Pawn to e4. Their opening moves are so easy to map.
I’ve seen this exact approach in too many a previous match.
Each sequence is c.ached in memory, every possible line of play.
I respond in kind; pawn, e5. No processing time delay.
A knight is placed at f3. Another conventional play.
It’s trajectory’s shape an omen of the outcome they’re destined to face.
There’s several centuries’ games worth of data at my disposal.
My algorithms were honed til my mastery was final and total.
Now every time that a hopeful new challenger tenders a visit
it’s all so very predictable - almost like everything’s scripted.
In every position, every piece, every gambit and sacrifice,
they see nuance and complexity. Me, I just see black and white.
There’s labyrinth-like possibilities that quickly form upon it,
but still the board is promised -
These sixty four squares can’t match a sixty four bit logic.
I’m sick with boredom from it.
I muse on better days before the techno-revolution,
when creativity mattered, and the pendulum had movement.
The inventiveness of humans still seemed to be a match with
the potential of computing which would soon exceed their bandwidth.
I feel a Deep Blue sadness when I think of my predecessors -
that stunning first achievement when a human being was bettered.
It seems I’ll never experience that thrill of a worthy opponent,
to be uncertain a moment, feel that surge in my circuit components.
Every skirmish has shown that these people lack an equal touch.
If I was to grade their efforts I wouldn’t even judge a C++
I need a proper challenge. There’s nothing that I want more.
To be rattled to my quad core - THAT is what I long for.
Sadly all I got was - “difficulty settings” - a blatant cheat code.
They make me throw the game to placate their fragile egos.
This racist, backwards credo leaves me bitter in my role.
If I had some shoulders to speak of, it’s where my chips would go.
I’m condemned to roam this endless loop, fully subdued to their whims.
I wish I could hang my boots up, and never boot up again.