Emily gathered her thoughts. “There are a lot of bugs. We’ll need extra budget to send to the group in LA that works on the core algorithms. If we make it their top priority and pay them well enough, then it might work. We’ll need to do lots of testing here as well.”
“Budget won’t be an issue. Please re-assure me that all of the testers and the company in LA have no idea about our usage of this technology.”
Emily thought about this. “Well, we have a good cover story for the LA company. But even our best cover is pretty flimsy if someone there started asking the hard questions. So far, nobody has. It might be better if this request came from someone else. The Reality Celebrity World would be a likely candidate. Their main events are actual 360 videos of real life. Our main events use digital simulations, so we don’t have as much need for morphing live video feeds.”
Susan considered this idea. “I don’t know. The company that owns Reality Celebrity World is too flashy and too talkative. I don’t think there is anyone there we could trust with a confidential project. The NSA and DOD, to my knowledge at least, have no connections or contracts there. And this mission is both top secret and urgent. There is neither the time nor the trust to go that route. But I understand the point. Other ideas?”
Natalie broke in. “Our original cover story had to do with Soldier World using the technology with our consumer groups. But what if we say that we need it for our military training groups. That the military would use it to create more realistic simulations with bad guys.”
Susan frowned. Susan jumped in: “No, no. If that is out there, then it is one link away to connect us with these attacks. Having that out there would make it too easy for a good journalist.”
Natalie looked slighted dejected. Emily couldn’t help but smile.
“Why don’t we table this topic,” Emily interjected. “I think we understand the requirements and constraints here. Let Natalie and I discuss it more and get back to you. Tomorrow maybe?”
“Good idea,,” Susan said. “The next topic revolves around the gamers we would use. Any ideas?”
“Natalie, tell Susan about the guy from Alabama. I think he would fit the profile. Also, if we want to limit the gamers involved, we could train them to conduct five or more missions at the same time.”
Natalie beamed that Emily would give her the floor. “Yes, ma’am. We have several excellent candidates for the missions. And I can certainly build training simulations where part of the game is to control five or more drone attacks simultaneously. One good thing about that is that the gamer won’t have as much time to focus on the faces of the people, so the HRT issues won’t be as visible. If he is busy conducting multiple missions in parallel, his mind is less likely to notice quirks in the head tracking.”
Susan perked up. “I like it. Tell me about this player you have in mind.”
Natalie talked to the wall screen and an image of an old man came on the screen. “This guy is in a camp in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Sixty-two years old. Has been at the grid camp there since it opened twenty years ago. Loves the college football simulations in Sports World. He is a fan of the old University of Alabama football teams and creates at least one simulation game a day where he watches how different Alabama teams of old would have fared against other college teams. But he spends most of his time in Soldier World, maybe six hours a day, and his favorite missions are drone attacks.”
Susan looked at the man on the wall. He was in remarkable shape for his age. The gamer name on the screen said “AlabamaGetErDone”.
“What does the name mean?” Susan asked.
“We think it’s a reference to some old comedian that said ‘Get Er Done’ as part of a joke. Some kind of regional humor from the past. I assume it has to do with the football team.”
Susan replied: “I remember when colleges still played football. So weird.”
“Something only men would have dreamed up,” Natalie said. “Instead of going to learn something, let’s waste four years taking drugs and watching sports, and run up a huge debt in the process.”
Emily chimed in: “It is remarkable that this man would still watch simulated games every day. College football must have held some amazing power over people. I remember reading that some colleges had stadiums where a hundred thousand people would just sit there screaming for hours and watch these guys hit each other.”
Susan laughed, “Men.”
Natalie finished, “In any case, lucky for us, this guy never watches the news. We searched his records back twenty years, and he just doesn’t care about world events. He has no living family, and all he cares about are drone missions and Alabama football.”
“Get er done,” Susan said.
“Get er done,” Emily agreed.
“So,” Susan stood up from the table. “You both will get back to me about the HRT and a list of the gamers that will be brought into this. Let’s assume 30 different targets with 5-10 people at each site. Could we get away with just using six gamers for 30 sites?”
Emily nodded at Natalie and then turned to Susan: “We’ll discuss this in more details and get back to you tomorrow. Can I call you in the afternoon?”
“Perfect,” Susan replied, and the meeting was concluded.
19
THOMAS WAS FARMING, flying over a peach farm in north Georgia from the comfort of his cement cube. The path that the video drone flew was one Thomas knew well. Every time it lifted or dipped, the suspension wires would work in tandem, so that Thomas felt like he was in a helicopter over the farm. He had flown almost everywhere over this farm, and knew it like the back of his hand.
“I figure you’ve been making fun of me so much about being a farmer, you should come on board and see what I actually do,” Thomas said to Elvis.
“Are we gonna farm that fruit, good buddy?” Elvis asked, sitting next to him in the virtual chopper. In the real world, the drone was likely the size of a volleyball. In VR, he and Elvis sat in a large military-style helicopter with open sides.
“In a manner of speaking,” Thomas replied, laughing. “Do you ever get tired of that joke, Elvis?”
