Marostica Mountains, Italy
T he chess piece is a piece of art. It’s small, but when I focus on it, I can totally admire the craftsmanship, though I am still unsettled by the fact that I am holding a piece of Carroll’s bone.
“Let me inspect it.” The Pillar pulls out a magnifying glass.
“Where did you get those tools from?” I pass the piece over. “Who walks around with a magnifying glass?”
“You never question that in movies, when the hero suddenly pulls out a gun while she was wearing latex all the time,” the Pillar says. “Why me?”
“Because we’re not in a movie.”
The Pillar raises an eyebrow. “Alice, we’re characters from a book.”
“What?” I am shocked. “Are you saying we’re not real?”
“I’m not saying that. I am just pointing out that we’ve been mentioned in a book that mostly we can’t escape. It’s like the blueprint of the fate of our lives. But never mind, let’s focus on the chess piece.”
“Anything showing on it?”
“Nothing in particular, but wait…” He pulls the glass magnifier back. “I think it twists open at the middle.”
“Really?”
I watch the Pillar give it a couple of tries, then it works. The white queen is split into two pieces, and he pulls out a scrap of paper from inside. “Like a fortune cookie, baby.” He looks amused.
“What does it say?”
“It’s a note…” He shrugs.
I know why: because it’s made of the same yellow note he wrote his Wonder upon—it reminds me that I left my Tiger Lily in a safe box in Marostica and should pick it up soon.
“How come it’s the same paper you used for the note you gave me, your Wonder?” I ask the Pillar.
“I don’t know. Could be a coincidence.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, and then tell him about the Red who saved me earlier today, using the same kind of notes.
“Why not read what’s on the note instead of investigating who manufactured it?” the Pillar offers. “It has writing on both sides, actually.”
“What does the front say?”
“White Stones.”
“Does that mean anything to you?”
“Neither does Black Stones.”
“How about the back of the note?”
“Deep Blue.”
“This looks like it’s going to be a complicated puzzle.”
“Deep Blue isn’t, actually,” the Pillar says. “Assuming all puzzles are chess-related, I think I know what it is.”
“The suspense is killing me,” I mock him. “What is it?”
“Deep Blue is the name of the first IBM computer ever designed to play chess.”
“You totally lost me. IBM?” I am not sure how this fits into a puzzle.
“In the nineties, IBM started work on a chess computer, later claiming it could beat a man,” the Pillar says. “It was a big scene. Actually, the story I am going to tell you changed mankind’s perception of machines.”
“I hope it will lead to solving some kind of puzzle.”
“In the nineties, IBM challenged the best chess player in the world, at the time, of course, to beat the machine, and he accepted.”
“Interesting.”
“His name was Garry Kasparov, another Russian chess player—not the Chessmaster, of course.”
“And?”
“It’s a long story, but let me put it this way: Kasparov eventually lost to the machine after six games and two weeks of an exhausting emotional breakdown.”
“Breakdown?”
“IBM played all kinds of psychological tricks on the man to get him to fear the machine.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Why do you think, Alice?” The Pillar has one of those smiles on his face again—the one he has when he is about to tell me one of the world’s biggest secrets. It reminds me of the time when he told me about food companies making the world fat when we were chasing the Muffin Man.
“Let me guess,” I say. “IBM sought propaganda, making their name bigger and getting extreme exposure.”
“That’s part of it. It was a crucial moment in history like I said. IBM managed to insinuate into the global conscious brain that the ‘machine’ will beat ‘man.’”
“You don’t really believe machines will beat us someday?”
“If we create the machine, then it’s us who can make it malfunction, Alice. Don’t let anyone make you underestimate the fabulousness of being human.”
“Enough with the clichés, okay? So why did IBM force Kasparov to lose, really?”
“Before the game, IBM wasn’t as big as they are now. They were merely suppliers for Microsoft and such.” The Pillar knocks his cane on the ground. “The most important part was: this was just a marketing scheme.”
“Marketing for what?”
“For selling millions of chess games,” the Pillar says. “Now, everyone wanted to play the IBM model after the game. They wanted to buy it and challenge the game that beat the best chess player in the world.”
“Oh. All about money again.”
“All about Black Chess, you mean.”
“What’s Black Chess got to do with this?”
“Black Chess owns IBM, among many other companies all around the world.”
“You realize you sound like those lame conspiracy theorists out there?” I tell him. Though I can see Black Chess interfering with everything in the world, some part of me wants to believe the world isn’t that manipulated.
“You know what the problem with conspiracy theories is?” the Pillar says.
“Enlighten me.” I fold my arms before me.
“They’re rarely theories.”
I swallow hard, realizing I was only wishfully thinking the world wasn’t mostly manipulated by Black Chess. Was that the Bad Alice in me talking again?
“IBM will sue you for such blunt accusations,” I tell him.
“They might.” Pillar shakes his shoulders. “But they will never win.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I am like you, Alice, officially declared mad. I could just apply for a certificate of madness like you. And that’s the beauty of it. I’m invincible.”
I laugh. “You’re right. What’s the worst they can do? Send you back to the asylum?”
“Shock therapy until my hair spikes up like an Irish rooster?” He winks.
“I’ve never realized how blessed we are, being mad.” I high-five him.
“Besides, I’m supposed to be a character in a book. They can’t sue me. Pillar? Who’s the Pillar? The caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland ? He is real? Get outta here! Now enough play, and back to saving the world,” the Pillar says. “We’ll start with the Deep Blue clue.”
“How so?”
“We’ll pay the infamous machine a visit.” The Pillar mounts his horse again. “I know where they keep it, and I have a feeling we can beat the machine this time.”