Juxtaposition Read Online Free PDF

screen. There were sixteen boxes facing Stile, labeled across the top: 1. PHYSICAL 2.   MENTAL 3. CHANCE 4. ARTS, and down the side: A.   NAKED B. TOOL C. MACHINE D. ANIMAL. Stile’s panel was lighted by the letters.
    “That was a very neat stunt you worked, last Round,” the Citizen remarked. “Making that Amazon throw away her win. Of course you know you won’t be able to trick me that way.”
    “Of course not, sir.” Stile touched the TOOL indication.
    That was his line of greatest strength.   The subgrid showed: 3B, Tool-Assisted Chance. Stile groaned inwardly. The CHANCE column was the bane of good players. It was difficult to make his skill count here.   “You don’t like it, huh?” the Citizen taunted. “Figure it to come up another slot machine, wash you out painlessly, eh?”
    This man really had researched Stile’s prior Games of the Tourney. The lone Game Stile had lost had been just that way. “I am not partial to it, sir.” As long as he handled the needling without heat, he was gaining.  
    “Well, I’m partial to it! Know why? Because I’m lucky.   Try me on poker. Stile; I’ll come up with a full house and tromp you. Try me on blackjack; I’m all twenty-ones. The breaks always go my way! That scares you, huh?” The Citizen protested too much. That could indicate weakness—or could be a ruse. Stile actually could handle himself in games of chance; often there was more skill than showed. He would try for a suitable variant. “Luck is impartial, sir.”
    “You believe that? You fool! Try me on dice, if you doubt!”
    Stile made his selection. The Citizen had already made his. The third grid showed: Board Games of Chance.   “Okay, sucker, try me on Monopoly!” the Citizen urged.   But when they played it through, it came up backgammon. “My favorite!” the Citizen exclaimed. “Dice and betting! Watch me move!”
    Stile thought he was bluffing. That bluff would be called.   Stile was expert at backgammon. It was only technically a game of luck; skill was critical.
    They adjourned to the boardroom. The table was ready.   There was no physical audience; the holograph would take care of that.
    “Now you know this game represents a year,” the Citizen said. “Twenty-four points for the hours of the day, thirty pieces for the days of the month, twelve points in each half-section for the months in the year.”
    “And the seven spots on the opposites of a die are the days of the week,” Stile said. “The two dice are day and night. It hardly matches the symbolism of the ordinary deck of playing cards or the figures of the chess set—sir.” They were playing a variant deriving in part from Acey Deucy, traditionally a navy game. The games of Mother Earth had continued to evolve in the fashion of human society, with some variants prospering and others becoming extinct. In this one, no pieces were placed on the board at the start; all started from the bar.   It was not necessary to enter all fifteen pieces on the board before advancing the leaders. Yet it was still backgammon, the “back game,” with pieces constantly being sent back to the bar while they ran the gauntlet of opposing pieces. People were apt to assume that a given game had an eternally fixed set of rules, when in fact there were endless variations. Stile had often obtained an advantage by steering a familiar game into an unfamiliar channel.
      The Citizen was, as he claimed, lucky. He won the lead, then forged ahead with double sixes, while Stile had to settle for a two-to-one throw of the dice. Doubles were valuable in backgammon, because each die could be used twice. Thus the citizen’s throw enabled him to enter four men to the sixth point, while Stile entered only two. This continued fairly steadily; the Citizen soon had all fifteen men entered and well advanced, while Stile was slower.   Soon the two forces interacted. The Citizen hit the first blot—in layman’s language, he placed one of his men on