“That constitutes a third definition, then. How much do I owe you?”
Dr. Daedalus proposed a trade. “Your sign says that you also sell games. For some time, I’ve wanted to obtain a copy of the game Go. It’s sometimes referred to as the Chinese version of chess. I played it with the nanny as a child, and I would like to play it again. Do you know this game?”
Emily had heard of Go, but she had never played it nor seen an edition offered for sale. “Let me see if I can get it for you. It will be a diverting side quest for me. It may take several weeks, if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Whatever weeks are,” Dr. Daedalus said.
Through her usual channels, Emily could not find Dr. Daedalus’s Go, though she did locate a book titled Ancient Games for Fun and Amusement, in which the basic setup for Go was described: a board with a 19 × 19 grid, and 361 stones （181 black, 180 white）。 Emily decided to manufacture the board herself. She cut down a Sequoia tree and fashioned the board from its wood. She added a secret drawer for storing pieces, and then she carved an intricate pattern of spectacles and Dr. Daedalus’s name on the sides.
When she returned to the optometry, the doctor was not with a patient, but working on a small glass sculpture of still indeterminate form. Unexpectedly, Emily felt vulnerable as she presented Dr. Daedalus with her creation. “If it suits you to do so, I thought you could fashion the pieces out of glass.”
Dr. Daedalus paused to consider the board. “It is a fine board. No one else will have anything like it, and I am intrigued by this proposal. But what if I made the dark pieces out of glass, and the light ones from stone? I am told you have an abundance of rocks on your land.” Emily agreed to gather the rocks, and Dr. Daedalus offered Emily her hand to shake. “We are settled, then.”
“It is an imperfect trade, Dr. Daedalus,” Emily apologized. “I fear I’ve burdened you with an unequal portion of the work.”
“There are no perfect trades,” Dr. Daedalus countered. “And I shall enjoy the diversion.”
“May I ask what you are making? It doesn’t appear to be glasses.”
“It will eventually be a prize for the most charitable person in Friendship,” Dr. Daedalus said.
“How is the most charitable person in Friendship determined?” Emily asked.
“I believe it has something to do with the number of gifts you’ve given.”
“This town.” Emily shook her head. “I knew the gifting was fishy. I felt an ulterior motive to it all along.”
“Miss Marks, that’s quite a cynical way of looking at things. Do you think the promise of a glass object is motivation enough for a person to be charitable year-round?” Dr. Daedalus finished the sculpture. “Not to deprecate my talents, but I suspect this would be a rather minor motivation.” She held out the heart to her. “It’s still warm.”
For reasons she could not explain to Daedalus, the crystal heart moved Emily deeply and she felt like she could cry, if it were possible for her to cry.
That night, she wrote a poem:
O crystal heart,
Unbeating lovely:
Such Beauty
Must have
Consequence.
In the morning, she left the poem under the bag of rocks, on the porch of Dr. Daedalus’s store.
DOCTOR SEEKS GAMER
In her ninth month of pregnancy, Emily came across an advertisement on the Friendship board:
Doctor seeks Gamer, a person of sharp intellect, for competitive matches of the strategy game Go. Will teach you how to play, if necessary. Please arrive at my house in Verdant Valley, Tuesday nights, at 8 p.m., PST.
On Tuesday night, Emily rode Pixel to Verdant Valley. It was, in theory, getting more difficult to mount her horse. She once had read that pregnant women shouldn’t ride horses, but she felt certain those rules didn’t apply to her.
When she arrived, Dr. Daedalus was waiting in her doorway. “Welcome, Stranger,” Dr. Daedalus called. The doctor did not seem surprised to see Emily, nor did she seem surprised that no one else had answered her advertisement.
The Doctor’s house was Spanish style, with a red barrel-tile roof. Bougainvillea clung to the stucco, and there were two skinny palm trees in the front. “Your house and its flora are not typical of our region, Doctor,” Emily observed.
The Doctor invited Emily into her library, which had wallpaper printed with oriental waves. She poured Emily a cup of tea, and then she explained Go to her. “The rules are simple,” the doctor said. “Surround the other player’s stones with your own stones. Within this simplicity is a near infinite complexity, and that is why it’s a favorite with mathematicians and programmers.” Dr. Daedalus gave the white stones to Emily, and she took the black stones for herself.
“What is a ‘programmer’？” Emily asked.
“A programmer is a diviner of possible outcomes, and a seer of unseen worlds.”
“My. Is this something they do where you come from?”
“Yes. I derive from a superstitious people.” Dr. Daedalus hesitated. “But that is not how I came to Go. I used to dabble in mathematics, but I had no gift for it.”
Emily lost the first three games, though she came closer to winning each time. “I should be heading back to Foglands now,” Emily said. “I feel I’ve lost more than enough for one evening.”
“I’ll walk you,” Dr. Daedalus offered.
“It’s quite far. It’s, perhaps, eleven screens away, and the path is labyrinthine. And actually, I rode.”
“Do you not worry about riding your horse during your pregnancy?”
“I don’t.”
“Will you come next Tuesday, then?” the doctor asked.
“If weather permits, Dr. Daedalus,” Emily said. “May I call you Edna, or Ed even? If we are to be friends, it is cumbersome to say Dr. Daedalus each time.”
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“I would prefer to be called Daedalus,” the doctor said.
“It eliminates two syllables, so I shall count it a victory.”
They played through the fall and into the winter. Emily steadily improved at Go, and in December, she beat Daedalus for the first time.
Emily’s stomach was impossibly large at this point, and Daedalus insisted on walking her home.
“Why does a person choose to live in Upper Foglands?” Daedalus asked.
“It suits me,” she said.
“That is a terse answer. Shall I admit I am curious about you?” Daedalus said. “One likes to understand the background of a woman who has destroyed you in Go.”
“Daedalus, I have found that the most intimate relationships allow for a great deal of privacy within them.”
Daedalus did not press her, and they walked in silence for a while. “My life was quite easy for a long time,” Emily said. “It would be a lie to pretend that I have suffered more than anyone else. I had work I liked and was considered somewhat good at. But my partner died, and now I detest my work, and I have been blue. More than blue really. I have been in the depths of despair. My grandfather, Fred, who I adored, recently died. It begins to seem to me that life is little more than a series of losses, and as you must know by now, I hate losing. And I suppose I came to Friendship because I no longer wished to be in the place I lived and sometimes I no longer wished to even be in my body.”