Fan Fiction ❯ Nineteen By Nineteen ❯ Nineteen By Nineteen ( One-Shot )
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By: Amor 
Two products of Earth far from home.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Psychological | Type: Vignette | Uploaded On: 11.12.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 559 | Visits: 535 | Status: Completed
Two products of Earth far from home.
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Sci-fi / Psychological | Type: Vignette | Uploaded On: 11.12.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 559 | Visits: 535 | Status: Completed
Nineteen by Nineteen
Amor
Go, I find, is a uniquely human game.
It's only by purest chance that I ever got to find out-- having that set I bought at the bookstore on a lark in my backpack the night they landed. I had never really played before, so in those first stages when they took me on board and whisked me away to the stars without so much as a goodbye to the people I cared about, I stumbled around as much as they did.
But I mastered it. The set was rather basic: a glossy rule book, a flat cardboard board, and plastic beads for stones. Nineteen lines by nineteen lines, a hundred and eighty stones each for white and black. None of the rich craftsmanship or even standing board which was traditional. It was a bit sad that the culture I brought onto the ship from Earth was so diluted of culture itself.
We played a lot-- me and Ksr (that's the best way to print his name in English, he assures me), to pass the time on long voyages between stars. When we finally figured out how to talk to each other, across the species gap, Ksr and I were quite good friends, and though he was technically hundreds of years old he seemed as though he was the same age as me. It was funny.
I would always win. Even when I didn't really no how to play, I eked out a victory. They could never program a computer to play go. They managed to make that Deep Blue thing that could play chess, but in go there are just so many possibilities and so much strategy, emotion, depth in each play. It turns out that aliens can't figure it out too.
We still play, Ksr and I, to this day. I always win, but he never complains. Maybe needing to win is a human trait as well.
I don't know how long I've been out here-- they don't measure time like we do, and I've forgotten what even the conversion rate is. But it's been a while. I'd like to say I'm homesick constantly, but over time you forget, except for those nights where you lie in your bunk tossing and turning and suddenly, desperately remembering everyone an everything back on Earth, and willing to give anything just for one more day there.
Maybe one day I'll give in and go back home. But I can't yet-- not when I'm at the other end of the galaxy, not when I have a commitment to this ship, not when I have grown close to these complete and utter aliens.
Sometimes I fear that when and if I go home, I'll be changed so much that Earth won't be home any more, that I'll have turned into an alien in a human body.
That's why I play go. Because with each stone I lay, it's a reassurance that I'm still human.
---
Author's Notes:
This is a short, just meant to expand on a random idea I had. I like it as is, and yes I did keep it deliberately vague. Please do not ask me to write more.
Amor
Go, I find, is a uniquely human game.
It's only by purest chance that I ever got to find out-- having that set I bought at the bookstore on a lark in my backpack the night they landed. I had never really played before, so in those first stages when they took me on board and whisked me away to the stars without so much as a goodbye to the people I cared about, I stumbled around as much as they did.
But I mastered it. The set was rather basic: a glossy rule book, a flat cardboard board, and plastic beads for stones. Nineteen lines by nineteen lines, a hundred and eighty stones each for white and black. None of the rich craftsmanship or even standing board which was traditional. It was a bit sad that the culture I brought onto the ship from Earth was so diluted of culture itself.
We played a lot-- me and Ksr (that's the best way to print his name in English, he assures me), to pass the time on long voyages between stars. When we finally figured out how to talk to each other, across the species gap, Ksr and I were quite good friends, and though he was technically hundreds of years old he seemed as though he was the same age as me. It was funny.
I would always win. Even when I didn't really no how to play, I eked out a victory. They could never program a computer to play go. They managed to make that Deep Blue thing that could play chess, but in go there are just so many possibilities and so much strategy, emotion, depth in each play. It turns out that aliens can't figure it out too.
We still play, Ksr and I, to this day. I always win, but he never complains. Maybe needing to win is a human trait as well.
I don't know how long I've been out here-- they don't measure time like we do, and I've forgotten what even the conversion rate is. But it's been a while. I'd like to say I'm homesick constantly, but over time you forget, except for those nights where you lie in your bunk tossing and turning and suddenly, desperately remembering everyone an everything back on Earth, and willing to give anything just for one more day there.
Maybe one day I'll give in and go back home. But I can't yet-- not when I'm at the other end of the galaxy, not when I have a commitment to this ship, not when I have grown close to these complete and utter aliens.
Sometimes I fear that when and if I go home, I'll be changed so much that Earth won't be home any more, that I'll have turned into an alien in a human body.
That's why I play go. Because with each stone I lay, it's a reassurance that I'm still human.
---
Author's Notes:
This is a short, just meant to expand on a random idea I had. I like it as is, and yes I did keep it deliberately vague. Please do not ask me to write more.