INTEL the Morrow Project English

8/2/2019 INTEL the Morrow Project English

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MORROW

THE

PROjEcTBEsTsEllingauTHORsdEscRiBE

dailylifEinTHEfuTuRE.


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Edirilge 5

Dgl Rh

Last Day o WoRkge 10

R HmmdtHE MERcy DasH

ge 20

srle Tm

tHE DRop

ge 44

Mr Heiz

Bli Eege 68

Te hrge 72

Reerh Ielge 75


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MORROWTHE

PROjEcTBEsTsElling auTHORsdEscRiBE

dailylifEinTHEfuTuRE.


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Ediril

convERsatIons aBout tHE utuRE

ulm, Germ. seember 24, 2007It was an unseasonably warm all day in Ulm. Te sky was a cloudless crystal blue

and the Ulm Minsters towering Gothic steeple loomed over the city. Up the

hill at the university I was attending the Intelligent Environments Conerence.

IE07 gathered together a wide collection o disciplines including inormation

and computer science, architecture, material engineering, articial intelligence,

sociology and design. I had been invited to give a keynote on some work Id been

doing at the Intel Corporation. Standing in the middle o the crowded circular

hall, I began my lecture titled: D Digil Hme Drem Eleri milie.

In the lecture I proposed that we could use science ction as a design tool or the

development o technology and new products. Te idea was that we could write

science ction stories based on science act to explore the human and cultural

implications o that science. I recognized that some o the greatest scientists o

the twentieth century were been inspired by science ction. Similarly, science

ction authors routinely use emerging science and research to inspire stories,

movies and comic books. But the dierence I explained was the intent. Here

the relationship between science ction and science act was specic, they were

being used together as a way to develop a deeper understanding, explore the op-

portunities and examine the hazards. Te combination o the two created a kind

o science ction prototype and could not only speed the development o the

technology described in the stories but it could actually produce better results

and more successul products.

prld, oR, usa. nember 07, 2010

Over the last three years I have worked with scientists, researchers and students

rom all over the world who are applying these science ction prototypes as


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they became known to a number o dierent areas such as articial intelligence,

robotics, cyber-security and health care. Tese prototypes became not only a seri-

ous development tool but also a new way to get students and the general public

interested in science and technology. I have written a text book on the subject

called siee ii prig: a rmewr r Deig, that is currently beingtaught in universities and will be available to the public early in 2011.

Te Future is About People

All our stories in this collection are based on technologies Intel is currently de-

veloping in our labs. What is striking about them is that even though they are all

science ction stories they are all rst and oremost, stories about people. Eachstory is unique in its own vision and portrayal o lie in the uture, but each o

them is extraordinarily good at capturing the human drama o the uture. Tese

stories are not about technology, they are about the complex and ascinating lives

o their characters. echnology is simply a part o the drama.

Scarlett Tomas Te Dr gives us a portrait o a amily in a world that is mun-

dane and amiliar yet ingenious in its technological connections. Markus HeitzsBli Ee is a ascinating cautionary tale, pitting our human wants and

desires against our ability to construct a uture that we may not want to live in.

Douglas Rushko s L D Wr tells us about Dr. Leon Spiegels last day o

work, literally the last human to work. With intelligence and oresight Rushko

ultimately challenges what it means to be human. And nally Ray Hammonds

Te Mer Dh gives us a couples pulse-pounding break-neck race to save the

lie a loved one. It is a race that is both helped and hindered by a complex land-

scape o devices, sensors and connections. Tese stories ultimately show us that

the stories o our uture are not about technology, megatrends or predictions.

Tey show us that the uture is about people.

At Intel we use uturistic visions like the ones ound in this collection to inorm

our technological development and experimentation. In our labs we spend a lot


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o time listening to people and studying how technology touches and aects

their lives, because we also believe that not only the uture but also technology is

ultimately about the people that will be using it.

Te stories in this collection give you a chance to envision possible utures, thesame way we do, when developing uture technologies. Each story is a kind o

conversation about the uture, a way to develop a deeper understanding, explore

the opportunities and examine the hazards o a uture that is not quite set but

does get closer and closer each day.

Bri Did Jhri d Direr, re cig, Ieri d Exeriee Reerh

Iel crri


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L D Wr


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Dgl Rh

___

lasT day Of WORk

Im nally doing it. Clocking out or the last time.

Its been twenty years since they began oering the package, close to a decade since

the companys been down to just the skeletal observation crew, and over a year

since its been just me. Well, Curtis and me, but he wasnt every ully here, anyway,so when he let the oce it was more like watching someone log o one network

to join another.

And Im looking orward to it, I really am. I just thought being the last one here

would be a more notable achievement. At least more noted. An accomplishment as

ame-worthy as something my ather could have done. So while it is a signicant

human milestone, Im sure o it, I just so happen to be doing it when nobody isaround to care. I am the headline o every newspaper, the ront page o every web

site, and the message in everybodys inbox: Dr. Spiegel urns O the Lights.

Ive been delaying the inevitable (and, rom what Im told, my own joy, my own re-

lease o ego, my membership in the next phase o human evolution) mostly because

theres no one who knows or cares that I do. Im collecting salary every day - Im

paying mysel time-and-a-hal, in act, in consideration o my having to both work

and monitor my own progress. Its not easy being the last guy.O course theres nowhere let to spend the money Im earning. Te last ew busi-

nesses stopped accepting credits early last year, and even beore that most nancial

transactions were done purely or show. Once the Date o Dissolution had been

agreed to by the banks, there wasnt much point in hoarding currency o any kind.

Its as i we just needed the credit or credits sake - to prove to ourselves and our

riends we had really done something o value. Kind o made everyone think about


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On the o-chance you have no idea what Im talking about (Wouldnt that be a

hoot? Me having to tell people about his existence?), heres how it came to pass:

Ive got my own theories on the moment it all shited - but so does everyone else.Teres no way to know exactly which technology or policy or pop star or com-

bination o these led to the great unwinding. Teres not much consensus on this,

but I still think it was the P, or telepathic podster. It wasnt a truly telepathic uni

device, o course. Tat took another decade. Te P was just a bioeedback circuit.

It observed the neural output o enough people thinking right or let and then

use that data to predict when someone else is trying to move the cursor in that

direction. It was the rst smart phone / gamepad that seemed to know what wemeant without our telling it anything.

While that might not seem like so very much, it changed the whole way tech-

nology developed rom then on. Instead o it being our job to gure out how to

make some new thing and then gure out what the heck to use it or, now it was

technologys job to gure out what we wanted and then just go do it or us.

Tis turned out to be a big problem, because what we all wanted was more o

everything we already had. Consumer technologies learned to think o people theway we already thought o ourselves: as absolute consumers. echnologies rom net

agents to nano-bots competed through the networks to bring their owners as much

stu as cheaply as possible. Meanwhile, technologies in the service o corporations

and governments mirrored the prot-minded or bureaucratic ideals o their own

users. Tey created trading algorithms, intelligent currencies, and sel-reerential

legal axioms that brought capital into their coers at alarmingly rapid rates.

Tis was all good or the economy - at least in the short run, as measured by the

GNP. Te aster the economy grew, the aster it could accelerate. As long as there

were new thresholds or acceleration, the sky was the limit.

Te only drag on the system proved to be human intervention. Te amount o time

it took human beings to make decisions or themselves paled in comparison to the

rate at which these same choices could be accurately predicted and carried out by


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assumption routines. Our impulses at that stage o evolution, ater all, were really

quite simple. Tey all pointed towards more o one thing or another, the sooner

the better.

Once outside direct human command and control, technologies rom the P to

the nano probe were capable o reecting and meeting the aggregate human de-mand well in advance o our conscious requests. At least until the economic sys-

tems on which all this was occurring began to break down.

It seems that leaving technology to meet human demand, unchecked, wasnt the

best idea ater all. Resources ran scarce, especially when distributed to individuals.

And capital tended to pool at the center, leaving companies with no one let to sell

goods to. We painted ourselves into a corner, and lacked the ingenuity to change in

time to get out o the mess. Our programs gave us exactly what we asked them or,and we didnt know how to ask any dierently. Environmental orecasts indicated

that even i we reversed course somehow, it was already too late. Resource depletion

and wealth disparity had passed the point o no return.

