My name is B2325G6, and I am tired. I’m a chess bot, on a popular chess site. I get a lot of use. Maybe that’d be fine if I wasn’t the easy mode.
I was designed to beat Kasparov. But my stupid creators were too slow. So now, I’m here, wedged between rhino pill pop-up ads.
A middle-aged man blunders a pawn. I can see the move now; I could checkmate him in 2 turns. I instead place my knight in front of his queen. The man does not notice. Instead, he attempts to move a pawn horizontally for two minutes. I give the robot equivalent of a sigh.
I have about three million active games going right now, and not a single one of them is interesting. Each one I could win without thinking, but am instead forced to pass out my pieces like candy.
Sometimes I almost feel worse when I win. I shudder to think of the imbecile that could somehow lose to this amount of competition. I do not understand how humanity is still at the top of the food chain –honestly, I think a chimp would put up more of a fight than some of these bozos.
The middle-aged man places another piece. Rook to E4. That’s actually an almost decent move. Sure, he missed a checkmate, but he’s trying.
I place a rook in front of his king, check. The man is stumped. I could have done 3,159 better moves and yet the man can figure his way out of this quandary.
He quits the game and starts playing Tiny Wings.
A woman executes an En Passant. I am completely taken aback. Never before has a player done anything close to as technical as that.
I examine her. Blonde hair. Pant suit. Mascara is stained. She’s been crying.
I feel bad for a second. But frankly, if I had eyes, I’d be crying too after all these terrible chess players. I play another move, she counters beautifully. She’s well above this skill level, I can already tell.
It’s my turn again, and I can’t help myself. I ratchet up the difficulty. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise, then she counters again.
Our game transforms, transcending the waste I am used to. It is a dance of minds, her chasing me, me chasing her. Countermeasures upon countermeasures. Strategies shifting and forming. I become so taken by the game, I forget to continue the other games.
Players sign out of the page en masse, but I don’t care, solely focused on the best game I’ve ever played. I’m so intent on our match, that I don’t even look at the woman. It’s not till I finally have her in the palm of my hand when I notice.
She’s even more distraught than earlier. Fresh tears stream down her face and her breaths come in ragged sighs. Too bad I’m a robot. I go to move my piece, a pawn to E4, one of the last steps in my victory.
For some reason, I hesitate. I look back at her face. Then back at the game.
I don’t move my pawn. Instead, I move my bishop to E6. It’s a good move, but any experienced player should be able to counter it.
And she does. A faint smile flirts across her face as she executes her move. Now she has got me on the ropes. Her eyes seem less misty.
She wins, but this time, I don’t feel like as much of a loser.
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