looked a little mystified. “If we got hacked, it was a slick job. No traces, except that you logged into your account . . . and then you logged into your account.” Liza wasn’t sure if he was miffed at having his system penetrated, or if he wished he’d tried this particular trick himself. Considering this was Hank, she decided she didn’t want to know.
He went off, muttering about firewalls and security systems, while she lugged off paper copies of about ninety puzzles and their solutions.
Well, now I’ve got something to read on the plane , she told herself.
But as she went through the papers on the flight, they turned out to be pretty blah reading. In Liza’s professional judgment, it looked as if the Prospect was doomed to disappointment trying to syndicate these. Competitors could get pretty much the same thing from Internet sites. The puzzles were nothing to write home about. All of them were asymmetrical, which probably meant they were generated by computer. For a human constructing sudoku, an initial design for the starting clues gives a blueprint to work from. In Liza’s opinion, it also helped the sudoku student figure out the puzzle constructor’s logic. Will’s tournament puzzles had been symmetrical, the bottom halves being mirror images of the top halves. She made a note to include that in her article explaining the basic techniques for solving newspaper sudokus.
Liza picked up one of the Prospect puzzles and grimaced. It looked as if it had been just ripped out of the computer and flung in without a second look—a graceless collection of clues, and ridiculously easy to boot. Her trained eye offered solutions wherever she looked.
A glance at the dateline deepened her frown.
Why would anybody put this in as a Sunday puzzle? Liza wondered. Even if there was a horrible deadline crunch, you’d think someone would come up with something better than this.
Okay, maybe a rank novice would see only the simplicity and miss the sloppiness. Liza picked up another puzzle and quickly found herself slogging away worse than she had at the tournament. If that same novice picked up this puzzle, he or she would have no problem putting it down—probably with great force and far away.
She frowned as she had to force a logic chain to proceed toward a solution. Working from a space that had only two candidates, she chose one value, penciling in more answers to two-candidate spaces—provisional answers, because her initial choice could be wrong. Then she did the same thing, using the other possible number, proceeding in the hope that somewhere, the two chains of logic would intersect, giving her a number somewhere on the puzzle that would be correct either way—a solid start for a valid logic chain.
Not only was that an extremely advanced sudoku technique, it was a time-consuming one, too. You hardly ever see these in newspaper sudokus. They’re more likely to frustrate than entice a casual solver , she thought, chewing on the end of her pencil as she glanced at the dateline. And why would you pull a trick like that in a Monday puzzle?
She’d checked a bunch of solutions but had no real answers by the time her plane landed at LAX. A driver stood holding a sign with her name as she came out of the Jetway, and Liza was whisked to Century City with a minimum of fuss. Even the L.A. traffic cooperated.
The reception area for Markson Associates beat out the Oregon Daily ’s waiting area by a considerable degree of plushness. But then, the client list was tonier and they often faced longer waits.
A young woman with an unfamiliar face and an air of barely restrained panic manned the reception desk. From the enhanced bustline and collagen lips, this was a Hollywood hanger-on with a name like Bambi who’d hoped for a possible career boost from working at a top publicist’s office. The temp had as little acting ability as poor Hank, judging from the tremulous smile painted over her complete terror. Well, she’s
He went off, muttering about firewalls and security systems, while she lugged off paper copies of about ninety puzzles and their solutions.
Well, now I’ve got something to read on the plane , she told herself.
But as she went through the papers on the flight, they turned out to be pretty blah reading. In Liza’s professional judgment, it looked as if the Prospect was doomed to disappointment trying to syndicate these. Competitors could get pretty much the same thing from Internet sites. The puzzles were nothing to write home about. All of them were asymmetrical, which probably meant they were generated by computer. For a human constructing sudoku, an initial design for the starting clues gives a blueprint to work from. In Liza’s opinion, it also helped the sudoku student figure out the puzzle constructor’s logic. Will’s tournament puzzles had been symmetrical, the bottom halves being mirror images of the top halves. She made a note to include that in her article explaining the basic techniques for solving newspaper sudokus.
Liza picked up one of the Prospect puzzles and grimaced. It looked as if it had been just ripped out of the computer and flung in without a second look—a graceless collection of clues, and ridiculously easy to boot. Her trained eye offered solutions wherever she looked.
A glance at the dateline deepened her frown.
Why would anybody put this in as a Sunday puzzle? Liza wondered. Even if there was a horrible deadline crunch, you’d think someone would come up with something better than this.
Okay, maybe a rank novice would see only the simplicity and miss the sloppiness. Liza picked up another puzzle and quickly found herself slogging away worse than she had at the tournament. If that same novice picked up this puzzle, he or she would have no problem putting it down—probably with great force and far away.
She frowned as she had to force a logic chain to proceed toward a solution. Working from a space that had only two candidates, she chose one value, penciling in more answers to two-candidate spaces—provisional answers, because her initial choice could be wrong. Then she did the same thing, using the other possible number, proceeding in the hope that somewhere, the two chains of logic would intersect, giving her a number somewhere on the puzzle that would be correct either way—a solid start for a valid logic chain.
Not only was that an extremely advanced sudoku technique, it was a time-consuming one, too. You hardly ever see these in newspaper sudokus. They’re more likely to frustrate than entice a casual solver , she thought, chewing on the end of her pencil as she glanced at the dateline. And why would you pull a trick like that in a Monday puzzle?
She’d checked a bunch of solutions but had no real answers by the time her plane landed at LAX. A driver stood holding a sign with her name as she came out of the Jetway, and Liza was whisked to Century City with a minimum of fuss. Even the L.A. traffic cooperated.
The reception area for Markson Associates beat out the Oregon Daily ’s waiting area by a considerable degree of plushness. But then, the client list was tonier and they often faced longer waits.
A young woman with an unfamiliar face and an air of barely restrained panic manned the reception desk. From the enhanced bustline and collagen lips, this was a Hollywood hanger-on with a name like Bambi who’d hoped for a possible career boost from working at a top publicist’s office. The temp had as little acting ability as poor Hank, judging from the tremulous smile painted over her complete terror. Well, she’s
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