Matrix Man (11 page)

"Stupid, is more like it," Corvan replied wryly. "Had I known what it was like in mere, I would've stayed in bed. Is the story getting good play? I'd like to see Warden Waller spend some time in her own lockup.”

"Good play?" Kim asked. "Are you kidding? The preliminary ratings are off the charts, and as for Waller, well, I'd say her days are numbered. The governor just announced an investigation."

"Good," Corvan said. "I got your message. What's up?"

"You remember the little puzzle you left with me?"

Corvan nodded. "Sure, Neely's disk."

"Well, I've been working on it, and guess what? There's something on it after all. A lot of something. I thought you should take a look."

A grin exploded across Corvan's face. He grabbed Kim and kissed her on the cheek. "All right! The ace editor strikes again! How did you do it?"

Kim responded with a frown of disapproval but felt pleased nonetheless. She shrugged modestly. "It was a combination of perseverance and dumb luck. I noticed that though the video was scrambled, it was scrambled in a uniform way, and that suggested some sort of encryption. I ran it through every modulator/ demodulator the studio has. Still nothing. So I modified the gear and kept modifying it until it worked."

Corvan shook his head in amazement. "You're just as stubborn as Frank was. So give, what's on the tape?"

"Hold on for a moment and you can see for yourself."

As Kim sat down and reached for a wire, she found herself pointing up at the second cord and asking an unexpected question: "Would you care to wire up?"

Corvan looked at her for a moment, sensed it was special, and nodded. "Yes, thank you. I'd enjoy that."

Kim felt suddenly jubilant. He knew! He understood! She slipped the jack into the side of her head and felt the cool darkness rise to surround her.

The equipment began to talk, murmuring its soft litany of readiness, but Kim's attention lay elsewhere. This wasn't her first time. She been dual wired before. First with her instructors, later with a few peers, and finally with some insistent clients.

But not willingly and not for a very long time. She'd done it because she had to, because the job demanded it, because they'd hurt her if she didn't.

And later she'd spent hours in the shower, scrubbing her skin until it bled, trying to rid herself of the invisible dirt. But no matter how hot the water was, or how much soap she applied, a part of them remained. A stain on her soul.

But this was different. This time it was her desire, her interface, and her decision. Theoretically it could be good.

When people were linked by the interface, thoughts could flash back and forth at incredible speed, emotions could be shared rather than described, and relationships could be built or destroyed in seconds. What would Corvan be like?

On one level it was idle curiosity, on another it was something more, a need to peek under the surface. The only problem was that in order to get a little, you had to give a little, and Corvan would end up knowing just as much as she did.

The reop took the seat next to her, pulled the second cord down, and jacked it in. Suddenly he was there, flooding in around her, unsure at first but quickly settling in.

She felt his thoughts turn her way. He was a warm wave of otherness seeking to merge with her, to join with her, to become part of her.

Kim felt herself react, heard herself say, "No," and sensed him back away. She heard him say, "Sorry about that," and knew that she was sorry too, sorry that she'd pulled away, afraid to invite him in. Kim tried to put it into words but found she didn't have to. She thought-heard his voice sweep in around her.

"It's all right, Kim, I understand. I had no right to come on so strong. No hard feelings?"

Kim radiated gratitude. "No hard feelings."

"Good," he responded gently. "But it might happen again."

Kim's smile sent little ripples of emotion through the interface. "Then I'll just have to take my chances, won't I?"

Corvan heard-felt her response and felt good inside. She liked him! "I guess you will. In the meantime, I promise to be good while we look at Frank's tape."

"I'm relieved to hear it," Kim replied dryly, the words drifting across the interface with just a touch of amusement. "Now be quiet while I set things up."

Corvan let himself go, floating in the darkness like a swimmer on his back, dimly aware of conversation between Kim and a computer named Val but too tired to care what they said. He was almost asleep when a thought from Kim jerked him back.

"You can sleep later. Take a look at this."

