“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 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 scrape 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’d written his Wonder upon — it reminds me that I kept my Tiger Lily safe 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 tell The Pillar.
“I don’t know. Could be coincidence.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, and then tell him about the Red who’d 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 1997, IBM designed the first chess computer, claiming it can beat man,” The Pillar says. “It was a big scene. Actually, the story I am going to tell you changed mankind’s perception of machine.”
“I hope it will lead to solving some kind of puzzle.”
“IBM challenged the best chess player in the world, at the time of course, to beat the machine, and he accepted.”
“Interesting.”
“His name is Garry Kasparov, a fellow Russian chess player, not the Chessmaster of course, and he accepted the challenge.”
“And?”
“It’s a long story, but let me put it this way: Kasparov 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, 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 for 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 still can dysfunction it, Alice. Don’t let anyone make you underestimate the fabulousness of being human.”
“Enough with the clichés, will ya? 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 isn’t mostly manipulated by Black Chess. Was that the Dark 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 rides his horse again. “I know where they keep it, and I have a feeling we can beat the machine this time.”
Chapter 26
Margaret Kent’s Office, Westminster Palace
Inspector Dormouse had been sleeping on the couch in the Duchess’ office for some time. It hadn’t been his plan to fall asleep again. He’d come to discuss an important matter about Professor Pillar. But he couldn’t resist the comfort of Margaret Kent’s couch in the lobby.
In his sleep he was wondering where he could get a smoother couch at home — or better, at his office of the Department of Insanity. Why weren’t such couches available on the market? Even if they were, how could he afford one?
But seriously, the cushions on that couch were so smooth, like marshmallows, like a steady tide of a calm river, swooping left and right. Now that was what he called sleeping. Real sleep, not flashy naps interrupted by his wife or children calling for him so he could wake up and buy the groceries.
What was a man’s life without proper sleep? Really? In Inspector Dormouse’s head, he sometimes envied sleeping dogs, snoring like they had a stack of million bones for the rest of their lives in the back of house’s yard. What a feeling!
“You!” A voice woke him up from the sweetest of dreams.
Inspector Dormouse rubbed his eyes, the image of Carolus Lodivicus slowly zooming in. He was so upset to be awake, he grabbed the edges of the couch, in case he had means to sleep again.
“Margaret Kent can’t see you,” Carolus said. “In fact, no one will. We’re all concerned about that Chessmaster in Russia.”
“Ah, I see.” the Inspector stood up and adjusted his clothes. “But I think the identity of Carter Pillar is as important.”