!

VI

Next morning Sandra heard Dave’s guess confirmed by both Angler and Great. Doc had spotted them having coffee and a malt together and he and Sandra joined them.

Doc was acting jubilant, having just drawn his adjourned game with Sherevsky, which meant, since Jandorf had beaten Grabo, that he was in undisputed possession of Ninth Place. They were all waiting for the finish of the Votbinnik-Lysmov game, which would decide the final standing of the leaders. Willie Angler was complacent and Simon Great was serene and at last a little more talkative.

“You know, Willie,” the psychologist said, “I was afraid that one of you boys would figure out something like that. That was the chief reason I didn’t have the Machine use the programmed openings until Lysmov’s win forced me to. I couldn’t check every opening line in M.C.O. and the Archives and Shakhmaty. There wasn’t time. As it was, we had a dozen typists and proofreaders busy for weeks preparing that part of the programming and making sure it was accurate as far as following the books went. Tell the truth now, Willie, how many friends did you have hunting for flaws in the latest edition of M.C.O.?”

Willie grinned. “Your unlucky 13th. Well, that’s my secret. Though I’ve always said that anyone joining the Willie Angler Fan Club ought to expect to have to pay some day for the privilege. They’re sharp, those little guys, and I work their tails off.”

Simon Great laughed and said to Sandra, “Your young friend Dave was pretty sharp himself to deduce what had happened so quickly. Willie, you ought to have him in the Bleeker Street Irregulars.”

Sandra said, “I get the impression he’s planning to start a club of his own.”

Angler snorted. “That’s the one trouble with my little guys. They’re all waiting to topple me.”

Simon Great said, “Well, so long as Willie is passing up Dave, I want to talk to him. It takes real courage in a youngster to question authority.”

“How should he get in touch with you?” Sandra asked.

While Great told her, Willie studied them frowningly.

“Si, are you planning to stick in this chess-programming racket?” he demanded.

Simon Great did not answer the question. “You try telling me something, Willie,” he said. “Have you been approached the last couple of days by I.B.M.?”

“You mean asking me to take over your job?”

“I said I.-B.M., Willie.”

“Oh.” Willie’s grin became a tight one. “I’m not talking.”

There was a flurry of sound and movement around the playing tables. Willie sprang up.

“Lysmov’s agreed to a draw!” he informed them a moment later. “The gangster!”

“Gangster because he puts you in equal first place with Votbinnik, both of you ahead of the Machine?” Great inquired gently.

“Ahh, he could have beat Binny, giving me sole first. A Russian gangster!”

Doc shook a finger. “Lysmov could also have lost to Votbinnik, Willie, putting you in second place.”

“Don’t think evil thoughts. So long, pals.”

As Angler clattered down the stairs, Simon Great signed the waiter for more coffee, lit a fresh cigarette, took a deep drag and leaned back.

“You know,” he said, “it’s a great relief not to have to impersonate the hyperconfident programmer for awhile. Being