Blackness became light. Light became color. Color became Frank Neely. Corvan found himself nowhere and everywhere all at once. Frank looked him straight in the eye. He looked better now, healthier, his face full of color and his beard trimmed. But there was an aura of tension around him which showed in his eyes and the nervous movements of his hands. Neely cleared his throat.

"It feels silly talking this way, not knowing if someone will hear my words or believe what I'm going to say. But I do have something to say, something important, and I hope it's not too late. The truth is that I've created a monster, or more accurately
we've
created a monster, since I can hardly take credit for all the scientific discoveries which made it possible.

"Looking back, I see it was inevitable. First there was television, then there was computer-aided television, and then there was computer-generated television.

"It was no big deal at first—some computer-generated graphics and some rather clumsy attempts to simulate real video.

"But now, God help us, there's something more, computer-generated
reality,
for I know of no better way to describe this new development. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Best to take a moment and show you what I'm talking about."

Neely dissolved into a million points of colored light, and the picture reassembled itself into a television studio. Unlike most television studios, which tend to be empty when not in use, this one was full of metal scaffolding. It was painted blue, a color sometimes used in connection with special effects, and looked like a plumber's nightmare. Corvan saw that dozens Of cameras and lights had been attached to the scaffolding and were aimed downward toward a small section of studio floor.

"Not an especially attractive sight," Neely observed from off-camera, "but results are what counts. What you
can't
see is the super-computer which ties all the cameras together and makes this more than an elaborate jungle gym. For lack of a better name I call the whole thing a 'video matrix generator.'

"What does it do, you ask? Ah, you weren't listening when I told you earlier. It
makes
reality."

At this point Neely strolled into the shot and stood in the middle of the scaffolding. The camera flew in and around the metal pipes with such freedom that Corvan assumed it was a robo cam or something quite similar. The camera coasted to a stop and zoomed in tight as Neely began to speak.

"The video matrix generator, or VMG for short, can create reality in two different ways. The first involves the Use of existing video. This approach can be somewhat limited if there's only a small amount of video available, or quite effective when a good deal of material exists. Let's take this man, for example."

The video swirled and coalesced into a freeze-frame of a famous actor. He had at least three successful television series to his credit, no less than twenty-three movies, and had served a term in Congress before retiring to the south of Spain.

The freeze-frame went into motion and was followed by a montage of television, movie, and news footage of the same man. Neely resumed his narration.

"This man has been recorded doing thousands, maybe millions of different things. There's video of him talking, laughing, and yes, God help us, even singing.

"By taking those images and sounds and digitizing them, we can create an extensive data bank. Now, let's suppose that this actor is dead, and we want to make an entirely new movie with him as the star. We contact his heirs, purchase the right to use his likeness, and hire a scriptwriter. A few months later we have it, a good detective story, one which will overload the com-net as our star's fans scramble to rent a feed.

"Now," Neely said, reappearing in the studio, "we feed the script into the computer, program it to search for matching video, and go get coffee. After a while, a day at most, the computer delivers a rough cut of the final picture. It's only a partial, mind you, full of holes and missing pieces, but it's pretty damned close.

"In order to make it, the computer has skimmed millions of images, finding those which match the script, discarding all the rest. Meanwhile subprocessors have tracked backgrounds, revised and colorized them as necessary, and sweetened the sound.

"And speaking of sound, computer-generated music reinforces the video, all of it calculated to enhance the viewer's emotional response to the story line.

"Holes have been left where the computer will insert other actors, some of which will be VMG-processed, some of which will act out their parts with stand-ins.

"So, we review the rough cut, identify places where the computer couldn't find the necessary images, and order the system to generate it from scratch. Given five existing angles, the VMG can guess what a sixth or seventh would look like and fill it in.

"Then after a few more runs to insert secondary actors, special effects, and subliminal advertising, we're all set. Here's a short example of what I'm talking about."