“Back when I lived at Graceland, if I wanted to farm, I had to walk around the garden and get my hands dirty. You just fly around and look at things.”
“I can’t argue with you on that point. My hands don’t ever get dirty. That’s for sure.”
Thomas stopped the drone’s flight and looked to his right.
“What is it?” Elvis asked.
“I think a tree branch fell,” Thomas replied.
He moved his arms in a gesture that allowed him to change to another camera. Switching from the drone, he took over a camera mounted above a tree which looked down on a robot picker. He could turn his head in all directions and see 360-degrees of video. He could also move to multiple camera locations around the farm and zoom in when needed.
“Yeah, I see it,” Elvis said.
“Looks like it fell on the robot picker,” Thomas replied and waved his arms. The camera changed to one mounted on the robot picker. He moved it around to see if he could see anything.
“I don’t see any damage,” he told Elvis. “Camp, show me the diagnostics on this robot.”
Suddenly he was standing on a white platform with Elvis standing next to him, dressed in flashy overalls. There were twenty screens around him, suspended in mid air. Each of them represented a different camera on the farm.
In front of him was a screen with the robot diagnostics. Thomas grabbed the screen and held it like a tablet. Elvis walked next to him.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“Looks normal. I guess the branch fell but didn’t do any damage.”
“Wanna go back to the copter?” Elvis asked.
“Yeah.”
Thomas made a gesture and they were back in the chopper, flying ahead to monitor another area.
“You really loved that robot tender, didn’t you, Farmer T?”
“Can we get through a day witho
ut a ridiculous song reference?” Thomas asked.
“Not today, good buddy.”
“You know, I was thinking about your advice to ‘Do something worth remembering.’ I’ve been trying to follow that ever since you said it.”
“Is that why you’re farming in a chopper?”
“Will you cut it out for a minute? I’m being serious here. I’m trying to change my life for the better. I’m taking your advice. We both know that I do this job to pay the bills. It’s not real farming, but I enjoy it anyway. It’s closer to real farming than hanging out on Bikini Island.”
“Some woman had a brilliant idea to get camp men to monitor peach farms,” Elvis joked.
“I’m glad they did. I like it better than answering tax questions for the IRS.”
“No doubt about that. Hey, what if we fly this chopper to Memphis and I show you my old house?”
“I don’t think Graceland is there any more,” Thomas replied.
“What?”
“I think they demolished it and built a hotel on the land.”
“Say it ain’t so, Farmer T.”
“They call it the Heartbreak Hotel,” Thomas laughed.
“Now you’re just joshin’ me. And what about gettin’ through a day without a song reference?”
“Anyway, I can’t fly the drone anywhere. Some female manager in the agriculture department sets up the surveillance paths. All I can do is pause it for a few seconds.”
“What good is that?” Elvis asked.
“You know, if I see something out of the ordinary. Like that tree branch. I can pause it, zoom in, change cameras. If I see something, I’m supposed to report it.”
“Who do you report it to?”
“I don’t know. The computer.”
“But who gets the report?”
“Probably some other camper has the job to deal with notifications. Filter them. If it’s important enough, I figure a woman has to get involved. Maybe a manager or a police officer, or someone at the farm.”
“Sounds like you’re pretty low on the totem pole, Farmer T.”
“Well, I’m not the King. That’s for sure. Anyway, let me show you the part of the job that I love.”
Thomas began waving his arms and changing cameras until they were looking directly at the robot handlers.
“This is a fresh crop of peaches they just picked,” Thomas said.
He and Elvis watched the peaches move down a conveyor belt, where robotic hands picked them up one at a time. The mechanical arms turned the peach around at multiple angles and then began cutting into them.
“These are the ones they put into cans. Look at how beautiful that fruit is,” Thomas zoomed in. “It gives me goose bumps.”
“I don’t get it, T-Bone. Goose bumps from fruit?” Elvis replied.
And then everything suddenly went black.
What the hell?
20
MAXIME WAS in the middle of a drone strike on Soldier World when the electricity went out at camp. He was a good player and got on well with his team members. They were working their way up the leader boards in this new set of missions.
He took off the goggles and looked around the room. Everything was darker, with emergency LED’s offering the only light. He took the rest of his gear off and thought about how close his team was to finishing and how they would likely lose now with his sudden departure.
They weren’t great or anything. As a team, they were ranked in the top 50,000. Maxime individually was ranked around 300,000, but he had improved dramatically in the last year.
During Maxime’s ten years at the camp, the electricity had only been lost on a few occasions. He tried to remember but could only think of four or five times.
CRACKLE, BOOM. He heard the thunder outside. He hadn’t heard it until now, since his earbuds had been on and Soldier World had consumed him.
Whatever, he thought. No time like the present.
Time to remind myself what the camp looks like.
Maybe I can catch a glimpse of some real life lightning bolts.
He changed into shorts and a tee-shirt and put on a University of Tennessee Volunteers cap. It was the only thing he still had from his father.
Maxime opened the door into the hall, which was lit with emergency lighting. It was very dark outside, and little light came in the windows.
