On the way to the state math competition last Saturday, Younger sprawled in the back seat of the car with a friend, the two young men engaging in chess matches on Younger’s phone. First, a dark head bent over the digital arrangement of pawns, rooks, bishops, knights, and royalty, then, the phone exchanging hands, a fairer head lowered over the tiny board.
After suffering a couple losses, however, Younger decided to test an as yet untried tactic.
“Not Bob,” I heard him murmur in feigned disbelief and shock, as his friend’s finger hovered above the screen, clearly on the verge of ending the career–as well as the life–of one favored pawn. “You can’t kill Bob? He has a wife and five kids.”
Oh, the poor widows and orphans of these pawns moved so recklessly across a checkered board.
When will man cease to use these small, faceless creatures for their own morbid amusement?
And the real tragedy is Bob died at least three more times that day.
Oh, the inhumanity.