An uncharacteristically anxious Lee Sedol glances up at his opponent across the Go board. Out of desperation, he searches for a look of unease, a flicker of doubt—a sign of weakness. Force of habit. It’s unnecessary in this game; his competitor is not human.

A bustling market promenade in the summer heat. The whole atmosphere bathed in the red-orange hue of lantern lights. Steam and the scent of frying meat rising from the kitchen of one market stall. Miniature porcelain figurines on display at the next.

The first stroke is always the brightest. The teacher tells me to start with the purest colors before laying on the grays and darks, so with a flick of my wrist, the solid red streak burns uncontested and incorruptible against the stark whiteness, a violent aberration in the uniformity of its surroundings.