He swore when he saw the red light ahead of him. It hung like a crimson fireball hovering in the center of his line-of-sight. The air around his head vibrated with amplified sound as a chime reverberated and he heard his own voice say, "Three o'clock appointment, Case. Time to come out."
Casey put his arms down and slipped his hands out of the gloves. With a deft movement he stripped off the lightweight headset and set it aside, gently coiling the dangling wires and putting the Grand Canyon and the black-caped villain Destructo on hold. With a little more fine tuning, Casey decided, the Superhero Adventure could be a big seller in the virtual reality game market. But he still had to address the problem of "flying" while sitting down. The sensory inputs from the visor and his own nerve endings were in conflict on this one and made it harder to suspend disbelief, a necessity for any VR experience.
As he had many times in the years since he'd first heard of virtual reality at NASA Ames Research Center, Casey reflected that virtual reality was very much like being inside a movie you're directing yourself.
He checked his watch and pulled a small stack of program chips out of his desk. He slipped them into his coat pocket.
Twenty minutes later he was in Tobias Anderson's hospital room. Anderson looked weak, but alert, and he smiled when Casey came in the door.
"How are you, Toby?" Casey asked. He still felt a little strange calling the great Tobias Anderson by his first name, but over the last two years they'd become close despite a sixty year gap in their ages.
"Fool doctors can't figure out what's wrong with me this time," Anderson said with a chuckle. "All they can think of is to give me more tests. Hell, I know what's wrong with me. I'm eighty-nine and my body has just plumb given up. Thank god for you and this little jewel."
Anderson reached out a frail hand and patted the virtual reality interface by the bed. Casey and Anderson had finally convinced the hospital staff to allow the VR machinery to remain in the room, after Casey had redesigned the hookups so they wouldn't interfere with the hospital equipment.
They couldn't argue too much. Anderson's money had built the hospital and the wing they were in was named for him.
"What have you got for me?" Anderson asked.
"Another module," Casey said. "Churchill Downs, 1948."
Anderson's eyes went soft as he remembered. "The year Citation won that Derby. That was grand. I'm glad you did that one. Helen and I had a wonderful time that day."
The two men chatted about Eddie Arcaro's winning ride at the Derby while Casey lifted the access cover on the VR interface. The tiny program chips fit neatly into the specially designed state-of-the-art setup. Casey was proud of the work he'd done and a bit saddened thatmodules he'd worked so hard on had no commercial application. Anderson's modules were different than the game and travel experiences Casey's company usually developed. Virtual reality entertainment often meant zooming through the asteroid belt in a spaceship, or trekking through the African veldt on safari. But Tobias Anderson had wanted something different. He wanted Casey to re-create special places out of his own past. Places he could go back to in VR, fully interactive experiences he could relive.
Casey was dubious at first. The number of variables required to fool memory was staggering, especially with real people and dialogue figured in. Even with programs designed to fill-in variables from algorithmic patterns the programming task was enormous, representing thousands of man-hours. The first depiction was primitive, but Anderson was delighted. With each completed tableau, Casey achieved a closer and closer representation of what Anderson wanted. Every VR scenario was a self-contained module representing a place Anderson wanted to go back to. Lower Manhattan in 1928. Havana in 1955. School days at Princeton 1924.
Casey created more than scenery and background figures. Working from Anderson's memory, old photographs, references and biographies, Casey created the people Anderson had known too. The biggest challenge was Helen, Anderson's long dead wife. In each module she had to be the appropriate age, with the right level of maturity and sophistication. Each VR module had millions of variables, despite the relatively limited scope. Once fitted into the virtual reality visor, audio inputs and gloves, Anderson could revisit his youth. From his computer enhanced perspective he was no longer old. His virtual reality body did not tire as he walked endless miles, his handshake was firm and he could jitterbug with short-skirted flappers all night long. Anderson was thrilled with the early modules and spent many hours in an elaborately furnished entertainment room with treadmill floors and climate control to enhance the VR experience.
When Anderson's health had deteriorated, Casey faced new challenges. How to adapt the VR sensory input so it overwhelmed the "real" world input. How to convince a bedridden man his legs were moving, that he wasn't flat on his back and being fed through intravenous tubes. How to design lighter, less obtrusive VR gear that would not interfere with medical hook-ups.
