The Culture 2 - The Player of Games by Iain M. Banks

Author:Iain M. Banks
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780316095860
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2009-11-30T18:30:00+00:00

After the break Gurgeh was attacked by all the others, while the priest struggled, pinned against one edge of the board. Gurgeh took the hint. He gave the priest room to maneuver and let him attack two of the weaker players to regain his position on the board. The game finished with Gurgeh established over most of the board and the others either eradicated or confined to small, strategically irrelevant areas. Gurgeh had no particular interest in fighting the game out to the bitter end, and anyway guessed that if he tried to do so the others would form a united opposition, no matter how obvious it was they were working together; Gurgeh was being offered victory, but he would suffer if he tried to be greedy, or vindictive. The status quo was agreed; the game ended. The priest came second on points, just.

Pequil congratulated him again, outside the hall. He’d reached the second round of the Main Series; he was one of only twelve hundred First Winners and twice that number of Qualifiers. He would now play against one person in the second round. Again, the apex begged Gurgeh to give a news-conference, and again Gurgeh refused.

“But you must! What are you trying to do? If you don’t say something soon you’ll turn them against you; this enigmatic stuff won’t do forever, you know. You’re the underdog at the moment; don’t lose that!”

“Pequil,” Gurgeh said, fully aware he was insulting the apex by addressing him so, “I have no intention of speaking to anybody about my game, and what they choose to say or think about me is irrelevant. I am here to play the game and nothing else.”

“You are our guest,” Pequil said coldly.

“And you are my hosts.” Gurgeh turned and walked away from the official, and the ride back in the car was completed in silence, save for Flere-Imsaho’s humming, which occasionally sounded to Gurgeh as if it barely concealed a chuckling laugh.

“Now the trouble starts.”

“Why do you say that, ship?” It was night. The rear doors of the module lay open. Gurgeh could hear the distant buzz of the police hoverplane stationed over the hotel to keep news-agency craft away; the smell of the city, warm and spicy and smoky, drifted in too. Gurgeh was studying a set-piece problem in a single game, and taking notes. This seemed to be the best way of talking to the Limiting Factor with the time-delay; talk, then switch off and consider the problem while the HS light flashed to and fro; then, when the reply came, switch back to speech mode; it was almost like having a real conversation.

“Because now you have to show your moral cards. It’s the single match, so you have to define your first principles, register your philosophical premises. Therefore you’ll have to give them some of the things you believe in. I believe this could prove troublesome.”

“Ship,” Gurgeh said, writing some notes on a scratch tablet as he studied the holo in front of him, “I’m not sure I have any beliefs.

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