“O.K., that’s enough,” Dr. Clifford said, scribbling something in his notebook. Chris slowly walked away from the game station. He wondered what could have gone wrong. He had played this video game thousands of times. He was supposed to be the best. So why couldn’t he win?

All around him the scientists at Harris Laboratories checked data and made adjustments. For more than five years they had been working on building a robot that could do everything a human teenager could do, only better. Now they thought they had finally succeeded. Chris looked across the room at his opponent—Sam, they called him. It didn’t seem possible to Chris. He wondered how something so clumsy and simple could keep beating him.

“Let’s get ready for the next test,” Dr. Clifford called. “Fifteen minutes.”

Chris walked back over and sat down at the game station. Sam was already seated across from him.

“Good luck,” Sam said. The words caught Chris’s attention. Sam had never spoken to him before. “You’re a good player, the toughest competition they’ve ever had for me here.”

“But I’m supposed to win,” Chris said. That was the thought that kept racing through his mind. He had played the game for more than two years. He hadn’t thought it was possible that he could lose. It was still hard for him to believe what was happening. “Will you answer a question?” Chris asked.

“What is it?” Sam replied.

“How do you do it?” Chris asked. Sam stared back with a puzzled look. “How can you be so fast? How can you react to the game as quickly as you do?” Chris continued.

Sam seemed to consider the questions a long time before answering. “I’m not sure,” he finally answered. “But I’ve played this game thousands of times. I seem to know what the game will do before it happens.”

“That’s impossible,” Chris said. He knew the game had millions of possible combinations and that each one was selected at random. “There’s no way you could have memorized the game program. There are too many possibilities even for a computer to analyze.”

“It’s not exactly memory the way you think of it,” Sam said. “It’s something else. It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Thirty seconds,” Dr. Clifford called. Technicians and scientists scurried about, making last-second preparations for the next game. “Twenty seconds,” Dr. Clifford called, beginning a countdown.

“How could I not understand?” Chris thought. He gripped the controls of the game. This time he would show Sam. This time he would prove that he was superior. Dr. Clifford gave the signal, and the final game started. Chris’s eyes scanned the screen. The game was a simulated space adventure. The players had to destroy make-believe meteors before the huge rocks collided with their ships. Chris reacted quickly as the game’s speed increased. His point total climbed higher and higher. He had never played so well.

Chris looked across the game station. As usual, Sam was impassive. He held the controls and responded calmly. Sam never showed any signs of nervousness or concern during the games. His eyes fixed straight ahead, he seemed to stare through the machine instead of at it.

“Stop,” Dr. Clifford called at last. The scientists swarmed around the game station again. They checked the score, they checked the game, and they even checked both Chris and Sam. The scientists were all talking excitedly and joking with Sam. One of them handed a large clipboard of papers to Dr. Clifford. Dr. Clifford studied the papers for a long time, sometimes stopping to write something down on them. “Well, we’re definitely making progress,” he told the group after making a notation on the last report. “I’m very pleased with today’s test results. I think we’re through for now.”

Chris noted his score. It was much higher than he had ever scored in the past. It was even higher than Sam had scored in the games they had played against each other earlier that day. He looked across the game station at Sam’s score. Sam had won again. How was that possible? There had to be something wrong with the game. One of the scientists came over and faced Chris. “You gave him a good game,” the scientist said. “We didn’t expect you to come as close as you did.”

“I’ll never beat that boy,” Chris said.

“You’re the most advanced CHRIS model we’ve ever built,” the scientist replied. “You did better than any previous Custom Home Robotic Intelligence System, competing against the best player in the world.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling from across the table. “And for a few seconds I thought you had me. I even broke my own record.”

“But I’m programmed to win,” Chris said. “I think faster. I move faster. My reactions are better. How could I lose?” He looked across at the human.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just a feeling I get. It’s called intuition. Somehow I just know. I can anticipate what’s going to happen.”

“You’re right,” Chris said. “I don’t understand.” There would be more testing the next day. “It’s no use,” the robot’s computerized brain repeated. “I’ll never beat that boy. He’s the best.”