Unicorn Point

  The Citizens had put up Purple. Blue had had twelve hours to put up his champion. When the third game came, the situation would be reversed, and the Citizens would have the advantage. But perhaps, if things went well, there would be no third game.

  Sheen did not worry unduly, because as a self-willed machine she could control her emotions. But she knew that victory was by no means certain, and that Purple, even caught by surprise, remained a better player than she. The odds favored her loss to him, and that would prejudice Blue’s case. Yet of course he had to save himself for the final game, to bring the victory if the first two games were not sufficient.

  They came to the game chamber. Here Blue kissed her and turned away; he would watch with others in an audience chamber. For the manipulation of the grid, only the two direct players would be there. There would be no advice from the sidelines.

  She stepped up to the console and stood waiting. In a moment Citizen Purple entered, like an ancient king in his elaborate purple robe. He even wore a purple diadem set with precious amethyst stones. Huge, bearded, confident, he was a daunting presence.

  But she, a robot, was not daunted. She simply recognized and catalogued the effects, in case any of them indicated any aspect of his nature that might be exploited for her advantage in the game. She cared nothing for kings or Citizens, only for the factors of the moment.

  Purple stared at her over the console, his gaze commencing at her forehead, inspecting her brown tresses, crossing her own gaze without taking note of it, and coursing down to linger on her bare breasts. But again his effort was wasted; her body was naked, in the fashion of all serfs, and her breasts were pseudoflesh coverings over utility cabinets. Humanoid males tended to ignore the inner reality and focus on the outer form, so that they found a breast interesting regardless whether it was fashioned of living flesh, amoebic mass or plastic, but that was their foible; Sheen was indifferent to his stare. When Blue looked at her body, she took notice; not otherwise.

  “If you are ready, sir,” she said after a moment.

  His hand crashed down on his side of the console. Her side lighted, showing the primary grid.

  1. PHYSICAL 2. MENTAL 3. CHANCE 4. ARTS

  A. NAKED B. TOOL C. MACHINE D. ANIMAL

  She saw by the highlighting that she had the numbers. For a moment she was tempted to select CHANCE and be done with it. But that was probably not rational, because Blue believed she had a better than even chance to win in a game of skill. Her long association with living human beings, and her female programming, did account for some irrationality, but she was capable of overruling it. What would he choose? She glanced up, and saw his porcine eyes fastened again on her breasts. Suddenly she knew: he had chosen NAKED, because he could not look upon an unavailable woman without desiring her. It was his way; he had lusted after Tania’s voluptuous secretary Tsetse, and connived without Tania’s knowledge to have access to her. Now that Tania had defected, Tsetse had wasted no time in denouncing her and becoming Purple’s secretary, confessing what she had done in the past. That had had two effects: Tania’s fury, and Purple’s loss of interest. He had little taste for what was no longer forbidden. But Sheen herself was perhaps the most forbidden female: the wife of Purple’s major enemy. Oh, yes, he desired her now, and so great was his compulsion that he had to grasp at any straw to get closer to her. With luck, he might get her into a gelatin wrestling match, and possess her as he pinned her. Her detestation of both him and his act would only increase his passion.

  Now it was clearer why Blue had chosen her to play against this man. Purple’s nature distorted his judgment, making him vulnerable to manipulation. He had to know she would never let him close to a gelatin chamber, or any other body-to-body sport, yet he had to play for it.

  She almost smiled. Too bad her robot strength was governed, so that she could exert no more force than a healthy living woman might, unless threatened with destruction. Otherwise, she could lead him into that gelatin, and pin him down, and win. He might even go knowingly into the loss, just to have that bodily contact in such an environment. But fair was fair; she had to be the woman she seemed, and he knew that.

  Well, she would tempt him a bit. She touched 1. PHYSICAL.

  Immediately the secondary grid formed: 1D. PHYSICAL ANIMAL. Just as she had known!

  Then she did a doubletake, a programmed mannerism not often invoked. Animal? He had fooled her!

  She glanced up. There were his eyes, still fixed on her breasts. He was having his fun with her in two ways: ogling her body, and deceiving her about his intentions. He was of course a master player, and this was effective strategy. Would she have chosen PHYSICAL if she had guessed?

  She had the numbers again: 5. SEPARATE. 6. INTERACTIVE. 7. COMBAT. 8. COOPERATIVE. She tried again to guess what he might choose. His options were E. EARTH F. FIRE G. GAS H. H2O, translating respectively to the various surfaces: Plat, Variable, Discontinuous and Liquid.

  He was an old man, tough, but surely not as much so, physically, as he once had been. He should prefer to remain on his stout feet, on a flat plain or a mountainous slope. He would not like to get into the water, riding dolphins or sharks, and discontinuous would be beyond him.

  That being the case, she should make it as hard for him as she could. She was nominally old and female, but actually her robot body remained as strong as ever. Strength counted in other ways than direct force of limb; she might not be able to overcome him in a wrestling match, but she could surely outlast him in a match requiring repetition or endurance. More of that was often needed in animal contests—that was generally recognized. Riding a horse, for example, was not a state of rest—not if the animal was frisky, as it would be in a racing or combat situation.

