“Perfect,” Dan says. “Cutthroat’s better than two on two.”
He defines the rules, the central one of which is to pocket your competitors’ balls while protecting your own. Dan says, “What do you say we put a little money on this, just to make it interesting?”
Jefferson doesn’t want to at first, but Dan says, “Money won is twice as sweet as money earned,” and they agree to betting $20 each, which I don’t want to do either, as I know I’ll lose, but they also provided me with alcohol earlier and invited me to this party, so it’s parallel to owing them $20.
Rebecca watches us play, and Dan and Jefferson begin by pocketing some balls of each other and ignoring mine, which is logical because I’m an unthreatening novice.
On my first turn to strike the white ball, I miss 100 %. Dan says to Rebecca, “You want to get behind him and show him how it’s done?” Rebecca doesn’t say anything, but Jefferson stands next to me and demonstrates proper technique. They allow me to strike again, and I hit the white ball but it doesn’t contact anything else.
I watch Dan and Jefferson shoot and practice my striking motion. Dan strikes like a puncher, fast and with quick oscillations, and Jefferson does one long withdrawal and launch like he is shooting a bow and arrow. When it’s my turn, I aim like a sniper at the ball and produce solid contact, and it knocks in one of Jefferson’s balls.
But now I’m in poor position to make another shot, and I realize that a smart pool player has a 1,000-mile view of not only (1) where the ball he is striking will go, but also (2) where the white ball will end up after, similar to how a chess player must think several turns ahead. This is why computer chess programs are now better than the best human players (and why a strategic and accurate robotic pool player would beat the best human player, because pool also denies the accident), because they can make infinite predictions that humans cannot, and this is why I believe Kapitoil is superior to human financial analysts. Although it is true that chess programs are not robust at endgame strategies, because there are too many variables that humans can in fact filter more efficiently. Therefore, chess programs have maximal databases of all possible endgame strategies and positions. They follow these databases mechanically and don’t utilize their conventional artificial intelligence.
I miss my shot, and two females ask Jefferson if they can have the next game. The one who asks is thin and has blonde hair and wears false cat ears and has drawn whiskers on her cheeks, and her friend is heavier and in the clothing of a waitress from the English Middle Ages that provides her breasts with high visibility.
While Dan shoots, two men dance in the middle of the floor dressed as a policeman and the singer Madonna. They kiss, and then the man in the Madonna costume deposits his hand inside the front of the policeman’s pants. Although part of me wants to keep watching, it also disgusts me, not only because it is two men, which bothers me (but I am in the U.S. now and specifically in New York and that is the custom here), but because they aren’t respecting the privacy of others or even themselves.
Dan pockets the remainder of Jefferson’s balls and loudly informs Jefferson that he sucks. Jefferson doesn’t listen, however, as he’s conversing with the cat. Then Dan deposits all of my balls in the table pockets except the last one, which is a difficult shot that he misses.
On my turn I take more time observing the table before I shoot and deciphering the optimal ball to hit. I link my stick between Dan’s number 6 and the pocket, as I’ve seen Dan and Jefferson do, and aim at where the stick bisected the number 6 ball, and strike slowly and deposit it. I am also now in position to get another one, but this time I miss, and I leave my last ball vulnerable.
Dan has an easy shot, and he lines up and retracts and extends his stick several times, then he looks at me from the corner of his eye quickly as if he is certifying that I’m watching, and shoots. It misses, very slightly, and the white ball rolls into a strong position for me. He says, “Can’t believe I missed that,” and shakes his head, and now I know he missed on purpose, because when people are truly upset with themselves for making an error they are either more angry or mute.
I pocket Dan’s number 9 ball, which leaves his last one. Now it is easier to focus, because (1) there are fewer variables (fewer balls), and (2) there is less need for prediction (I don’t have to worry about placing the white ball after this). I strike the ball cleanly and Dan’s number 7 ball rolls into the pocket.
Dan puts the three $20 bills in my hand and holds it above our heads and says I am the winner and still undefeated, even though I have never played before so of course I am still undefeated, but I don’t feel triumphant, as it was a fraudulent win and Dan intentionally lost to me because I am now a higher-up.
Then Jefferson invites the two females to play against him and Dan, and I find Rebecca, who stands behind the two females. She compliments my pool skills.
“You could perform as well if you tried,” I say. “It is merely a combination of geometry-based strategy and hand-eye coordination.”
She smiles and says, “You certainly have a distinctive way of seeing the world.”
I smile as well, but it is forced, because while I do enjoy the use of numbers and logic, her comment suggests that it’s all I have to offer others and that, parallel to Dan, I have a narrow worldview.
Possibly Rebecca recognizes I’m offended because when I ask how the pod is, she says, “It’s something to listen to Dan and Jefferson’s repressed flirtations without any other witnesses. A truly unique experience.” I want to tell her that I would like to have other witnesses in my office as well, but I don’t want the risk of her asking what I’m working on or to appear ungrateful for receiving a private office. Then she adds, “Except you can’t say something is ‘truly’ unique. It’s either unique or it’s not. Like pregnancy.” I had not previously considered this idea. Placing an adverb before “unique” is similar to multiplying a number by zero: It will remain zero no matter what the modifier is.
I consult with her about the Y2K project, but she instead asks how my sister is. I tell her Zahira has developed an interest in biology and is performing well in school. “But I wish she displayed more interest in economics,” I say. Rebecca asks why. “It is an interesting field and one that she would excel at.”
“Maybe it’s more important for her to find out what she’s interested in and what she excels at,” Rebecca says.
I do not reply, but it is a valid point, and possibly Zahira is not truly stimulated by my conversations and emails about finance and programming.
Rebecca lights a cigarette and accidentally exhales smoke in my face. “Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” she says as she waves her hands to push it away, although once smoke has touched you it has already inflicted its odor and damage.
But I say, “You do not need to apologize to me. You should apologize to your own body.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she says. “I was in the mood for a lecture about something I only get reminded of 50 times a day.”
“Then why do you not stop smoking?” I ask.
“Stop smoking,” she says as if she is considering the idea for the first time. “Why didn’t I think of that? I should just quit — it’s so easy to do!”
I look directly at her and say, “That is an attitude of defeat. Your body is more powerful than cigarettes, and your brain is more powerful than your body, and you can overpower them if you truly want to.”
Her eyes move slightly as they stay with mine. She deposits her cigarette inside her beer bottle. “Sounds a little Tony Robbins, but what the hell, nothing else has worked,” she says. She looks at the long line for the restroom. “Save my spot?” I tell her I will, although I don’t think anyone will occupy her spot to talk to me.