. . .

In the corner of Eldri’s workshop is a lump of lifeless matter that has never once, in all the years of its existence, lost “the Game” — it does not think of it, it does not know it; it has had people lose the Game right in front of it, announce their loss, and yet the awareness of the Game does not penetrate the cold pristineness of its mind.

It is perfect. His bingo robot; his chute and ladderer; his checkering beast: they are all perfect, all his robots are perfect, but none so great as Navvy Jim.

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