[Footnote 7: “Giant” refers to the significant decrease in electrical resistance that can be induced in nanometers-thin alternating ferromagnetic and nonmagnetic metallic films. The GMR label dates back (at least) to a 1988 paper in Physical Review Letters.]
[Footnote 8: Not all carbon nanotubes take the single-wall form. In multi-wall forms, carbon]
[Footnote 9: Of course we'll talk about nanobot replicators. In a few pages, I promise.]
[Footnote 10: The Earth formed about 4.5 billion years ago. About one billion years later, living cells had established themselves. Nature needed about four billion years to get to multicellular life.]
[Footnote 11: For a brief introduction to quantum chemistry and the role of computation, see cmm.info.nih.gov/modeling/guidedocuments/quantummechanicsdocument.html]
[Footnote 12: Standard semiconductor manufacturing relies upon photolithography—light projected through extremely detailed masks—to expose a chemical film, called a photoresist, previously deposited on a silicon surface. Light-exposed photoresist hardens to protect the surface; unexposed regions are chemically washed away. The resistless areas can then be further treated (e.g., to deposit metallic interconnects) without affecting still covered regions.]
[Footnote 13: Vibrations between neighboring atoms take on the order of 10-15 seconds, yet proteins need on the order of milliseconds to fold. There's a lot of random bumping about before the protein settles into a stable (energy-minimized) shape. Any simulation must deal with trillions of time steps.]
[Footnote 14: “Molecular Lego,” Scientific American, February 2007.]
[Footnote 15: www.crnano.org/interview.phoenix.htm#Part%202]
[Footnote 16: www.foresight.org/guidelines/current.html. In a nod to precedent, these guidelines (presently at draft version 6) note: “The NIH Guidelines on Recombinant DNA technology are an example of self-regulation taken by the biotechnology com]
[Footnote 17: “Nano Hazards: Exposure to minute particles harms lungs, circulatory system” reports on a related discussion at a 2005 Society of Toxicology meeting. www.sciencenews.org/articles/20050319/fob1.asp]
[Footnote 18: bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/09/26/samsungs-washers-regulated-as-a-pesticide/]
[Footnote 19: www.asbestoscrisis.com/legal.asp]
[Footnote 20: Cellular-repair nanobots, should they come about, will be a longer-term undertaking.]
[Footnote 21: It's time to change metaphors. We've left the roadmap conference, to gaze instead into our (nanotech-enhanced) crystal ball.]
[Footnote 22: Big weight reductions will also come from substituting other materials for metals.]
[Footnote 23: “For Love of a Gun,” IEEE Spectrum, July 2007 (online at www.spectrum.ieee.org/jul07/5296)]
[Footnote 24: “Dot to Dot Design,” IEEE Spectrum, September 2007 (online at www.spectrum.ieee.org/sep07/5489)]
[Footnote 25: “The Diamond Age of Spintronics,” Scientific American, October 2007.]
[Footnote 26: Quantum cryptography (another subject too complex to tackle here) may make comm links secure again.]
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Poem: In ‘69
by Geoffrey A. Landis
“We leave the moon as we came and,
God willing, as we shall return, with peace
and hope for all mankind.”
—Eugene A. Cernan, December 14, 1972
—
We walked on the moon in ‘69,
didn't seem like much of a thing at the time.
We had the moon and we never went back.
We forgot our dreams, or just lost track.
—
Oh, there were rockets, and wonders, and Viet Nam,
protesting the war, protesting the bomb.
Gotta take some time and just get high,
had to bust our balls to just get by.
—
We looked back on our planet from outer space,
a tiny and fragile and beautiful place.
Then we came back home, and sorta forgot,
didn't really give in another thought.
—
There were Watergate plumbers, and marches for peace,
dodging the draft and the Chicago police.
We just had to lay back and just get high;
we were busting our balls just getting by.
—
We walked on the moon in ‘69,
didn't seem like much of a thing at the time.
We went to the moon and just never went back.
Did we forget our dreams, of just lose track!
