Point of Contact

30

Jack arrived at the second floor with Lian on his hip and processed through the security desk, where they were met by Dr. Chen Tao. A smile creased her round, pleasant face as she extended her right hand to Jack; her other hand held a tablet. Jack noticed a bulge in one of her jacket pockets.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ryan. Please, follow me.”

The third floor was divided into three sections separated by security glass and passcodes like the floor below, but this place looked like a Hollywood production studio — which essentially it was.

After leaving the security station, Dr. Tao led them through the central section with video-editing bays in the offices and software programming stations on the floor.

Jack passed a workstation where three earnest programmers argued passionately over the densely packed lines of code on the screen. Jack felt the energy in the room all around him, full of creative and brilliant young minds attacking problems he could barely understand.

Dr. Tao pointed out graphic designers, artists, mathematicians, software developers, and even a few physicists as they walked by. She asked Jack, “What do you know about VR — virtual reality?”

“It’s the next big thing in video gaming.”

“Why do you suppose that is?”

“Obviously because it makes games seem more realistic.”

“And it does. The challenge all VR programmers face is this: Is there a way to make virtual reality so realistic that it’s no longer possible to discriminate between the virtual and the real?”

Dr. Tao slid her pass card into the reader for the glass door leading to the rear section of the floor.

“Is that even possible?” Jack asked. “By definition, ‘real’ means that which actually exists. How can software and sensors ever be as ‘real’ as reality?”

Dr. Tao pulled open the door and pointed them through a blackout curtain. “I suppose that depends upon your definition of reality.”

“You sound more like a philosopher than a computer programmer.”

“One of my undergraduate degrees was in psychology, actually. I’ve found it to be extraordinarily useful in my present position.”

“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.”