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A move Kasparov was unable to rationalise. Despite holding winning positions, Kasparov lost the match. He was never the same again. Soon, he lost the world title and was unable to regain it. Sometimes our mind is more fragile than we know, more brittle than we can bear. This story is not about Kasparov, it is about someone like us….. It’s a black, cold fear that feels like liquid in his throat. It’s the fear that has him crying in the night. As he sits upright, he can still feel it snaking its way down to his stomach, ebbing backwards. It’s a stinging, unknowable fear that never quite shows its face. Part of him wants to confront it, chase it out of his life forever. But the looming, brooding, malevolent mass it brings to him – that makes him think twice. He believes that he already knows what it is, but can’t bear to try understanding it. Tonight is like so many other nights. Almost three thousand, since he walked out of a door in west London. He’s standing by the stove, gently. The only reason I remembered this, was the unique name given to this group of people. They called them 'snowbirds'. Since I'd had a fascination with birds while growing up, I'd always wanted to see a snowbird... well, at least until I realized they were people, not birds.It had been over eight hours. I awoke with the typical iron rod I usually had in the morning. It was neatly snuggled inside the holographic Fong unit, ready to go. Fong sensed my waking from the increased pressure, and stretching her nether region. Her eyes met mine as she opened them.Fong whispered with a smile on her face. "Now that's what I liked wake up to."I just smiled back as I stared into her eyes. With barely perceptible movements, her hips started to rise and fall. This movement, however, was very perceptible where it counted.A small gasped escaped from my lips. It was enough. Bonnie started to stir. I was looking at her, as her eyes opened. Her smile was incredible, and contained a hint of devious thought..
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