Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [39]
Seeking a relatively simple environment for purposes of demonstration, he called up the Ander’s Planet program. Instantly, the doors opened on a barren but level stretch of terrain, ruddy with the orange light of twin suns.
“Follow me,” he instructed, and entered. The others trailed along behind him, looking around and murmuring appreciatively.
“Ander’s Planet,” concluded Morgen, “in the Beta Sardonicus system. Correct?”
“Correct,” said Worf without actually looking at the Daa’Vit. “I will need a volunteer—to serve as Dr. Greyhorse’s jogger.”
Ben Zoma raised his hand. “I’m your man. Neither my Daa’Vit friend nor the doctor have stayed in very good shape, I’m afraid. Old age robs some people of their motivation.”
“And others of their sense,” retorted Greyhorse.
Morgen laughed.
“Where do I begin?” asked Ben Zoma.
“Right where you are standing,” said Worf. “But first, let me make an adjustment—so we can all be heard, no matter how far you go.”
He looked up at the sky.
“Computer—amplify our voices so that we can be heard throughout the program.”
“Done,” said a pleasant female voice.
Worf turned to Ben Zoma. “All right,” he said. “You may begin jogging. In any direction.”
With a last look at Morgen and Greyhorse, Ben Zoma started off. Slowly, at little more than a brisk walk. And as if they were truly on Ander’s Planet, he seemed to be getting a little farther away with each step.
Morgen said as much.
“Look back at us,” Worf instructed Ben Zoma. “What do you see?”
His voice was like thunder. It seemed to reverberate to the heavens and back, godlike.
The captain of the Lexington looked back over his shoulder. “The distance between us is increasing.”
“Fascinating,” said Greyhorse.
“Actually,” Worf told him, “it is quite simple. You see, the illusion created by the holodeck is made up of three components. One is the manipulation of electromagnetic fields you referred to a moment ago. Another is the creation of actual objects, using transporter-analog matter-conversion technology—though these objects must be simple and inanimate. Also, there are devices to simulate sound, smell, and taste, or alternately to dampen those senses. For example, when the illusory source of the stimulus is appearing to recede, like Captain Ben Zoma.
“But the fourth and most important component is visual—a stereoscopic image comprised of polarized interference patterns—”
“Emitted by omnidirectional holo diodes,” contributed Greyhorse. “Millions of them, set into the walls.”
“Yes,” said the Klingon, again doing his best to ignore the interruption. Apparently, the doctor’s expertise was not limited to field theory. “The patterns are programmed to intersect at the lens of the participant’s eye. So whatever he or she sees appears to be three-dimensional. And as one moves around, the information emitted by the diodes changes, altering the view.”
“All well and good, Mr. Worf,” said the doctor. “But that doesn’t explain how—”
“This is pretty impressive,” called Ben Zoma, who now seemed to be twenty meters away. “I’m going to pick up the pace.”
And pick up the pace he did. After a moment or two, he was sprinting—going all out. But it did not diminish the veracity of the illusion. From Worf’s point of view, Ben Zoma’s figure gradually dwindled.
“As I was saying,” the Klingon continued, “the diodes dictate what one sees. Not only by creating pure images, but by altering the way one perceives other elements. The electromagnetic fields, for instance. The converted-matter objects. And, of course, other participants.”
Greyhorse grunted. “I see. The polarized interference patterns come together to act as a lens—making the moving participant appear farther away than he or she really is.”
“Precisely, Doctor.”
“And if we were to go running after him,” said Morgen, “the treadmill effect would come into play for us too. So we could never close the gap between us unless we put in a lot more effort.”
“Or he stopped and allowed