He's there when you wake up. He's always there, your boss, butler, jailer, and trainer, the human face of the unnamed group that sees you as the best hope of a human champion that could retain for the species the last game computers aren't better at.

"You were dreaming," he says.

"Yes."

"Of the computer?"

"Yes."

"You were smiling."

"I dreamed that I beat her," you lie.

"Good."

He leaves your room, and you drift back to sleep, to your dreams of the computer you play secretly not against but with, to your first, unconfessed love.