  Combat. Well, why not? That could be jousting on horseback, and she had learned to ride, because Blue was the top rider on the planet. It had taken special modification of her programming, but she had done it for him, and had become capable of riding almost any animal, tame or wild. She knew that the Lady Blue (now the Lady Stile) in Phaze was expert, and as the years had passed she had felt steadily closer to the Lady. The mechanism of parallelism between the frames had never been well understood, and with the separation of the past decades there had been little chance to study it, but it seemed that it was a gradual thing. That individuals were not necessarily fixed from birth as parallels; some were, like the two Tanias, but some became parallel over the course of their lives. She liked to think that she was approaching otherselfism with the Lady Blue. Certainly a number of Citizens, by position and inclination, had become increasingly like their Adept counterparts, by Mach and Bane’s accounts. So Sheen had learned to ride, deliberately fostering her emulation of the Lady. It had been no more than an exercise of a foolish dream—until Mach had exchanged with Bane, proving that a robot could be the other self of a living person.

  These thoughts took little time; they were a rehash of familiar ground. She was already in the process of touching COMBAT.

  The tertiary grid appeared—and she had another surprise. Purple had chosen Discontinuity! That meant they would be doing physical battle in the air, or on broken surfaces. She was not well rehearsed in that. The cunning Citizen had outmaneuvered her again.

  Sheen knew she was in trouble. Purple would not have chosen GAS unless he felt competent in that medium. He must have practiced in some aspect of this, so that he could have an advantage when he needed it. She had practiced none but the flying horse, for private pleasure.

  Still, there were ways and ways. She remembered a little-used option that Blue had discovered, that might be used to turn this grid to her advantage. She needed a way to be sure that she was not playing Purple’s game, and she no longer trusted her judgment in this respect. He had fooled her twice, and might maneuver her into accepting the very option he desired. But not if she invoked her ploy.

  The tertiary grid was empty, like the others, but unlike the others, it would be filled. A list of options was at the side: specific
games they could choose to fill the grid. This was often the most dramatic part of a Game: the maneuvering in the final grid. When players of known skills competed, the actual playoff could be mainly a matter of form; the outcome was known, because of the unequal skills of the contestants. In the two early grids it was too indefinite; it could go either way. But here in the small grid, the one with only nine squares, the real nature and odds of the encounter were determined.

  All of the choices related to physical combat involving animals. The definition of “animal” was broad; androids and even some cyborgs counted in particular cases, as well as true animals. Most of them involved birds, whether natural or artificial.

  There was an advantage in placing the first choice, because the one who did would get five choices to the other’s four, weighting the grid in his favor. But this was offset by a corresponding advantage given to the other in the play: choice of color in chess, of offense or defense in football, or initial serve in tennis, and so on. Where this was not applicable, the other player would get the choice of numbers or letters, which could make a critical difference if placements were careless. Experienced players tended to go for the play advantage, being competent in most games; beginners preferred stacking the choices.

  “Take it, wench,” Purple said, his eyes stroking her torso again. By this time a normal woman would be flustered by the direct and pointed attention, knowing that the Citizen had a far better than even chance to realize whatever ambition he had for interaction with her, regardless of the outcome of the Game. But Sheen was hardly normal; even had she been of fleshly nature, she remained Citizen Blue’s wife. Not even his compatriots would support him if he waylaid her. Thus he confined his aggression to his eyes and his voice, doing what he could to unnerve her. It was usually a good ploy; the slightest shakiness in either the choices or the actual play could make the difference in the outcome.

  So she had the first choice, as though Purple had no concern for any trifling advantage she might gain. Again, the psychological ploy was wasted on her; as a machine, she simply was not subject to irrational nuances of doubt, only rational ones. Her concern was to play correctly—and he had just given her the break she needed. Now she would have two chances in three to get a playoff she liked.

  She touched the choice of Sparrow Sparring, and the center square of her grid. Immediately the words transferred. She had the best location, some thought, though in practice it made little difference. She had worked with animals, including birds, in her effort to emulate the Lady Blue, because the Lady had worked to heal many sick or injured creatures who came to the Blue Demesnes in Phaze. Sparrow Sparring involved the projection of the player’s commands to living birds, who flew up and attacked each other with beak and claw. The birds, not naturally vicious, were trained for this, and both beaks and claws were capped by soft material that left a smear of color on the target rather than causing injury. The one who inflicted a severe enough “injury” on the other received the reward of especially tasty seed, and that bird’s manager won the game. Sheen had developed a certain empathy with the small birds, and now had what she thought of as “sparrow circuits” so that she could direct them effectively. It was not just a matter of giving specific commands; it was a matter of proper motivation and superior strategy. She believed she could win this one, because Purple was liable to be too callous in his treatment of small, weak creatures.