But Anderson was footing the bill for all the research and all the equipment, as well as subsidizing most of Casey's other programs. Besides, he liked the man. They'd spent hundreds of hours together and he felt toward Tobias Anderson as he did his own grandfather. And with all the research he'd done on the man and his family in order to recreate his experiences, Casey knew Tobias Anderson and his history better than the elder's own children.
Casey replaced the access cover and keyed the input data.
"Almost ready?" Anderson asked.
"Just need to add it to the map."
Each of Anderson's memory modules was linked by a hypercard "doorway". Once in the VR universe, Anderson could walk through a doorway in Manhattan and exit onto a rocky beach on the Riviera. When Casey linked the new module in he also added it to the "reference map" Anderson had access to while in VR.
A few moments later Casey watched as Anderson "entered" the new module. He felt a warm flush of pride as he saw the smile on the elderly man's face. Casey wondered where he was in the module. He flipped on the monitor that sat beside the VR interface. The monitor was rarely used as it was not necessary for Anderson to experience VR. The visor provided the visual input. But the two had added a monitor in the early stages of the experiment so Anderson could point out on the 3-D monitor areas he especially liked or areas that needed more detail or improvement. Casey rarely used it when Anderson was "inside" because it felt to him like eavesdropping on a dream.
He could see what brought on the smile. Anderson was in the pre-race paddock, shaking hands with young jockey Eddie Arcaro and admiring Citation up close, something he'd not been able to do in real life. But in virtual reality, anything was possible.
Casey pulled out the input keypad and typed a quick phrase. He knew that in the VR Anderson's line of sight, a sky writing biplane had just drawn the words, "How do you like it, Toby?"
On the monitor screen, Casey watched Tobias Anderson extend his right hand and give the thumbs up sign. Casey smiled, turned the monitor off and gathered his tools.
"I want to talk to you," came a gruff voice behind him. Casey's smile faded as he recognized Gavin Anderson, Tobias' sixty year-old son. Gavin ran Anderson Industries, even though as board chairman Tobias held ultimate decision making authority for the corporation.
"Hello, Gavin."
"I see you've put him back into your fantasy world," Gavin snorted.
"He's exploring the new module," Casey said. "And it's not my fantasy. If anything, it's his."
"I can never get in to see him," Gavin complained. "He spends every waking hour undergoing medical tests or playing with your computer games. He's still head of a company, you know."
Casey nodded. "Have you tried the interrupt button?" He indicated the red button on the VR console. Having a VR experience abruptly terminated was a disconcerting experience many times more traumatic than being woken out of a dream. People outside the VR world were encouraged to use the interrupt button, which displayed the intrusion in VR context, like Casey's own red light and chime.
"I've tried it," Gavin said. "He comes back, takes off the visor and roars like a dragon when he sees it's me. This has got to stop. This obsession with that fantasy world you've created."
"It's an alternative, Gavin, not a fantasy. Your father wants things recreated in detail so he can relive his youth, not battle monsters or zap aliens. He doesn't want fantasy, just to relive memories of people and places long gone."
"But why does he spend so much time in there?"
"In there," Casey said, "he's young and vigorous. Out here, he's old and frail and in pain. Which would you prefer?"
Casey's next visit was brief. Anderson had suffered a mild stroke the day before and while there was no major damage he looked weak.
"It was close," Anderson said. "I think pretty soon we'll be glad we took precautions. Casey, what happens to them when the machine is turned off?"
"Them?"
"Helen and the others. When I arrive they are going about their business. When I leave they seem to be doing so. What do they do while I'm gone?"
Casey stirred uneasily in his seat. Perhaps Gavin was right. Perhaps Anderson was losing touch with the "real" world.
"They don't do anything, Toby. It's only your actions they react to. Without you, nothing happens."
Anderson nodded, but his eyes looked dreamy. "Sometimes they seem so real. I wouldn't want them to be hurt. How many more modules do we have planned?"
"There are eight more specific modules, then the fill-ins. Then we can discuss ideas for more."
Anderson smiled. "I don't have that much time, son. No, don't kid a kidder. I just hope I get to see a few more."
"You'll see them all."
Anderson's eyes misted. "Casey, I want you to do something for me. Finish the modules. Install them, even if I'm gone, no matter how long it takes."
