The Thinking Machine | Page 2

Hill. He left there with a sadly
puzzled face; that afternoon Professor Van Dusen met the Russian
champion. The newspapers had said a great deal about the affair and
hundreds were present to witness the game.
There was a little murmur of astonishment when Professor Van Dusen
appeared. He was slight, almost child-like in body, and his thin
shoulders seemed to droop beneath the weight of his enormous head.
He wore a number eight hat. His brow rose straight and dome-like and
a heavy shock of long, yellow hair gave him almost a grotesque
appearance. The eyes were narrow slits of blue squinting eternally
through thick spectacles; the face was small, clean shaven, drawn and
white with the pallor of the student. His lips made a perfectly straight
line. His hands were remarkable for their whiteness, their flexibility,
and for the length of the slender fingers. One glance showed that
physical development had never entered into the schedule of the
scientist's fifty years of life.
The Russian smiled as he sat down at the chess table. He felt that he

was humouring a crank. The other masters were grouped near by,
curiously expectant. Professor Van Dusen began the game, opening
with a Queen's gambit. At his fifth move, made without the slightest
hesitation, the smile left the Russian's face. At the tenth, the masters
grew intensely eager. The Russian champion was playing for honour
now. Professor Van Dusen's fourteenth move was King's castle to
Queen's four.
"Check," he announced.
After a long study of the board the Russian protected his King with a
Knight. Professor Van Dusen noted the play then leaned back in his
chair with finger tips pressed together. His eyes left the board and
dreamily studied the ceiling. For at least ten minutes there was no
sound, no movement, then:
"Mate in fifteen moves," he said quietly.
There was a quick gasp of astonishment. It took the practised eyes of
the masters several minutes to verify the announcement. But the
Russian champion saw and leaned back in his chair a little white and
dazed. He was not astonished; he was helplessly floundering in a maze
of incomprehensible things. Suddenly he arose and grasped the slender
hand of his conqueror.
"You have never played chess before?" he asked.
"Never."
"Mon Dieu! You are not a man; you are a brainÑa machineÑa thinking
machine."
"It's a child's game," said the scientist abruptly. There was no note of
exultation in his voice; it was still the irritable, impersonal tone which
was habitual.
This, then, was Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, Ph. D., LL. D.,
F. R. S., M. D., etc., etc., etc. This is how he came to be known to the

world at large as The Thinking Machine. The Russian's phrase had
been applied to the scientist as a title by a newspaper reporter,
Hutchinson Hatch. It had stuck.
2 RTEXTR*ch

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