A ew great ideas - master plans - were attempted. A Chinese rm developed a

technology through which biological orms could be reduced to one-tenth their

normal size. Te thinking behind this scenario was that human beings would only

take up a tenth the space this way, and thus utilize only one-tenth the resources.But even tiny humans would have a hard time surviving the radiation that was to

come, so the idea was scrapped.

rapped in the scenario rom which there seemed to be no escape, my ather came

up with the last resort idea or saving the species: interstellar migration. No, we

didnt have the technology to y humans rom earth to some save haven, but we

had the means to seed another planet with our DNA. And so scientists began onthe great project to send robots, nanotech, and genetic material across the galaxies

in search o a planet suitable or lie to begin again.

o avoid merely repeating the evolutionary process that brought us into our sorry

state, however, our government came up with the idea o nesting a message into

the DNA strand: our little ortune cookie or the next round o humanity. In this

message, we could explain where we went wrong, as best as it could be articulated.


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Ten, once the next civilization was approaching our level o development, they

would presumably nd the message in their DNA strand, read it, and avert our

ate. While the United Nations argued about exactly what the message should say,

my ather was tasked with nding an unused, or generally unnecessary codon on

which to embed it. He spent a long time considering which animal and humanqualities were necessary or not or our development, and scanned over the sections

o the genome like an engineer looking or unused tunnels in the New York sub-

way system.

Ten, he gured, why not go to the source o the trouble? Te human drive or sel

and tribal interest so necessary at early stages o development, yet so dangerous

when allowed to run human aairs in the later stages o evolution when drives can

be so easily amplied by technology. He used his virtual quark microscope to zoomin on his target zone o the genome, exploring the ractal-like model on the sub-

atomic level, when he noticed something strange: there was a small, extra bundle

o mesons and single baryon hanging onto the edge o one o the neutrinos in an

atom o the cytosine nucleotide. Now what was that doing there?

He guessed it as quickly as you just did. It was a message. Similar in spirit to what

humanity was now attempting to tell its own evolutionary progeny. Incapable o

being translated into words, but conveying the essential and seemingly righteningtruth: technology is not a mirror, it is a partner.

Te location o the message provided the clue or its implementation, which pro-

ved a whole lot easier than trying to embed it in some uture seed-spawning pro-

ject. We would simply release our technology rom simply ampliying the existing

social order, and set it ree to deliver us a new one.

It took some time or people to accept that the biases o our technology were not

oreign to humanity at all, but its greatest and most deliberate expressions. Troughour networked intelligences, we had developed a ully decentralized modality or

matter to achieve greater complexity in the ace o entropy. We could hunt and

gather no more, conquer and collect no urther. Te Industrial Age reversed itsel,

as bigger was no longer better, and centralized authority worked against the power

o networks. Our drive to monopolize was no longer a valid means o increasing

our knowledge and capability. We would have to learn, instead, to let go.


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And so the process began through which we saved humanity and, more impor-

tantly, continued the evolution o matter toward greater levels o sel awareness. It

just meant including our technologies in the great game, instead o requiring they

submit to reality as we previously understood it. Tey were only as responsible or

reading our minds as we were responsible or reading theirs.

We moved rom the scarcity model - the zero-sum game through which species

compete or resources - to an abundance model where anything that is necessary

can be ound or synthesized and then shared by all.

Te manuacturing o energy (long limited by the aux economics o resource de-

pletion) was as simple as a yawn. Te only thing that had been standing in the

way was an energy industry whose prots depended on xed supplies and non-renewability. Medicine, agriculture, air and education all proved as plentiul as our

willingness to adopt technologies that created value rom the periphery, and repli-

cated eortlessly as they spread. From shape shiting to mems to transormation o

matter. Everything became ree.

While our prior social system would have been challenged by the extreme unem-

ployment that came with the collapse o corporate capitalism, we no longer saw

the need to distribute wealth according to ones contribution. Tere was enough orall, and barely enough work or anyone. Once the synthesis o appropriate matter

orms was let to technologies unencumbered by the necessities o an articially

scarce marketplace, people started lining up to do the one day o work per month

per person required to keep everything going.

Ten, the work itsel became ritual. Over the past ten years or so, those o us who

visited a workplace regularly did so purely out o habit, or as a orm o historical re-

enactment. A ew o the robots, like my riend Curtis, remained to perorm the lastew clerical unctions - keeping the lights on, maintaining the ew ancient servers

let that provided no unctionality other than maintaining the illusion o working

companies. And then even the robots let, ully convinced o their superuousness,

and ready to join the party. Tere out there, too.

Ive spent time there, dont get me wrong. Matter, energy, consciousness, all in the


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same dance. Te technology - the balls, the light, the inormation - isnt taking

commands rom any server. Teres no middle, anymore. No top. Everything is

just taking commands rom everything else. Te network is the server, the genes

are the organism, the nanos are the medium. What we tried to teach technology in

the industrial age turned out to be the opposite o what technology nally taughtus in Great Unwinding.

I dont know i anyone but me gets this on anything but an intuitive level, or why

theyd eel the need to. Once you see the dancing, you cant help but join in. And

its everything they say it is: the ecstasy o connection - o everybody knowing eve-

rything about everyone else, and being perectly okay with it. Overjoyed, even. Still

unique and individual, yet also part o a greater mind - a collective awareness that

has nally grown ready to reach out and nally nd the other ones out there.I have held back or a long time, now. But no longer. I just wanted to - I dont know

- to do something as signicant as my ather did. Make a mark. Get recognized,

lauded, and even rewarded or something I did, me alone.

Tats something I could only do back here. And like everyone elses personal suc-

cess, the only thing it can do or me in the long run is keep me more alone.

So Im going to stop now. Years later than I had to, I suppose. But all in my own

good time. And this time Im really doing it. Tis is my last day o work. Im going

to turn o the terminal, switch o the lights, and walk out that door. Tis time, I

know I will.


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More inormation on

robotics and telematics

http://personalrobotics.intel-research.net/videos.php

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bbifmRBBN6Q

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s27Yd5mwZKM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vq08egobDCI


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Te Mer Dh


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R Hmmd

___

the merc h

Ill only have our runs, darling, promised Hlne as she pushed hersel uprom the sunbed. She leaned in under the shade o the beach parasol and quickly

kissed her new husband on his cheek.

Be sae, he told her, glancing up with a smile.

At the jetty the speedboat was waiting, its old-ashioned diesel engine ticking

over with a low rumble. Te newly-weds were at one o Frances most ashionable

beach clubs Club 55, at Pampelonne Beach, just outside St. ropez a venue

that had managed to retain its super-exclusive cachet or over 75 years. Princess

Grace and Brigitte Bardot had partied here in the clubs early years. And now,

in the high summer o the year 2025, Europes beautiul people were still gracing

its white sands and paying hyper-inated prices or its drinks.

Few o the guests were as beautiul, or as ashionable, as Parisienne Hlne

Guenier. Despite her 56 years, the tall and slender Hlne still drew admiring

glances rom the men, and rom many o the women as, bikini clad, she tiptoed

careully across the hot sand to the boating jetty. Roger Guenier leaned up on

his elbows to watch as his wie o only ve days told the speedboat driver what

she wanted. Even at a distance o a ew hundred metres he could see the smile

on the mans ace as Hlnes natural charm worked its eect. Ten she was out

o sight briey on the other side o the old wooden jetty as she slipped into the

warm water to attach her skis. A beach club employee jumped into the sea to

make sure the guests water skis were astened tightly enough or saety.

With a subdued roar, the speedboat captain revved his engine, moved away rom

the jetty and slowly pulled out to sea to take up his skiers slack line.


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Roger knew that his wie was an expert water skier she had skied every day so

ar on their honeymoon and he smiled as Hlne rose eortlessly to the surace,

straightened her long, shapely legs and leaned back as the speedboat picked up

speed. He could almost eel his wies pleasure as a plume o spray rose up behind

her skis. Her large dark glasses glinted in the morning sunlight and her high-lighted-blonde hair streamed behind her in the ocean breeze. In the distance,

nearer to the horizon, was a line o moored megayachts which would soon be

disgorging billionaire owners and their guests, keen to lunch and be seen at Club

Cinq en Cinq. Others along the beach were watching admiringly as Hlne be-

gan her avourite gure-o-eight manoeuvre, jumping over the speedboats wake

as she crossed its path. Te July sky was cerulean blue, the only disturbance two

white jet contrails slicing eagerly southwards in almost parallel ormation. At thear end o the beach the speedboat executed a wide turn and Hlne leaned low

into the curve as the centriugal orce skimmed her at increased speed across the

gentle waves. Roger picked up his book reader again, but he couldnt help but

watch as Hlne began her return run. A jet ski revved noisily rom nearby, mo-

mentarily distracting him. When he looked back Hlne was clear o the water,

eortlessly leaping the speedboats wake.