[Back to Table of Contents]
* * *
Novelette: ONCE IN A BLUE MOON
by William Gleason
The object of virtual reality is to be indistinguishable from “real” reality. But which one?
Brody Bridges surreptitiously scanned the new arrival as his uncle made introductions over the din of jangling slot machines and the boisterous hum of the casino.
“Brody was Team Captain for the Luna U Eclipse the year they won the All Worlds Virtual Reality Championship,” Ted Bridges said. “Had seventeen solo kills.”
“It was pro-am, Mr. Upshaw,” Brody hastened to add. “Uncle Ted likes to exaggerate.”
“Call me Jack,” said the tourist, hand extended. “I remember that tourney well. You were good.”
Brody raised an eyebrow as he took Jack's grip. He swept his sonic cane over Jack a second time. Had he misjudged the man's age? “That was a long time ago,” he said.
“Ah, excuse me,” Ted interrupted, pointing to his ear and briefly turning away. Then, “Okay, kids, gotta scoot, never a dull moment for the hotel manager.” He pumped Jack's hand. “Welcome to The Moon Dust! Brody will see to you. Anything you need, just let him know. It's an honor having you with us.”
As Ted hurried off, Brody gestured at a nearby lounge. “Buy you a drink? Or maybe stake you at a table?”
“Actually,” Jack said, “I was hoping you could show me the Pit.”
“Should have guessed,” Brody said. “Follow me.”
The two men threaded their way through the bustling throng and into a deep alcove, over which THE PIT flashed in bright blue and white neon. A sign read “Closed for Refurbishments,” and the main doors and ticket windows were shut, but Brody thumbed a scanner to open a side door. Their escape from the noisy main floor left their ears ringing.
“The funny thing is,” Brody said as Jack followed him into an elevator, “most of that racket is unnecessary. It helps maintain an aura of excitement, I guess.”
“Never been to the Moon before,” Jack confessed. “I definitely feel lighter than on Earth.”
“Well, you are, of course. The hotel's grav-plates range between three-quarters and eighty percent Earth-normal. We have a large retirement community up here.”
They descended in silence for a moment before Jack chuckled. “You don't know who I am, do you? I don't like to brag, but I figured what with you being a player...”
"Ex-player,” Brody corrected. “Still, I can guess why you're here. Technicians have been working in the Pit for months, upgrading systems. I'm betting there's going to be an exhibition when they're done. Uncle Ted says you play for London, right?”
“Yeah, the Beefeaters. We'd only come here for the playoffs, if we ever made the playoffs. Man, the Looney Pit! Whatever possessed them to dig a hole to build a stadium?”
Brody chuckled. “Money, what else? Turned out it was cheaper to dig a hole than build a stadium on the surface, especially since the mines gave them a pretty good head start. Once they finished boring out the Pit, all they had to do was grav-plate it and pop on a dome.”
“And that was the last boring thing to happen here,” Jack said, quoting from the ad campaign. He turned to Brody as the elevator doors opened. “So you don't follow the game at all? Didn't expect that.”
Brody didn't answer as they crossed a wide foyer. He thumbed a scanne
r, causing two towering doors to recede into the walls, and led them into the dark interior. “So,” he said, “you want the pregame show? Or should I just turn on the lights?”
“I've seen pregame shows,” Jack said.
Brody lifted his cufflink mike. “Pock, hit the house lights.”
A battery of blue-tinged lights blinked on in sequence, some of them cleverly recessed, others massive photonic haloes that wreathed the inside of the steep, funnel-shaped coliseum. A low hum rose from the glowing rings as Jack walked to the rail and peered over. “Christ!” he exclaimed. “The booths are way down there?”
Jack's eyes darted across the chasm to the luxury suites on the other side, then flitted over the strata of bleachers stacked one atop the other in what seemed an almost endless procession up and down. Here and there, tenuous-looking scaffolding clung to the stadium's steep sides, abandoned for the night.
“Holds eighty thousand,” Brody said. “Specially designed sync projectors provide tiered real-time 3-D for everybody, but maximum field density and best-def proportionality make these the best seats in the house.” He paused. “But you're not really here for the tour, are you, Jack? What do you mean, you ‘didn't expect that'?”
