Charlie's

2

The Far Horizon corporation is the leading producer of sim systems. They're not quite a monopoly, but they have enough business to set standards, and they're the name that comes up when people talk sims. Far Horizon sim systems are used in schools, homes, businesses and the military. They're the household word, the one-stop solution, the go-to guys. If it's not the real world, it's probably theirs.

Their sim systems range from headsets for light-level immersion, good for telemeetings between businesses, to full sim beds with life support. The standard sim bed has a nutrient feed, full bio-monitoring and muscle stimulation; it's possible to spend days in a sim bed and come out healthier than when you got into it.

On populated planets, habitats or large transports, sim environments are typically shared among users. You can set up your own little world and have a few friends or a few hundred strangers come visit, or you can step out into someone else's world. Some standard worlds are available to everyone, and some act like huge nightclubs with cover charges.

Institutionalized use leans toward training. The military makes big use of sims for equipment training, hostile environment exposure and field preparedness. Doctors train in simulated operating rooms and emergency trauma centers. Colleges use them for any of a number of subjects, especially engineering and working with hazardous materials. And of course police, fire and rescue units and private security companies train in sims.

My case, though, is more of a niche market: people who are isolated for long periods of time. Small or lightly manned craft making long runs, deep exploration teams, remote outposts...anywhere a guy might put in a full day of whatever duty and then just needs to get away from it, get exposure to other people, go into town and blow off some steam, even if the town and the people are only in a machine.

Guys who, just for example, are on a barren rock.

The Survey Office recognizes there are people who can stare at rocks all day, who live for geology and mineral patterns and particulate distributions and running off to alien worlds to see them. The Survey Office also recognizes there are people who prefer taking civilization on a demand basis, not seeing another living soul or hearing machinery or smelling pollution unless they really feel like it. The Survey Office loves these people, and will set you up with an outpost all by yourself, with fabricators and a power plant and a stop on the shipping lanes for periodic contact and resupply. And a sim bed.

I hear some people set up fantasy kingdoms or sex playgrounds, places with huge towers or sprawling forests, resorts or adventure, whatever their personal Heaven on Earth (or wherever) happens to be. Me, I prefer 20th century Manhattan, New York, Earth. Lot of stories about it, lot of vids, and a lot of people to get to know.

But Far Horizon sims come with a few safeguards, such as being able to schedule wake-up times and prepare medical reports for outside access. If the regular contact comes by and I'm not there to greet them, they can, if necessary, come find out why.

And there's the occasional reminder, just in case I'm inclined to forget, that I'm in a sim. All sims have that in one form or another -- I understand Far Horizon had some lawsuits in its early days -- but mine are tied to my Survey Office ID. They're not slave drivers, but they do expect return on their investment.

I've got the reminders set up as random, non-intrusive, media-sensitive. That means they're not likely to jar, like if I'm playing football or watching a movie or something, but they're not regular enough that I'll know they're coming. It could come from friends or strangers, people at checkout counters or folks on the subway. Even Vic or Tony or Eddie. Even Marie.

It usually doesn't come from Marie. It's usually some stranger we pass by when we're together. But when we're all by ourselves for long enough, like the camping trip we took over a weekend, she'll be the one to give me the reminder. I try to take it as a term of endearment.

Character development in the sim is pretty thorough. I don't know how many people the sim has defined in my Manhattan, but those I wind up encountering all have a background and a personality. They operate in my realtime and can even communicate with me outside the sim. I was out in the field checking out a cliff face that had collapsed after twenty thousand years of wind erosion, all the while messaging with Marie about what we'd see in the theatre...

Yes, I know that spy thriller you wanted to see is coming out, but there's a romance I've heard about too. You have to let me show you mine if you want to show me yours.

Seriously, I was there for the rocks. I love the work, the very idea that I'm on another world, seeing things no one else has ever seen before. And it was beautiful there, if you can open your mind to that sort of beauty. The wind howling through the canyons, the gentle curve of the wind-eroded ridge line, the gleam of the setting sun on the grains of silicate...all mine to soak in and enjoy.

But if I didn't have a sim to talk to, I'd probably wind up talking to the rocks.