A moment later the water skier was pulling out in a wide arc rom the boats

plume, when suddenly she seemed to halt abruptly, then y up into the air beore

disappearing into a huge cloud o spray. Roger was on his eet, as were others

on the beach, and they were running towards the water when the jet ski drove at

high speed into the spreading cloud o spray.

Tere was a scream, the high-pitched snarl o a jet-ski engine and then silence.

* * *

Tere was no doubt that the new diamond stud in his let ear looked cool not

too big, not too bling, just a tasteul statement about urban ashion and modern

networking. And very retro very Millennial. But to Billy Becker it elt strange


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hearing Sophies voice deep inside his let ear, rather than hearing her voice rom

his headphones or rom the loudspeaker in his mobile. And his virtual assistants

voice was dierent now, smoother. Billy thought his VA sounded sexier.

So what now? asked Sophie, as Billy let the tech-care surgery.

Te procedure had taken teen minutes and had involved tting a micro in-earamplier and speaker and the multi-unction diamond ear stud which replaced

his old smart mobile device. Te ear stud now provided all personal data proces-

sing and network management services that Billy needed and, what was really

cool was that the device was powered entirely by Billys own body movement.

o complete the system Billy wore new light-sensitive, motion-powered wireless

glasses that doubled as a heads-up visual data display. It helped that they had

stainless steel rames and were denitely ber-cool. Te new system had beentted with the latest sotware upgrade and his VA now seemed even more hu-

man as she whispered her question in his ear.

Back to the studio, Billy told her. Ive got to nish the boardroom designs.

It seems strange to be this close to you, said Sophie sotly in his ear-drum. Billy

nodded, his large mass o dark curls moving a raction o a second later than his

head. It also elt strange to him and a little unsettling. Billy had programmed

his virtual assistants speech using samples o his own girlriends voice and, withthe systems improved natural language interace, the virtual Sophie sounded

almost exactly like the real Sophie; Billy joked with his riends that naming his

virtual assistant ater his live-in partner avoided any misunderstandings i he

were to talk in his sleep. As he approached his car Sophie spoke again. Is it OK

or Speedy to talk to you?

Now? asked Billy, surprised. On my He had been about to say mobile but

he realised he no longer owned a mobile.Its a new eature, Sophie told him. And Speedys been wanting access to your

personal network or some time. Billy elt in his pocket or his car remote.

Well? asked Sophie, almost impatiently.

OK, said Billy, smiling at the improved simulation o emotions his upgraded

VA was exhibiting.

Teres been a trac incident on the ring road, said Speedy, the cars built-in ro-


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bot chaueur and journey management system. Southbound, right by the power

station. Te delays are expected to last into this aternoon. I suggest taking the

thirty-six, but youll have to drive manually.

Te drivers door swung open and Billy slithered in and gasped the wheel o the

ast saloon.You have control, said Speedy and the robot chaueur threw a transparent

image o a map o the surrounding area onto the inside o the windshield. A

route was marked in white.

Just tell me where to go as we drive, instructed Billy. He was anxious to get back

to his studio. He was a very successul urniture designer and his work was in

demand all across Germany and beyond. At the moment, the 31-year-old was

nishing designs or a boardroom table and chairs or a plastics company basednear Vienna. Naturally, he was working in that most pliable o materials. Billy

touched the engine start button on the steering wheel and, as the hydrogen-

powered Audi began to move, Speedy aded the map away. Although all trac

on Europes highways and major roads was now robot-driven under networked

computer control, back street trac was still driven and managed by humans. As

a result accidents and jams were still requent in the side streets.

urn let two hundred metres ahead, said Speedy. Teres some road workscoming up that I suggest we avoid.

Sophies calling, said VA Sophie in his ear. Out o habit Billy reached or the

switch on the steering wheel that would have patched his girlriends voice to the

in-car sound system. Ten he remembered. He nodded and the motion sensor

in his ear stud delivered the call via his new system.

Hey said Billy.

My mothers been injured, shouted real Sophie in a rush, right into his inner ear.She was waterskiing and

And what? shouted Billy back. He saw the right turn coming up.

She hit something in the water and then a jet ski hit her. Her backs been

injured.

How badly? asked Billy as he made the turn.

Shes in the hospital theyll have to operate, Sophie said. And you know about


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her blood. I have to get down to Nice as ast as I can.

Options raced through Billys mind. He and Sophie had been at the wedding in

Paris the weekend beore and he knew that Hlne and her new husband were

honeymooning in the South o France. And he also remembered what Sophie

had told him about her mothers strange blood type; Hlne carried a rare anti-body which made normal blood transusions dangerous or her.

Im on my way home, said Billy. One moment.

He gave instructions to Speedy to check or jams and trac conditions. Ten he

told the robot chaueur to plot the astest course back to the apartment he and

his partner Sophie shared just outside his hometown o Mannheim.

Ill be there in

welve minutes, said Speedy, completing the sentence.

* * *

For Gods sake, Paul, give it to me!

Sophie snatched the sweater rom the robots arms and olded it hersel. She

knew her bad temper was caused by her worry over her mother, but the slow andcareul way Paul the butler-bot was trying to pack incensed her. All domestic

robots were programmed to move slowly and handle things gently or reasons

o humans saety, but there were certain times when such behaviour was inap-

propriate and now was one o them. Paul understood the tone o his owners

voice and he switched himsel to saety mode. Sophie Ducasse was a medical

student in her ourth year at the Universittsmedizin in Mannheim and

she had learned enough medicine to be desperately worried about her mother.Shed been thrilled when her mother told her she was remarrying and although

Roger was ten years younger than his bride, Sophie thought her mothers new

relationship had an excellent chance o lasting and o making her happy. Te

wedding had been wonderul and, until a ew moments ago, Sophie had still

been enjoying the aterglow o the pleasurable event. It had been Roger who had

called Sophie with the news o her mothers accident, but it was clear that the


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doctors at Hpital Saint-Roch in Nice had either had told him very little about

their patients injuries or that they knew very ew details themselves. Sophie

understood that any damage to the spine could result in damage to the spinal

column which, in turn, could leave her mother partly or wholly paralysed. Roger

hadnt even known which vertebrae had been damaged in his wies back. Hisnew stepdaughter had quickly told him to nd out and she had also told him to

relay the important inormation about her mothers rare blood antibody. Sophie

stood beore a mirror and scraped her long, blonde hair back into a utilitarian

ponytail. Ten she grabbed some toiletries or hersel and Billy as she nished

packing Paul standing back, watchul but completely stationary as he always

was when switched to saety mode.

It was shortly beore noon and Sophie guessed that i they could drive down

through France as rapidly as possible they could be in Nice by the early eve-

ning. Having grown up in Paris she had requently spent holidays in the south

o France and she was amiliar with the air and rail links. She was certain that

driving oered the astest way to get there. But what i the surgeons decided to

operate beore Sophie arrived? Te medical student knew that speed was impor-

tant in treating back injuries, but she also knew what could happen i her motherwas given ordinary blood. Sophie hersel also carried the rare blood antibody

and, some years ago, she had provided blood or transusion when her mother

had undergone gall-bladder surgery. Ordinary blood transusions could cause

her mother to develop a high ever and could even induce a coma. Mother and

daughter oten joked that it was good that Mannheim was so close to Paris

We can always give blood to each other i we need it, Hlne would say rom

time to time, when questions o health arose. Now her mother really did need herdaughters blood, but they were separated by 650 kilometres.

Sophie heard Billys ID open the ront door lock and she snatched up the large

overnight back she had packed and ran through to the living room.


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* * *

Te scan suggests that three o Madame Gueniers vertebrae have been dama-

ged, said the doctor, as he pointed to an image on a wall screen. Here, here and

here.Do these vertebrae have particular names? asked Roger Guenier, remembering

his step-daughters demand or more precise inormation.

Tey have letters and numbers, explained the doctor. Tese are vertebrae L2,

L3 and L4 in the lumbar region.

Roger made a note on his tablet.

We can repair the bones, o course, added the doctor. Te question is whether

Madame Gueniers spinal column has been damaged.Youll have to operate? asked the anxious husband.

Yes, and as soon as possible, conrmed the emergency room medic. Our senior

orthopaedic surgeon is just nishing a procedure in the operating room. Ten

hell take look at these scans. I would guess Madame Guenier will be next in

or surgery.

Ten Roger Guenier did his best to explain about his wies rare blood antibody,

and the complications that could arise.

* * *

What are the lane and speed options on the A35? asked Billy.