Casey barely hesitated. "Sure, Toby. I promise."
Tobias Anderson fell into a coma three days later. After some discussion Casey was admitted to the ward by Anderson's personal physician, Ray Charlton.
"The nurse noticed the fluctuation in vital signs. He was hooked up to your computer gadgets. The nurse disconnected him and when she couldn't wake him, she summoned the doctor on duty."
"Did she try to wake him using the interrupt button before she broke the VR connection?" Casey asked.
The doctor frowned. "She's aware of the procedure, of course. Mr. Anderson insisted on it. Didn't want to be "yanked out" as he called it. I'm sure she followed instructions, but if it was a crisis situation ..."
"Can we talk to her about it?" Casey asked.
The nurse was on duty. She entered the room with a trace of nervousness. Nurse Amy Shaw was middle-aged, with pleasant features and tidy gray hair held back in a bun. She looked at Casey with a hint of distaste.
Prompted by Dr. Charlton, she told how she had been monitoring Anderson's life signs when she noticed an increase in respiration and heart rate. "He was lying in bed with those stupid goggles and gloves on, his hands twitching, breathing fast. I flipped on the TV to see what was causing this "
"You did what?" Casey exclaimed.
She glared at him. "I know why you don't want anyone looking in on your games. You don't want anyone to know what porno filth you've been subjecting that poor man to."
"What are you talking about?" Casey asked.
"I saw it," she said. "I know that what you see on the monitor is what Mr. Anderson is seeing through his goggles. He told me that. And what I saw was a naked woman, her legs apart, her arms outstretched. Disgusting."
"It was his wife," Casey said.
"It was a teenage girl," Nurse Shaw said.
"It doesn't matter," Dr. Charlton said. "What did you do next?" he asked the nurse.
"I removed the inputs and tried to wake Mr. Anderson up. When he wouldn't wake, I called the doctor."
"But first you turned the computer off, didn't you?" Casey said. "Without using the interrupt button first?"
The nurse looked at Dr. Charlton, shrugged and nodded.
After Charlton excused the nurse, Casey said. "We have to hook him back up to the VR interface."
"Out of the question," Charlton said. "The man is comatose."
"He's comatose because the nurse shut off his inputs while he was in a particularly vivid VR experience."
Charlton chewed his lower lip as he considered this, then shook his head. "There's no reason to believe that her shutting off the machine could have induced the coma. He's undergoing a general failure of his vital systems. But for an elaborate medical effort, he wouldn't even be alive. It's unlikely an external stimulus was involved, but if it was it's just as likely that your program agitated him to the point where the physical shock of the experience pushed his body into that state."
"If it is his body," Casey said. "I think it's his mind that retreated from the shock of being disconnected from virtual reality, the only reality he cares about. I know I'm not qualified to give medical advice, Doctor, but I don't see how it can hurt him if I'm wrong."
Charlton considered this. "I'll have to get permission from the family, you know. Gavin is not likely to give his consent."
"You won't need his consent," Casey said. He reached in his coat pocket and produced an envelope. He handed it to Charlton. "This is a power-of-attorney. Before he fell ill, Mr. Anderson anticipated that he might become incapacitated. In that event, he authorized me to make legal and medical decisions on his behalf. Business decisions are left to Gavin."
"I'll have to have this checked by our legal department," Charlton said. "If they say it's okay, I have no objections."
Two hours after Casey hooked the unconscious man back to the interface, Anderson raised his right hand to his face and removed the visor. Casey helped him with the other inputs.
The doctors and medical technicians came bustling in and Casey was forced to wait outside until Dr. Charlton gave his okay for Anderson to receive visitors again.
Anderson smiled. "I knew you'd get me back. What happened? Ray was all business."
Casey told him.
Anderson looked thoughtful. "I didn't notice any shock from the disconnect. Hell, I don't remember the disconnect. I was with Helen. Later, when I looked for the door, it was gone. I wasn't worried. Every once in a while, I'd look again. One time it was there."
Casey studied the older man. "You're saying there was no discontinuity. But the interface was disconnected. You were not in contact with the VR program."
"Couldn't prove it by me, son. Everything seemed perfectly normal, except the door wasn't there. Helen and I just kept checking she didn't seem to be worried about it either."
