The reconstruction had been done by a team renowned for work on the aftermaths of many mid-air explosions. They had quickly determined the exact sequence of explosion and breakup, and could see that at least one of the plane’s engines was still functioning normally in the moments following the initial, smaller blast. Inside the No. 2 turbine, a piece of 1.1mm cable was discovered of the kind to be found in one of the baggage containers. This cable, they deduced, had been sucked into the engine whilst it was still operating at full power. The investigators had then drawn detailed diagrams of ‘shingling’, a unique pattern that occurs as a result of foreign objects colliding with the moving parts of a turbofan. Fragments of this kind entering a still running engine told the team the two things they needed to know; that there had undoubtedly been a powerful explosion and it had occurred right in heart of the 747’s baggage compartment.
Some pieces of the fuselage interior were found to be pitted and blackened by soot, demonstrating that they had been adjacent to the point of explosion and further narrowing its location. At this point the reconstruction team had built a transparent dummy fuselage and commenced the arduous task of tracing every recovered fragment directly on to it. In this way they would be able to follow the tear lines back to their point of origin. At the same time other investigators were reconstructing baggage container AVC 4119 TA, which showed the most extensive blast damage, and AVC 5036 TA which they suspected had been adjacent to it. They rebuilt the two huge cases around specially built steel frameworks and then, when the transparent fuselage was fully traced, placed them inside to demonstrate the interaction between luggage, baggage container and fuselage. This showed that the bomb had detonated ten inches above the base of AVC 4119 TA, subsequently and violently punching a hole through the outer flesh of the plane itself.
Conclusive evidence that the explosion had originated within a brown Samsonite had come when a screw and a magnet were discovered fused to the framework of just such a case. The team immediately identified the screw and magnet as components from the Matsutritsu cassette player which had housed the bomb, and determined that they had been fused by close-quarter heat of that same primary explosion. Comparisons performed at Samsonite headquarters in Denver, Colorado revealed that the bag had been a bronze coloured System 5 Silhouette 3000 case.
What worried the investigators most at this stage, however, was that fragments of some three hundred and forty one cases were found. Baggage coupons for the flight only listed three hundred and forty. Somebody, it seemed, had slipped an extra case on board and a lack of corroborating paperwork demonstrated that it had at no time passed through the conventional channels or – more alarmingly - the rigorous checks associated with such.
Which is why the most incriminating evidence against Mil’el as a group was now taking the form of details that Jack was reading in the London Daily Mail as the limousine cut through the rain between Heathrow and his morning meeting. These details, only just being handed to world’s press and making today’s headlines, showed how Dieter Friedricks, a known Mil’el sympathiser and one of the detained six, had somehow managed to obtain a job as a baggage handler at Frankfurt Airport. Indeed, Friedricks had been part of the team tasked with loading passenger baggage onto Flight 320 that very day.
Jack placed the newspaper on the seat of his limousine as it pulled into the half-moon parking area of the Docklands home of Virtuosity Systems and sighed with relief. He removed his small round reading spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose as though massaging away the dying strains of a long running headache. The bastards who had stolen his daughter’s future were well and truly nailed, he figured. No bullshit loophole in the world would serve to free them now. Not that he could feel even an ounce of happiness for the acceptance of such a truth.
Virtuosity Systems had undergone a change of premises since Jack had visited them last, and it seemed that they had used some of his fifteen-point-two million sterling to good effect. Gone was the run down North London warehouse littered with cables and screens which had previously been their home and in its place was a custom-built six storey pyramid of golden glass. It seemed that they had taken Jack’s advice firmly on board - that if he was to have any financial interest whatsoever in the cutting edge of virtual reality, then he would want them to look like they could - like IntelliSoft itself - piss from higher up the tree than the big boys. As he recalled, they had listened so well that they had even managed to convince him that his initial twelve million research and development investment should be upped by an extra three-point-two, specifically to improve company profile.
Jack was certainly impressed with their choice of headquarters but as John Case, Virtuosity’s CEO, had refused to detail exactly what it was he wanted to demonstrate to Jack on this particular visit, referring to it numerous times only as ‘fucking brilliant, Jack’, he could only hope that he had used the remainder of his money just as effectively.
He ran briskly up the steps and entered the atrium of the pyramid, his thoughts still visiting another, much darker place. When he introduced himself to the receptionist she immediately offered him a towel to dry his face and within two minutes of settling into one of the five leather Chesterfields Case appeared, descending in one of two glass elevators which stretched upward through the pyramid’s centre. When the doors opened he skidded like a child across the polished floor, his arm outstretched the whole way.
That had always been one of John’s greatest strengths, Jack mused, the ability to remain a big kid whilst attacking the harsher problems of a very adult world. There was nothing that could not be done, he felt, if you truly enjoyed the challenge and absorbed a genuine excitement from moving technology forward. Case still derived a childish pleasure from getting there first. Consequently, even at twenty-nine, his days at work were probably still more akin to one long playtime. Hell, the guy probably took a morning milk break.
