round four saw the machine spring the first of its surprises.
it had finally forced a draw against sherevsky in the morning session, ending the long second-round game, and now was matched against votbinnik.
the machine opened pawn to king four, votbinnik replied pawn to king three.
"the french defense, binny's favorite," dave muttered and they settled back for the machine's customary four-minute wait.
instead the machine moved at once and punched its clock.
sandra, studying votbinnik through her glasses, decided that the russian grandmaster looked just a trifle startled. then he made his move.
once again the machine responded instantly.
there was a flurry of comment from the stands and a scurrying-about of officials to shush it. meanwhile the machine continued to make its moves at better than rapid-transit speed, although votbinnik soon began to take rather more time on his.
the upshot was that the machine made eleven moves before it started to take time to 'think' at all.
sandra clamored so excitedly to dave for an explanation that she had two officials waving at her angrily.
as soon as he dared, dave whispered, "great must have banked on votbinnik playing the french—almost always does—and fed all the variations of the french into the machine's 'memory' from mco and maybe some other books. so long as votbinnik stuck to a known variation of the french, why, the machine could play from memory without analyzing at all. then when a strange move came along—one that wasn't in its memory—only on the twelfth move yet!—the machine went back to analyzing, only now it's taking longer and going deeper because it's got more time—six minutes a move, about. the only thing i wonder is why great didn't have the machine do it in the first three games. it seems so obvious."
sandra ticketed that in her mind as a question for doc. she slipped off to her room to write her "don't let a robot get your goat" article (drawing heavily on doc's observations) and got back to the stands twenty minutes before the second time-control point. it was becoming a regular routine.
votbinnik was a knight down—almost certainly busted, dave explained.
"it got terrifically complicated while you were gone," he said. "a real votbinnik position."
"only the machine out-binniked him," bill finished.
judy hummed beethoven's "funeral march for the death of a hero."
nevertheless votbinnik did not resign. the machine sealed a move. its board blacked out and vanderhoef, with one of his assistants standing beside him to witness, privately read the move off a small indicator on the console. tomorrow he would feed the move back into the machine when play was resumed at the morning session.
doc sealed a move too although he was two pawns down in his game against grabo and looked tired to death.
"they don't give up easily, do they?" sandra observed to dave. "they must really love the game. or do they hate it?"
"when you get to psychology it's all beyond me," dave replied. "ask me something else."
sandra smiled. "thank you, dave," she said. "i will."
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."
