(2 of 3)
Suddenly the phone line rings, causing Berliner to jump with alarm. The connection to Hitech is broken. Frantically, Computer Scientist Carl Ebeling, a former student of Berliner's, redials the number that restores the vital link to Hitech. "This is a perpetual problem in hotels," mutters Berliner. "Sometimes we have to go to the chief operator and tell her we'll strangle her if she puts any calls through." Soon after this, Hitech makes what Berliner thinks is probably a mistake, but he's not completely sure. "Whenever we disagree," he whispers, "usually it's right." To his relief, the game soon turns decisively in Hitech's favor. A few minutes later, Wichman concedes and marches out to the lobby to calm his nerves with a cigarette. "That thing doesn't miss much," he says. "I guess my first reaction when I found out I had to play it was 'Oh, no!' Computers are so meticulous. There's no psychology involved. You can't even stare your opponent in the eyes."
Wichman cheers up considerably after Hitech makes mincemeat of two more players: an inventory manager for a Racine, Wis., restaurant and a university student from South Bend, Ind. The latter winces as an unfeeling observer calls out, "You didn't let the machine beatcha, did ya?" Contestant Daniel Kamen, an Arlington Heights, Ill., chiropractor, is considerably more empathetic. "It's a monster! You can't blow smoke in its face," he complains. "It doesn't care if you're obnoxious or if you have bad breath. You just can't rattle it. I wouldn't want to play Hitech in a tournament, but I'd sure like to borrow it for a year."
After three consecutive wins, Hitech draws a tougher player. Berliner becomes visibly nervous when he discovers that the opponent is Grand Master Sergei Kudrin, a slender Soviet emigre with long wavy hair and sleepy eyes. Kudrin has been matched against Hitech in tournament play twice before -- and has beaten it both times. A large crowd of onlookers presses in around the table. "This is going to be a wild game," Berliner predicts.
Kudrin stares down at the chessboard with perfect concentration, looking up from time to time like a swimmer surfacing from a deep dive. As Kudrin meditates, even the smallest background noises are amplified. The ticking of the timer clock on the table, the clinking of the chandelier on the wall, the splash of drinking water into plastic cups all seem unbearably nerve-racking. On the twelfth move Kudrin, playing Black, guilefully offers Hitech a pawn. Hitech can't resist taking it -- thereby opening up the board to a masterful attack. From then on, it's Kudrin's game. Mikhail Tal wanders over from time ( to time, nodding approval. "The game is over," says a downcast Berliner, "only Hitech doesn't know it yet."
Soon the situation deteriorates so far that Berliner intervenes, pronouncing it hopeless. Kudrin smiles. "Playing against Hitech is always fun. As a machine, it's very, very strong. If I play badly, I know it will win." Reviewing the match, Berliner shows Kudrin an alternate move near the end of the game that would have been as good as the move he made. "Hitech saw this?" asks Kudrin, impressed. "That's very nice."