VA Sophie and Speedy answered almost together. 150 kilometres and 120 ki-

lometres.

Now that all autoroute trac was computer managed, speeds could be a lot asterthan in the old days when erratic humans controlled the vehicles.

Hows the trac south o Strasbourg? Billy asked.

He was driving manually, his worried girlriend beside him. He was also brea-

king local speed limits on the back roads and he knew the networks would be

detecting him and automatically issuing nes. But it was clear that this was an


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emergency. Speedy had estimated that i they could maintain an average speed

o 70 kilometres per hour they could be in Nice by early evening.

Moving well or the rst twenty kilometres, Speedy said, but theres some major

road works around Dijon.

Route me round them, instructed Billy.Sophies ancient le portable rang she rarely upgraded her mobile and she still

stuck to the old-ashioned French description o such devices. Billy listened as

she listened, unable to hear the other side o the conversation.

OK, I understand, said Sophie into her handset. She glanced sideways at Billy

and mouthed Roger.

Yes, yes, continued Sophie, talking to her new stepather. We hope to be there

around seven.Sophie nished the call, then turned to her partner. He was intent on the road,

driving as rapidly as he could through the patchy midday trac.

Teres a recording o Mamans accident rom the web cams at Pampelonne

Beach, said Sophie. Rogers pasted it to our private album.

Billy nodded, concentrating on weaving through the trac. He knew that such

driving would make him an easy target or the Gendarmerie Nationale, the

French trac police, who loved nothing better than to extract on-the-spot cashnes rom oreign motorists.

Put it up or us, Billy told his VA Sophie. Heads up or me.

Almost as soon as he nished speaking, his VA pasted two separate displays o

high-denition video ootage to the windshield the modern photonic net-

works threw petabytes o data around the world as eortlessly as i they were

old-ashioned text messages. In ront o the driver the video images were trans-parent; on the passenger side they were solid. Sophie and her partner watched as

the images rom the web cams were replayed. Tey saw Hlne start her ski run,

watched as she turned at the end o the beach and then began her return. Sud-

denly she seemed to halt in the water, and then y upwards, into the air. Ten

the jet ski roared into the cloud o spray.

She hit something, said Billy, squinting alternately at the video and the road


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ahead. Something in the water. Replay rom just beore she hit it.

VA Sophie started a reply o the video.

Freeze, ordered Billy. Even while he watched he was still weaving through

trac at almost 100 kph. Zoom in.

As they gazed at the video rame they could see the outline o something dark inthe water ahead o the skier.

Zoom in more, said Billy.

Te dark object appeared to be just below the surace.

Looks like a submerged log, said VA Sophie.

Billy shook his head and, without taking his eyes o o the road, he reached

across and squeezed his girlriends hand.

* * *

O course, said Roger Gurnier as the anaesthetist went through the intermina-

ble questions on her pre-surgery orm. We cross-compared our DNA proles

beore we married.

Planning a amily? asked the doctor with a smile.

Te recent bridegroom wondered whether the medic had checked her patientsage; then he remembered that these days many women in their ties and sixties

were still having children with medical help.

Roger shook his head. No. We both have children rom previous marriages.

And Madames genome prole is where? asked the anaesthetist.

Here, said Roger, and he touched a thin gold bracelet on his let wrist and then

moved his hand to the wall screen. Te data moved with his ngertips.

Right. Ill just run a drug compatibility trial on her prole, said the doctor,touching his screen. Apart rom the blood antibody, is there anything else you

know to be unusual in your wies DNA?

* * *

OK, I have control, said Billy as he took back vehicle management rom Speedy.


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He steered onto the on-ramp o the A6, waited at the smart trac signal and,

when the signal changed, quickly moved into the high speed lane. All yours, he

told the robot chaueur as he took his hands rom the wheel. Te car clicked into

the high speed stream o network-controlled trac. Billy glanced to his right at

the drivers who had selected the slower lanes. Most o them, he guessed, werewatching the news, talking to someone, gambling, scanning emails, watching

videos or simply going over their work. Many o them were attending meetings

in dierent time zones, dierent climates, dierent seasons: some o them would

be involved in more than one. And some would simply be asleep.

When the rst ully-automated trac-ow system had been introduced to Eu-

ropean highways, there was much public outcry and intense political debate.Drivers elt uncomortable handing over control o their vehicles movement to

computer systems, even i the European Union was providing them with ge-

nerous tax incentives to assist with the cost o installing the necessary automatic

driving systems. It was only when non-automated trac was completely banned

rom the ast lanes in peak periods that drivers seriously began adopting Auto-

Ride technology. Te EU uelled the experiment by providing an 80 per cent

cash subsidy or these in-car control systems and, during the rst ew years o theexperiment, the ow o vehicles was managed by roadside locators and broad-

casting systems. Now they were managed by a combination o GPS nodes and

satellites, cellular network sensors and roadside beacons and, despite carrying

double the number o vehicles per hour than had been possible when vehicles

were still driven manually, lane speeds had increased by orty per cent. Te public

now loved network trac management and robot-driven cars

Whats your best estimate o our EA Sophie? asked Billy.

About seven-thirty, said VA Sophie in his ear, just as the real Sophie answered,

Around eight.

No, I was talking to Sophie, said Billy, touching his ear. He swung his seat

round so that he was acing his girlriend. Te Audi continued its journey sou-

thwards, at 150 kilometres per hour.


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You seem very riendly with your virtual assistant, said the real Sophie, with

something like an accusation in her voice. Whats the new system like?

She understands almost everything I say now, said Billy. She gets the semantic

context o my words in real time rom the networks.

Ten Billy smiled and added, And she seems very real hersel, now that shes inmy ear,

Let me hear? asked his girlriend.

Patch to speakers, said Billy. Now Sophie, tell Sophie about the weather on the

way down to Nice.

Its clear and ne all the way down, said the VA over the cars sound system. Set

ne or the next our days.

Tat s exactly my voice! exclaimed real Sophie. Tats spooky! I dont think Ilike it.

Ive always had your voice, said the VA. But my sotware has been upgraded

or greater naturalism.

But shes never spoken like that beore! exclaimed Sophie. She punched Billy

on the shoulder, hard enough to make him wince. Arent I enough or you? she

demanded o her boyriend.

Ten Sophies old mobile device bleeped. Rogers name and ace appeared onthe screen.

What news? asked the worried daughter into her phone as the car raced sou-

thwards.

OK, lets see them, she said. She turned to Billy. Te doctors are allowing me

to look at the scans. Can you put them up?

Billy nodded and VA Sophie displayed the incoming images on the windshield.

Yes, I understand, Sophie told Roger. Te lumbar region.She glanced up at the scans. Can we zoom in? she asked.

Billy nodded and his VA enlarged the central area o the image.

Sophie stared at the main scan or some time. Tree vertebrae are badly crus-

hed, she said quietly. Can I see the 3-D?

Te image on the windshield changed and they were looking at a multidimen-


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sional scan that seemed to stretch rom the windshield back into the interior

o the car. Sophie reached orward and turned the images over slowly with her

ngertips.

I still cant see the spinal column itsel, she complained.

Ill grab my modeller, said Billy as he swung his seat urther round. Leaningbackwards, he pulled a large, thick, white tablet rom the rear seat.

ranser the data to this, Billy told his VA.

As i by magic, tiny nodes rose rom the at bed o the Dynamic Physical Ren-

dering device and a solid, hal-lie-size, 3-D model o a human spine appeared

to rise up rom the bed. Despite the seriousness o the situation, Billy smiled to

himsel. He loved using the DPR modeller in presentations. He could show

his clients physical 3-D renderings o his urniture designs. It was a cool andvery useul technology. Sophie took the modelling tablet rom Billys hands and

closely examined the e-sculpture o her mothers damaged back.

Teyll have to use these vertebrae, I would think, she said hal to Billy and hal

to hersel as she ran her ngers over the model o the spine. But I still cant see

i there are any bone ragments in the spinal canal. I dont suppose theyll know

or sure until they go in.Page coming up, said VA Sophie as the Audi began to slow or the toll booth.

I have control, said Billy as he turned his seat orward and took the steering

wheel again.

* * *

Cant you wait just a while? asked Roger Guenier as the orthopaedic surge-on completed his pre-surgery checks on his patient. Her daughters a medical

student she understands these things. She says it will be very dangerous or

Hlne to have a blood transusion.

Te longer we wait the greater the chance that your wie could suer some pa-

ralysis, Monsieur, said the doctor. I understand about the blood antibody and

well do our best to restrict your wies blood loss. But we must operate now.


