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- Уолтер Тевис
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On
Thursday
afternoon
Beltik
said
,
“
I
’
m
supposed
to
move
into
an
apartment
tomorrow
.
The
hotel
bill
is
killing
me
.
”
They
were
in
the
middle
of
the
Benoni
Defense
.
She
had
just
played
the
P
-
K5
he
had
taught
her
,
on
move
eight
—
a
move
Beltik
said
came
from
a
player
named
Mikenas
.
She
looked
up
from
the
position
.
“
Where
is
it
?
The
apartment
.
”
“
New
Circle
Road
.
I
won
’
t
be
coming
by
so
much
.
”
“
It
’
s
not
that
far
.
”
“
Maybe
not
.
But
I
’
ll
be
taking
classes
.
I
ought
to
get
a
part
-
time
job
.
”
“
You
could
move
in
here
,
”
she
said
.
“
Free
.
”
He
looked
at
her
for
a
moment
and
smiled
.
His
teeth
weren
’
t
really
so
bad
.
“
I
thought
you
’
d
never
ask
,
”
he
said
.
*
*
*
She
had
not
been
so
immersed
in
chess
since
she
was
a
little
girl
.
Beltik
was
in
class
three
afternoons
a
week
and
two
mornings
,
and
she
spent
that
time
studying
his
books
.
She
played
mentally
through
game
after
game
,
learning
new
variations
,
seeing
stylistic
differences
in
offense
and
defense
,
biting
her
lip
sometimes
in
excitement
over
a
dazzling
move
or
a
subtlety
of
position
,
and
at
other
times
wearied
by
a
sense
of
the
hopeless
depth
of
chess
,
of
its
endlessness
,
move
after
move
,
threat
after
threat
,
complication
after
complication
.
She
had
heard
of
the
genetic
code
that
could
shape
an
eye
or
hand
from
passing
proteins
.
Deoxyribonucleic
acid
.
It
contained
the
entire
set
of
instructions
for
constructing
a
respiratory
system
and
a
digestive
one
,
as
well
as
the
grip
of
an
infant
’
s
hand
.
Chess
was
like
that
.
The
geometry
of
a
position
could
be
read
and
reread
and
not
exhausted
of
possibility
.
You
saw
deeply
into
this
layer
of
it
,
but
there
was
another
layer
beyond
that
,
and
another
.
