The tale of John von Neumann, a chess player with an artificial soul, is one for the history books. In July 1993, a man named John Wayne—a.k.a. Rob Reitzen—registered under a pseudonym and entered the World Open tournament in Philadelphia. His aim? To cheat using technology.

Reitzen's secret weapon was a miniature computer hidden beneath his wig, communicating with his compatriot who sat behind a screen. The Duke's moves were calculated, while Wayne feigned human thought processes. It was an audacious scheme for its time and, indeed, any time.

The game against grandmaster Helgi Ólafsson was tense. For Reitzen, it represented both a challenge and a test of his software. The Duke's moves were deliberate, calculated by the unseen hand of technology. Yet, the simplicity of the game belied the complexity of their deceit.

Chess has evolved since then, with today’s players facing bans on even smartphones. This incident, while quaint in its ingenuity, serves as a reminder that, despite our advancements, human cunning remains a formidable force—especially when amplified by technology. Perhaps we should focus more on the game itself instead of our own cleverness.