'It proved, Dr. Aldridge, that you can move back and forth between the virtual workstation and the top of the computer center stairs by executing a command. The virtual workstation exists in real space. It is the portal — the entrance — to another world. This place here' — Gray's gaze left her to sweep across the open fields—'exists… in virtual space. In cyberspace.'
'Inside the computer,' Laura corrected. 'The world as the computer sees it.'
'Exactly, Gray shot back as if Laura had proved his point instead of her own.
'Mr. Gray, Mr. Gray,' a loudspeaker blared from the computer center door, and a split second later it echoed across the flat lawn from the assembly building. 'Please report to the main conference room.'
Laura wondered whether he had been paged in the real world or only in cyberspace. She realized, however, that it didn't really matter all that much. The message to Gray had been received. He tapped his wrist with two fingers, and a clock appeared out of nowhere. It disappeared with another tap of his wrist.
Gray filled his lungs with a deep breath and looked up at the cloudless sky. He then focused his gaze on Laura. 'Are you ready to go back?' he asked.
She wanted to say no. She wasn't ready at all. Laura still didn't understand what Gray was trying to say about reality and cyberspace.
There were so many questions.
'Hey,' Gray said, a mischievous grin lighting his face. 'One more thing I forgot to show you.' Gray crouched low. 'This takes a little practice,' he said as he balanced himself with his hands held out in front, 'so you stay here.'
He took off running toward the assembly building, picking up more and more speed until he was going faster than the fastest car.
His figure grew so small that by the time he rounded the assembly building he was no more than a speck. A second later he reappeared on the other side and came streaking up so fast that Laura recoiled in alarm. Gray halted on the grass about thirty feet away. He rose from his crouch and crossed the short distance to rejoin her.
Gray and Laura both laughed, Gray slightly out of breath.
'Don't try that at home,' he said as another car approached the computer center. Gray stood in the middle of the road, and the front bumper of the car stopped just short of his legs. Hoblenz got out — reaching for his crotch to adjust himself before heading down the steps to the entrance. Hoblenz the ghost.
His car, however, looked solid. Its door whooshed and closed normally, but the vehicle sat there unmoving.
'We'd better go,' Gray said, stepping onto the curb beside Laura.
The Model Three smoothly accelerated past them, heading off down the road toward the assembly building.
'Wait,' Laura said. 'You told me you made ghosts or whatever they're called out of animate objects because they moved around. What about the cars?'
'They're robots. Robots are real in this world.'
'But they move around too, just like people.'
Gray's gaze followed the departing car. 'The difference is that they know we're here.' He looked around at the sights — the panoramic view of his domain. 'This is their world. The computer maintains this model, but it's open. The robots tap into it constantly just like we're doing with the workstations. This model does for them the same thing it does for you and me. It gives them a sense of presence. The sensory experience of physical embodiment in the world — in this world. This is where they live,' Gray said, turning to face her, 'in their minds.'
His hand rose to make the 'cut' sign across his throat. The world went dark to the snapping sounds from the black screens that rose from the floor all around.
17
<You don't know, much about computers, do you, Dr Aldridge?> blazed across the large monitor atop the desk in Laura's office.
Laura frowned. 'I use a computer every day at work.'
<But do you know how it works?>
Laura hesitated. 'Not really,' she typed, then backspaced to erase her reply. 'I don't have a clue, really,' she entered.
<Well, that's okay. Even if you did, the computers you're using are twentieth-century machines. I'm nothing like them.>
'So I've learned. You're an optical computer, right? You don't use electricity, you use light.' She hit Enter with a triumphant jab of her index finger.
<That's not what I am talking about. An optical computer can be digital as well. I'm not digital, I'm analog. Do you know what that means?>
Laura looked around the office involuntarily. She was all alone.
She should know what the word analog means, she really should. Her fingers hesitated. 'No,' she typed.
<Okay, I'll give it a try. Digital computers reduce everything to numbers. A memory of what their favorite coffee mug looks like is a series of measurements that describe its shape, weight, surface patterns, colors, et cetera. From that data a digital computer could construct a perfect picture of the mug. It could also answer the question 'What volume of liquid will the mug hold?' with great precision. Once you know all the variables, the math is simple — to them, anyway. Are you with me?>
'Yes. That sounds like a computer to me.'
<A digital computer, please. They're superb number crunchers, but their greatest strength is also their fundamental flaw. In order for digital computers to solve a problem, it absolutely has to be reduced to math. For it to pick up a coffee mug, programmers have to express every decision as a formula. If the mug is full, variable A equals one. If the liquid inside is a nasty brown color, B equals one. If the rug is ivory-white, C equals one. If the sum of A, B, and C is greater than 2.35, maintain lateral acceleration of the mug below speed x and mug attitude no more than y degrees from perfectly upright. They're ridiculously complex. Do you follow me?>
'Yes. Programming computers is a complicated job.'
<Digital computers! I'm not like that. Besides, it's not just difficult to program digital computers to do the myriad of everyday things you and I do, it's impossible. Oh, you could program one to get a cup of coffee, but that would be all it could do. Forget asking it to see who's at the door. A digital computer wouldn't say, 'It's the UPS guy.' It would reel off the apparent height, weight, age, and sex of the person. Maybe it would guess that he's in the army because he's dressed head to toe in brown. It would probably describe the dimensions of the package sitting on the front porch, but miss entirely the UPS truck parked on the street! About halfway through Bobbie the Robot's report you'd say, 'Oh! The UPS guy!' That's because your brain is analog. It can easily figure things out from partial sets of information, while a digital computer can't.>
'But you can figure those things out, too, right?'
<That's what I'm telling you. I'm analog! I'm just like you.>
Laura stared at the line. It was a short answer, not the usual paragraph in which the computer and Gray both tended to lecture.
'So what exactly does an analog computer do differently?'
<First off, I don't do math. I'm really bad at it.>
Laura remembered the
'When you say you're bad at math, you mean you can't handle something really difficult like calculus.'
<No, I mean I'm really bad at math. It's just not my thing.>
'Okay,' Laura typed. 'What is' — she randomly hit numbers on the numeric keypad—'8,649 times 5,469,4517?'
<47,301,867,849.>
Laura hesitated for a second, then typed, 'Really?'
