Point of Contact Read online

  “How so?”

  “Psychology is the study of the human mind. The whole point of computer programming is to mimic the mind and when possible, exceed it, in order to improve the human condition.”

  “Exceed the mind? You mean artificial intelligence,” Jack said.

  “Yes. AI and machine learning are transforming everything, from simple devices like home thermostats to combat technologies on the battlefield. AI is central to our VR and AR development.”

  “AR—augmented reality?”

  “Exactly. Between you and me? I think AR will be much bigger than VR in the coming years.”

  “Because AR is an overlay of reality, and easier to create?” Jack offered.

  Dr. Tao nodded approvingly. “You catch on quickly, Mr. Ryan. Ever considered a career change?” She opened the security door and led them into the third section of the floor. It was an open area divided in two by a thick curtain. The first part of the open area was a high-tech movie theater with luxurious recliners and a massive 4K monitor on the wall.

  “Sometimes it’s better to see the work you’ve created on a small monitor put up on the big screen,” Dr. Tao said. “And it’s always useful to hear and see an audience react to your work.”

  “So your work is focused on entertainment?”

  “Not primarily. We’re developing tools that will make any virtual reality experience entirely real. That might include entertainment like video games and movies, but the primary application we’re making with our VR tools is with simulators.”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s that dichotomy again. How can ‘virtually real’ be ‘entirely real,’ Dr. Tao? That’s not logically possible.”

  “Like I said, it depends on your definition of ‘real.’ My definition of reality is that which is grounded in human psychology and physiology. The brain is real. The central nervous system is real. The five senses are real. Do you agree?”

  “Of course.”

  “We interact with the real world through our experience of it by means of our senses and the way our brains process those interactions. In other words, reality is data, and how our brains interpret those sensory data inputs is what we perceive as reality.”

  “In other words, you’re saying perception is reality.”

  “How can it be anything else?”

  “Things exist in reality outside of my perception.”

  Dr. Tao smiled. “Now who sounds like a philosopher?”

  “You got me.”

  Dr. Tao waved a hand at the room. “Do you see any apples in this room?”

  “No.”

  “Do you believe that apples are real?”

  “Yes, because I’ve experienced them before.”

  “And right now we can only talk about apples in the abstract because we don’t have a real apple in our hands to eat.” Tao picked up a tablet and tapped a few keys before showing it to Jack. It bore the picture of a bright red apple.

  “Is this apple real or virtual?”

  “I’d say virtual, because it’s only the picture of one. It doesn’t exist in reality.”

  “The picture is real, though. What do you mean ‘it’ doesn’t exist?”

  “The apple itself.”

  “An apple defined as?”

  “The sum of its attributes: weight, three dimensions, color, taste—that sort of thing.”

  “Exactly.” Dr. Tao reached into her pocket and tossed a bright red apple at Jack. He caught it.

  “Is that apple real?” Dr. Tao asked.

  Jack rolled it in his fingers, felt the weight of it in his hands. “Sure.”

  “Assuming your brain is normal and your senses are normal, your brain is correctly telling you that you have just encountered a real apple. Not a virtual apple. Not the idea of an apple. But an actual apple.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my brain and my senses tell me it is.”

  “Exactly so.” Dr. Tao smiled. “Have you ever experienced virtual reality, Mr. Ryan?”

  “No. I’m not really into video games.”

  “Then perhaps we should start there.”

  31

  Dr. Tao escorted Jack and Lian to the next room, a wide-open expanse but dark like a theater, with markers on the floor and sensors in the ceiling. Two technicians were illuminated by the glow of computer workstations behind a glass wall on one side of the room.

  Dr. Tao directed Jack to a table outside of the workstation room. On it were black gloves, pull-on boots, and an unusual set of goggles that Jack picked up. The face of them was a huge rectangular opaque lens.

  “That’s our own wireless VR goggle design, though it’s not terribly different from others on the market, like Oculus Rift or the HTC Vive.”

  “I take it that the flat piece is like a personal movie screen,” Jack said.

  “Exactly. There’s also a wireless stereo headset that goes with it.”

  Jack was drawn to a leg holster and a Glock 19 pistol. He picked up the gun and felt the familiar knobby plastic grip in his hand. His thumb touched the wide mag release. A Gen4. It was the right weight and dimensions, but the barrel was capped in orange plastic, the magazines on the table were empty, and there wasn’t any ammo.

  “A practice gun.”

  “Have you ever fired a real pistol, Mr. Ryan?” Dr. Tao asked.

  Jack shrugged. “Once or twice.”

  Dr. Tao frowned with concern. “If you’re not comfortable with guns, I can arrange a different kind of demo—”

  “No, I’m fine, really.”

  “Good. Let’s get you suited up and we’ll get started.”

  —

  Ten minutes later, Jack was geared up with his boots, gloves, and weapon, and he held his goggles in his hand.

  He stood next to Dr. Tao in the center of the room. She was kitted out, too, and holding her goggles as well. She demonstrated the intuitive hand and finger gestures that functioned as his controllers within the various simulations.

