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Kasparov, young and cocky
from last year’s match
sits down at the knotted wood table
on which the flat chess board
sits, tessellated with white and black
space
and the pieces glower in anticipation.
a man sits across from him, a cypher
carrying out the instructions of a machine –
Deep Blue – a black tower with silicon chips
inside
that pulse with coded information.
move, countermove. again. a gain.
hundreds of millions of possibilities
course through the computer’s circuitry.
then, Blue forces Kasparov into a bad move.
a shadow flickers across his face, a twitch
he cannot be aware of.
he sees it, the mistake played out
in quadratic lines blurred by time.
the recognition contorts his face;
he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
he pushes the table away in frustration
and stands up, walks away: one fluid motion.
the people watching open their mouths;
History has been made today.
soon human dominance will fade
today chess, tomorrow the novel,
the next day brain surgery.
humans will have to stake their claim
in a world that
doesn’t need them
any more.