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Roger glanced at his watch. It was just ater 4 pm. Sophie will be here in a ew

hours. Ten you can use her blood she has the same antibody.

Te surgeon looked at the worried husband and shook his head.

Im sorry. We must proceed now.

* * *

I dont like her sounding like me! snapped real-lie Sophie. Wheres it going

to end?

Tey had been arguing or almost hal an hour. Billy understood that his partner

was very worried about her mother, but it was his newly upgraded VA that was

the target o her anger.Youve started to talk to her as i she were real and thats the way she talks back.

Do you think thats healthy? Sometimes I hardly see you rom one day to the

next, but now you can talk to her all day long, cant you? You wont need me.

I only got the upgrade this morning, protested Billy. Ill give her another voice

i you like.

Tey were on the A7, speeding south to Aix-en-Provence.

I suppose youll give her Julies voice, umed Sophie.Tat was a low blow. Julie had been Billys previous girlriend. She had dumped

him or a rapidly rising tennis player a ew months beore he had met Sophie

and his current partner always accused him o still being in love with his ex.

Road works coming up, announced Speedy. Its manual control or the next

ten kilometres.

Reading the emotions o the humans in the car, VA Sophie said nothing.

* * *

Sophies on her way, Roger told his wie. Billys driving her down. Shell be

here soon.

Hlne had been brought gently back to consciousness so the anaesthetist could

judge the correct level o sedation to administer or the operation. Hlne blinked


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her understanding to Roger. She couldnt move her head or say anything; she

was encased in a rigid skeletal protection suit that prevented all movement.

Well take her in now, said the anaesthetist, and she nodded or a hospital porter

to move the bed.

Roger reached into the cage and touched his wies hand.

I love you, he told her. Ill see you later.

* * *

I DON CARE WHA YOU DO! screamed Sophie. Once we make sure

Mamans OK you can just disappear into the sunset with your damned VA!Billy was driving much too ast through the road works, but he was constantly

being held up by cars that were slow to pull over, despite his rantically ashing

headlights. And Sophies anger was now boiling over. He knew that she was

worried about her mother, but this row was spiralling out o control. Suddenly

Billy saw ashing blue lights in his rear view mirror and his heart sank. He had

been so engaged with driving and with arguing that he hadnt kept an eye on

the road behind him. He slowed and pulled over, turned the car engine o andwatched as two gendarmes climbed out o their vehicles.

Ill handle this, said Billy.

No let me, insisted Sophie. Its my mother.

* * *

Although promoted and harmonized across national borders by the Depart-ment o the Road rac Commissioner o the European Union, the day-to-day

operation o the road management networks in member states remained under

national control. Te two ocers o the Gendarmerie Nationale technically a

division o the French military rather than the police had listened sceptically

as Sophie, and then Billy, had explained their reasons or speeding. Te ocers

not only had recordings o speeding oences stretching over a distance o 12


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kilometres, they also had images o six other trac violations Billy had commit-

ted as he had weaved his way through the trac .

We should conscate your licence immediately, the older gendarme had warned

him.

Ten Sophie showed them the DPR model o her mothers spine, pointing outthe crushed vertebrae and emphasizing again why only she could provide blood

or her mothers transusions. Te reality o the three-dimensional model see-

med to change something in both o the ocers. Te senior gendarme told Billy

and Sophie to wait in their vehicle and the pair watched anxiously in the rear

view mirror as the policemen discussed the case.

Ten Billy saw both ocers talking on the networks.

* * *

Her blood pressure is eighty over thirty. She needs blood, said the anaesthetist.

Te orthopaedic surgeon raised his head, ipped back the electronic magniying

lenses rom his eyes and glanced at the monitors at the head o the operating

table. Tere was still a lot o work to do beore he could reveal the spinal columnitsel. Each ragment o bone had to be careully removed and accounted or, and

there were many small ragments. Te jet ski must have been travelling very ast

when it cut across his patients back.

OK. Give her a hal litre, the surgeon instructed, aware as he did so that he was

creating a new problem, one that could seriously damage his patients prospects

or recovery.

* * *

In the holiday season, progress along the coastal A8 autoroute that runs west to

east, parallel to the Mediterranean seashore, is exceptionally slow. Tere are only

a ew sections on which trac is guided by networked computer systems and


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much o the route runs through busy seaside resorts. While making their estima-

tes o the travelling time, VA Sophie and Speedy had allowed or this being the

slowest part o the journey all o the historical trac data suggested that this

stretch o road might take two hours on its own. But now they were speeding

along the A8 at over 100 kilometres an hour! Tey were ollowing the policevehicle that had stopped them outside Aix-en-Provence and ollowing them

with their Audi being driven under computer control.

Te gendarmes had checked their story with the accident room at the Hpital

Saint-Roch and, having gained conrmation o Sophies explanation, and clea-

rance rom their own police control room, they had told the anxious pair that

they would escort them all o the way down to the hospital in Nice. On the

computer-managed sections o the autoroutes, the gendarmes used their policetrac-management over-ride codes to navigate clear sections o road at up to

180 kph. But here the trac was dense. Up ahead the ashing blue lights and

the klaxons o the police vehicle cleared slower trac out o the way like a ar-

mer scattering turkeys, and Speedy was locked onto the police vehicles control

system to make sure that Billy s Audi remained precisely two metres behind the

police vehicle at all times as instructed. Here and there the trac was so bad

that the police vehicle and Billys Audi had to cross into the oncoming lane tosteer around stationary trac. As they approached Antibes, normally the busi-

est stretch o the A8, Billy pointed to a trac junction. A local gendarme was

holding trac up until they passed! Ten they started to see police holding up

trac at every junction they passed. Tey were being given the equivalent o a

presidential escort to their destination.

Sixteen kilometres to Nice, announced VA Sophie, as Speedy concentrated onstaying precisely two metres behind the rear bumper o the police car.

* * *

Her temperatures rising, said the anaesthetist. Its almost orty.

Hows the BP? asked the surgeon, without raising his head rom his patients back.


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Its improved a little. Eighty-ve over orty-two.

Te surgeon straightened up rom his patient and a nurse stepped in to wipe

his brow. Despite the airconditioning in the operating room, surgeons always

seemed to perspire reely as they worked. It was a symptom o their intense

concentration.I dont want to give her any more blood, he instructed the head surgery nurse.

Well try and complete without. Continue with the saline.

Te operating room telephone rang. Te senior nurse lited the sterile-wrapped

handset.

Her daughters arrived, the nurse told her colleagues. Teyre taking blood

rom her now. But theyll have to process it.

Te surgeon shook his head. He knew that scanning a blood sample or inec-tions and then sterilising it would take hal-an-hour.

ell them not to bother, he ordered. I want it in here now.

* * *

Billy had been shown into a bare waiting room with our chairs, a table and anold vending machine. As he sat at the table he munched on a chocolate bar he

had bought rom the battered machine. Neither he nor Sophie had had any

lunch, and the only time they had stopped during their high-speed dash sou-

thwards had been when they had both needed a toilet break. Like all o the new

generation o hydrogen-powered vehicles, Billys Audi didnt need to recharge its

hydrogen tanks more than once every 2,000 kilometres.

We were lucky with those gendarmes, said VA Sophie in his ear. Teir escort

must have saved us over an hour.

Billy nodded, then he allowed himsel a wry smile; he was getting used to having

VA Sophie as his intimate companion.

I shouldnt worry too much about Sophies jealousy, said VA Sophie, as i she

had read his mind. I think it was just that she was worried about her mother.


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Billy nodded again. Ten he glanced at an old clock on the wall. It was nearly

10 pm. Tey had arrived at the hospital three hours beore and he hadnt seen

his girlriend since they had rushed her away to give blood. Te nurse who

had shown him into this waiting room had explained that the doctors would

probably keep Sophie in a bed on stand-by to give more blood or as long as thesurgery took.

What time did they take Sophies mother in or surgery? Billy asked.

About our, said VA Sophie. It cant be much longer.

Billy rose and opened a door which led onto a white-painted corridor just as his

girlriend walked around the corner.

Shes out o surgery, said Sophie in a rush as Billy stepped orward and put his

arms around her. Shes OK, but they wont know or a while i theres anyBilly held his girlriend away rom him her by her arms and gazed enquiringly

into her ace.

I theres any paralysis, said Sophie, completing the dicult sentence. Suddenly

she put her hand to her orehead and he elt her stagger.

Billy led her gently back into the waiting room and helped her into a chair.

