Chapter Text
A standard chess board is a sixty-four square grid. Thirty-two of those squares are filled at the start of a game. The board in front of Church seemed pretty average. Squares alternated being black,white, and black again, over and over. It was, however, life sized.
A standard set of chess pieces includes sixteen white pieces and sixteen black pieces. To each color belongs eight pawns, two rooks, two knights, two bishops, and a king and queen. The pieces in front of Church seemed… less than average.
The pieces were all in the correct places, but all of the pawns were black. The queens were both orange and carved roughly out of stone, and as Church looked quizzically about, he discovered that every piece on one side of the board mirrored that of the other side.
His head hurt trying to compare all the pieces, so he turned his attention to the set of major pieces on the left. One bishop was made of a soft cyan wax, and one a sunny yellow made of cheap plastic. One of the rooks rivaled the queens in its jagged shape, but its violet stained wood set it apart. The other rook was a meticulously stitched green plush figure. All of the knights looked rickety, one haphazardly welded together silver metal, the other a crumpled origami figure generously doused in magenta paint.
Familiarity crowded his mind, and he looked out, again, over the chessboard now filled with armor and faint lights.
Sigma– well, the two identical Sigmas– grinned at each other across the board, settling into carefully relaxed-looking stances. The rest of the pieces followed suit; one Theta stretched in an exaggerated manner, the Deltas pushed their glasses a bit higher on their noses, and an Eta waved tauntingly at the Iota across the board.
The kings, to Church’s confusion, remained wooden, distinguished and still, but each seemed more alive than any of the minds on the board. He turned his focus to the black king, and wished he hadn’t. The emotion that seemed to pour out of the figurine swamped him. It wasn’t quite sorrow, he thought. It wasn’t quite longing, either. He found he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
His chest felt tight. The world floated in and out of focus. Nothing was more important than getting it back. What was it he wanted to get, he asked himself desperately.
Church…
He gasped sharply, trance broken. Glancing around, he couldn’t figure out who had spoken. Was it one of the AIs on the board?
Church.
The voice was more insistent now, demanding he look at the speaker. Church frowned. Nobody was talking, but the back of his mind told him to turn.
Church!
The white king’s attention pierced Church where he stood. The piece understood his soul, he thought. There was no other explanation as to how it felt as if it were looking through him, straight to his very mind. It knew who he was. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was him, it had to be. Nobody could know himself as well as this piece knew him.
CHURCH!
That wasn’t quite right either, was it? No, the white king wasn’t him, but at the same time, it was. Like if his mirror reflection had gained a mind of its own, and started writing messages for him to see. It sent a shiver down his spine. He lowered his eyes from the piece.
He had only looked at the ground for what felt like a moment, but when he glanced back up at the figures standing on the board, they stared at him, bored. Church scowled. He hated time when it didn’t cooperate with him. All it ever seemed to do was bring his end closer, stretching it until it was inevitable, yet would never come.
“Hey,” Sigma-On-The-Left called, “Are you going to start the game or not?”
Church blinked. “Uh, yeah,” he said, voice echoing strangely on the seemingly endless, flat plain they all stood on, “Just give me a second.” Both Omegas rolled their eyes.
There was one last thing, before the game could start. What was it? His eyes flicked over the board, carefully avoiding the king pieces. There, that was it. The pawns weren’t ready, he realized slowly.
As the realization hit, the pawns began to change, more rapidly than he could keep track of. Sets of armor appeared, each nearly identical to the others, but none perfect. Either they were a bit too tall, or their armor was too pristine, but it was close enough for Church and his desperation.
Tex was on the board, and now the game could begin.