Jack turned from the railing. “I just thought you'd still follow the game. Look, Brody, I'm here to see you.”
“Really? I'm something of a hometown hero in Luna C, Jack, but I was nobody in the pros. You must've been a kid last time I suited up.”
“Seven years ain't that long,” Jack said. “I sure remember the Rapiers game your rookie year, the computer malfunction. Who doesn't? You'd have been large in the pros if it hadn't been for that.” He paused. “You seem to see okay.”
Brody's hand reflexively moved to a scar hidden beneath his short-cropped orange hair. “They couldn't repair the optic nerves, but I have bionic implants. I only see in black and white now—more like grainy blue and white, to be honest. Plus, they're linked to this sonic cane.” He held out his left hand to reveal a small, flat disk nestled in his palm. “Anyway, it was a long time ago, to me at least. I hope you didn't come up here looking for a mentor, Jack, because that ain't me.”
“No,” Jack said. “I came here looking for a partner.”
Brody laughed in surprise. “Are you nuts? Jack, I can't see! I got screwed by a freak computer glitch, and yeah, it's sad, but it is what it is.”
“Maybe,” Jack said, “maybe not. Just come with me to meet someone—Dr. Yuri Rostov. He's a little offbeat, but he's a genius, I swear.” As Brody hesitated, Jack added, “You are the host, remember. Don't make me go see Uncle Ted.”
With a wry smile, Brody relented. “Fine, Jack,” he said. “I'd be happy to meet your friend.”
* * * *
The tall, thin, white-haired man extended his sticklike finger at the projection cube hovering over the coffee table. “This happy view of dinosaur is only small replica of capability of current 3-D projector. Dinosaur looking real, yes? See as nibble leaf...”
Brody rolled his head to one side and shot Jack a wordless but quite emphatic query.
“Dr. Rostov,” Jack interrupted. “This isn't a potential sponsor. Can you skip to the new interface?”
Rostov grinned. “Of course—I have ticket for Les Folies de Lune! I hurry through good stuff for Mr. Bridge.” He leaned forward. “I have invent whole new system: new neural interface, new matrix medium, even whole new hologram projector. Making use of zero-point energy. You hear of?”
“Doc, I live in artificial gravity on the Moon,” Brody said. “I've heard of ZPE.”
“Good,” Rostov said, “then knowing all about synth-mass and synth-space, yes?”
Brody frowned. “No, not so much.”
“Ah,” Rostov said with obvious disappointment. “Okay. Layman explanation for jocks. Just like synth-mass is manipulation of ZPE that makes for bigger gravity on Moon, synth-space is manipulation that makes for perfect medium of supporting for sub-Planck nanoticles for virtual reality system. Old game system all numbers crunching around in computer, but Rostov system creating very dense matrix of sub-Plancks in synth-space, and these forming medium to support engram insertion into game construct.
“But most of importance, greatest news for Brody Bridge is Rostov method interfacing direct from mirror neuron, frog-leaping visual cortex, optical receptor, whole sensory shebang—get it? You play again! Great story for league! Great story for sponsor! In three year, all stadium using new Rostov system, and you big star player again!”
Brody gave Jack a wry smile. “That's the layman's explanation?”
“They tell me it's the next new big thing," Jack said. “Look, Brody, I've been in the league two years, and I've made a name for myself. Now I hear about this, and I'm thinking, here's the future. The sponsors want me to be the face of the new system, and to make the whole rollout perfect, my personal idol—The Lunatic himself!—can come out of retirement and play again. In the Looney Pit, no less! The money people have talked to the commissioner, and the league is all for it if you're willing and able. No matter what you think, Earth hasn't forgotten you.”
Brody folded his arms across his chest. “Your personal idol?”
“Truth, Bro. You were my favorite player growing up. Man, I cried when you got hurt. I was young, but still, my whole family prayed for you. Now, to be honest, I'm not so sure you still got it. No offense.”
