Who Needs a Dream? Who Needs Ambition?

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.