Prevezer was one of the best model-makers in the business. He preferred the term ‘Simworld’ to the more archaic ‘virtual reality’ that was characterized by a much older and cruder wraparound technology — its three hundred and sixty-degree headtracker helmets, datagloves, cyber-exoskeletons, dildonics, pneumatic pressure feedback systems, and cartoony terrain projectors. Prevezer worked at a much more fundamental and sophisticated level, using several electro-neuroneedles that he attached acupuncturally to the cerebral cortex, to create a synthetic experience indistinguishable from reality itself.
Prevezer had a low opinion of reality, with its fat-free ice cream, sugar-free sweeteners, alcohol-free whiskey, synthetic blood, fake fur, and Motion Parallaxes. Prevezer found none of these simulations particularly convincing. To him, the artificial Simworlds he created were more real than the real thing. For instance, where else but a Simworld could anyone but the very rich make love on a fur rug in front of a blazing log fire? — one of his most popular surrogate creations. Or drive a vintage Ferrari F87? Or massacre a village full of peasants? — another surprisingly popular choice. Reality was greatly overrated, and even at its best it was no longer something that people could simply assume to be there.
Most of Prevezer’s customers were simply people in search of a cheap thrill, individuals in an impersonal world looking for a brief moment of empowerment as they became the gods of their own mathematical wonderlands. Quite a few were sick, people in the active Three Moon phase of the virus, who wanted to spend their last few hours on Earth enjoying what in life had been denied them: the sensation of good health in some demi-paradise — a tropical island or the peak of some breathtaking mountain — and in the company of a few good friends. Using EUPHORIA, a general-purpose simulation program of his own devising, it was easy enough to build this kind of standard model. He’d even modeled luxury lunar hotels, although he now realized his rendering of the Galileo had fallen way short of the mark. This was the first time he had been exposed to a reality that exceeded his own expectations. Of course, you had to be as rich as Dallas and his pure-blood kind to afford it. Few people from Prevezer’s background ever got a taste of this style of living, even in a simulated, artificial world. It was almost enough to make him think he’d not been alive at all these past few years — just pretending to be alive. He had joined Dallas’s team because he too wanted to be rich and healthy, but it was not until he had reached TB and checked into the Galileo that he’d properly appreciated what either of those two concepts really meant.
When Cavor and Simou turned up at the door of his suite, suggesting a visit to the Armstrong Center, Prevezer was very tempted to join them. He was eager to taste the expensive realities that were on offer at TB’s principal public space. But there was still much data to be processed if his model of the First National was ever going to behave like its real-world correlate.
‘I’d like to,’ he sighed, declining their invitation. ‘Only I’ve got to check the Simworld’s fidelity axis. To make sure the endophysical perspective matches the exophysical one.’[107]
‘Surely a model can be too perfect,’ argued Cavor. ‘I mean, if the microworld construct is as good as its macroworld counterpart, then what margin for error is there? Without the possibility of error, nothing can be learned and the experimental quality is compromised.’
‘You’re just full of surprises.’ Prevezer yawned.
‘You know something?’ said Cavor. ‘Lately I’ve started to surprise myself. Perhaps me most of all.’
‘Enough of that.’ Simou grinned. ‘It’s time we took off and sampled some of those lovely lunar ladies.’
‘You know, I could fix you guys up a synthetic experience that would beat anything you’ll have on TB,’ Prevezer said, without much conviction. This was just the salesman in him talking. ‘Reality is just a chimera.’
But Simou and Cavor were already walking away from his door. ‘Take a look around you, Sim,’ he said, following them into the corridor and pointing out the window at the silver-colored moonscape. ‘Cav? You think any of this is real? It’s not reality you want, my friends, it’s certainty. These days, that’s a much more difficult grail to find. It’s not to be found in mathematics. It’s not even to be found in the atoms. The only certainty in the whole bloody universe is in ourselves. There is no world independent of you and me. Not anymore. Death is the only certainty, Sim. That’s what’s real.’
Simou turned on his heel and uttered an old saying that was familiar to anyone who had the virus: ‘You die today, and I’ll die tomorrow.’
IV
Barefoot, and wearing just a pair of panties, Ronica began a careful walk across the floor of the suite she was sharing with Dallas, toward the HV.[108] This was her first trip to the Moon, and the first hotel she had stayed in where, as a matter of lunar law, you had to watch a set of safety instructions on how to use the room and its facilities. The secret of walking around the room without gravity shoes, so the guy on the HV had said before the commercial break, was to try and do it slowly, at half your normal speed, as if you had been drugged, or as if you were walking through the sea. One quick and injudicious step could carry you several inches off the floor; and standing up from a chair, you had to be careful not to hit your head on the triple-height ceiling. Even though the suite was as big as a basketball court, a good leap would have carried her from one side to the other. She reached the HV, switched it off, and headed back toward the enormous bed where Dallas was lying. Although his gravity shoes were still on, his body barely weighed enough to put a dent on the virtually redundant mattress.
‘So,’ said Ronica. ‘Do you want to tell me why Cavor is taking so much Connex?’
‘Did he tell you it was Connex?’
‘He didn’t have to. I recognized those tabs. I’ve taken enough Connex in my time.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes. So? Why is he taking cognitive enhancement? And so much?’
‘Why ask me?’
‘Because I figure you’re the one who gave it to him. That stuff isn’t cheap. And if Cavor had ever taken it before, he’d know not to take so much.’
‘Did you say anything to him about it?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Because I’d prefer he didn’t know what it is he’s taking. At least not right now. And as to the high dosage, that’s up to me as well. I told him to take it in quantity.’
‘I won’t say anything.’
‘He’ll be okay,’ said Dallas, mistaking her exasperation for concern. ‘If that’s what you’re worried about.’
She sighed loudly and shook her head. ‘I can’t decide why you want him to boost his head. Unless it’s because you want him to remember something. Something important.’
‘That’s exactly what I want him to do. To remember something.’
‘Like what?’
‘Something he’s forgotten.’
‘I can’t bear it that you’re so cryptic.’ Ronica realized she was shouting. She calmed herself and lay down on the bed next to him. ‘I thought we had something between us. An understanding. A trust. After all, we’re the same blood, you and I. The same class and background. But sometimes I don’t think you trust me at all. If you did, you’d confide in me. You’d learn to lean on me.’
107