Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Russian Chess
Computer of Lingering Death
In Ian Fleming’s novel Live and Let Die, the main
villain, Mr. Big, orders a minor villain, Tee Hee, to break the little finger
of James Bond’s left hand.
Ouch.
“Do you expect me to talk!?”
“No, Mr. Bond; I expect you to type only with your right
hand!”
Building on Tee Hee’s digital expertise, contemporary
Russia has developed a computerized hand which will break fingers and win chess
matches [Chess robot breaks finger of seven-year-old boy during
tournament in Russia | Daily Mail Online].
In an exhibition match in Moscow last week a
seven-year-old boy was playing against the mechanical Tee Hee when the machine,
perhaps in fear of losing, grabbed and crushed the child’s finger.
Naturally the adults blamed the child. Sergei Smagin, VP
of the Russian Chess Federation, said, “There are certain safety rules, and the
child, apparently, violated them.”
Safety rules. In chess. Yep, the rooks are especially
prone to mechanical breakdown and explosions if you don’t follow all safety
procedures.
If in Russia a player can lose a finger playing chess, then
the Go To Jail card in a game of Monopoly could be a ten-year sentence to the
Lubyanka.
Mr. Smagin averred that the finger-lickin’-good chess arm
is “absolutely safe.”
Sergei Lazerev, the President of the RCF, blamed the kid
for playing chess too fast, thus confusing the computer.
For embarrassing the computer and the State the
seven-year-old might be conscripted to drive a tank in Ukraine, where thousands
of young Russians are sent to die.
If a computer is so vindictive about losing a chess
match, imagine how dangerous it would be while driving home afterward,
especially if it stops off at the pub for a few boilermakers of WD-40 and Mr.
Clean.
Or maybe the chess computer wanders the lonely streets of
Volgograd at night, mumbling about how he lost to a seven-year-old: “I coulda
been somebody. I coulda been a contender. Instead of an itinerant chess bum.
Which is what I am.”
And so, parents, be advised: don’t let your innocent
children hang around dens of sin where chess is played. If your children start whispering
suspicious words and phrases like “en passant,” or “queen’s pawn to
queen’s pawn four” or “castling,” refer them immediately for psychological
counseling. Don’t be afraid to check your children’s room for such contraband
as chessboards. After all, you want your children to be normal, well-adjusted
Americans staring blankly into glowing Orwellian telescreens.
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