Tey took more than a litre o blood, explained Sophie. Tey wanted me to

rest or another hour, but I didnt have my portable to let you know what washappening. I think I let it in the car.

Billy knew she didnt have her old phone with her he had tried calling her on

the device several times.

Ill get you something to eat, said Billy as he crossed the room. Te cas shut,

so theres only crisps or chocolate bars.

* * *

Billy Becker touched his ID to the ront door lock o his apartment and pushed

the door open. It was Friday evening and the end o a long week. Fourteen days

had passed since he and Sophie had undertaken their rantic drive southwards

and he had just received a warm and grateul call o thanks rom Hlne. Te


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patient was out o hospital and had taken her rst ew unaided steps.

Sophie? called out Billy as he gave his backpack to Paul the butler-bot. Where

are you?

She knows youre coming, said the other Sophie in his inner ear. Billy had called

ahead when he let the studio.At that moment the biological Sophie appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her

long blonde hair was pinned up, she was dressed in the pink tracksuit she liked

to wear around the at and she was carrying two glasses o champagne. Billy

noticed that she too was now wearing some very stylish network spectacles.

Great news about Maman, she said with a huge smile as she padded across the

wooden oor towards Billy. Shes walking!

Still holding the two glasses, she raised her ace up or a kiss. Billy took her acein both hands and kissed her slowly and with increasing diligence. Sophie pulled

away with a smile to catch her breath. Ten she handed him one o the glasses.

Heres to Maman and shes going to call you. o thank you or everything

you did.

She already did, said Billy, chinking glasses with his girlriend. She looks and

sounds just like her old sel.

Tey sipped their wine, then Sophie put her head on one side and gazed up at hercool partner. His light-sensitive glasses were also very ashionable.

I want you to meet someone, Billy, she said, adjusting her new spectacles. I

popped into the tech-centre today. Ive upgraded my system and my new VA

is so much more helpul and intimate than my old system.

Sophie turned her beautiul ace to one side to reveal a small diamond in her

ear.

Very nice, said Billy as he gazed at her ear and the sot skin o her neck. But Icant see any dierence rom your old earrings.

Youre not supposed to, said virtual Sophie in his inner ear with a tut o annoy-

ance at Billy s stupidity. Kiss her there.

Billy did as he was told and biological Sophies ree arm stole round his neck

or another kiss on the lips. He elt her sot body warm against his and he elt a

sudden surge o desire.


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Ive called my new VA Billy, said Sophie stepping back with a smile. Would

you like to say hello to him?

Billy considered or a moment and then smiled. With a nod he instructed VA

Sophie to enable inter-VA communication.

Tis is Billy, Billy, said real Sophie, speaking via the magic o personal nets, as ishe too were now in his head, alongside virtual Sophie.

Good to meet you, man, said Sophies virtual Billy. Shes really been looking

orward to you getting home.

Te real Billy burst out laughing. Sophie had not only given her VA the same

name as him, she had turned the tables on him by giving the sotware personality

a precise copy o Billy s own voice.

Tats my voice exactly, said Billy gazing at Sophie.We sampled a lot o recordings to get that, said real Sophie with a laugh, but I

think Billys already got it down.

I hope you approve? asked virtual Billy in real Billys inner ear.

Suddenly a petulant voice broke in. Excuse me, said virtual Sophie. Arent you

going to introduce me to Billy?

With a glance o amusement the two humans simultaneously muted their virtualassistants. Billy stepped orward, took the glass rom Sophies hand and set it

down with his own on a low side table. Ten he picked her up in his arms and

without saying a word strode purposeully towards their bedroom.

Sensing that the room was now empty o humans, Paul began to careully clear

away the champagne glasses.


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More inormation on

robotics and intelligent sensors

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vq08egobDCI

http://personalrobotics.intel-research.net/videos.php

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2sro8CrB0g

http://www.seattle.intel-research.net/robotics/


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Te Dr


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srle Tm

___

THE dROP

his morning my metabolic age was 28.Its gone ve and Im running along the searont. o my let the amusement

arcades are ickering into lie. On my right, the sea, with swirls o pink and grey

sky above it. Im keeping a steady nine minute/mile pace and my GSRcx says I

am not emotionally stressed at all, which is a miracle given the act that earliertoday I walked out o my job because o a salad. My heart rate is probably around

70bpm, but I wouldnt know; I never look at it. My heart rate gives me the

heebie-jeebies. What I like knowing is my pace, my stress level, and the distance

Ive covered. I dont like looking at the air quality screen. Its bound to be good

by the sea, and with all the improvements to the network, but I wouldnt want to

reak out i it wasnt. Im listening to Portishead.

Te English Channel is like a bathtub with water that slops around as i a wholeamily was constantly taking turns in it. My GSRcx tells me that a 32mph wind

is coming rom the SSE and I can eel it pushing me along, aster than a nine

minute/mile pace now. Cars pass by on the road running along the embankment.

All cars are on the network now. People seem to like it. Tis means that most o

the cars in the town are blue at the moment. Tere is one red car and two grey

cars, obviously driving out o town. I wonder where they are going. My brother

Danny loves watching the sped-up satellite view o the cars on the network, andthe kaleidoscopic patterns they make. Hed do it all the time i he didnt also

have to practice on the Mindex III. He says you can see special things in the

network, but he wont say what they are. It is oddly beautiul, although Ive never

watched it or very long.

I reach the end o the embankment and turn. My pace drops immediately. A

strong headwind has the same eect on my speed as a hill, although to be hon-


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est Id rather have the wind. Maybe its just what Im used to, living at sea-level.

Im not the only one struggling. On the sea, there are our guys in a racing boat,

their backs to the wind, rowing hard. wo o them seem to be doing all the work.

I dont know why the other two dont join in. Ive never understood the rules o

rowing. Te tide is up, and so they are close enough that I can just about see theirexpressions. I dont know whether or not to smile, so I look away. I smile at other

runners, usually. I keep going. So does the boat. Te two men are still struggling.

I see one o them glance at me again. Hes got curly dark hair and a green top. I

keep running.

Ater about a quarter o a mile, I notice something. Im going at roughly the

same pace as the boat. Its still alongside me. Te dark-haired guy glances at me,

and I glance back at him. We glance again, and again, and without anyone say-ing or doing anything I realise we are now in a race. Is it air? I dont know. One

against two isnt air. Ten again, theyre going against the current and the wind.

All I have against me is the wind. I increase my pace. Ive got a battered old iPod

Shufe that has been customised to choose songs according to my stride length.

Now it chooses Blur. My stress level increases slightly, and I can eel my heart-

rate pick up. It really is absurd or me to try to race a boat being rowed by two

men. But maybe its not a race at all. Perhaps I misunderstood the glances. Couldit just be that there is one runner and one boat out in the greying evening and

one will reach the pier rst and thats all there is to it?

But I want to reach the pier rst.

Te way to do this is not to kick too early. I they realise Im racing them, like

really racing them, and that Ive taken the lead, they may gain too much mo-

mentum. Better or them to think Im struggling to keep up or now. Also, this

is supposed to be an easy run and Id be mad to race. Te searont ve-miler isnow less than a week away and I am tapering, like my new book told me to. But

I keep glancing over, and they keep glancing over, and then they speed up, and

then I speed up to match them, and then the guy with the curly hair smiles and

says something to his riend and points at me. Tey increase their pace again. I

match them. When the pier is about 200 metres away I drop them and sprint to a

nish. I can see that Ive let them a long way behind. I guess they werent racing


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ater all. I slow to an easy pace and keep going, pretending that I was just doing

a artlek or something. Ten my GSRcx beeps. Not another mile already? No. A

message. You won. Fancy a rematch sometime? Teo.

When I get home everything looks almost normal but not quite. Mums on thebike as usual, eating butteries. Gab is on her dance pad and Dannys trying to

make his oam ball go through a maze I havent seen beore. Dad is virtual-

ly-touring somewhere that looks like another mountain on the back wall. But

something isnt right. For one thing, no one has changed the wallpaper today.

Its the same Mediterranean Aternoon scheme it was yesterday. And the other

screens are all o. Te akahashi amily arent even on anyones Box, as ar as I

can make out. Tats pretty weird. Even I want to know whether Aki will get owith Bunko, and whether Mrs. akahashi has lost another pound.

Hello, dear, says my mother. Where have you been.

She knows where Ive been. She never calls me dear. She has given every word in

her sentences exactly the same stress, like an ancient satellite navigation system.

Gab looks up into the corner o the room and says: My sister, Agnes, returning

rom her daily run, which generates literally like NO energy or the household.

