The Computers of Star Trek (18 page)

Even for the twenty-fourth century, the holodeck simulations are extremely sophisticated VR programs. All the edges are perfectly done. There are no walls jutting out in the wrong place and
no arches that don't close correctly. In Trek, the holodeck geometries never become really bizarre in either color or structure. They always maintain their real-life appearance, texture, and touch.

It might be interesting if the holosuite software offered totally imaginative worlds—places constructed like Escher drawings, for example. Today, most virtual reality and three-dimensional games are based on totally fantastic constructs.

So why don't holodecks have similar worlds? At minimum, at least during system malfunctions, Escher-type constructions and other gross abnormalities would occur. Holodeck characters wouldn't always become evil: they would disintegrate, turn into other creatures, or most likely cease to exist. Holodeck architectures could turn into holodeck characters, and vice-versa. People could go insane inside a holodeck during a system malfunction.

The technology to immerse people in virtual reality worlds began with head-mounted devices that presented three-dimensional views. Sensors picked up hand and head movements, and fed that information into software, which then altered the three-dimensional worldview for the user. Back in the late 1960s, people were already dabbling with this kind of research, though the views were only simple wireframe models.

While a wireframe shows us the corners and lines—the entire grid—of objects, more complex rendering methods show textures, patterns, colors, shine, and shadow. Wireframes today are often used to create initial three-dimensional objects, but once we're satisfied with how our model looks, we produce fully rendered final versions.

Today's virtual worlds have become so lifelike that people can become disoriented: thoroughly immersed in their virtual adventures. Still, such virtual fun often requires the user to wear head-sets, hand and arm gear that looks like hospital tubes, and other
special equipment. Someday these won't be necessary, but not yet.
^s

Ideally, immersion means that you don't know the difference between the physical world and the virtual world in which you're playing. The simultaneous perceptions of what you see and what your body feels are tightly matched. A slight disconnection throws you out of the illusion that you're in reality.

In the future, artificial intelligence combined with virtual reality will enable us to create and enter virtual worlds populated by very lifelike creatures, humans, and plants. Real people will enter these worlds and meet their inhabitants. Much as on the holodecks.

Still, there are a few logical problems with the portrayal of virtual reality holodecks in
Star Trek.

We wonder, for example, how the ship's computer stores enough object templates for all of the world's variations and scenes on the holodecks. Every scene, every object, from a twig to an ocean ripple to a character's facial mannerisms—everything appears instantly on the holodeck from all angles, with varying lighting quality, possessing unique textures, even retaining correct dimensions at all distances. This is extraordinary virtual reality programming. Faraway objects are never hollow. They aren't in fog. They are always perfectly clear. Every eye blink, every wrinkle in every piece of clothing as characters move is consistent: Absolutely everything in the holodeck is perfectly coordinated at all times. Of course, the ship's computer has a huge amount of storage, as calculated earlier. But people in
Star Trek
can program new adventures for the holodecks, and store and later replay many versions of these adventures. They play a seemingly endless variety of game levels. With unlimited adventures, the holodeck seemingly requires unlimited storage space.

Besides the storage problem, why are the templates, even if stored and retrieved and displayed, never shown too rapidly or slowly? A character might jerk, wobble, or pass accidentally through a wall, dip his feet accidentally through some rocks. Lips might be out of sync with words. Leaves will flutter incorrectly. These types of slipups occur in some of today's best three-dimensional artificially intelligent games.

Yet the holodeck never seems to make mistakes.

The worlds of the holodeck are beyond anything possible today, perhaps even three hundred years from now. Even the greatest computer programs can't function at a speed fast enough to simulate such complex worlds. In virtual reality, there are always program glitches, yet we don't see these frame-skipping glitches and three-dimensional mind-destroying vision-klunking problems in any holodeck simulation. The virtual reality is always seamless. And when holodeck programs do malfunction, they always go off into some artificially intelligent routine that places the real people in danger instead of merely displaying fuzzy pictures or disjointed frames. If virtual reality programming is this sophisticated in three hundred years, then a malfunctioning holodeck adventure would just shut down.

Adding to the holodeck's complexity, replicator technology is routinely used to create inanimate objects to further the illusion of reality. For example, food and drink are served at holodeck bars. There's also water for swimming and snow for throwing snowballs. While many crewmembers enter the holodeck already dressed for their interactive novels, the holodeck can create the proper clothing for participants, as it does in
First Contact.

The holodeck has treadmill-style force fields so crewmembers can walk and run for long periods. The holographic images keep this illusion of movement believable. The computer program controlling the holodeck operates enough of these specialized force fields that different people can actually feel that they are traveling in opposite directions. The code necessary to maintain such an illusion is obviously quite complex. But it isn't impossible.

Even today we can code repulsion-type forces into virtual objects. Programming statements enable us to ensure that certain objects never collide, that virtual reality characters don't pass through walls. We can make objects attract one another. We can make objects attract and repulse, given changes in position, distance, and size.

Particle systems, another aspect of three-dimensional animation coding, use forces such as gravity and repulsion to simulate blizzards, fireworks, and explosions. For example, we might spray fire from a volcano, then apply a gravitation and repulsion force, making the fire fall at what appears to be a graceful and natural pace.

When we observe the holodeck, we see branches moving, leaves blowing in the wind. Clouds move across the sky. The holodecks are constructed to make everything look natural, with complex systems simulating a natural environment. This requires tons of computing power. But such programs also require an interface for touch, to feel breezes blowing. Do the crewmembers have chips embedded in their fingers so they can feel leaves, weapons, and other objects? Such notions are never mentioned. So how do people feel things and pick up holographic items in the holodeck? What does Captain Picard feel while riding a holographic horse?

