\documentstyle[11pt,doublespace]{article}
\author{David Golombek}
\title{Moving Towards Cyberspace}
\date{\today}
\begin{document}
\maketitle

When Jules Verne wrote \underline{From Earth to the Moon} in 1873, he
was predicting the future by almost 100 years.  Even when a movie
version of his book was released in 1958, the concept of manned travel
to the Moon was so unreal as to have most "sensible" people denying
its possiblility.  Science fiction writers have predicted most of the
technological advances of the last century, from the automobile, to
the robot, to the television.  Yet it was not until 1981, in Vernor
Vinge's story ``True Names'' that science fiction writers began to
explore the realm of cyberspace.  Now, in 1996, computer technology is
bringning us into cyberspace, slowly, but only 15 years after it was
first predicted.  Scott Bukatman looks into the first few science
fiction explorations into cyberspace, and their connections with the
reality of internetworked computers.  In particular, Bukatman examines
the the spacial and narrative techniques used in several science
fiction works, and how they provide context and reference.

In ``True Names'', \underline{Snow Crash} and Tron, the protagonist
is displayed as an essentially human form existing in a virtual world.
Although both Vinge and Stephenson (the respective authors of the
first two books) are quick to point out that non-humanoid forms are
available to those who desire them.  However, as Stephenson
extensively discusses in \underline{Snow Crash}, there is much about
the human form that is desireable in a virtual world, besides the
familiarity and ``secureness'' that it provides to a traveler in an
unfamiliar world.  We are very used to reading emotions of other's
faces as we speak to them, gathering reactions long before they are
ever formed into words.  The context that can be learned
simply by looking at another persons body movements is frequently
enough to roughly follow a conversation.  

When Juanita, the designer of the human interface section of the
virtual world of \underline{Snow Crash} is describing her inspiration
for the world design, she tells a story of her grandmother seeing far
more information that anyone else, by simply paying attention to human
details.  
\begin{quotation}
I was coming up with all kinds of elaborate technological fixes like
trying to implant electrodes directly into the brain.  Then I
remembered my grandmother and realized, my God, the human mind can
absorb and process an incredible amount of information---if it comes
in the right format.  The right interface.  If you put the right face
on it.
\end{quotation}
This short quote brings the argument into clear focus; humans have
a lifetime of experience processing data in familiar patterns, and
sticking to this pattern is more efficient than inventing a new one.

Bukatman mentions that ``some residual form of the body is
retained in almost every instance'', when a human jacking into
cyberspace.  Rather than saying a form is retained, I would describe
this much more as a transferring of bodies.  There need be no
similarities between the two bodies that the human is controlling, but
the common form enables a smooth transition between the two.  If the
interface for controlling the virtual body is smooth enough, there may
be a point at which people slip between the two worlds without a
thought, simply maintaining two bodies, each in a different world.

Later on, Bukatman talks about the narrative differences of cyberspace.
He discusses the first and third player perspectives of many games,
and the functions of narrative when more direct input is available.
Bukatman presents an evolution of computer interfaces, from the early
Dungeon interface of ``go north'', to the most modern Doom interfaces,
which frequently bring the player to twist in his chair, trying to
avoid fireballs flying towards him.  Indeed, Doom may be one of the
best virtual worlds presented to date, despite it's low resolution and
utter lack of narrative.  What it instead achieves are immediate
reactions to the players actions, and sounds that pound straight into
the subconscious, making even the steadiest player jump.  The first
perspective view of the world, including your own fists when you punch
someone, turns the monitor into a pair of goggles, intense
concentration entirely blanking all the world around the monitor.  

The next step in the evolution of doom-like interfaces has already
been taken at the MIT Media Lab, namely a full body interface, rather
than being tied to a keyboard or joystick.  The world is projected
onto a large screen in front of the player, and motion cameras
translate his actions into the actions of the player in the game.
Although this current interface is awkward, and lacks tensile
feedback, it is certainly a step in the direction of full immersion in
the realm that one is exploring.  This is no mistake, for the same
reasons explored above; namely, that humans have a lifetime of
experience dealing with the human form, and need not learn an entire
new set of mannerisms and controls to play the game.

The final step in this direction may be the direct mind link
envisioned by all the authors covered in the book.  Certainly at the
current time, this appears to be the only way to achieve the desired
results.  If such a interface were to be designed, then one might ask,
what role for narrative in the system, and indeed, Bukatman presses
this point.  I claim that narrative will have an even bigger role, and
one that involves feedback from the human in the interface.  Human
brains do not save pictures of scenes the same way that computers do,
bit for bit.  Instead, they {\it appear} to work via reference,
linking objects to standard representations of the object, such that a
specific bike in a picture is replaced by a generic bike, unless some
detail brings notice to the differences between this item and the
norm.  This is an extremely efficient representation of data, and
enables humans to remember as much as we do.  

In a direct mind interface, it is these pictures that need be set up,
not a visual display to be piped into the eyeballs directly.  Given
this, narrative is very important, because it is deliberately vague.
The traditional narrative leaves millions of items uncovered, left to
the reader to fill in as he pleases.  In many books, the main
character is left undescribed, such that each reader will have his own
picture.  This is one of the reasons that people are frequently
opposed to movie versions of books; the movie explicitly controls what
the hero looks like, ruining users preconcieved pictures.  This
abstract representation of data gives users more flexibility, is the
natural representation of data for humans, and is very efficient, all
pointing towards continued use of narrative well into the future.

Science fiction in the field of cyberspace has come a long way very
quickly, but is not very far ahead of the technology that drives it.
Scott Bukatman discusses both the the spacial and narrative techniques
used the works to date.  Although he has interesting points, I
disagree with his easy abandonment of the human body as a centerpoint,
but not for modernist reasons, but for biological and psychological
reasons.  Despite the changes in society, there are certain parts in
the human psyche that are rooted far deeper than social changes, and
are not likely to change in the forseeable future.

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