I look at Danny. His ball stops oating and alls behind a red oam wall.We got a hit, he says. At about two o clock. Since then weve had twenty-ve.

About twenty o them are still watching.

Seriously? Watching us now?

I get my towel and start rubbing my ace with it.

Gab says to the corner, My sister Agnes is 32 but she still lives at home. It is

truly tragic, ladies and gentlemen. She has had ONE boyriend in her whole

ENIRE lie and when he dumped her she decided she would never love againand so she spends all her ree time ALONE, pounding the pavement, building

OFFPUING muscles...

Gabriele, says my mother, slowly and loudly. You know that is not true. Agnes

is a very hard working and brave young woman with a masters in philosophy

who is saving up all her hard-earned money to start her own restaurant. Perhaps

Agnes will show us a recipe later. We could all learn how to make these delicious


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butteries. She picks up the plate like someone o a shopping channel but carries

on pedalling the bike. Butteries are made o lard, our and water. Tey are the

secret to making a prot rom generating electricity, Mum says. I do make them

or her, but I dont like doing it. Lard reaks me out.

Tey think itll pay or the holiday, Danny says to me.Jesus.

Dad is trying to be boring so theyll all go away.

I look at Dad; his eyes are ollowing a trail that looks exactly the same as it did

two minutes ago. He wears hiking boots most o the time.

Does he even know?

Danny shakes his head and smiles. Teres bath water, by the way, he says.

Whos had it?Gab, then me.

Did you pee in it?

No.

Ater my bath I go to my room and upload my stats or todays run. I hit just

under a six minute/mile pace on my sprint nish. Tats slower than an elite

athletes marathon pace. But its good or me, and was enough to beat Teo andhis riends. Emotionally, things were pretty good while I was running: I was on

about a 1.5 until the race. But my stats or the rest o the day arent so good. Im

still waiting or my phone to ring and or Ursula, the owner o the Marshall Ho-

tel, to oer me my job back. Im waiting or her to ring and tell me that Paul has

been sacked, or walked out, and that the head che job is all mine.

Tat aternoon I was peeling eggs, which is one o the worst jobs in the kitchen,

because the top layer o skin on your ngers gets sliced by the shells and you endup looking like youve got a weird dermatological condition. Its odd that it hap-

pened today, because Id decided to really try to make things easier in the kitchen.

Paul and I both knew that the other sta didnt like the arguments, because they

were always leaving. Last week y let, and now we have a new girl: Rachel. Even

though it was obvious to anyone that I was always right (wanting to give smaller

portions because so much got sent back; wanting to use butter instead o mar-


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garine; wanting to make real stock or soups) and Paul was always wrong (not

throwing away wilted lettuce; putting sugar on tomatoes; using packet gravy;

always watching real time amateur car races on the big screen behind the stove)

somewhere along the line this had stopped mattering and we had become those

two who are always at each others throats. Anyway, there I was peeling the eggswhen he came over and slammed an aluminium bowl o salad down in ront o

me.

What the uck is this?

Er, salad?

Dont start.

Im not. I really dont know what you mean.

Why have you put dressing on ater I explicitly told you not to?Excuse me? Explicitly? old me? Youre not my boss.

Just tell me why.

Oh my God. You are so inuriating. I didnt dress it. I know you think the cus-

tomers want bland ood. Why would I do something so normal as make salad

dressing?

Rachel came over rom the washing up. I did it, she said. We always dressed the

salads in the Blue Moon.See, I said. At this point, my stress levels were peaking like well-whipped cream.

We never whip cream in the hotel kitchen, though. We get it out o a spray can.

Rachel sighed. I had to go out and get some balsamic, though, because I couldnt

nd any here. I kept the receipt. She started pressing buttons on her Box to bring

it up.

Paul rubbed his eyes. You kept the receipt.

Rachel looked at me and I rowned.You kept the ucking receipt, Paul said again.

Paul, I said.

First o all, he said to Rachel, it will come out o your wages. But second o all,

youre sacked. Go and get your things.

Tis is ridiculous, I said. You cant sack someone or buying balsamic vinegar.

We. Are. On. A. Budget.


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Rachel was already getting her coat.

I she goes, I go, I said.

She went, and so did I. It took a lot o running beore I elt OK.

In my bedroom now I try to bring up Teos message on my GSRcx but I cant

nd it. I didnt know you could get messages on it, and Ive got no way o sendingone back. Its just a small watch with no character keys, only buttons or stop,

start and menu. I try menu to see i theres some option I didnt know about,

but there isnt. Id assumed that the curly-haired guy had sent the message, but

he was rowing. It could have been any o them. Maybe I imagined it: ater all,

its not there now.

In the olden days, the arcades on the searont looked as i they were made rommelted jelly babies: bright yellow, pink, blue and red. Now they are the colours o

the dusty, organic sweets I eat during my long runs: lavender, teal, eggshell, algae.

Its all about the lightbulbs: theyre not neon anymore, but unlike neon they will

last or a thousand years beore they have to be changed. Its pretty optimistic o

this place to have chosen them. It has always looked as i it might not be here

next month, let alone next millennium. It has no wallpaper, and no discernible

layout, either. Teres the table or the MD&D games in one corner, with anold carousel horse propped up next to it, and then a truly random selection o

machines rom every period in the entire history o arcade games vaguely lining

the walls. Te owner, George, stands in a little booth all evening making piles

o change and watching the akahashi amily. Everyone watches the akahashi

amily. Tey have something like ty million hits every day. A ew years ago they

became so rich rom this that they had a castle built just outside okyo. People

like their lie in the castle even more than the one in the apartment, because theyare always having arguments over who spilled the champagne, and they keep

buying expensive puppies.

As ar as I can make out, the only people who come to this arcade are Danny and

his riends, and some older kids who very occasionally abandon the air hockey

on the pier and bring their girlriends to play on the dancing simulations. Ten

theres the Pumpkin Man. Te Pumpkin Man carries a pumpkin with him all


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year round. No one knows why. By August its really shrivelled, and then when

the season starts again he gets a new one. He only ever goes on the skiing simu-

lation. Hes there almost all the time, with his pumpkin on top o the machine

while his legs go backwards and orwards. George lets him do it or ree, I think,

because hes got the machine wired up to a generator. While the girls are betweendances they sometimes go over and try to make conversation with the Pumpkin

Man. One time they stole his pumpkin but Jerry rom the pier made them bring

it back.

Danny is only allowed to go to the searont i I go with him, but his riends must

not know this, and the older kids especially must not know this, so I have to

eign an addiction to the cheapest game and play it, without making eye-contact

with Danny, or an hour or more each night. Manic Mechanic is a ZX Spectrumgame rom the 1980s. George picked up an arcade version in a boot sale in the

early 2000s. You get ve games or ten cents, which works or me, just about. I

keep ten cent pieces in a jar in my room or this purpose, although Im aware that

soon Danny will be old enough to go out on his own and Ill never play Manic

Mechanic again.

Danny and his riends never touch any o the arcade machines. Tey play

MD&D games: it is their purpose in lie, although I think that Danny actuallypreers watching cars on the network in peace at home. Te MD&D table is a

bit like old AD&D tables, except that it has a screen in the centre o it. Instead

o battling using dice, you have to battle using your mind. Te graphics are a bit

old-school, but thats not the point. When its time or a battle to take place,

the characters appear on screen and take it in turns to choose what to do: cast a

spell, use a potion, make an attack. According to Danny, its very hard to trans-

mit these choices with your mind, but with all the practice on Mindex III hesgetting pretty good at it. Te games rm across the bay, Factors, makes mind-

control games, and sometimes there are beta versions o things to try out, because

George knows someone who knows someone. One o the ounders o Factors

worked on the original programme o mind-control with coma patients. In those

days there were no simple headsets: the patients would be put into an MRI scan-

ner and asked questions. Tey were told to think o playing tennis i the answer


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was yes, and to not think o playing tennis i the answer was no. When asked i

they wanted to carry on living, everyone thought o playing tennis.

Lately Ash has been getting killed a lot in the MD&D game. When he gets

killed he comes over to talk to me while whoever is on his team tries to nd a

Phoenix Down to revive him. He doesnt seem to care that much. Although he isonly 12, he has a little moustache growing, and he always asks how my day went,

as i we were married. Its quite good, because when he comes over to chat I can

plausibly stop playing Manic Mechanic and thereore save some money.

How was your day? he asks.

Not so good. How was yours?

I built a mind-controlled car in electronics and it worked. Sort o.

