The screen showed the great mass of Earth dots sweeping over a scattering of enemy dots.
What stopped them, however, was Nielson, laughing, his hands sweeping over switches and buttons on the great master control board.
The CPC was droning the losses.
“Earth—eighteen percent.
Enemy—eighty-three.
Eighty-four.
Eighty-six.
Earth, nineteen percent.”
“Mate!” Ellsner shouted.
He stood beside Nielson, a Stillson wrench clenched in his hand.
“Lack of pattern.
I gave their CPC something it couldn’t handle.
An attack with no apparent pattern.
Meaningless configurations!”
“But what are they doing?” Branch asked, gesturing at the dwindling enemy dots.
“Still relying on their chess player,” Ellsner said.
“Still waiting for him to dope out the attack pattern in this madman’s mind.
Too much faith in machines, general.
This man doesn’t even know he’s precipitating an attack.”
...And push three that’s for dad on the olive tree I always wanted to two two two Danbury fair with buckle shoe brown all brown buttons down and in, sin, eight red for sin—
“What’s the wrench for?” Margraves asked.
“That?”
Ellsner weighed it in his hand.
“That’s to turn off Nielson here, after the attack.”
...And five and love and black, all blacks, fair buttons in I remember when I was very young at all push five and there on the grass ouch—