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be defeating the priest and the other two fairly easily. He was, indeed,
gradually prevailing, but very slowly. The priest was playing better than he
had before, especially at the beginning of each session, which made Gurgeh
think that the apex was getting some high-grade help during the breaks. The
same applied to the other two players, though they were presumably being less
extensively briefed.
When the end came, though, on the fifth day of the game, it was sudden, and
the priest's play simply collapsed. The other two players resigned. More
adulation followed, and the news-agencies began to run editorials worrying
that somebody from Outside could do so well. Some of the more sensational
releases even carried stories that the alien from the Culture was using some
sort of supernatural sense or illegal technical device. They'd found out
Flere-Imsaho's name and mentioned it as the possible source of Gurgeh's
illicit skill.
'They're calling me a computer
,' the drone wailed.
'And they're calling me a cheat,' Gurgeh said, thoughtfully. 'Life is cruel,
as they keep saying here.'
'Here they are correct.'
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The last game, on the Board of Becoming, the one Gurgeh felt most at home on,
was a romp. The priest had filed a special objective plan with the
Adjudicator before the game commenced, something he was entitled to do as the
player with the second largest number of points. He was effectively playing
for second place;
although he would be out of the Main Series, he would have a chance to
re-enter it if he won his next two games in the second series.
Gurgeh suspected this was a ruse, and played very cautiously at first, waiting
for either the mass attack or some cunning individual set-piece. But the
others seemed to be playing almost aimlessly, and even the priest seemed to be
making the sort of slightly mechanical moves he'd been making in the first
game. When Gurgeh made a few light, exploratory attacks, he found little
opposition. He divided his forces in half and went on a full-scale raid into
the territory of the priest, just for the sheer hell of it. The priest
panicked and hardly made one good move after that; by the end of the session
he was in danger of being wiped out.
After the break Gurgeh was attacked by all the others, while the priest
struggled, pinned against one edge of the board. Gurgeh took the hint. He
gave the priest room to manoeuvre and let him attack two of the weaker players
to regain his position on the board. The game finished with Gurgeh
established over most of the board and the others either eradicated or
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confined to small, strategically irrelevant areas. Gurgeh had no particular
interest in fighting the game out to the bitter end, and anyway guessed that
if he tried to do so the others would form a united opposition, no matter how
obvious it was they were working together; Gurgeh was being offered victory,
but he would suffer if he tried to be greedy, or vindictive. The status quo
was agreed; the game ended. The priest came second on points, just. Pequil
congratulated him again, outside the hall. He'd reached the second round of
the Main Series; he was one of only twelve hundred First Winners and twice
that number of Qualifiers. He would now play against one person in the second
round. Again, the apex begged Gurgeh to give a news-conference, and again
Gurgeh refused.
'But you must! What are you trying to do? If you don't say something soon
you'll turn them against you; this enigmatic stuff won't do for ever you know.
You're the underdog at the moment; don't lose that!'
'Pequil,' Gurgeh said, fully aware he was insulting the apex by addressing him
so, 'I
have no intention of speaking to anybody about my game, and what they choose
to say or think about me is irrelevant. I am here to play the game and
nothing else.'
'You are our guest,' Pequil said coldly.
'And you are my hosts.' Gurgeh turned and walked away from the official, and
the
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in the car was completed in silence, save for Flere-Imsaho's humming, which
occasionally sounded to Gurgeh as if it barely concealed a chuckling laugh.
'Now the trouble starts.'
'Why do you say that, ship?' It was night. The rear doors of the module lay
open. Gurgeh could hear the distant buzz of the police hoverplane stationed
over the hotel to keep news-agency craft away; the smell of the city, warm and
spicy and smoky, drifted in too. Gurgeh was studying a set-piece problem in a
single game, and taking notes. This seemed to be the best way of talking to
the
Limiting
Factor with the time-delay; talk, then switch off and consider the problem
while the
HS light flashed to and fro; then, when the reply came, switch back to speech
mode; it was almost like having a real conversation.
'Because now you have to show your moral cards. It's the single game, so you
have to define your first principles, register your philosophical premises.
Therefore you'll have to give them some of the things you believe in. I
believe this could prove troublesome.'
'Ship,' Gurgeh said, writing some notes on a scratch tablet as he studied the
holo in front of him, 'I'm not sure I have any beliefs.'
'I think you do, Jernau Gurgeh, and the Imperial Game Bureau will want to know
what they are, for the record; I'm afraid you'll have to think of something.' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]