“I didn’t want to come at all. But I want to be honest…”
Oscar sat on the rug near the heater, and pulled off one shoe. “I can see you’re upset.” He pulled off the other shoe and crossed his legs on the rug. “That’s all right, I understand that perfectly. It was a long trip, it’s difficult, our situation’s very difficult. I’m just glad that you’ve come, that’s all. I’m happy to see you. Very happy. I’m touched.”
She said nothing, but looked warily attentive.
“Greta, you know that I’m fond of you. Don’t you? I mean that. We have a rapport, you and I. I don’t quite know why, but I want to know. I want you to be glad that you came here. We’re alone at last, that’s a rare privilege for us, isn’t it? Let’s talk it out, let’s put it all on the table now, let’s be good friends.”
She was wearing perfume. She had brought an overnight bag. She was clearly having an attack of cold feet, but the underlying in-dicators looked solid.
“I want to understand you, Greta. I can understand, you know. I think I do understand you a little. You’re a very bright woman, much brighter than most people, but you have insight, you’re sensitive. You’ve done great things with your life, great accomplishments, but there’s no one on your side. I know that’s the truth. And it’s sad. I could be on your side, if you’d let me.” He lowered his voice. “I can’t make any conventional promises, because we’re just not conventional people. But the two of us could be great friends. We could even be lovers. Why can’t we? The odds are against us, but that doesn’t make it hopeless.”
It was very quiet. He should have thought to put on some music. “I think that you need someone. You need someone who can understand your interests, someone to be your champion. People don’t appreciate you for what you are. People are using you for their own small-minded little ends. You’re very brave and dedicated, but you have to break out of your shell, you can’t go on retreating and being polite, you can’t go on accommodating those goons, they’ll drive you crazy, they’re not fit to touch the hem of your shoe. Your gown. The, what the hell, your lab coat.” He paused and drew a shaky breath. “Look, just tell me what you need.”
“I was wrong about you,” she said. “I thought you were going to grab me.”
“No, of course I’m not going to grab you.” He smiled.
“Stop smiling. You think I’m very innocent, don’t you. I’m not innocent. Listen to me. I have a body, I have hormones, I have a limbic system. I’m a sexual person. Look, I’ve been sitting up there under those cameras bored to death, restless, going crazy, and then you show up. You show up, and you’re coming on to me.”
She stood up. “I’ll tell you what I need, since you want to know so badly. I need a guy who’s kind of cold-blooded and disposable, who won’t kick up a big fuss. He has to want me in this completely shallow, obvious way. But you’re not the kind of guy I want, are you. Not really.”
There was a ringing silence.
“I should have found some way to tell you all that, before you came down here, and took all this trouble. I almost didn’t come at all, but…” She sat back down wearily. “Well, it was more honest to be here face-to-face, and have it all out, all at once.”
Oscar cleared his throat. “Do you know the game of go? Go-bang? Wei-chi, in Chinese.”
“I’ve heard of it.”
Oscar got up and fetched his travel set. “Senator Bambakias taught me how to play go. It’s a core metaphor for his krewe, it’s how we think. So if you want to mix with modern politicians and accom-plish something, then you need to learn this game right away.”
“You’re really a strange man.”
He opened and set out the square-lined board, with its two cups of black and white stones. “Sit down on the rug here with me, Greta. We’re going to have this out right now, Eastern style.”
She sat down cross-legged near the oil heater. “I don’t gamble.”
“Go isn’t a gambling game. Let me take your jacket now. Good. This isn’t chess, either. This isn’t a Western-style, mechanized, head-to-head battle. Those just don’t happen anymore. Go is all about net-works and territories. You play the net — you place your stones where the lines cross. You can capture the stones if you totally surround them, but killing them is just a collateral effect. You don’t want to kill the stones, that’s not the point. You want the blankness. You want the empty spaces in the net.”
“I want the potential.”
“Exactly. ”
“When the game ends, the player with the most potential wins.”
“You have played go before.”
“No, I haven’t. But that much is obvious.”
“You’ll play black,” he said. He set a group of black stones on the board, crisply clicking them down. “Now I’ll demo the game a bit, before we start. You place your stones down like this, one at a time. The groups of stones gain strength from their links, from the network that they form. And the groups have to have eyes, blank eyes inside the network. That’s a crucial point.” He placed a blocking chain of white stones around the black group. “A single eye isn’t enough, because I could blind that eye with one move, and capture your whole group. I could surround the whole group, drop into the middle, blind your eye, and just remove the whole group, like this. But with two eyes — like this? — the group becomes a permanent fea-ture on the board. It lives forever.”
“Even if you totally surround me.”
“Exactly. ”
She hunched her shoulders and stared at the board. “I can see why your friend likes this game.”
“Yes, it’s very architectural… All right, we’ll try a practice game.” He swept the board clean of stones. “You’re the beginner, so you get nine free stones on these nine crucial spots.”
“That’s a lot of free stones.”
“That’s not a problem, because I’m going to beat you anyway.” He clicked down his first white stone with two fingertips.
They played for a while. “Atari,” he repeated.
“You can stop saying that word now, I can see that my group’s in check.”
“It’s just a customary courtesy.”
They played more. Oscar was starting to sweat. He stood up and turned down the heaters.
He sat down again. All the tension had left their situation. The two of them were totally rapt. “You’re going to beat me,” she an-nounced, “You know all those foul little tricks in the corners.”
“Yes, I do.”
She looked up and met his eyes. “But I can learn those little tricks, and then you’re going to have a hard time with me.”
“I can appreciate a hard time. A hard time is good to find.” He beat her by thirty points. “You’re learning fast. Let’s try a serious game.”
“Don’t clear the board yet,” she said. She studied her defeat with deep appreciation. “These patterns are so elegant.”
“Yes. And they’re always different. Every game has its own char-acter. ”
“These stones are a lot like neurons.”
He smiled at her.
They started a second game. Oscar was very serious about go. He played poker for social reasons, but he never threw a game of go. He was too good at it. He was a gifted player, clever, patient, and profoundly deceptive, but Greta’s game play was all over the map. She was making beginner’s mistakes, but she never repeated them, and her mental grasp of the game was incredibly strong.
He beat her by nineteen points, but only because he was ruthless. “This is a really good game,” she said. “It’s so contemporary.”
“It’s three thousand years old.”
“Really?” She stood up and stretched, her kneecaps cracking loudly. “That calls for a drink.”
“Go ahead.”