for this game and hope for the luck of the draw to bring him an interesting and challenging opponent. He had enough faith in the abilities of the omnipresent staff to pair him with a near equal so that he was not seriously concerned with the danger of boredom in the next month.
He proved correct. As Mr. Dodgson he entered his name, and in due process he received a note informing him that he had drawn a Mr. Silverthorne. Silverthorne was listed in the guest directory with the terse identification Executive . His residence was #12, diagonally across the residential area, a little over a mile away.
An exchange of polite notes by the pneumatic postal service, and they arranged a meeting at the Lodge. It was mid-afternoon when Alexander Waverly entered the cool dimness of the log-walled building and saw the man against whom he would soon be waging war. As he approached the table, a long dark man unfolded himself from a chair and extended a hand.
"Mr. Dodgson? My name is Silverthorne."
Waverly studied the man's face for a moment as he answered. His opponent was perhaps fifty-five or sixty, and well maintained. His black hair was touched up slightly, though it took a perceptive eye to catch it. Only his eyes seemed out of place, bright and alert, darting here and there in an otherwise impassive face. He stood almost three inches taller than Waverly.
"How do you do, Mr. Silverthorne. I'm told we are to go to war over something or other."
Silverthorne smiled. "Participation seemed preferable to inaction. This pretend-war appeared to be the most potentially challenging diversion the Park offered."
"My situation precisely. Is this your first participation in their games?"
"The war game has been added since my last visit. My company insisted I needed a vacation."
Waverly admitted the similarities in their positions, and by the time dinner was laid in the main dining hall they were fairly well acquainted. The subject of their respective backgrounds had not come up—one of the first things Waverly had observed was that they generally didn't. It was considered bad form to inquire into another guest's outside life. Some were there who could not hide—celebrities from entertainment, politics, science and industry, whose faces were known around the world. But the Prime Minister of India was listed in the directory as Politician, the star of the most popular British comedy series was listed as Artist, and the top Russian nuclear researcher was a Technician. A guest could mention his own background if he wanted to, but it wouldn't impress anyone, and the occasion to do so rarely came up.
Silverthorne spoke English with no particular accent and displayed little curiosity about his opponent, who returned the favor. The conflict began the following day.
Monday was a slow day. They put their token troops through simple maneuvers and learned the limitations of their positions and the rules of the game. They were also introduced to the gamesmaster, a genially rotund man with a very serious face and an apologetic air. His job was to interpret rules, verify the decisions of the Battle Results Computer, and hold final responsibility for the proper functioning of all the aspects of the war.
Each man was given a staff of five to act as his chiefs of Supply, Operations, Intelligence, Planning and Computer Ops. They were carefully trained as to the extent of the advice they could give while maintaining communication between the commander and the forces, five hundred strong, who executed his orders.
Utopia had outdone itself in this operation. The soldiers in this mock war were not paid by the resort, but were all trainees for several of the better-known mercenary forces. Their pay was met by their prospective leaders while the Park covered their lodging and food expenses in return for their services as part of the entertainment.
Weapons were dulled, punches were pulled, cartridges were blank, but judges circulated in the battle area noting
He proved correct. As Mr. Dodgson he entered his name, and in due process he received a note informing him that he had drawn a Mr. Silverthorne. Silverthorne was listed in the guest directory with the terse identification Executive . His residence was #12, diagonally across the residential area, a little over a mile away.
An exchange of polite notes by the pneumatic postal service, and they arranged a meeting at the Lodge. It was mid-afternoon when Alexander Waverly entered the cool dimness of the log-walled building and saw the man against whom he would soon be waging war. As he approached the table, a long dark man unfolded himself from a chair and extended a hand.
"Mr. Dodgson? My name is Silverthorne."
Waverly studied the man's face for a moment as he answered. His opponent was perhaps fifty-five or sixty, and well maintained. His black hair was touched up slightly, though it took a perceptive eye to catch it. Only his eyes seemed out of place, bright and alert, darting here and there in an otherwise impassive face. He stood almost three inches taller than Waverly.
"How do you do, Mr. Silverthorne. I'm told we are to go to war over something or other."
Silverthorne smiled. "Participation seemed preferable to inaction. This pretend-war appeared to be the most potentially challenging diversion the Park offered."
"My situation precisely. Is this your first participation in their games?"
"The war game has been added since my last visit. My company insisted I needed a vacation."
Waverly admitted the similarities in their positions, and by the time dinner was laid in the main dining hall they were fairly well acquainted. The subject of their respective backgrounds had not come up—one of the first things Waverly had observed was that they generally didn't. It was considered bad form to inquire into another guest's outside life. Some were there who could not hide—celebrities from entertainment, politics, science and industry, whose faces were known around the world. But the Prime Minister of India was listed in the directory as Politician, the star of the most popular British comedy series was listed as Artist, and the top Russian nuclear researcher was a Technician. A guest could mention his own background if he wanted to, but it wouldn't impress anyone, and the occasion to do so rarely came up.
Silverthorne spoke English with no particular accent and displayed little curiosity about his opponent, who returned the favor. The conflict began the following day.
Monday was a slow day. They put their token troops through simple maneuvers and learned the limitations of their positions and the rules of the game. They were also introduced to the gamesmaster, a genially rotund man with a very serious face and an apologetic air. His job was to interpret rules, verify the decisions of the Battle Results Computer, and hold final responsibility for the proper functioning of all the aspects of the war.
Each man was given a staff of five to act as his chiefs of Supply, Operations, Intelligence, Planning and Computer Ops. They were carefully trained as to the extent of the advice they could give while maintaining communication between the commander and the forces, five hundred strong, who executed his orders.
Utopia had outdone itself in this operation. The soldiers in this mock war were not paid by the resort, but were all trainees for several of the better-known mercenary forces. Their pay was met by their prospective leaders while the Park covered their lodging and food expenses in return for their services as part of the entertainment.
Weapons were dulled, punches were pulled, cartridges were blank, but judges circulated in the battle area noting
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