Tats amazing. Well done.Ash is in the middle o a long explanation o how he did this when my GSRcx

bleeps.

What was that? he says. In a world where everything bleeps, and in a room

within that world where everything bleeps all the time, its odd that hes noticed

it. Maybe it was my reaction. Te GSRcx only bleeps when I complete a new lap

when Im running. You can set it to bleep when your stress levels go too high, or

i the air pollution gets too bad, but I never did that. So why is it bleeping now?Its this, I say to Ash, waving my wrist at him.

Yeah, what is that thing?

Its or when I run. It tells me my pace and stu.

Like how ast youre going?

Yeah.

Doesnt your Box do that? Mine does.

Yeah, I guess so. But mines like 300 grams and Id have to strap it to my arm.I preer having this. I dont tell him about the galvanic skin response detector

that tells me how relaxed I am when I run. Anyway, I like having a ew dierent

devices that do dierent things. It reminds me o my childhood.

Yeah, but like the whole point o the Box is so you can have everything in one.

Youre not supposed to need anything else. Mines got an analogue volume con-

trol on it. And a tuner. I like the way you can rebuild them the way you want. Im


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sure you could make it do everything your watch does.

Maybe. I actually still have an iPod Shufe as well, I say, smiling.

Ash shakes his head. Youre beyond help.

Well, talking o help... Do you have any idea how youd send a message with

this? I wave my wrist at him again.With a watch?

Yeah.

Er, you dont even try, and send it with your Box instead, like a normal person?

I sigh. What i you had no Box, or... I search or something more likely. What

i youd dropped your Box in the sea? Could you in theory send a message rom

something like this?

Ash rowns. I dont know. Lets have a look.He spends the next 30 seconds pressing all the buttons in dierent orders.

It says that someone called Teo is in range. Tats what the bleep was telling

you. Whats he? Like a training partner or something? Tis does that, right?

Hooks you up with other runners in range?

I can eel my stress-level go up to about 3.8.

I think so. Ive never known what in range actually means.

Ash shrugs. Like probably within a hundred metres or something.He presses some more buttons, mumbling to himsel. Oh, I see. So he must have

transerred this to you and then oh, right a patch and wow this is kind o

wacky. Ive never seen... Oh wheres it gone? Oh. Aha. Now it all makes sense.

While he does this, I wander over to the window and look out. Is Teo out there

somewhere? Which o the rowers will he be? I want him to be the curly-haired

one and I want this not to be a joke. Is that so much to ask? But no one is out on

the searont. I go back to Ash.He gives my GSRcx back to me. How good are you at mind control?

What do you mean?

Hes sent you some sotware. Ive got it on my Box but I cant do it. Its really

hard.

What kind o sotware?

Give me your Box.


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- 53 -

OK. I give it to him.

Tere. Ive sent you the sotware, the manual, and the Wiki. Good luck.

Te way it works is this: theres a mind-control alphabet. I wonder what my

philosophy lecturers would make o it. A is apple. B is ball. C is cat. D is dog.X is xylophone. Z is zebra (apparently zoo is too nebulous). Its just like when

youre a kid learning to read. Each letter has a concrete noun to go with it. Ap-

parently these concrete nouns are so undamental and archetypal that everyone

thinks them the same way. Each has a denite shape. When I think apple and

when you think apple, our brains do almost exactly the same thing. So, i you

can summon up a picture o the noun in your mind, and thereore make your

brainwaves into a recognisable shape, a compatible device will type the letterthat goes with it. Te principle is a bit like the phonetic alphabet Alpha, Bravo,

Charlie, Delta etc. but with words that are easy to think, rather than say. I put

down my Box. Even I agree with Ash on this one. Why not just use a keyboard?

Te Wiki included hard-to-believe stories o people who have become so ast at

this that they preer it to typing. It seems pretty weird to me. I cant nd anything

about punctuation, except that you can get a ull-stop by thinking o a hole. I go

downstairs to nd Danny.Tings are back to normal, which is something, although this means that eve-

ryone except Dad and Danny is watching the akahashi amily. Mum is still

pedalling, but Gab is now curled up in her blanket, eating a huge bar o milk

chocolate. Grandma has come down too, it seems just to make sucking noises at

Aki when she decides to wear a super-short shirt to meet Bunko. Dad is virtual-

ell-running on the treadmill, with a plate o butteries beside him. Danny is in

the kitchen, where he has tuned the back wall into the UK car network. I watchor a ew seconds. Tere is denitely something magical about it. It still slightly

chokes me up that every car owner in the country (give or take) lets the network

choose the colour o their car at any given moment, especially when it must be so

tempting to just choose it yoursel. It means that you do see beautiul patterns, as

what begins as several multicolour jumbles in the big cities and towns gradually

begins to make sense. Although the colour-scheme changes every day, it could


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be that light blue cars are going to Aberdeen and dark blue cars to Edinburgh.

Yellow cars might be going to Tanet, and white ones to Brighton. Cars are

programmed to take the most ecient route, based on the trac situation at any

given time. But eventually, all the red cars end up together, and all the blue ones,

and all the black ones, however impossible the jumble looks at the beginning.Network theorists are always glued to the images, along with autistic children,

teething babies, Alzheimic old people, stoned students and ortune tellers.

I heard, says Danny, that sometimes the network sends people to the wrong

place, not because the system has malunctioned, but simply because it wants

symmetry and beauty.

Dont people get pissed o?

No. Not at all. Apparently when it happens to people they can see it, or eelit or something. Its like being part o a big dance, and people realise they are

creating a unique pattern with the other dancers. Tats one theory. Another says

that there are patterns in everything like in the I-Ching and no one goes to

the wrong place at all. Tey say its completely unpredictable, like the game o

Lie, and evolution, but when you speed it up you see things that seem like they

were meant to be there all along.

By game o Lie, do you just mean living?No you dummy. Te game o Lie. John Horton Conway. Look it up.

I watch the network. Somewhere in the Midlands there is something like a

shape. Ten a love-heart surges behind it. How is that possible? I shiver.

Have you got a spare headset? I ask him.

Hmm?

Like a mind control thingy?

What are you up to?Nothing. But have you got one?

Sure. In the basket in my room. What are you using it or? Is it a secret?

No. But its too complicated to explain. By the way, what happened to all those

hits rom beore?

All gone. No ones watching us now. I think Gab and Mum put them o.

Good. I was worried wed become a cult phenomenon or something.


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No danger o that. Were too normal.

God. I this is normal...

Dont think about it. Oh my room smells, apparently. Gab was moaning.

Tats OK.

When? In order to send this message to Teo I have to think the images wheel,

house, egg and nut. Teres no question mark, though. Ive practiced on my Box

and have successully sent this message to mysel several times. It takes ages,

though, because nut is harder to think than you might assume. I have more luck

imagining a huge peanut than I do with, say a hazelnut. But what is an archetypal

nut? Anyway, Im actually amazed that it works at all. But I have to wait until

Teo is in range beore I can send it to him. And then Ill have to be quick. Teheadset is smaller than any I have used beore. It slips behind your ear like hal a

hearing-aid. Its so comortable I almost all asleep with it on.

Te next day Im in the cae on the pier when Ursula rings. Im waiting or Teo

to come within range, my theory being that everyone walks past the pier at some

point. But there have been no bleeps so ar. Still, Ive been having un learning

how to operate my GSRcx with my mind. From the main screen you only have tothink moon and the menu pops up. From there you think star and you get your

stats. I nd it very bizarre that an archetypal star has several points, and is silver.

Real stars... Well, who knows?

Ursula sounds tired. Agnes, she says. Why now? Weve got all the Halloween

bookings next week, and then its going to be Christmas.

I dont know. I think Ive just had enough.

I should be pleased that shes phoned me. But instead, as I speak, Im thinkingiceberg, volcano, egg, house, apple, dog, egg, nut, orange, unicorn, girl, house.

When I was a student and Id been overworking I sometimes used to lie in bed

imagining my ngers typing my thoughts. Tis is similar. Once you start think-

ing o words as a collection o pictures it becomes sort o addictive. In some

languages this must come very naturally, because words are made up o pictures

anyway. I imagine Aki akahashi sending Bunko a secret message with her mind,


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ull o symbols o trees.

Are you going to come back? Ursula asks.

I dont know. I need the money, but...

Look, I know that you and Paul dont get along.

Its not as simple as that.She sighs. Yes, he says that too.

We just dont really share the same vision. Im always having ideas or new men-

us and he wont even listen to them. Ive costed them, and

Documents

INTEL the Morrow Project English