The other day found me visiting my old pal Dr Baz Broxtowe of Fradley University. We were drinking coffee in his office when in what seemed like a moment of decision he presented me with a virtual reality headset.
“Try this,” he said, “while I load up the latest version of our project.”
“Oh right – interesting.” I examined the headset, it wasn’t a type I knew and it had no brand name.
“The software the headset runs is called Comfort Zone and it’s a bit hush-hush, so I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone,” said Dr Baz as he fired up a pair of computer screens.
Once I’d adjusted the headset and Dr Baz had his Comfort Zone software running, I found myself in virtual room, a fairly small square room, almost featureless apart from a kind of bed jutting out from one wall and three plain doors. Everything was pale in colour, not quite white and well lit, although it wasn’t clear where the light came from.
“Where am I?” I asked with all the originality of a thousand movies.
This is Comfort Zone. If you wish to go somewhere just say or point, if you want to know anything just ask.
The voice was deep, low-pitched and wasn’t the voice of Dr Baz. “Where can I go?” I asked.
Anywhere or anywhen as anyone.
Anywhere?
Yes, near enough. How about Cromford in the county of Derbyshire, you often visit Cromford and go for walks along the canal, through the woods, over the hills.
“Okay, take me to Cromford canal,” I replied.
Anywhere or anywhen as anyone.
Anywhere?
Yes, near enough. How about Cromford in the county of Derbyshire, you often visit Cromford and go for walks along the canal, through the woods, over the hills.
“Okay, take me to Cromford canal,” I replied.
I don’t know how to describe the next bit. One second I was in that pale, virtual room, presumably the Comfort Zone starting point, and the next second I was on the towpath of Cromford canal. After a few seconds while I adjusted myself to the disconcertingly abrupt transition, I look around, a virtual Cromford canal appeared to be correct in every detail.
Nothing jarred or didn’t look right. Canal, towpath, trees lining the opposite bank, the A6 to my left, all correct apart from one thing, a vole swimming across the canal.
“I haven’t seen a vole for years.” Well I had to say something.
Perhaps not, but we put them back.
“Oh – virtual rewilding here we come. Okay, take me along the tow path at walking pace,” I replied and off we went. The sensation wasn’t like walking, but visually it was spot on until I passed under Arkwright’s stone bridge and saw a few ostriches over by the rugby ground.
“Ostriches at Cromford?”
A glitch, they will be removed.
And the ostriches were gone. No fading, just gone. Apart from the ostriches it was an impressive demonstration. I also had a feeling that something had been learned and the ostriches would never come back. A pity, but I could easily see the attraction of Comfort Zone for those who don’t want to play computer games.
“But why Comfort Zone?” I asked Dr Baz a few minutes later as I handed back the headset. I didn't really like wearing it, made me feel queasy.
“Imagine a future where Comfort Zone is your home, your real home. A real room with a bed and a bathroom, a room from where you can go anywhere, see anything, chat, watch sport, play games, read or just meditate on a starlit seashore.”
“Well yes, but what about the basics, food, laundry, personal contact.”
“Fast food deliveries so you don’t need a kitchen, laundry services and isolation from the weather and if you wish it, isolation from other people. Hell is other people as someone said.”
“Yes but all that isn’t part of your software. You are talking about a real room presumably in a real building with real services.” Stating the obvious I thought.
“No but our software could be part of a complete lifestyle package, a way for millions to own nothing and be happy.”
“I’ve heard that before, but who funds it all?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s lavish,” replied Dr Baz.
Nothing jarred or didn’t look right. Canal, towpath, trees lining the opposite bank, the A6 to my left, all correct apart from one thing, a vole swimming across the canal.
“I haven’t seen a vole for years.” Well I had to say something.
Perhaps not, but we put them back.
“Oh – virtual rewilding here we come. Okay, take me along the tow path at walking pace,” I replied and off we went. The sensation wasn’t like walking, but visually it was spot on until I passed under Arkwright’s stone bridge and saw a few ostriches over by the rugby ground.
“Ostriches at Cromford?”
A glitch, they will be removed.
And the ostriches were gone. No fading, just gone. Apart from the ostriches it was an impressive demonstration. I also had a feeling that something had been learned and the ostriches would never come back. A pity, but I could easily see the attraction of Comfort Zone for those who don’t want to play computer games.
“But why Comfort Zone?” I asked Dr Baz a few minutes later as I handed back the headset. I didn't really like wearing it, made me feel queasy.
“Imagine a future where Comfort Zone is your home, your real home. A real room with a bed and a bathroom, a room from where you can go anywhere, see anything, chat, watch sport, play games, read or just meditate on a starlit seashore.”
“Well yes, but what about the basics, food, laundry, personal contact.”
“Fast food deliveries so you don’t need a kitchen, laundry services and isolation from the weather and if you wish it, isolation from other people. Hell is other people as someone said.”
“Yes but all that isn’t part of your software. You are talking about a real room presumably in a real building with real services.” Stating the obvious I thought.
“No but our software could be part of a complete lifestyle package, a way for millions to own nothing and be happy.”
“I’ve heard that before, but who funds it all?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s lavish,” replied Dr Baz.
2 comments:
Punishments would be interesting. You could be confined to the little room, or only allowed access to nasty simulations. Sent to a virtual prison. Or maybe you would just become unlucky in your normal interactions. Cromford in the rain, no voles, and The Greyhound Inn closed for repairs.
Sam - yes, punishments would be interesting with many possibilities. The Greyhound closes as you approach, trying to get out of the rain. Or it could be like one of those dreams where you never seem to get to a destination.
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