It took up a position across the board from him and stared. Theman completed the game, smiling. Then he set up the board again, roseand fetched a can of beer from his pack. He popped the top.
When he returned, he discovered that White's King's Pawn had beenadvanced to K4. His brow furrowed. He turned his head, searching thebar, meeting his own puzzled gaze in the grimy mirror. He lookedunder the table. He took a drink of beer and seated himself.
He reached out and moved his Pawn to K4. A moment later, he sawWhite's King's Knight rise slowly into the air and drift forward tosettle upon KB3.
He stared for a long while into the emptiness across the tablebefore he advanced his own Knight to his KB3. White's Knight moved totake his Pawn. He dismissed the novelty of the situation and movedhis Pawn to Q3. He all but forgot the absence of a tangible opponentas the White Knight dropped back to its KB3. He paused to take a sipof beer, but no sooner had he placed the can upon the tabletop than itrose again, passed across the board and was upended. A gurglingnoise followed. Then the can fell to the floor, bouncing, ringingwith an empty sound.
"I'm sorry," he said, rising and returning to his pack. "I'd haveoffered you one if I'd thought you were something that might like it."
He opened two more cans, returned with them, placed one near theedge of the table, one at his own right hand.
"Thank you," came a soft, precise voice from a point beyond it.
The can was raised, tilted slightly, returned to the tabletop.
"My name is Martin," the man said.
"Call me Tlingel," said the other. "I had thought that perhapsyour kind was extinct. I am pleased that you at least have survived