Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

Guy took a gulp. "From quadrangle, to quadrangle; boxed and lidded. We're thinking the way we were thinking at home. Every advance is just making this place more like home. But it can't be. It's inherently different. It's playing chess with the same pieces, but on a triangular 10 by 10 board." He smiled and looked at the other man.

It wasn't a simili he would have used if he was sober, if only because it made only very little sense. Now, however, it seemed perfectly clear. Besides, Anatoly liked chess. It worked.