There we sat, myself and I, at a small folding table in the middle of the lab beside the main, l-shaped workbench. The lab was empty - always was - except for the two of us. My life's work was scattered across every table. The computers hummed and the fluorescent lights buzzed. It wasn't as organized as I usually kept it, but my focus was centered on the rooks, queens, and kings in front of me. It was my move. I moved my black rook over three spaces. Then my life's work spoke.
“You know, what you've done is highly controversial?” I asked from across the board. I made a move — white pawn up two spaces.
I peered around the empty lab, taking stock of all the investments — the technology, the supplies, the freezer; it all cost so much. Then I looked at the outcome. I looked at myself sitting there, planning my next move, my index finger and thumb scratching my cheek. “It was worth it,” I said.
“What's it like outside?” I asked.
“Not sure,” I said, “I haven't left the lab in a few months. I have almost everything I need to survive down here.” I made a move — black bishop across four spaces.
“So why'd you do it?” I asked. “Cure cancer? Paralysis? MS?”
Again, I peered around the room, filled with its machines and computers and microscopes, and chemicals. The fluorescent lights did half their job; there were a lot of dark, cold spaces. Magazines, journals, and notebooks were stacked fifty and sixty issues high, creating moveable and immoveable walls. In all of that stuff, that rubbish - the records of my life - there was not one instance of a personal life, an outside life. I noticed this myself, and I know I noticed it from across the table.
“No family? I asked and moved the white King.
“Mom passed away two years ago and dad passed when I was a teenager,” I said. “How about you?” I moved my black pawn up a space.
I laughed as I moved one of my white knights and picked up a black pawn. “I've got what you've got, just none of the experiences. “
“You're beating me though,” I said. I had only captured four of his white pieces; he had nine of my black pieces. I moved one of my pawns forward a space.
“You gave me life. You haven't helped me live. So, why'd you really do it?” I asked again and moved a white queen to the right one space.
“Like I said, I have almost everything I need to survive here. I need someone to play chess with,” I said. I moved my black knight over two and up one, and then I watched myself make a move — white knight, up and over to the left.
“Checkmate,” I said. “I win.”
“I guess we do,” I replied. “Let's play again.”
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Not really sure what inspired this. I just remember thinking to myself, "wouldn't it be funny to play chess against yourself."
Feedback is welcome.
This is really interesting Matt.
For me, when "I" asked "So why'd you do it? I felt like the answer to the question about the lab, needed more than I responding with needing someone to play chess with.
You set up this very interesting scenario, the location of the lab, its expense, I feel a torn person in the narrator, the fact that he starts out saying "There we sat, myself and I..." but I feel like I wasn't given the prize at the end.
Thanks, Cherise. I was concerned I left too much out, with that intention.
There may be a few things I know about this character that I can put in and still maintain the tone I was looking for.
I think you ought to try putting it in. I get the tone you are after, and I applaud it. But I wanted a bit more, something for me to hang my hat on - forgive the trite phrase - but something that would let me understand the narrator a little more. I don't think a lot is required, just that tiny tad that will let me hook onto him, as a narrator.
Matt,
I think this revised version works really well! Nice nice job expanding it, without going overboard!
I pictured the conservation and gameplay clearly. It had a nice pace. I sort of got an Asimov hermit thing going on here. Nice work. Thanks for joining the Sci-Fi & Fantasy group too.
Veronica, thanks for your comments. I'll be posting something else to the group soon.
Hi Matt,
About the I-I thing. That's interesting. I've only ever come across that once before - something Kurt Vonnegut did - and I just can't remember which of his books it happened in. A dialogue between a character and himself. Maybe you know. Really weird effect. Such a simple idea. Kicking myself I never thought of it.