“Sorry ‘bout the weather, Jack,” he blurted excitedly, “Great to see you, though. Thanks for coming...”
“You didn’t really give me any choice,” Jack replied with a wry smile. “You wouldn’t tell me what the hell you’d got unless I did.”
“Oh, you just gotta trust me on this one, Jack,” John offered with the kind of mischievous smile Jack would normally expect to see on a toddler who had just ‘redecorated the bathroom’ with three tins of shaving foam. “This baby has got be seen, really it does...”
the blind to see
Matthew 15:31
Stepping from the elevator on the second level, John escorted Jack to the opposing balcony, eventually arriving at a door marked ‘R&D-3’. He swiped a card into the slot and with the blink of a green light the door clicked open, revealing a room that took Jack completely by surprise.
Not in a particularly good way.
In direct contrast to the rest of the pyramid, this room was surreal - almost Dickensian in style - with dusty, vintage furniture filling every spare inch of space. the walls were covered in gnarled flock paper; yellowed and peeling. Fading scenes of ‘Old London Town’ hung in tarnished frames and in one dimly-lit corner a scarred writing bureau was littered with aged papers and writing tools. Open mouthed in an open doorway, Jack looked around at what resembled the back room of an antiquarian bookstore, then cautiously stepped inside.
To his right he noticed a large bookcase made from a dark wood and filled floor to ceiling with dusty leather-bound volumes. He started to walk toward it but John swiftly caught his arm. “Sorry, Jack, controlled environment, you know?” he said, leading him instead toward a Queen Anne chair which faced an inlaid desk in the centre of the room.
Case then lowered himself into an identical chair at the other side of the desk and smiled confidently.
Confused, Jack looked around the room a second time. Not one ‘controlled environment’ in one R&D laboratory he had ever visited had looked anything like this. At best, most could be described as sterile; clean and clinical. All with a lingering smell of over-processed
air and anti-static solutions. Here was a polar opposite. Dust grains had purchased holiday apartments on every level surface and cobwebs hung like satin shrouds between the shelves.
And yet… the smell was wrong. It was as though somebody had tried, but had not quite got it right. The room looked old and felt old but, despite best intentions, something about it did not smell old. Jack felt himself sweating, small pools of moisture gathering in the furrows of his brow despite the fact that the room was actually quite cool.
“You really need to get a maid in,” he said, smiling ironically as he wiped his forehead. “We can send you the funds if you need...?” The comment was a dodge, a deliberate sidestep whilst he scoured the room and his mind made further attempts to decipher some unknown joke. One that he was obviously not yet privy to and one in which he now realised he was very probably the sole target.
“Fancy a coffee?” John asked, his knowing smile not yet finding good reason to falter.
“Yeah...” Jack replied without looking, “I’d... I’d love one.”
John pressed a button embedded into a pager-like device on his lapel and spoke into a small circular grille, ordering coffee for two in R&D-3.
“So, leaving the condition of your development suites aside for a moment, what exactly is it you brought me here to see?” Jack asked, his scepticism evident. “I thought you were supposed to be moving the world forward.”
“Oh, we are,” John replied, “We most definitely are. You see, we’ve been working on a projection system. A way to get images, whether filmed onto vRay or indeed completely computer-generated, into a three-dimensional playing field so that people truly feel they can interact with them. None of those stupid heavy VR glasses and shit. Getting true three dimensional information into a true three dimensional space is, as you can imagine, no easy feat, but I have a feeling we may have cracked it.”
“Go on,” Jack said, another glance and a gentle smile indicating that he was now starting to unravel the joke.
“Well,” John explained, “we’ve been utilising a series of variant RGB lasers, along with a gaussian shadow generator, all of which pulse at differing intensities to reflect an image back to the viewer. The greater the intensity of the lasers, the further into three dimensional space their image is projected. By projecting the lasers from four wall surfaces we can also counter the problems of objects which might hinder their path. A pressure sensitive flooring system can then record the location of a person within the room and adjust the reflected image they will see accordingly. ”
“Reflected image from what?” Jack asked sceptically. “Mirrors?”
John leaned forward and raised a solitary eyebrow. “No Jack, from water.”
Jack’s eyes formed a disbelieving squint. “...Water?”
The door clicked open and a young man in a white coat entered carrying an ornate silver tray. Resting on its surface were coffee, milk and sugar pots in sterling silver as well as finely crafted china cups. The man looked ill-suited to the task of carrying such a tray, his appearance being far more ‘scientist’ than ‘tea shop assistant’.
“Understaffed again?” Jack asked with a smile.
“Something like that,” John smiled, knowingly. “Why don’t you do the honours?”
Silently, the man placed the tray on the table and Jack instinctively reached for the coffee pot. As he tried to grip the handle the air swirled. As indeed did the image of the handle. His fingers passed straight through and the ripple spread through the entire pot like a reflection in a pond. He tried again, same thing. And a third. No matter how hard he tried his hand just passed straight through the polished silver which continued to ripple as though laughing at his attempts. He smiled proudly and then, looking yet closer he noticed something very intriguing; whilst the surrogate waiter was reflected in the silver... Jack himself was not, despite the fact that he could see the reflection of the chair in which he was seated. He was pleasantly confused and looked back across the desk with a ‘spill it, John’ look.