  Jack held up one gloved hand, rotating the wrist, flexing the fingers. Perfect. The only thing that ruined the illusion was that his hand floated free, disconnected from an arm. But in a few seconds he didn’t notice that quirk anymore.

  “You’ll notice that everything on you is wireless, so it allows for complete freedom of movement. We’re able to accomplish that because we’ve developed optimization software, allowing us to broadcast far more data in smaller packets. Normally, only hard cables can handle the data transmission loads these systems usually require.”

  “Wireless is great. I don’t want to be tripping over cables if I’m moving around.”

  “Ready to get started?”

  “Sure.”

  Jack pulled on his goggles and couldn’t see a thing. A moment later, the lights popped on and Jack stood in an all-white room in front of a white table. A red apple sat in the middle of it, and Dr. Tao—or, rather, her avatar—stood on the other side. She was dressed the way he was: gloves, goggles, gun.

  “Looks familiar,” Jack said, looking at the apple.

  “Pick it up.”

  Jack reached for it.

  “I don’t believe it.” He felt the apple in his hand, a definite shape and weight. “Haptics in the glove?”

  “Micro-actuators are vibrating throughout the glove, making your hand feel as if an apple is in it. We can add temperature to the gloves, and we’re perfecting different tactile sensations.”

  “It’s so real I almost want to take a bite of it.”

  “Turn around and throw it.”

  Jack turned around and tossed the apple. It sailed through the air and hit the white floor twenty feet away.

  “Now shoot it.”

  Jack glanced down at his holstered Glock. He reminded himself he couldn’t ac
tually see it; he was viewing a virtual representation of the gun on his leg. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the practice pistol—it was real enough, no haptics needed—but the gun and gloved hand he saw were virtual. He raised the pistol, aimed it, and pulled the trigger.

  The gunshot exploded in his ears—the sharp, earsplitting crack of a nine-millimeter round. The spent brass cartridge arced out of the chamber and tinked on the floor to his right, and the gun jerked in his hand. The apple disintegrated into pulpy chunks.

  “The gun has haptics, too?”

  “That’s what made it jump.”

  “That was loud.”

  “That’s what it would really sound like. Do you want me to turn it down?”

  “Better than going deaf.”

  “Try it again.” As Dr. Tao spoke, a paper target appeared, hanging in midair over the apple shards.

  Jack took aim and fired three shots in quick succession. Three holes punched dead center; the paper target shook and the gun jumped in his hand. But instead of three gun blasts, he heard three squeaks from a rubber-ducky toy. Jack laughed.

  “Cute, Doc.”

  “It’s all about options.”

  Jack holstered his pistol as he turned around.

  “Not bad shooting for a guy who doesn’t really like guns,” Lian said in his headset.

  “You’re watching this?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve got to admit, this is really cool technology,” Jack said. “The couch potato brigade’s gonna love it.”

  “VR has more important applications than games.”

  Jack suddenly stood in an abandoned surgical ward.

  “What’s this?”

  “Could be a combat assault, or a police hostage rescue operation.”

  A metallic sound crashed on the far side of a swinging door.

  Jack stepped past a surgical table and pushed against the swinging door, his right hand reaching for his pistol. He felt the weight of the virtual door press against his glove as it gave way. He went into a tiled washing area with stainless-steel sinks, his pulse racing. He started to clear the room but caught himself. This wasn’t the time to tip his hand.

  “Interesting, but don’t military guys just build themselves practice rooms like this?” Jack asked, holstering his pistol.

  “They do, but they can’t do it as fast as this.”

  Jack didn’t move, but the venues changed in rapid succession, one after another: a hotel lobby, an Afghan village, a department store, an elementary school classroom.

  “A training coordinator can lock or open doors, move walls, cause weapons to fail, change up opponents, change the time of day, weather, season—you name it. Complete control and customization of any training scenario at the touch of a button.”

  “I can see where that would be handy,” Jack said, hiding his shock. Any special operations team would love a training system like this. John Clark would go nuts. “But still not as good as the real thing, I’d imagine.”

  “It’s a supplement to physical training, not a substitute. Ready for something else?”

  “Sure.”

  Suddenly Jack was standing on the edge of a windswept mountaintop, a deep chasm falling away at his booted feet. His stomach tingled at the thought of falling off, which he knew he couldn’t, since he was actually standing on the floor of the Dalfan building.

  Right?

  An eight-inch-wide board spanned the twenty-foot chasm. On the other side stood Dr. Tao’s avatar. She waved to him.

  “What do you think, Mr. Ryan?”

  Jack spun around 360 degrees, taking in the rugged, snowcapped mountain range. A stiff breeze whistled in his ears.

  The view appeared to be utterly real, better than the best 4K television he’d ever seen. Elation swept over him, the sense of utter freedom he always felt climbing in the mountains.

  “This image quality is amazing. I’d swear I was really standing on a mountain. No lagging or pixelating.”

  “We created 12K images by stitching 4K videos together. Optimization algorithms maximize the streaming on your screen.”

  “Is that mostly what you do? Take existing technology and improve its performance?”

