Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: A Tall Tale for Twelfth Night
From: spok+@cs.cmu.edu (John Ockerbloom)
Date: Wed, 6 Jan 1993 18:17:23 GMT
Organization: Mango Science Institute

It's a typically merry crowd in Callahans on Twelfth Night.  Not that
many people are celebrating the now largely-forgotten holiday outright,
but the merriment in the various parts of the bar would make any
Elizabethan proud.  By the hot tub, the New Year's undersea party is
still underway.  A bit farther away from the center, the mistletoe hanging
from the rafter beams is being put to good use.  And in one of the
many tables out towards the corners, John is being badly beaten in chess.

"I think this game's yours," he says to the lurker opposite him, as she
 captures his last pawn with her queen, and places it next to the 14 other
 pieces on her side.  "Well played."

"You put up a good fight yourself, before it was done," the lurker says
 as she hands the pieces back.  She holds up one of the knights to the
 light.  "And I love your chess set.  The carving on the horses almost
 makes them seem alive."

"Thanks," says John, smiling.  "But you should see the sets Mike's got
 in the back room; he brings 'em out every now and then for tournaments.
 They were hand-made in Russia, and the detail and ornamentation is amazing.
 Every piece is like a miniature statue."

"Mmmm," the lurker says.  "Where'd he find sets like that?~

"Glad you asked," says John, leaning back with a big grin on his face.
"There's a story to that.  As a matter of fact it took place on another
 Twelfth Night some years ago, right here in Callahans...."

"It was a blustery, snowy night then... temperature below zero,
 when three strangers in parkas and fur hats walked into Callahans,
 leaving the door swinging widely in their wake.  Their names, as we
 were soon informed several times, were Yuri, Rudolf, and Mikhail.

"'Barkeep!' one of them shouted, as the other two pulled a table in front
 of the fireplace-- blocking the line of fire from the chalkline, I might
 add-- 'Three glasses of your best vodka!  And make it quick!  We do not
 suffer inferior service gladly!'

"Needless to say, this didn't put Mike in too friendly a disposition
 towards them.  But he still poured out the glasses, and had Rudolf come
 over to the end of the bar to pay for them.  Meanwhile, Yuri and Mikhail
 were standing over a nearby table, where Doc Webster and Jake were trying
 to play a game of chess.  But it's hard for even the Doc to keep up his
 concentration when the game is constantly being interrupted by loud
 comments like 'A stupid attack!  Any novice could see through that!'
 Or 'White can crush you from that position like Spassky in 74, but of
 course he would't begin to see how.'  Or even 'Hmph!  I could beat both of
 you blindfolded!'

"Finally Doc set a piece down firmly, and said, 'All right, fellows, we'll
 see.  Why don't Jake and I finish this game on our own, and the winner
 here gets to play your best man?  Whoever loses buys the winner a beer.'

"'Hah!' said Mikhail.  'Old man, do you know who that man is?' he said,
 pointing to Rudolf.  'That is Rudolf Polya, who taught Kasparov while
 he was still a boy.  But for Party politics, he could be world champion
 today.   Playing you lame Americans for your horsepiss is beneath him.'

"'Is that so?' said someone at a nearby table, getting up quickly.
 It was about this time that the commotion had brought me down from the
 rafters, where I'd been napping next to Grapevine.  'What's going on?'
 I asked Mike, as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Mike simply jerked his thumb toward Doc's table.  'Chess nuts boasting
 by the open fire,' he said, in a low voice.

"Seeing that things could get ugly quite soon, I headed over near the
 fireplace. 'Let's do this calmly, folks,' I said to the fellow who'd
 gotten up.  Turning to Rudolf, I said 'Well, Mr. Polya, how about a quick
 game?  Doc's one of our best players, and I'm sure we'd learn a lot from
 watching you play.'

"Doc shook his head and pointed to the other two.  'They never let poor
 Rudolf join in any lame beer games,' he explained.

