"The idea, you see, is that Azad is so complex, so subtle, so flexible and so demanding that it is as precise and comprehensive a model of life as it is possible to construct. Whoever succeeds at the game succeeds in life; the same qualities are required in each to ensure dominance."
"But…" Gurgeh looked at the drone beside him, and seemed to feel the presence of the planet before them as an almost physical force, something he felt drawn to, pulled towards, "is that true?"
The planet disappeared and they were back looking at the vast game-board again. The holo was in motion now, though silently, and he could see the alien people moving around, shifting pieces and standing around the edges of the board.
"It doesn't have to be totally true," the drone said, "but cause and effect are not perfectly polarised here; the set-up assumes that the game and life are the same thing, and such is the pervasive nature of the idea of the game within the society that just by believing that, they make it so. It becomes true; it is willed into actuality. Anyway; they can't be too far wrong, or the empire would not exist at all. It is by definition a volatile and unstable system; Azad — the game — would appear to be the force that holds it together."
"Wait a moment now," Gurgeh said, looking at the machine. "We both know Contact's got a reputation for being devious; you wouldn't be expecting me to go out there and become emperor or anything, would you?"
For the first time, the drone showed an aura, flashing briefly red. There was a laugh in its voice, too. "I wouldn't expect you'd get very far trying that. No; the empire falls under the general definition of a «state», and the one thing states always try to do is to ensure their own existence in perpetuity. The idea of anybody from outside coming in and trying to take the empire over would fill them with horror. If you decide you want to go, and if you are able to learn the game sufficiently well during the voyage, then there might be a chance, we think, going on your past performance as a game-player, of you qualifying as a clerk in the civil service, or as an army lieutenant. Don't forget; these people are surrounded by this game from birth. They have anti-agatic drugs, and the best players are about twice your own age. Even they, of course, are still learning.
"The point is not what you would be able to achieve in terms of the semi-barbarous social conditions the game is set up to support, but whether you can master the theory and practice of the game at all. Opinions in Contact differ over whether it is possible for even a game-player of your stature to compete successfully, just on general game-playing principles and a crash-course in the rules and practice."
Gurgeh watched the silent, alien figures move across the artificial landscape of the huge board. He couldn't do this. Five years? That was insane. He might as well let Mawhrin-Skel broadcast his shame; in five years he might have made a new life, leaving Chiark, finding something else to interest him besides games, changing his appearance… maybe changing his name; he had never heard of anybody doing that, but it must be possible.
Certainly, the game of Azad, if it really existed, was quite fascinating. But why had he heard nothing of it until now? How could Contact keep something like this secret; and why? He rubbed, his beard, still watching the silent aliens as they stalked the broad board, stopping to move pieces or have others move them for them.
They were alien, but they were people; humanoid: They had mastered this bizarre, outrageous game. "They're not super-intelligent, are they?" he asked the drone.
"Hardly, retaining such a social system at this stage of technological development, game or no game. On average, the intermediate or apex sex is probably a little less bright than the average Culture human."
Gurgeh was mystified. "That implies there's a difference between the sexes."
"There is now," Worthil said.
Gurgeh didn't quite see what that meant, but the drone went on before he could ask any further questions. "In fact, we are reasonably hopeful that you will be able to play an above-average game of Azad if you study for the two years your outward journey would take. It would require continued and comprehensive use of memory and learning-enhancing secretions, of course, and I might point out that possession of drug-glands alone would disqualify you from actually gaining any post within the empire through your game performance, even if you weren't an alien anyway. There is a strict ban on any «unnatural» influence being used during the game; all the gamerooms are electronically shielded to prevent the use of a computer link, and drug tests are carried out after every match. Your own body chemistry, as well as your alien nature and the fact that to them you are a heathen, means that you would — if you did decide to go — only be taking part in an honorary capacity."
"Drone… Worthil…" Gurgeh said, turning to face it. "I don't think I'll be going all that way, not so far, for so long… but I'd love to know more about this game; I want to discuss it, analyse it along with other—"
"Not possible," the drone said. "I'm allowed to tell you all that I am telling you, but none of this can go any further. You have given your word, Jernau Gurgeh."
"And if I break it?"
"Everybody would think you'd made it up; there's nothing on accessible record to show any different."
"Why is it all so secret, anyway? What are you frightened of?"
"The truth is, we don't know what to do, Jernau Gurgeh. This is a larger problem than Contact usually has to deal with; as a rule it's possible to go by the book; we've built up enough experience with every sort of barbarian society to know what does and does not work with each type; we monitor, we use controls, we cross-evaluate and Mind-model and generally take every possible precaution to make sure we're doing the right thing… but something like Azad is unique; there are no templates, no reliable precedents. We have to play it by ear, and that's something of a responsibility, dealing with an entire stellar empire. Which is why Special Circumstances has become involved; we're used to dealing with tricky situations. And frankly, with this one, we're sitting on it. If we let everybody know about Azad we may be pressured into making a decision just by the weight of public opinion… which may not sound like a bad thing, but might prove disastrous."
"For whom?" Gurgeh said sceptically.
"The people of the empire, and the Culture. We might be forced into a high-profile intervention against the empire; it would hardly be war as such because we're way ahead of them technologically, but we'd have to become an occupying force to control them, and that would mean a huge drain on our resources as well as morale; in the end such an adventure would almost certainly be seen as a mistake, no matter the popular enthusiasm for it at the time. The people of the empire would lose by uniting against us instead of the corrupt regime which controls them, so putting the clock back a century or two, and the Culture would lose by emulating those we despise; invaders, occupiers, hegemonists."
"You seem very sure there would be a wave of popular opinion."
"Let me explain something to you, Jernau Gurgeh," the drone said. "The game of Azad is a gambling game, frequently even at the highest levels. The form these wagers take is occasionally macabre. I very much doubt that you'd be involved on the sort of levels you'd be playing at if you did agree to take part, but it is quite usual for them to wager prestige, honours, possessions, slaves, favours, land and even physical licence on the outcome of games."
Gurgeh waited, but eventually sighed and said, "All right… what's "physical licence"?"
"The players wager tortures and mutilations against each other.
"You mean, if you lose a game… you have… these things done to you?"