The Thinking Machine by Jacques Foutreu, it was absolutely impossible. Twenty five chess
masters from the world at large FOE, gathered in Boston for the annual Championships,
unanimously declared it impossible. And unanimity on any given point is an unusual
mental condition for chess masters. Not one would concede for an instant that it
was within the range of human achievement. Some grew red in the face as
they argued it. Others smiled loftily and were silent. Still others dismissed the
matter, in a word, as wholly absurd. A casual remark by the
distinguished scientist and logician, Professor Augustus s. F X van Dusan provoked the
discussion. He had in the past aroused bitter disputes by some chance. Remark,
in fact, had been once a sort of controversial center of the sciences.
It had been due to his modest announcement of a startling and unorthodox hypothesis
that he had been invited to vacate the chair of philosophy in a great university.
Later that university had felt honoured when he accepted its degree of LD.
For a score of years educational and scientific institutions of the world had amused themselves
by crowding degrees upon him. He had initials that stood for things he couldn't
pronounce, degrees from France, England, Russia, Germany, Italy, Sweden
and Spain. These were expressed recognition of the fact that his was the foremost
brain in the sciences. The imprint of his crabbed personality lay heavily on half
a dozen of its branches. Finally, there came a time when argument was
respectfully silent in the face of one of his conclusions. The remark which had
rayed the chess masters of the world into so formidable and unanimous a descent,
was made by Professor van Dusen in the presence of three other gentlemen. Of
note, one of these, doctor Charles Elbert, happened to be a chess
enthusiast. Chess is a shameless perversion of the functions of the brain, was
Professor van Duson's declaration, in his perpetually irritated voice. It is a sheer
waste of effort, greater because it is possibly the most difficult of all fixed
abstract problems. Of course, logic will solve it. Logic will solve any
problem, not most of them, but any problem. A thorough understanding of
its rules would enable anyone to defeature greatest chess players. It would be inevitable,
just as inevitable as that two and two make four. Not sometimes,
but all the time. I don't know chess because I never do useless things.
But I could take a few hours of competent instruction and defeat a man
who has devoted his life to it. His mind is cramped, bound down
to the logic of chess. Mine is not mine, employs logic in its
widest scope. Doctor Elbert shook his head vigorously. It is impossible, he
asserted. Nothing is impossible, snapped the scientist. The human mind can do
anything. It is all we have to lift us above the brute creation.
For Heaven's sake, leave us that. The aggressive tone, the uncompromising egotism,
brought a flush to Doctor Elbert's face. Professor Van Duson affected many persons
that way, particularly those fellows savants, who themselves men of distinction had ideas
of their own. Do you know the purposes of chess? It's countless combinations?
Asked doctor Albert. No was the crabbed reply, I know nothing whatever
of the game beyond the general purpose, which I understand to be to move
certain pieces in certain directions to stop an opponent from moving his king. Is
that correct, yes, said Doctor Albert slowly. But I never heard it
stated just that way before. Then, if that is correct, I maintain
that the true logician can defeat the chess expert by the pure mechanical rules of
logic. I'll take a few hours some time acquaint myself with the moves of
the pieces and defeat you to convince you, Professor van Dusen glared savagely into
the eyes of doctor Albert. Not me, said doctor Albert. You say
any one you, for instance, might defeat the greatest chess player. Would
you be willing to meet the greatest chess player after you acquaint yourself with the
game? Certainly, said the scientist. I have frequently found it necessary to
make a fool of myself to convince people. I'll do it again. This,
then, was the acrimonious beginning of the discussion, which aroused chess masters
and brought open descent from eminent men who had not dared for years to dispute
any assertion by the distinguished Professor van Dusen. It was arranged that at the
conclusion of the championships, Professor van Dusen should meet the winner. This happened
to be Tchaikowski, the Russian, who had been championed for half a dozen
years. After this expected result of the tournament, Hillsbury, a noted American
master, spent a morning with profess Sir van Dussin in the latter's modest apartments
on Beacon Hill. He left there with a sadly puzzled face. That afternoon,
Professor van Dusen met the Russian champion. The newspapers had set a great
deal about the affair, and hundreds were present to witness the game. There
was a little murmur of astonishment when Professor van Duson appeared. He was slight,
almost childlike in body, and his thin shoulders seemed to droop beneath the
weight of his enormous head. He wore a number eight hat. His brow
rose straight and dome like, and a heavy shock of long yellow hair gave
him almost a grotesque appearance. The eyes were narrow slits of blue, squinting
eternally through thick spectacles. The face was small, clean shaven, drawn and
white. With the pallor of the student, His lips made a perfectly straight
line. His hands were remarkable for their whiteness, their flexibility, and for
the length of the slender fingers. One glance showed that physical development had never
entered into the schedule of the scientists fifty years of life. The Russian smiled
as he sat down at the chest table. He felt that he was humoring
a crank. The other masters were grouped nearby, curiously expectant. Professor van
Dusan began the game, opening with a queen's gambit. At his fifth move,
made without the slightest hesitation, the smile left the Russian's face. At
the tenth the masters grew intensely eager. The Russian champion was playing for honor
now. Professor van Duson's fourteenth move was King's castle to Queen's four check.
He announced after a long study of the board, the Russian protected his king
with a knight. Professor van Duson noted the play, then leaned back in
his chair with fingertips pressed together. His eyes left the board and dreamily studied
the ceiling. For at least ten minutes. There was no sound, no
movement. Then mate, in fifteen moves, he said quietly. There was
a quick gasp of astonishment. It took the practiced eyes of the masters several
minutes to verify the announcement, but the Russian champion saw and leaned back in
his chair, a little white and dazed. He was not astonished. He
was helplessly floundering in a maze of incomprehensible things. Suddenly he arose and grasped
the slender hand of his conqueror. You have never played chess before, he
asked. Never, mon dieu, You are not a man. You are
a brain, a machine, a thinking machine. It's a child's game,
said the scientist abruptly. There was no note of exultation in his voice.
It was still the irritable, impersonal tone which was habitual. This then was
Professor Augustus s f X van Dusen pH d L d frs M D et
cetera, et cetera, et cetera. And this is how he came to
be known to the world at large as the Thinking Machine. The Russian's phrase
had been applied to the scientist as a title by a newspaper reporter hutcheson hatch.
It had stuck end of the thinking machine and