From: cyberoid@milton.u.washington.edu (Robert Jacobson) Subject: Virtually Dead: The Virtual Dead VR Show, Part 4 Date: Fri, 13 Sep 1991 16:56:38 GMT Organization: Human Interface Technology Lab, Univ. of Wash., Seattle THE GRATEFUL DEAD VR SHOW, Part 4 Topic 78: Virtual shows. # 29: Alex Whitney (bltz) Sun, Aug 4, '91 (22:22) 131 lines "Yo, chime Bob and see if he's home," said David. A few seconds passed while the Mac called the WELL and the well called Bob's PS/2. Bob appeared on the screen. He was looking through a box of marbles. "Lost any?" Dave asked. Bob looked up. "Very funny," he replied. "You jacking in tonight?" "Yep." "Taping?" "Yeah." "See you at 4:30?" "Ok." "Bye." "Bye." The screen winked out. Some goldfish began moseying slowly across it, perhaps thinking whatever it was that goldfish thought about. He left the machine and put on a CD of Danny Gatton, and went into the kitchen and began fixing jamming on some humus sandwiches, chopping up tomatoes from the garden to put in them, some fresh parsley, a bit too much black pepper, tahini, lemon juice... Then did some housework, fixing the arerator on the tub, and the air conditioner, and looking at the solar assist panel to see if it was clean. He was enjoying his day off from work. Dave owned a VR tape store, a Blockbuster franchise, and he didn't need to spend that much time there anymore. There had been a time when all the deadhead employees would leave at once to go on tour, and he had to shut the store down for the day. The kids no longer had an excuse to do that. Telling the Mac to take messages and to watch the soup and turn down the stove if it overboiled, took a few minutes to run down to the liquor store. * * * Dave's Mom looked at the Kitchen. It was a white linoleum set, with cupboards with no handles, a nubbled easy-cleaning no stain counter, and there was a beautiful sink with a really funky faucet on it. It had buttons. It would last more than fifty years. "A thermo-whazziz?" The salesman looked pained for a second. "A thermo-coupler. It instantly adjusts the water to one of the three temperatures that humans use water at: hot, warm, or cold. There is very little waste, no more fooling around with faucets. It saves water and time, because you don't have to fiddle with it. It pays for itself in two months." She really didn't care about the thermo-wossname, but it looked good from here. And, the old kitchen would be recycled, installed in the home of someone who bought it used. "I have a tape of this," she said. The salesman tried not to groan audibly with admirable success. He knew what that meant. "It comes installed, and I'd like it in by next month. I expect it to match this one exactly, as this is really my kitchen." "A virtual representation, ma'am." "Don't you smart mouth me, young man. My son is a computer expert, and he says if I give you the measurements, you can make it look exactly like what you show me, and if you use a competent carpenter, and that this tape serves as part of the contract, if I choose. And I do." "I wasn't disagreeing, ma'am. I was just going to ask when you wanted it in by." "Yesterday. But you can start tomorrow afternoon. I have to run and meet the ladies. Thank you. And goodbye." "Take care, ma'am," he said. She went home, stopped at the store and picked up six helmets, and went home and plugged them in. She looked nervously at the computer; like stage fright, she would never get used to this. "Sign me, Janet, Lucy, Amy, Janet, and Margie up for the show tonight." Five seconds later it chirped. That wasn't so bad, she thought. * * * At 4:30 Nancy and David (who were together) and Bob and 20,000 other people all just as widely separated by geography, plugged in their headsets and put on their helmets. Nancy was munching on a humus sandwich and drinking a glass of wine, seen through a half mirror darkly. Virtual reality appeared ghostly in front of her, and she looked at one of the dark walls -- it solidified. There were twenty thousand bodies all in a big amphitheater. In perfect, modulated clarity, they proceeded to vote on where to buy a plot of forest with the proceeds from this show, and to elect a set of regents to maintain it. A regent was a Deadhead that volunteered to spend a year or more walking about the Deadhead owned land, seeing to it that it was being kept safe and being left unmolested, trained to act like a Park Ranger and given a communications device and the kind of physical support that made protecting the land a reality. Deadheads made good rangers. They were given a reasonable allowance for food, communication, and entertainment, and a ten-thousand dollar college scholarship, or optionally were a VR kit and computer and free shows for life. It should be noted that most elected to go on paying for shows. Some other discussion went on, and then people started disappearing. The Amphitheater was slowly dissolving, into a Island in the Caribbean. Dave thought about that for a second. Hawaii, he revised. They were sitting on the beach. Bob was in a favored position, floating cross- legged in midair. There was an iced drink in his hand. Dave wondered briefly whether the umbrella in it was his friends idea or Phil's. "Hey, you wanna go look for Brent?" Asked Bob. Dave finished his sandwich and lit a joint. People in virtual reality couldn't share joints. It was weird. He and Nancy agreed to the search, as usual... it was a great excuse to discover the island. They had probably twenty or thirty minutes to go before the boys would actually start playing. The island, as they began to walk around it on the beach, seemed to be a huge Volcano that had a spring welling up through it. There were hundreds of magnificent waterfalls cascading into just as many grottoes around its periphery. There were palm trees everywhere. The sun was warm and bright overhead. The way to walk in Virtual reality was either to get a jogging track and hold the bars, always a drag, or to memorize the peculiar hand and leg motions that told the computer one was walking. They did the latter. Along the way They bumped into a few friends on the same quest. They had found Pigpen shaped as a tree. It had told them to get their asses over there, waving with one branch. They had laughed and told it no, that he looked too much like Old Man Willow in the Lord of The Rings. It had responded cajolingly, and they had laughed and run off. Dave was the first one to spot Brent. He was staring at a great cliff face when he had realized that it had winked at him. "Look!" He pointed. There, embeded in the face of the cliff, was the smiling face of Brent Mydland, grinning at them. It was quiet. They waved good bye, and headed back around the beach. Eventually, they found a spot where the carpets were set up on the beach, with stacks of equipment forming a low wall behind the small circle of musicians. There were probably a few band members standing on the actual carpet at that very moment, but they weren't pugged in yet, or the observers would have seen them. Everyone was ready at 5:00 eastern time. Although they didn't all have to be in one place, almost all the band was at Club Front, diddling with equipment and trading mild abuse and jokes. Phil was logging in from home, but no-one would be able to tell except for the other musicians. Considering how much of the keg was empty, they might even forget in the coming hours, too.... --