"Playing chess is the sign of a gentleman, playing chess well is the sign of a wasted life". This delightfully ironic quote is often attributed to Paul Morphy, an American chess prodigy from New Orleans, who dominated the chess world in the 1850s and is considered one of the unofficial World Chess Champions, before eventually pursuing a career in law.

A recent conversation with a serious chess student sparked an intriguing debate about the nature of chess mastery. His assertion was bold: "No serious chess player will play cube chess. The depth of traditional chess requires infinite commitment. Masters visualize 40 moves ahead - any variant is just a distraction." This statement provides a perfect launching point to explore two fundamental types of intelligence in chess: memory-driven and creative.

Today marks an exciting milestone in the evolution of cube chess - the first physical prototype of the Revolution variant! This prototype represents a fascinating bridge between our two foundational variants: Frontier and Crossroads.

The biological unit called "I" is a strange creature, more a kaleidoscope than a singular thing, a symphony of cells marching to the rhythm of their own agendas while somehow whispering "I am" as if it were a single voice. Beneath this sense of "I" churn a trillion invisible lives—bacteria, neurons, enzymes—each conducting its own mission, oblivious to the grand illusion of unity or any concept of purpose.

In chess, where every move can lead to victory or defeat, our brain's "feeling of knowing" can be both our greatest ally and our most treacherous foe. Robert A. Burton's fascinating book "On Being Certain" sheds light on this peculiar aspect of our cognition, and it's particularly relevant when we're staring down at those 64 squares (or in the case of Cube Chess, those 96 squares wrapped around a 3D object).

In the quiet of a Zendo and the hushed anticipation of a chess tournament, we find an unexpected parallel – a shared pursuit of profound concentration and awareness. Both Zen practice and chess demand a level of focus that transcends everyday distractions, offering practitioners a path to deeper understanding and mastery.

The story of human achievement is a tapestry woven with countless threads of discovery, invention, and innovation. From the first stone tools crafted by our ancestors some 3.3 million years ago to the quantum computers of today, our species has demonstrated an remarkable capacity for progress.

The ability of chess masters to play blindfolded has long captivated the imagination of casual players and enthusiasts alike. It seems almost superhuman - to play multiple games simultaneously without looking at the board, keeping track of dozens of pieces across various games, all in the mind's eye. But is this skill as unattainable as it seems? And could Cube Chess play a role in developing similar abilities?