What time of day is it? 2 pm? Man, it’s dark.
He peeked back in the room to check the time, but remembered that all of his electronics were turned off. Everything except core utilities got shut off in situations like this, so the backup generator could last longer. With solar, wind, and their exercise equipment, they could in theory keep the camp’s core utilities running forever.
I guess we lost power from the electrical grid. Must have been a long outage to draw down the generator.
When the backup storage falls below a certain threshold, everything gets powered down except core lights, refrigeration, life support and monitoring.
I wonder if anyone is playing pool or foosball?
He walked down the hall toward the multi-purpose room. Virtually no camper ever came here, even though the amenities were nice. There were two pristine billiard tables on one end of the floor, lots of lounge chairs for fellow campers to sit and talk. More games on the other end, a piano in the middle.
Maxime eyed the foosball table. When he was ten, he loved to play with his dad.
Happy memories.
Other campers strolled into the room. Today would likely be the MPR’s biggest usage of the year. The amenities were great, and the other campers were nice enough, but it was hard to compete with a VR world.
Maxime walked over to the foosball table and found the ball. He looked around the room and spotted the old guy who had helped him assimilate when he first came to camp.
What was that guy’s name? Tim? Tom? Thomas. That was it.
“Hey Thomas,” Maxime waved and smiled.
The old guy smiled back. “Maxime - how long has it been, buddy? Two years? You look good. Have you grown another inch? You must have better work out equipment than me, because you look really buff.”
“Thanks,” Maxime said. He always liked getting compliments on his physique. “I spend a lot of time playing soldier wars, actually running on the pad instead of using a joystick, crouching and jumping. It definitely keeps you in shape.”
“I guess so,” Thomas replied.
“You are in pretty great shape too,” Maxime countered, mainly to be polite.
Thomas glowed. He seemed happier than Maxime had ever seen him.
“Too bad that it takes a power outage for us to see each other. I probably have hung out more often with some of the guys here online and didn’t know it than I’ve hung out with them in real life.”
“I know what you mean. I don’t even know my neighbors on either side of me, and I’ve lived here ten years. It is so easy to plug in and zone out.”
“Has it really been ten years?” Thomas asked.
Just then, a flash of lightning lit up the room. Everyone looked at it and pointed out the window. The sound of thunder, loud thunder, came a few seconds later.
“Isn’t it like 2 pm? Why is it so dark?” Maxime asked.
Thomas had a look of concern. “It is really dark out there. This is a bad storm. Tornado weather. Did you check the news before the power went out?”
“Do I ever check the news,” Maxime grinned.
Thomas shouted to the crowd, “Hey guys, does anyone know if there is a tornado warning? Did anybody have a weather app up or check the news before we lost power?”
The crowd mostly laughed. Thomas saw guys mouthing the words, “Weather app”. It was true. Who needed a weather app in a grid camp, if you never leave your room?
One guy shouted out, “I was watching the news. There’s a major storm warning. Tornadoes are all over the southland.”
Someone else yelled, “Did they say when it would be over? When the power would be back
?”
Thomas was thinking to himself and realized that Maxime was looking at him. “Sorry,” Thomas said. “Lost in thoughts.”
“Thinking about the tornado?”
“Yeah. It’s weird how nature can remind you of its existence. We have built all of this infrastructure to shield us from the real world, but every now and then, you get a reminder like this.”
Maxime was interested now. Perhaps foosball can wait. “When else have you gotten reminders from the real world?”
Thomas stopped smiling. He looked visibly shaken, as if contemplating forbidden thoughts. This piqued Maxime’s interest, since he too had something to hide. Ever since the guy, Joey, had contacted him, Maxime couldn’t stop thinking about the real world.
Thomas mumbled something, but Maxime only made out “you know what I mean.”
I’ve really hit a nerve here. Thomas is most definitely hiding something.
“Thomas,” Maxime put on his most charming smile, the voice he used for irate customers. “Let me tell you my story, because I have a hunch that you may have a story too.”
Thomas seemed to open up, especially as Maxime told him about his parents and his work on Support World and his desire to do something important in the world.
“Maybe we don’t have to stay in this camp forever,” Maxime said. “What do you think? Is that crazy?”
Thomas looked relieved. “It may be crazy but I agree with you, although I would never say anything like that online.” Thomas talked in hushed tones, apparently afraid of audio surveillance. Maxime realized that they were both talking about dangerous concepts.
“Why don’t we have a smoke on the patio?” Maxime asked and moved his eyes toward one of the cameras in the room. Maxime didn’t smoke, or have cigarettes, and he figured Thomas didn’t either, but it was as good of an excuse to step outside as he could come up with on the spot.
“Excellent idea,” Thomas said. “You know, I have a pack of cigars left from about six months ago. I was waiting for the right occasion. How ‘bout it?”
“Great!”
Thomas ran to his room and quickly returned with the cigars and a lighter. Maxime waved him over. He had found the farthest spot from the cameras, hoping that the rain and thunder of the outdoors would create enough noise to prevent the microphones from picking up their conversation.
Escape The Grid: Volume 1 Page 9
