Sandra learned enough chess to be able to blunder through a game with Dave without attempting more than one illegal move in five, to avoid the Scholar's Mate most of the time and to be able to checkmate with two rooks though not with one. Judy had asked her, "Is _he_ pleased that you're learning chess?" Sandra had replied, "No, he thinks it is a madness." The kids had all whooped at that and Dave had said, "How right he is!" Sandra was scraping the bottom of the barrel for topics for her articles, but then it occured to her to write about the kids, which worked out nicely, and that led to a humorous article "Chess Is for Brains" about her own efforts to learn the game, and for the nth time in her career she thought of herself as practically a columnist and was accordingly elated. After his two draws, Doc lost three games in a row and still had the Machine to face and then Sherevsky. His 1--6 score gave him undisputed possession of last place. He grew very depressed. He still made a point of squiring her about before the playing sessions, but she had to make most of the conversation. His rare flashes of humor were rather macabre. "They have Dirty Old Krakatower locked in the cellar," he muttered just before the start of the next to the last round, "and now they send the robot down to destroy him." "Just the same, Doc," Sandra told him, "good luck." Doc shook his head. "Against a man luck might help. But against a Machine?" "It's not the Machine you're playing, but the programming. Remember?" "Yes, but it's the Machine that doesn't make the mistake. And a mistake is what I need most of all today. Somebody else's." Doc must have looked very dispirited and tired when he left Sandra in the stands, for Judy (Dave and Bill not having arrived yet) asked in a confidential, womanly sort of voice, "What do you do for him when he's so unhappy?" "Oh, I'm especially passionate," Sandra heard herself answer. "Is that good for him?" Judy demanded doubtfully. "Sh!" Sandra said, somewhat aghast at her irresponsibility and wondering if _she_ were getting tournament-nerves. "Sh, they're starting the clocks." VII Krakatower had lost two pawns when the first time-control point arrived and was intending to resign on his 31st move when the Machine broke down. Three of its pieces moved on the electric board at once, then the board went dark and all the lights on the console went out except five which started winking like angry red eyes. The gray-smocked men around Simon Great sprang silently into action, filing around back of the console. It was the first work anyone had seen them do except move screens around and fetch each other coffee. Vanderhoef hovered anxiously. Some flash bulbs went off. Vanderhoef shook his fist at the photographers. Simon Great did nothing. The Machine's clock ticked on. Doc watched for a while and then fell asleep.