When the game ended, the processor began to sizzle. Charlie pulled off the rear panel and managed to save most of the motherboard and its components. The room smelled of smoke and burnt plastic.
“I don’t get it, why did it burn out? There’s no way that could have caused so much load.”
Glen opened the window and sat back down, looking at the screen.
“Didn’t you see that last game? It lost. Our system lost.”
“And you think that’s enough to cause this?” Charlie was attempting to pry the processor away from the rest of the machinery.
“No, no. You’re not following.” Glen said, brushing the screen with his thumb. “That game. It should have beat me. Like, easily. It’s done it before.”
“A lot.”
“Yes, a lot of times.” Glen shook his head. “But that wasn’t just me, Charlie. That was Kholmov. I was copying his moves from an old tournament. That was grade-A, premium stuff.”
Charlie yelped and pulled back his finger. He stuck it in his mouth. When he spoke, it came out part-muffled. “So, our system wasn’t as good as Kholmov. Do you think we were pushing it too hard? You think they’ll fund a replacement?”
“I don’t think it’ll do us any good.” Glen stood up and patted the monitor.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember the first time we got the system to play a game with us? A full game?”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, it was a piece of shit. Tons of blunders. Even my little brother could have beaten it.”
“Right. And for the last two days, how good has it been playing? How much better had it gotten? We let it play against the best players in the area, hundreds of times, and each time it’s gotten better and better. It was on a winning streak. When we started playing it against the other simulators, it hadn’t lost for more than a thousand games.”
Charlie had pried the charred processor from the motherboard and was holding it up in the air. “Just like we predicted. It was working.”
Glen moved towards him and took the burnt chip from his hand. “Whatever we do, I think the same thing’ll happen again. That last game, that last move was easy. Obvious. And you know what?” Glen tossed the chip across the room and out of the window. “It was just like the first game. I’m sure of it. The way it lost was identical. That knight to C6. That was the start of the sequence. There’s no way it would have thrown it away from there.”
“What’re you saying, Glen?”
“I’m saying it had the chance to win and didn’t take it.”
Charlie put down the motherboard and stared at his hands, the taste of his burnt skin mixing with the smell of plastic and blown fuses.
Grey Sparrow Journal 