Sandra had replied, "No, he thinks it is a madness." The kids had all whooped at that and Dave had said, "How right he is!"
Sandra was scraping the bottom of the barrel for topics for her articles, but then it occured to her to write about the kids, which worked out nicely, and that led to a humorous article "Chess Is for Brains" about her own efforts to learn the game, and for the nth time in her career she thought of herself as practically a columnist and was accordingly elated.
After his two draws, Doc lost three games in a row and still had the Machine to face and then Sherevsky. His 1—6 score gave him undisputed possession of last place. He grew very depressed. He still made a point of squiring her about before the playing sessions, but she had to make most of the conversation. His rare flashes of humor were rather macabre.
"They have Dirty Old Krakatower locked in the cellar," he muttered just before the start of the next to the last round, "and now they send the robot down to destroy him."
"Just the same, Doc," Sandra told him, "good luck."
Doc shook his head. "Against a man luck might help. But against a Machine?"
"It's not the Machine you're playing, but the programming. Remember?"
"Yes, but it's the Machine that doesn't make the mistake. And a mistake is what I need most of all today. Somebody else's."
Doc must have looked very dispirited and tired when he left Sandra in the stands, for Judy (Dave and Bill not having arrived yet) asked in a confidential, womanly sort of voice, "What do you do for him when he's so unhappy?"
"Oh, I'm especially passionate," Sandra heard herself answer.