Eugene Petrov - The Twelve Chairs

philosopher and chess player Dr. Lasker. He is the only person in the world

who wears those green socks." Capablanca glowered again.

The marble steps were quickly brought up for Lasker to alight on, and

the cheerful ex-champion, blowing from his sleeve a speck of dust which had

settled on him over Silesia f ell into the arms of one-eye. The latter put

his arm around Lasker's waist and walked him over to the champion, saying:

"Make up your quarrel! On behalf of the popular masses of Vasyuki, I

urge you to make up your quarrel."

Capablanca sighed loudly and, shaking hands with the veteran, said: "I

always admired your idea of moving QK5 to QB3 in the Spanish gambit."

"Hooray!" exclaimed one-eye. "Simple and convincing in the style of a

champion."

And the incredible crowd joined in with: "Hooray! Vivat! Banzai! Simple

and convincing in the style of a champion!"

Express trains sped into the twelve Vasyuki stations, depositing ever

greater crowds of chess enthusiasts.

Hardly had the sky begun to glow from the brightly lit advertisements,

when a white horse was led through the streets of the town. It was the only

horse left after the mechanization of the town's transportation. By special

decree it had been renamed a stallion, although it had actually been a mare

the whole of its life. The lovers of chess acclaimed it with palm leaves and

chessboards.

"Don't worry," continued Ostap, "my scheme will guarantee the town an

unprecedented boom in your production forces. Just think what will happen

when the tournament is over and the visitors have left. The citizens of

Moscow, crowded together on account of the housing shortage, will come

flocking to your beautiful town. The capital will be automatically

transferred to Vasyuki. The government will move here. Vasyuki will be

renamed New Moscow, and Moscow will become Old Vasyuki. The people of

Leningrad and Kharkov will gnash their teeth in fury but won't be able to do

a thing about it. New Moscow will soon become the most elegant city in

Europe and, soon afterwards, in the whole world."

"The whole world!! I" gasped the citizens of Vasyuki in a daze.

"Yes, and, later on, in the universe. Chess thinking-which has turned a

regional centre into the capital of the world-will become an applied science

and will invent ways of interplanetary communication. Signals will be sent

from Vasyuki to Mars, Jupiter and Neptune. Communications with Venus will be

as easy as going from Rybinsk to Yaroslavl. And then who knows what may

happen? In maybe eight or so years the first interplanetary chess tournament

in the history of the world will be held in Vasyuki."

Ostap wiped his noble brow. He was so hungry he could have eaten a

roasted knight from the chessboard.

"Ye-es," said the one-eyed man with a sigh, looking around the dusty

room with an insane light in his eye, "but how are we to put the plan into

effect, to lay the basis, so to say?"

They all looked at the Grossmelster tensely.

"As I say, in practice the plan depends entirely on your activity. I

will do all the organizing myself. There will be no actual expense, except

for the cost of the telegrams."

One-eyed nudged his companions. "Well?" he asked, "what do you say?"

"Let's do it, let's do it!" cried the citizens.

"How much money is needed for the . . . er . . . telegrams?"

"A mere bagatelle. A hundred roubles."

"We only have twenty-one roubles in the cash box. We realize, of

course, that it is by no means enough . . ."

But the Grossmeister proved to be accommodating. "All right," he said,

"give me the twenty roubles."

"Will it be enough?" asked one-eye.

"It'll be enough for the initial telegrams. Later on we can start

collecting contributions. Then there'll be so much money we shan't know what

to do with it."

Putting the money away in his green field jacket, the Grossmeister

reminded the gathered citizens of his lecture and simultaneous match on one

hundred and sixty boards, and, taking leave of them until evening, made his

way to the Cardboard-worker Club to find Ippolit Matveyevich.

"I'm starving," said Vorobyaninov in a tremulous voice.

He was already sitting at the window of the box office, but had not

collected one kopek; he could not even buy a hunk of bread. In front of him

lay a green wire basket intended for the money. It was the kind that is used

in middle-class houses to hold the cutlery.

"Listen, Vorobyaninov," said Ostap, "stop your cash transactions for an

hour and come and eat at the caterers' union canteen. I'll describe the

situation as we go. By the way, you need a shave and brush-up. You look like

a tramp. A Grossmeister cannot have such suspicious-looking associates."

"I haven't sold a single ticket," Ippolit Matveyevich informed him.

"Don't worry. People will come flocking in towards evening. The town

has already contributed twenty roubles for the organization of an

international chess tournament."

"Then why bother about the simultaneous match?" whispered his manager.

"You may lose the games anyway. With twenty roubles we can now buy tickets

for the ship-the Karl Liebknecht has just come in-travel quietly to

Stalingrad and wait for the theatre to arrive. We can probably open the

chairs there. Then we'll be rich and the world will belong to us."

"You shouldn't say such silly things on an empty stomach. It has a bad

effect on the brain. We might reach Stalingrad on twenty roubles, but what

are we going to eat with? Vitamins, my dear comrade marshal, are not given

away free. On the other hand, we can get thirty roubles out of the locals

for the lecture and match."

"They'll slaughter us!" said Vorobyaninov.

"It's a risk, certainly. We may be manhandled a bit. But anyway, I have

a nice little plan which will save you, at least. But we can talk about that

later on. Meanwhile, let's go and try the local dishes."

Towards six o'clock the Grossmeister, replete, freshly shaven, and

smelling of eau-de-Cologne, went into the box office of the Cardboardworker

Club.

Vorobyaninov, also freshly shaven, was busily selling tickets.

"How's it going? " asked the Grossmeister quietly.

"Thirty have gone in and twenty have paid to play," answered his

manager.

"Sixteen roubles. That's bad, that's bad!" -

"What do you mean, Bender? Just look at the number of people standing

in line. They're bound to beat us up."

"Don't think about it. When they hit you, you can cry. In the meantime,

don't dally. Learn to do business."

An hour later there were thirty-five roubles in the cash box. The

people in the clubroom were getting restless.

"Close the window and give me the money!" said Bender. "Now listen!

Here's five roubles. Go down to the quay, hire a boat for a couple of hours,

and wait for me by the riverside just below the warehouse. We're going for

an evening boat trip. Don't worry about me. I'm in good form today."

The Grossmeister entered the clubroom. He felt in good spirits and knew

for certain that the first move-pawn to king four-would not cause him any

complications. The remaining moves were, admittedly, rather more obscure,

but that did not disturb the smooth operator in the least. He had worked out

a surprise plan to extract him from the most hopeless game.

The Grossmeister was greeted with applause. The small club-room was

decorated with coloured flags left over from an evening held a week before