“For God’s sake Phil, you’ve done it again,” John said. “I said I wanted real coffee, not the virtual stuff.” The man looked as though he was about to speak but John interrupted him. “Save it, Phil. Please... just get out of my sight, will you?”
The man bowed his head, feigning disgrace. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Though Jack somehow expected it, it still managed to amaze him when the man did exactly as he was ordered. In the blink of an eye he was gone. He did not walk to the door and certainly did not open it, he just... disappeared from sight.
“What on earth have you done, John...?” Jack asked, his lips smiling like his eyes as they darted around the room.
“Like I say... cracked it,” John offered, shrugging his thin shoulders with a thin, wry smile.
Jack’s mouth hung open as though every tendon in his jaw had been severed, his shoulders sinking with long exhale of realisation. “So this entire room is...”
“Not here,” John said. He was loving the fact that his pretence had worked just long enough. “So tell me, do you think I should really get a maid in or should I just... get myself an Ikea catalogue? Something a little more in keeping with the rest of this building’s...” he pondered, “...modern approach, perhaps?”
He pressed the button on his pager a second time and informed Phil that the furniture needed replacing. With the subtlest fade, every piece of antiquated furniture, save for the desk between the two men and the two chairs in which they were seated, was replaced by a stark, bright and extremely modern equivalent. Metallic blue replaced dusty mahogany and red veneer replaced deep green leather inlays.
“A little better, don’t you think?” John said, wrinkling his nose. He tipped his head downward and took a deep, cautious breath. “But what happens when you don’t give us enough funding and it all gets repossessed...? Well, I’ll show you what happens...” he said, eyes wide. “This...”
He pressed the pager once more and asked Phil to shut the system down. In an instant every item of virtual furniture was gone. Without the superfluous items surrounding them the room was little more than a dark glass shell. Perforated panels covering the ceiling and the floor was now a deep grey spongy rubber.
“If you touch it and most definitely if you want to sit on it, then I can’t project it,” John offered with a smile, “but I can add any extraneous item a player might like. Furniture, books and, of course, Phil... but he costs a little extra.”
“So... how the hell does this work?”
“Water,” John said with a ‘told-you-so’ smile. He gestured around the room. “The air in here is being pumped through complete with a fine mist of heavy water and silica which falls from these tiny holes in the ceiling. We use tinted prisma-glass because we need to trick the eye into seeing a texture on the walls and ceiling for which we used added back-projection. Behind each of the walls are three hundred and thirty eight industrial type-A lasers which project the RGB and S image programmed into Phil’s mainframe which is housed next door. Three dimensional software captures the scene from a variety of angles, does an interpolated render from every angle and then sensors in the floor pick up your position and projects an image into the layers of mist that surround you. Your eye interprets them as real and you subsequently believe you are there. I won’t say its been easy, but the basics are simple enough.”
He leaned forward again. “Personally I’ve been seeing this bare room all along. We could have programmed the computer for me to have my own projected images but there was really no point. Hell, I’ve been rehearsing for weeks and it really does slow the processing time. That makes the image jumpy and you’d have sussed it before you took three steps in.”
“It’s... brilliant,” Jack said, looking around the room as though it were one of nature’s own spectacular vistas seen for the very first time.
“We call it ‘ReelRooms’, and you’re very, very wrong,” John replied correctively. “It is, in actual fact, exactly what I told y
ou it was on the phone....”
“Fucking brilliant,” Jack said, casting John a sideways glance and a proud smile.
“You see? I did warn you. Now don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a cheap system but we have researched strong commercial uses. You need to set up a projection room like this, obviously, as well as a remote room for controlling the scene, but I reckon the military or entertainments sectors could pick a system up from us for, let’s see... about thirty million after our mark-up.”
“Forty,” Jack said softly but firmly. “Not a penny less. When would you be aiming for full release?”
“Well... that’s the thing,” John said, trying to look embarrassed. “You see, we’ve still got one or two little gremlins to shift. Minor ones, I assure you, but we could kind of do with a smidgen more...”
Jack rolled his eyes and threw John a look of good-humoured dismay. “How much?”
“Ten million...” he said sheepishly, “Ten will see us ready for release in six to eight months.”
Jack looked around the room, realising as the seconds ticked away in between just how advanced this technology was. If he could be fooled as easily as this then presumably so could everyone else given the right situations. The market would be huge.
“So Phil? Was he pre-recorded?” Jack asked, still working through the details in his head.
“No, that’s one area where we have the bugs,” John replied, looking concerned. “He’s in the computer room and we’ve got a VistaCam filming him from all angles and comping him within the VR furniture. He has to be careful, though, sudden movements overload the processor on the motherboard and it can’t cope, it gets jittery and buggers the illusion. We need to develop a faster board to cope with the processing in real time.”
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