"I know this is personal," I finally said, "but I have to ask. Is the rumor true? That the weight of the world's love grants the chess World Champion superpowers? That you can read minds and tap into ancestral strategic memory and move with lightning speed?"
"Of course not," he said, "that would give the Champion an unfair advantage when facing challengers, ruining the pure skill of chess. All I get is the title and some money. Oh, and a wreath made of fragrant laurels. And also the authority (and means) to speak with the awakened intelligence of all planets as an equal."
I tried to watch his face to see if he was kidding. No luck.
"And also," he added, "a pony made of fire."