Anatoly Valeriovich Sergievsky (
chesspolitik) wrote2010-11-06 08:45 pm
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The game - our one true guiding light
Strange island happenings might come and go, but nothing could keep Anatoly away from his routine. Tea in the morning and chess in the afternoon until he was gently reminded by someone to put the board away and get something to eat. It wasn't exciting, perhaps, but it was something all his own and he was finally free to keep it.
This afternoon, he was contemplating Kasparov once more, determined to wrest every bit of knowledge he could from the grandmaster. The chess board had been set up to reflect the particular game he was studying, and he had a listing of the play-by-play next to him. The man was brilliant, and it was a deep shame that he would most likely never meet him.
This afternoon, he was contemplating Kasparov once more, determined to wrest every bit of knowledge he could from the grandmaster. The chess board had been set up to reflect the particular game he was studying, and he had a listing of the play-by-play next to him. The man was brilliant, and it was a deep shame that he would most likely never meet him.
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He moved, trying to work out just what was going on in the grandmaster's head as the game continued.
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He glanced down at the board, weighing his options. He had to tread carefully here, lining up his pieces for victory yet doing it in such a way to prevent from realizing the pattern he was setting until it was too late for him to do anything about it.
"But the three of you were friends, yes?"
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He still felt a little bad about that. He'd left her alone because that was what she'd wanted, but that had left their friendship behind, too. It distracted him a bit from the game. "I always envied her strength, too."
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Cassie and Kon were dear to him as his own children, which meant in his brand of logic that Cissie and Bart would have to be looked after as well.
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He considered his next move, realizing belatedly that he was staring at a configuration looking rather like an intersection of one way and do not enter. Tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, he wondered where he'd made a mistake.
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Glancing at the board, he was fairly confident that he had Bart on the run, but he was far too seasoned a player to show it in his bearing. It wasn't over yet.
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Bart thought he might have one last trick up his sleeve, but it would have to wait until the right moment. Sometimes the overlooked pieces could regain power.
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At least he was on surer ground with the chess. "Check."
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"Clearly, this isn't my game. You should see me at Tetris. It's even a Russian game, at least originally."
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"Tetris? What is this?"
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