  “Exactly correct, though we have amazing graphic arts, video, and audio departments.” Dr. Tao’s avatar waved for him to cross. “Care to come over?”

  “Sure.” Jack’s legless left boot stepped onto the narrow board, followed by the right. The wind picked up in his ears. He glanced down at the chasm. Far below, a river raged. His sense of balance was already under assault.

  “Feels pretty darned real, Doc. The audio quality is shockingly good.”

  “Our five senses are our gateway to reality. Sound and sight are the two most important.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve developed smell-o-vision yet.” Jack took a few more steps.

  Dr. Tao giggled. “We’re working on something, but it’s not quite ready.”

  The board creaked as it bent beneath his feet.

  “Haptics in my boots?”

  “Just like your gloves. The micro-actuators in your boots can alternate pressure points on the foot, simulating inclines and declines, as well as textures like pebbles, rocks, and even sand. We’re working on both a full-sized helmet and a full-sized bodysuit for a completely immersive experience.”

  Jack stepped farther along the board, his arms intuitively lifting to his sides for balance. Halfway across the chasm, the plank cracked in his ears and the board began breaking in front of his toes. Jack’s pulse quickened.

  “Wow, this feels so—”

  Jack’s words were cut short by the piercing screech of a falcon. He glanced up in the direction of the sound and saw the bird circling overhead.

  “Sounds like a falcon, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a vulture.”

  Dr. Tao said, “Hold out your hand so he can land.” She showed him her extended arm and hand, held flat and perpendicular like a karate chop, with the index finger on top.

  Jack raised his right hand in the same manner. A moment later a golden-brown falcon swooped down, flapping its wings in his face to slow enough to perch. It was magnificently rendered. The sound of the beating feathers in his ears caused him to lean back, trying to avoid getting pummeled by the wings. The falcon’s claws tightly gripped his index finger.

  “Glove haptics again.”

  “Precisely.”

  “I can even feel the bird’s weight.”

  “That’s partly haptics, partly illusion—your brain fills in the details. It’s the ‘phantom limb’ effect.”

  Dr. Tao’s avatar held up a hand and snapped her fingers. She disappeared, and Jack was standing amid the giant crescent dunes of the yellow Sahara. Windblown sand spattered in his headset.

  In the blink of an eye, Jack was in the middle of a howling blizzard.

  In the next blink, he stood on top of the Eiffel Tower, the gleaming City of Lights glittering in the dark below him.

  “Can you load any video image into this system? Say, something like Google Earth?” Jack was actually thinking about the NGA’s Map of the World program. If Gavin could marry the MOTW to a virtual reality program like this one, The Campus could virtually plan missions all over the world without ever leaving their Virginia headquarters.

  “In theory, any 2-D video can be rendered in 3-D, then deployed within a VR system. Streets, buildings, rooms, villages, space stations. It’s up to you. You can take a walk on the moon or along the ocean floor—anything and everything is possible. And if you don’t have actual footage, simulations can be created by digital artists.”

  “Virtual travel, virtual education—I’m beginning to see the possibilities,” Jack said, admiring the dawn breaking over the Parisian skyline.

  “Do you have a few more minutes
, Mr. Ryan? There’s more.”

  “Sure.”

  Paris disappeared. Jack stood in the middle of a perfectly white room again. On his left wrist was a virtual heart monitor. The tip of his right index finger was a glowing laser scalpel. Suddenly, a beating human heart appeared suspended before his eyes, the beats thundering in his ears. He raised his left hand and touched the throbbing flesh, feeling the violence of its contractions on his palm.

  “We can let new surgeons practice on a virtual heart instead of a real one. Care to try?”

  Jack glanced at the laser, then the heart. He imagined gushers of blood pulsing onto the floor with each cut. “No, thanks.”

  The white room turned black and the heart disappeared. Now the heart monitor on his left arm was a graphic artist’s palette for brush sizes, shapes, and colors, and his right index finger was a paintbrush.

  “Try it.”

  Intuitively, Jack selected a brush head—clouds—and a color. He dragged the brush through the air, leaving a trail of puffy, translucent mustard clouds. He ran the gamut of brush types—pencil points, duct tape, roller—and a dozen colors. Twenty minutes later he’d created a three-dimensional turquoise tree studded with purple fruit and surrounded by crudely drawn stars and birds and geometric shapes in a rainbow of colors. The art was crude and childish, but it was his, and he was surprisingly proud of it.

  Jack laughed as he stepped into the middle of his 3-D painting, then through it, and spun it around before crouching down beneath it, utterly delighted and amazed.

  “I think this is my favorite thing so far,” he said.

  “Mine, too, actually,” Dr. Tao said. “But imagine designing a home, a new prosthetic limb, or a race car.”

  “Or a weapon.” Lian’s voice spoke in his ear.

  Dr. Tao said, “The strong emotional response the VR experience evokes greatly enhances the learning and memory functions of its users.”

  “I get that now,” Jack said. He’d felt elation, awe, fear, and joy in the demonstration. Those emotional responses were real. That was the true power behind this technology. Jack saw the enormous potential of the system for combat training but also every other kind of creative human endeavor.