"You...uh, discussed the outside world with Helen?"
"Sure. We talk about it all the time. Helen says she's sorry she didn't know you before she died. She wants you to come inside so she can meet you."
Casey's head was spinning. His whole world was being threatened. If prolonged exposure to virtual reality could leave a reasoning person unable to distinguish between real and imaginary people after the interface was broken if Anderson had become psychotic, it could mean the end of virtual reality as a commercial project.
He felt Anderson's thin hand grip his own.
"I told you they were real, Casey. That's why I wanted to know where they go when the machine is turned off. Now I know. They don't go away. They're still in there. It's like Brigadoon, waiting to be reanimated. I know. Because I was there. When the nurse broke the connection I was still inside."
"Listen, Toby," Casey said. "I know you think you were in the computer world during the coma. But it's not possible. The interface was turned off. Remember, the unconscious mind dreams too. I think you just dreamed that you were still in VR."
Anderson squeezed Casey's forearm with a viselike hold a toddler could have broken. "My boy, you've done a wonderful thing for me. And you'll be rewarded. The doctors want to have at me again. More tests. We don't have much time. Remember your promise to me. Finish the modules. For them. And for me."
Before Casey could answer, Anderson broke into a spasm of coughing that brought Dr. Charlton back into the room. As Casey squeezed his friend's hand and said goodbye, he knew it was for the last time.
Casey stared out at the San Francisco Bay from his suite of offices high atop the Embarcadero One Office Plaza. Tobias Anderson had died shortly after that visit, still hooked to the VR interface. That had been three years ago. There had been a whirlwind of expansion in the VR industry in that time, with Casey's VR Enterprises leading the way. Anderson's will had contained the reward he so often spoke of. Casey received a sizable bequest, one that guaranteed that he would never have to pursue VR research for commercial reasons. The company still made games, though at Casey's insistence, research was proceeding toward marketing virtual reality to hospitals and nursing homes as geriatric therapy.
Casey removed the program chips from the VR interface in his office. This module had tested out perfectly.
Casey's chief design engineer, Kate Zarella, stuck her head through the doorway of the office. "Going to lunch, boss?"
Casey looked at his watch. "I guess not. I'm going to install the new module. Coney Island, 1945."
Kate said. "That won't take you too long. I've got a few things I can tend to. I'll wait in my office." She shook her head. "I can't believe you still spend so much time working on those things. I mean, they're wonderful, the ones you've shown me, but they're not exactly mass market."
Kate walked with him down the plush hallway. They dodged a bevy of designers and engineers making for the elevator. Casey stopped before a locked door marked ANDERSON INTERFACE.
"Why do you do it?" Kate asked him as he unlocked the door.
"It's a promise I made a long time ago. I said I'd finish the design concept. I've got two more scenarios to go."
"No one will know if you do or don't, Casey." Kate shuddered slightly and rubbed her crossed arms to chase away the gooseflesh. "The guy's been dead for years. And no one but you ever goes in there."
Casey smiled. "I won't be long."
He closed the door behind him and opened the access cover to the now-obsolete VR interface. A few moments later he updated the map and closed the cover. The machine hummed quietly in the air-conditioned room.
Casey flipped the monitor to ON. He spun the trackball on the interface panel and panned the view perspective to reveal the grandeurs of the premiere amusement park of the middle of the twentieth century. Toby's memories of Coney Island had been vivid and the wealth of existing newsreel and archival images of the place had made Casey's latest module even more detailed and more richly textured than the others. He was proud of it.
The amusement park teemed with summer revelers enjoying the elaborate diversions that surrounded them. Casey's fingers paused as the view perspective centered on a handsome young couple. A tall, trim man in white slacks and blue sweater stood with a slender brunette swathed in white crinoline. They were arm-in-arm, staring and pointing out the wondrous sights on every side.
Casey's fingers flew across the keys of the manual interface and spun the trackball. On the near horizon of the screen, in the line of sight of the young couple, a bright red biplane swirled and looped a message in smoke, How do you like it Toby?
In the foreground, the man took his right arm from around the waist of the young woman and held his hand aloft, thumbs up. Then Toby Anderson took Helen's hand, pulled her close for a hug and tender kiss, and the two of them strolled toward the ferris wheel.