“A few grains of rice, really, Your Lordship”
The legend of checkers is a beautiful tale, and I was long fascinated by the humility of the wiseman who, as a payment for inventing it, asked for a little food: one grain on the first square, then two on the second, four, eight, etc. — up to 264 grains, i.e. a few millenia of current global rice production. I never really like the game, but I have been feeling sad tonight, for no apparent reason. I checked the news, and I saw that Checkers are not only a finite game, but a finished one. That must be the reason of my loneliness: Go is the only mystery left, before the Singularity.
I’ll be back to normal topic tomorrow: lots of news, indeed.