The chamber was larger than necessary for a table and board game; indeed, neither was there. Instead there were rows of human-sized neuter mannequins standing as if ready to march to war.
“I think we have the wrong room,” Lysander said.
“No we don’t. It’s a life-sized game. Those are the geese, and you’re the fox.”
“But in the game, the fox tries to jump the geese and remove them, while the geese try to block in the fox so it can’t move.”
“See, the places are there,” she said, pointing to the floor. Sure enough, it was laid out in the game pattern—and each mannequin was standing in a circle. “You don’t literally jump the geese, you just touch each one so she gets orT the board and you step beyond her. It’s the same, only larger.”
“She? Those mannequins are neuter.”
“No they aren’t.” She stepped up to the center of the forward line, which had one blank circle. As she did so, things changed. Suddenly all the mannequins were clothed in frilly dresses that were padded to make them look female, and all had wigs that contributed to the effect. So did Alyc—and in the dress and wig, she looked astonishingly like the others. Rather, they all looked like her. It was a transformation that seemed almost magical.
Almost? Now he knew that magic was literal, here; it could indeed be involved. “But you’re in clothing! I thought only Citizens—“
“In the games it’s okay. It’s costuming. But we would never go like this outside!”
He nodded. Special license for costumes made sense. It also gave serfs a chance to act out whatever fantasies they might have. He was coming to appreciate why the Game Annex was so popular among those who might not otherwise have been game-minded. It represented therapy on unspecified levels.
“Now play,” Alyc said. “You move first.”
Lysander saw that there were instructions playing on the screen, for any who happened not to be conversant with the details of the game. He discovered that this was the archaic version: thirteen geese, and moves were allowed in any direction, including slantwise. He had not played that variant, but could adapt readily enough.
He stepped to the board, before the ladies. Abruptly he became clothed himself, in a fine coat of brown fur, reminiscent of a wealthy fox. The coat was real; he felt its pleasant heft. Now, zeroed in, he stepped diagonally toward the geese. He knew he was at a disadvantage; the geese could win every time, if played correctly. That was why the archaic form had given way to the modern form, where the geese could move only forward or sideways, while the fox was unrestrained. But the moves could be tricky, and Alyc was not the brightest person, so he should be able to win anyway. Not that winning was important, in this instance; he was just letting Alyc show him around.
He had taken his turn. Now she took hers. She could not jump him or attack him; she could only try to box him in. But she had thirteen pieces, and as few as six could box him, if the position was right, and eight otherwise. So he had to eliminate a sufficient number of geese to make her win impossible. If he got her down to five, that was it; she could not claim a draw by skulking along the sides. A draw was possible if both players were conservative; that, again, was reason to modify the old form of the game.
It was odd, seeing thirteen women just like Alyc. She had remarked that clothing was a sexual turn-on for serfs, instead of nudity; already he was coming to accept that. Alyc nude was an interesting figure of a woman, as he had come to appreciate during the night. But Alyc clothed was exciting. When she walked, the dress swung about her legs and accented her hips, making the legs seem more shapely and hinting at further marvels beyond. The bodice nominally covered the bosom, but somehow showed a fair amount and made the remainder intriguing. The woman was now twice as appealing as she had been before.
In fact, all the women were appealing. The mannequins had assumed the mannerisms of life. Each was breathing and blinking, and a girlish tremor went through any one of them he looked at. In fact, they were warm and soft, as he discovered when he tagged one for removal; he had caught her unflanked and “jumped” her. She gazed at him with muted hurt and walked sadly off the board, making him feel guilty—and she was only a mannequin. There had to be magic!
Alyc was not a skilled player, as he had suspected, and he won the game handily. The last one he removed from the board was her; he had almost lost track as the positions changed during the game. It had been an experience quite different from what he had anticipated.
The mannequins lost their clothing and returned to their immobility. Lysander and Alyc became as they were, naked serfs. The whole thing was a bit hard to believe.
They were about to depart the chamber, when another serf woman stepped up. “I wish to challenge the winner,” she said.
Lysander looked at her. She was spectacular, with golden hair, deep green eyes, and a figure that made Alyc’s look somewhat dumpy. “Is that permitted? We were assigned this game by the computer.”
“It is permitted if there is no other assignment for the chamber,” the woman said. “Let me introduce myself. I am Jod’e, android; I work for Citizen Troal.”
“I am Lysander, android, working for Citizen Blue,” he said. “This is Alyc, who also works for Citizen Blue. She is showing me around, and I’m not sure—“
“It’s the custom,” Alyc said with disgust. “They can cut in if they want to, and you have to play a challenger one game.”
He sympathized with Alyc’s annoyance. Apparently a handsome new serf was fair game for the sharks. It surely was worse when the new serf was a shapely woman. But he did not want to make a scene. “One game, then,” he said shortly.
“A variant,” Jod’e said. “I will be a goose. You must kiss each goose you jump, and if you jump me without recognizing me, I win regardless of the position.”
He looked at Alyc. “A variant?”
“She challenged you,” Alyc said grimly. “You can insist on the same rules as the prior game. But usually a serf goes along. It’s all supposed to be fun, after all.”
Lysander was not pleased. He was a spy, true, and his loyalty was not to this planet. But apart from that, his sense of fair play was straight. It was a matter of honor, a concept which was ingrained in the Hectare brain. He had made a commitment to Alyc, and he did not care to abridge it. Jod’e was trying to lure away Alyc’s boyfriend, and that seemed less than right at this stage. Evidently this sort of thing had happened before, and Alyc was used to it, but he did not like being a party to it. Let his association with Alyc run its natural course; if later they agreed to break it up, then he was fair game for predatory women. Also, Alyc was a useful contact with Citizen Blue, so he had reason to remain with her.
Well, he would play the game. But the interloper would get nothing from it. “I agree,” he said. “Your variant.”
Jod’e smiled. It was a phenomenal smile, crafted to impress, and he was impressed. At the same time he wondered why she was making this effort to vamp him. Was it just because he was here? Or to spite Alyc? But Jod’e seemed not to know Alyc, or to have known of Lysander before seeing him at this game. Was she a shark who simply took whatever offered and threw it away when finished?
Jod’e stepped into the key circle, and the mannequins walked to their places. The transformation occurred again. This time all looked like Jod’e, and a stunning collection it was. Every one of them was a vision of delight.
“Turn your back a moment, while I shuffle,” Jod’e said.
He turned away. When he turned back, the assembly looked the same—but he knew that Jod’e had switched places with one of the mannequins, so that he could not identify her by location. He thought it would be easy to pick her out from among the mannequins, but discovered it was not; he did not know her as well as Alyc, and there was nothing to distinguish her. Those mannequins were amazing!