In the
Star Trek
universe, important characters who directly interact with crewmembers are made of replicated matter guided by beams of force operating at molecular levels. However, according
to the doctor in
Voyager
, the matter is not made of molecules, but rather of molecule-sized magnetic bubbles, which can be manipulated by the computer. These creations are artificially intelligent marionettes whose every motion is controlled by the holodeck's computer system. They're complete with touch, warmth, body sensations, kissing, smiles from the lovers, and violence from the killers. The holodeck magnetic bubble matter that makes up these puppets is described as partially stable stuff that can't exist in material form outside the holodeck.

The holodeck computer is connected with the ship's computer, and thus has access to the vast amounts of information stored in the computer core. The holodeck is capable of creating artificially intelligent imaginary characters (such as Dr. Moriarty in “Elementary, My Dear Data,”
TNG
) or artificially intelligent versions of real people programmed with their own personalities, such as Dr. Lea Brahms in the
Next Generation
episode “Booby Trap,” or Dr. Zimmerman in
Voyager
. The holodeck can even be used to create artificially intelligent versions of real people with altered personalities.

Transporter and replicator technology are fascinating topics but, as we've noted earlier, appear to be impossible by the laws of physics. Magnetic bubbles the size of molecules fall into physics. None of these topics involve computer technology other than in secondary areas such as memory storage. The artificial intelligence exhibited by the holodeck creations is our main concern.

For the holodeck to create a truly believable environment, two types of interaction are necessary. One requires some sort of interaction between the virtual reality characters; while the other involves interaction between these holodeck beings and real people.

In the first case, that of interaction among the virtual characters,
Star Trek
does a good job of using virtual reality programming as it's perceived today. The typical holodeck characters really don't
communicate much with each other beyond preprogrammed gestures and relationships. Perhaps they pass information to each other via their data structures. If one flinches, the flinch probably is an event picked up by the other virtual characters.

We'll return to the possibilities of other, more interesting relationships among virtual holodeck characters. But first let's turn our attention to the interactions between holodeck characters and humans.

Think about Minuet and Riker in the French bar (“11001001,”
TNG
). She seems to react realistically to Riker's remarks, moods, and expressions. She acts completely human.

How does this happen?

Most likely, the holodeck computer has sensors that pick up information about the human, in this case, Riker. The holodeck sensors (microscopic and in the walls, as we described in Chapter 2) follow Riker as he moves across the room, detect all of his body movements, and take note of his facial expressions.

If Riker wants to kiss Minuet, the holodeck can detect increased pressure from his lips (as with the treadmill), and then apply force from the virtual Minuet to Riker's lips using a feedback loop of sorts. Though again, it seems that Riker would need microscopic computers embedded in his body, or some other sort of computer mechanism, to receive the feedback sensations and communicate information to his biological components. In other words, the holodeck computer needs a way to communicate Minuet's lip pressure back to Riker's lips. Since it must take considerably more energy to generate molecule-sized magnetic bubbles than a simple visual image, perhaps the computer only creates those parts of Minuet's body that Riker is “touching” at any moment. But it would require extraordinary processing power to create the required textures (both surface and “internal”) in real time. And what about smells? Does the computer also create magnetic-bubble perfume?

Minuet may react to Riker simply based on his facial and body expressions. The holodeck computer not only senses but also interprets changes in Riker's expressions. If he smiles and his eyes glow with intense passion, the holodeck computer might interpret his expression as lust. Minuet reacts accordingly. If Riker frowns, glares, bangs his fist on the bar, sinks to the bar top, moans ... then perhaps the holodeck computer interprets his expressions and actions as depression or anger. If Minuet has just said something that made him sad, then the computer might now have Minuet apologize and cheer him up.

So while Minuet seems almost human, her responses are merely a combination of advanced programming and artificial intelligence. She's not alive, just code.

To be absolutely believable, virtual humans would need to possess many features already built into Data. And this would create new scenarios and adventures, some of which might cause problems.

For example, virtual characters would have to be free to follow their instincts and make their own choices. They'd have to believe that they're real, as opposed to acting as the holodeck computer's puppets. They'd have to learn and grow in their abilities and skills, in their behaviors and personalities. Perhaps they could program new holodeck adventures for themselves, so they could increase their knowledge base. To be artificially intelligent, as defined in Chapter 5, the holodeck characters require a lot of attributes they don't currently have (barring a few exceptions, such as Dr. Moriarty).

If the characters achieve this new level of artificial intelligence, then the holodeck adventures would become much more dangerous. Perhaps this is why they operate exclusively as puppets for the humans.

For example, they might start bickering amongst themselves. They might pursue personal goals. They might form alliances, start wars or become insane.

If Dr. Moriarty can achieve true sentience, why doesn't this happen to lots of holodeck characters?
^*
As with Data, it seems bizarre that only one such creature exists in the entire universe.

In all cases other than Moriarty, we're forced to conclude that characters on the holodeck are not true artificially intelligent virtual reality beings. They lack the required attributes. They're preprogrammed. Only when the ship's computer breaks down in certain episodes do these marionettes ever seem to take on life of their own. Which, we must point out, is pretty unbelievable. Why would preprogrammed actors suddenly be gifted with free will by an energy anomaly?

While the holodeck bars and lounges might be fun, a steady diet of the programs would most likely become boring, predictable, and unreal. Despite Riker's fascination with Minuet, we suspect he'd quickly find her less interesting than Deanna Troi. Captain Janeway's interaction with Leonardo da Vinci is based at least in part on her fascination with his work and life. Interacting with such characters can't offer unpredictability and surprises that only can be provided by real humans (or truly artificially intelligent creatures such as Data).