"Rudolf also shook his head.  'We take our play more seriously where we
 come from,' he said.  'This is how *we* play.'  And each of them pulled
 out a case from under their table, unfolded a board, and started
 to set out lines of the most elaborate chess pieces I'd ever seen, their
 surfaces all pure gold, with tiny gems along the surfaces, and detail
 so sharp you could count the queen's eyelashes.  As the pieces stood there
 glittering in the firelight, Rudolf asked 'Well?  We stake these, to
 challenge anyone here to beat any of us.  Provided, of course,' he said with
 a thin smile, 'you can come up with a stake worthy of matching these pieces.'

"The whole room went silent for a moment.  Then all of a sudden Mike walked
 out of the back room with a set of cases-- I don't know the half of *what*
 he keeps back there. 'We accept,' he said.  'Try these for our side.'
 And he opens up a few of the cases to reveal... pennies.  But in mint
 condition, of a design I'd never seen before.  For one, it was Ben
 Franklin on the head side, and a building I didn't recognize on the tail."

"'Old Ben liked to say that a penny saved was a penny earned,' Mike said,
 'and in this case he was more than right.  These are all from that centenary
 issue cast in Philadelphia in 1806, which had a very limited run.  If
 any of you gents know coins, I don't need to tell you how valuable they are.
 So set up those boards, because we'll set our champion up against all three
 of you.'  And while the Russians were still trying to come up with a reply,
 he smiled further, and added 'Simultaneously.'"

"I didn't think even the regular Callahanians could get more surprised than
 that, until he turned to me and said 'John, how about you doing the honors?'"

"But how did--" the lurker asks, looking down at the pieces she captured.
 "Were they just bluffing?  Or did you do that trick where you make the
 first player's moves in the second player's game?"

"Neither," John says.  "I was told afterwards that they were playing at
 near-grandmaster level, but all three of them lost.  I think they got
 too careless; they saw that I was apprehensive, and didn't really understand
 what I was doing, so by the time they saw their vulnerabilities, it
 was too late."  He smiles.  "Of course, I really *didn't* understand
 what I was doing, but fortunately Grapevine did."

"You're kidding!" the lurker says.  "You mean you were getting signals
 from your robot the whole time?  Wouldn't that be cheating?"

"Not at all," says John. "Remember, the challenge was made to *anyone* in
 the bar.  Grapevine's certainly a someone; just not the someone they
 thought they were playing.  And with the usual collection of alien
 and mechanical life down here, you can hardly say they weren't warned."

"Actually, they felt even more shamed when we told them who
 their real opponent was.  It was bad enough to lose to a man, they
 said, but to lose to a machine was humiliating.  I didn't understand
 it at the time, but after hearing some of the interviews with Kasparov
 and other chess masters, I think I have a clearer idea why.

He then smiles.  "Most of us simply found it funny, rather than
 humiliating, and the more the Russians spluttered, the more hilarious it
 became.  'No hard feelings, gentlemen,' Mike told them afterwards.  'You
 played well, and gave this bar a good show.  John, keep one of the
 penny-cases; you've earned it. Rudolf, Mikhail, and Yuri-- how about some
 more vodka, on the house?' But they weren't in the mood, I'm afraid-- didn't
 even notice the Callahanians looking skyward at the end of Mike's offer.
 They left shortly thereafter, leaving the chesspieces behind.  So, to close
 an already too-long story, that's how Mike got his three golden chess sets."

"Quite a tale," the lurker remarks.  "There wouldn't be a moral to this
 story of yours now, would there?"

"Not really," says John.  "But it's still worth telling tonight, I think.
 After all, how many nights do three wiseguys from the east come in
 and leave you with mirth, gold, and Franklin cents?"

In the sudden but very brief silence following this remark, John has
the chance to think "I knew I should have stuck to lurking..."

John Ockerbloom
-- 
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ockerbloom@cs.cmu.edu                4209 Murray Ave., Pittsburgh PA 15217
Newsgroups: alt.callahans