Brody snorted. “Yeah, you're a player—playing me.” He hesitated. “Look, no offense to the doc here, but color me skeptical. I'm finally getting used to this life, to living this way. It's not what I expected my life to be, working here for my uncle—I have a degree in ornithology, for Pete's sake! But I've been learning to move on. I'm not sure this wild goose chase is really the best thing for me right now.”
Jack shrugged. “Look, Bro, there will be an exhibition in the Pit in six months. It can be you and me, or me and someone else. It's up to you.”
“Perhaps to interject,” Rostov said. “Before horses putting before cart, right now just needing Mr. Bridge consent to little unobtrusive testing. Maybe no point to whole thing. Then Yuri going to Les Folies with colleague—there is fire-breathing dragon, yes?”
“Yes, there is,” Brody said. “It's a fabulous show. I'll have a bottle of champs sent to your table. To you and ... ?”
“Helen,” said Rostov. “That would be wonderful.”
Brody nodded and turned back to face Jack. “We can start arranging for tests tomorrow,” he said.
* * * *
“It's like standing at the bottom of a giant sugar cone!” Jack exclaimed six weeks later, looking up from the floor of the Pit. “I'll never get used to the view.”
“Can't wait to see it when the new hologram is on,” Ted said. “Hurry up, Brody, we're waiting.”
“Been a long time since I've worn one of these,” Brody said as he checked the seals on the skin-tight impulse suit. “I can't believe I'm doing this again.”
“You passed all the other tests, Bro,” Jack said. “Once you pass this one, we'll let the press in on the gig, while you and I get down to some serious training.”
Ted gestured at a tall, silver box around which technicians swarmed, forearm computers raised as if in blocking stance or secret nerd salute. “So that's where they keep the synth-space?” he asked.
“No, not where keeping synth-space!” Rostov interjected, his voice emerging from speakers. “Synth space everywhere and nowhere, depending how viewing. Articulator manipulating only smallest frame in box.”
Jack and Brody exchanged a bemused glance as Ted said, “It's big and small, everywhere and nowhere. I love scientists.”
Brody took his seat in the iso-booth and began up-linking.
“See you on radio,” Jack said. “Have fun!”
Brody grinned. “To boldly go,” he said as he pulled the neurocowl over his head. “Hey, what's the program anyway?”
“It's a training mod. You might run into a cranky hamster or something,
but nothing your firepower can't handle. You'll be in and out—just long enough for Rostov to show compatibility.”
On cue, Rostov said, “Initial interface showing good for me. You ready for sealing booth and uploading?”
“Yeah, I'm good,” Brody said, sliding goggles over his eyes and giving Jack the thumbs up as the door slid shut.
A moment later it was as if someone had turned on the Sun. Brody found himself standing in the middle of a sprawling, green field. Green! And the sky was a vivid blue! And his mech's angular, metallic body was a lustrous gold!
“It's beautiful,” he said.
“You seeing okay, then?” Rostov asked over the headset.
“Better than okay. I didn't know how much I missed seeing color, even if it's not real. Sure is a nice place for a picnic.”
“Hey, they just dimmed the lights and turned on the new hologram,” came Jack's disembodied voice. “Man, you should see it!”
“Good,” Rostov said. “Now, Brody, walking around, telling me if all feeling normal.”
Brody eyed the shadowy forest that fringed the meadow as he began to walk, his thick, metal legs scything through shin-high grass. He pulled up the mech's arsenal on the faceplate reader. “Damn, Jack, this is what you guys tote these days? Plasma cannons, shoulder-mounted lasers, autoseek missiles—what, no nukes?”
Brody heard Jack chuckling in his ear. “Well, check out the defensive array, Bro. Of course, the goodies you can use still depend on the scenario.”
“You walking okay?” Rostov asked.
“Yeah,” Brody said. “Everything feels fine. Should I fire off a few rounds?”
“Sure, is for kicks,” Rostov said.
Brody telescoped a distant tree and locked lasers. He was about to fire when a glint of light flickered within the deeper woods. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Looks like the first wave is here, but that didn't look like no hamster. What's my opponent in this?”
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