Neely disappeared and was replaced by the actor. The reop smiled. During all of his long, illustrious career the actor had never appeared in a Shakespearean play, but that's how Neely cast him, as a somewhat elderly Hamlet. And it
looked
perfect. The motions, the lines, everything about it looked real. And that's what Neely meant when he spoke of "making reality."

Hamlet faded away as Neely reappeared. "So, that's the first mode. The second mode works a little differently." Neely reached up to pat a piece of scaffolding. "That's where this rig comes into play. There are thirty-two different cameras mounted on it, each one representing a slightly different angle, each one feeding its image into the super-computer which I mentioned earlier."

The picture seemed to shatter into a thousand fragments before reassembling itself into thirty-two frames, each one filled with a different shot of a female actor. She wore a skin-tight blue suit which left nothing to the imagination. As Corvan watched, she performed slow-motion calisthenics from thirty-two different angles.

"By placing some in the center of this space and running them through a computer-designed series of movements, we can build a visual data base from scratch. Once we've accomplished that, it's a simple matter to record a variety of facial expressions, speech samples, and nonverbal sounds like coughing."

The mosaic rippled and coalesced into a single picture. Neely smiled. "And once you have sufficient input, voila, you can generate any kind of video you want to. Imagine, you could hire an actor, put him or her through the VMG, and make endless movies! Actors might complain, but who knows, maybe the advent of VMG technology will create even more jobs by causing a resurgence of live theater. In spite of talk to the contrary, technology has almost always created more jobs over the long run, even when it has displaced workers at first. That isn't to say, however, that new technology is necessarily good."

Neely's expression grew suddenly serious. "And in this case the potential for abuse is unusually high. That's why I'm making this recording. I hope to find other ways to tell my story, but this is my insurance policy, my last hope should the worst happen. The suits tell me that everything's all right, that I shouldn't worry, that I should spend my time refining the VMG."

Neely looked into the camera earnestly. "But I can't do that unless I know that my work will be used for good. It's important that people understand this technology and learn how to deal with it. But so far all of my attempts to get the word out have been blocked. They
say
they'll let me put on public demonstrations, but when the time rolls around to do it, the suits find an excuse to cancel."

The robo cam moved in for an extreme close-up. Neely's eyes looked huge. "The fact is that they're stalling. Why? Is it economic? The VMG could put some of the weaker movie studios out of business. Or is it something worse? What if someone used the VMG to make news that never really happened? What if they already have? I no longer control the VMG, so any-thing's possible. I'd destroy the software, but it's too late. The suits have copies by now, and even if they don't, all the necessary components are already out there. If I hadn't put a VMG together, someone else would have, and
will,
should I disappear from the scene."

The video engineer stared out at Corvan as if trying to see him through the veil of time and space. "The problem is that mankind has crossed another threshold, discovered another tool, and put himself into jeopardy once again. We are entering a time when nothing can be taken for granted, when reality is up for grabs, when each one of us will be forced to think for ourselves."

The robo cam moved back and up, allowing pieces of scaffolding to pass through the shot. As it did so Neely became smaller and smaller. He followed the camera with his eyes, wistfully now, as if he hated to see it go. "The truth is that we've entered a new age, the age of Matrix Man, and unless we're careful, it could be the darkest age of all."

By now the camera had risen as far as it could go. Neely looked very, very small as he turned and walked out of the shot. The interface faded to black a few seconds later.

Both were silent for a moment as they pulled their wires and leaned back in their chairs. Corvan was the first to speak. "Frank was quite a guy."

Kim nodded. "That's for sure. And a modest one too. Although the technological piece parts exist to make a VMG, he's the first one to do it."

"Yeah," Corvan said thoughtfully, "and that's why they killed him. I'd be willing to bet you that shortly after he made this recording Frank joined the Exodus Underground. And that's what the Captain Video broadcasts were all about: he was trying to warn people to be critical of what they heard and saw, anything could be faked."