  His turn: he set Cock Fighting into the upper left square, 9J. The numbers carried on from the prior sequence, and the letters skipped “I” in the standard manner to avoid confusion with the number “1.” These would be fierce flying roosters who could strike on the ground or in the air; the cock pit was a cage with assorted perches and baffles so that each combatant could choose his turf and dodge about tactically. As with the sparrows, the birds’ weapons were mock; the little blades affixed to their legs—the spurs—delivered color smears instead of lethal cuts. Once the fights had been real, but Citizen Blue had decreed that they be moderated: no real blood was shed in the name of entertainment any more. A number of die-hard players were disgusted, but Blue held the dominant hand. Sheen hoped to do her part to ensure that he continued to govern; if the Contrary Citizens prevailed, blood would flow again in more than the figurative sense.

  Her turn: she put Hawk Lasso in 11L, the bottom right corner. In this one the hawks carried loops of fine cord, and tried to snare each other. The first to get a tight loop around the other’s neck, tail or feet was the victor. There were safeguards, and the birds were apt flyers; they seemed to enjoy it, though the command-impulses sent by the players prevented them from playing it their way.

  He filled in Dog Fight in 10J, right below his prior entry. This was the zero-gee variant, with a spherical cage; the dogs used the wall only as a launching surface to attack each other. It was difficult to get in a good bite, without the anchorage of gravity, and the dogs required special training before they became competent. The trained dogs were evenly matched, as were all the contest animals; it was the skill of the players who directed strategy and tactics that made the difference. The teeth were blunted, to prevent harm, but Sheen did not want to tackle the Citizen in this arena; he was too bloodthirsty, and probably had practiced secretly with dogs whose teeth were sharp.

  Now it was her turn, and she had only one spot to fill this time: 11J. That was because she could not afford to let Purple fill in a complete column of his choices, for that would represent his victory in the grid. He would simply select that column, and she would be stuck with one of his choices, having no chance at any of her own. In this sense the grid was like its primitive progenitor, tic-tac-toe: three in a row spelled victory. So she filled in Jet Birds, giving herself one option in that column.

  He put Owl Bomb in the top center box. In this contest trained owls would be directed to drop bombs of colored water on each other. The liquid was harmless, but was scented in a manner the birds did not like. The cage was large, so that they had ample flying room. Each tried to get above the other so as to be able to score with the bomb, but of course the ceiling was the limit. The owls knew how to launch their bombs upward against an opponent pinned against the ceiling, so “upsmanship” was not the only strategy.

  Now she had to fill in 9L, to prevent him from getting a full row of choices. That was the thing about his “generous” yielding of the first placement to her: because he could go with either the numbers or the letters, nothing was safe for her. She put in Pigeon Kites: a contest in which pigeons actually flew little kites in the stiff air currents provided by nozzles. The strings were triangular in cross-section, each edge sharp and serrated. The trick was to down the opponent’s kite, either by cutting its string or pre-empting its wind so that it dropped out of control. The pigeons, though trained, were not smart; most of the skill had to be that of the players, sending repeated and specific directives. Move left, fly up, turn, drop down, and so on. The maneuvers could get quite intricate.

  Now she had chances to complete either the L column or the 11 row. But this represented no victory for her, because he had the option. He would simply block out one, and choose the other. For example, he could fill 10L, then play the grid from the numbers, so as to prevent her from choosing the 11 row that would have her three choices. Only a duffer would play it otherwise.

  He filled Laser Duel: Eagle in the L column. In this, the eagles were artificial, being cyborgs in eagle form. Their living brains qualified them as animals. Each carried a laser pistol that it could fire straight ahead. If a score was made, the victim’s system shorted out and the bird fell to the net below. This one was a favorite with the younger players, especially the males; they loved to fire lasers, even vicariously, and chortled when an eagle spun out of control.

  Now there was one box left to fill, UK. She would have her row, but since she would have to work from the letters, she had no chance to benefit from it. She had a better ploy, and this was the time for it.

  “Dragon Duel,” she said.

/>   A word lighted below her grid: ERROR—NO SUCH GAME EXISTS.

  “But it fits the category,” she said. “The listed choices are only suggestions; the players can choose what they wish, as long as they remain within the definitions of the encounter.” She glanced up at Purple. “Isn’t that correct, sir?”

  The Citizen netted his gaze from her bosom. “True, doxie. You want it, you can have it.”

  “I want it.”

  Now the voice of the Game Computer sounded. “An extension of the game options has been proposed. Judgment Committee number 452 report immediately to Game Console 23.”

  Purple licked his lips. “You really want to do this, peaches?” he inquired with relish. He, as a Phaze fan, had long experience with mocked-up dragons. “I do.”

  “I’ll make you a side deal, sweetbuns. I’ll give you that arena—”

  “No deal,” she snapped. She might win or she might lose, but she had no intention of committing her body to his lechery in addition. Her ploy was that he would be so intrigued by the new contest that he would elect to play it anyway.

  There was a stir in the audience chamber as the members of the Judgment Committee arrived. A number of the watchers evidently had not known that specific games or even categories could be added in this manner. To have it happen during a contest as important as this was rare excitement.

  The committee consisted of one female Citizen, one male Citizen, one female serf, one male serf, and the Game Computer, represented by a humanoid robot whose outer surface was transparent so that its wires, hydraulics and electronic components showed. It took charge at once.