Zeke Martin and Cyra Nichols run VR Services, an online tech startup that creates customized virtual reality trips. But they have more fun using their VR skills and equipment helping the Bayview Police Department solve crimes. This time they investigate why many dogs and cats around Silicon Valley are being petnapped.
“Online, no one know we’re just twelve-year-old nerds.”
VR Services: book trailer
VR Services: cover video
VR Services chapters one & two:
fog swirled around the young man and woman strolling along the River Thames. The thick mist blurred the gas lamps lining the embankment. A horse-drawn carriage rumbled by.
The man wore a black swallowtail jacket and a high top hat. Bushy sideburns hid the sides of his face. His walking stick clicked on the cobblestones.
“I say, madam,” he said to the woman. “Jolly good coding.”
“Thank you, old chap,” she replied. “I must say your avatar looks dashing.”
The woman, wearing a white lace dress and a wide silk hat, looked down at the black kitten walking at the heels of her button up shoes.
“3W,” she said. “Tell us about this time and place.”
The kitten looked up. In a clear, high voice, it said, “Welcome to London, England in the year 1890. To your right is the Thames River. It flows through the center of London and on to the North Sea.”
Meanwhile, inside the VR Services workshop, Zeke Martin and Cyra Nichols moved their feet along two virtual reality treadmills. They wore VR headmounts, haptic suits, data gloves, and nose caps.
“Phew! The river smells like a dump,” Zeke said. He adjusted his nose cap. “There are plenty of places I’d rather virtually visit than merry-old England during this dreary period.”
Beside him, Cyra raised a data glove to her forehead. In turn, her avatar swiped a lock of blond hair off her brow.
“We’re not here to sightsee, Ezekiel,” she said. “We’re here to test my latest virtual reality program.”
“So far so good,” said Zeke. “The fog is a nice touch. Your VR programming is better than ever. The city looks, sounds, feels, and smells as real as I guess it really was.”
“Plenty of online images of Victorian London to copy from,” said Cy. “Who’s our client this time?”
“The parents of a fourteen-year-old girl named, Samantha Lawson,” said Zeke. “Samantha enjoys reading crime novels. For her birthday she wants to virtually visit London at the turn of the century to meet her literary hero, Sherlock Holmes.”
In the computer-generated VR world, Cyra’s avatar said to the black kitten, “3W, tell us about the great detective of Baker Street.”
“Sherlock Holmes is a fictional private detective,” the kitten said. “He was created by the British author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The detective lives at 221B Baker Street, London, England with his assistant Dr. Watson.”
Zeke pointed his walking stick to a nearby bridge, “My dear Cyra, isn’t that Mr. Holmes standing on Tower Bridge now?”
“It is,” said Cy. “Let’s go meet him.”
The pair of avatars strolled onto the bridge. A cart drawn by a single horse clattered by on the brick road. A strong smell of dung reached the pair’s nose caps.
Near the bridge support tower, a tall man leaned on the railing. He wore a cape and a tweed cap with visors front and back.
“Good day, Mr. Holmes,” said Zeke.
The detective nodded a greeting. Deep in thought, he continued to stare at the river flowing beneath the bridge.
“Mr. Holmes, could you tell us your secret of solving crimes?” asked Cy.
The man turned toward the young couple. “It’s elementary, Cyra and Ezekiel,” he said. “It’s done with a keen deduction after a careful examination of the details.”
Zeke bent over laughing. The detective’s voice was high and squeaky. He sounded like an audio clip played at triple speed.
“Zounds!” Zeke said. “Before Samantha meets her hero, you better fix that bug in your code.”
Cy shook her head. “Coding artificial voices isn't my strong point,” she said. “Back to the computer.”
Zeke’s vision screen went dark. He ripped off his VR headmount, data gloves, and nose cap. He checked the spreadsheet on the computer screen before him.
“The Lawsons want the London VR trip by tomorrow,” he said. He pulled on the neck of his rubber haptic suit. “Samantha’s birthday.”
At the next workbench, Cyra Nichols tapped on a keyboard. Shocks of whiteish-blond hair stuck out in wild angles from the can headphones arching her head. She wore the usual black hoodie and ripped blue jeans. 3W, the real black cat, lay beside her computer screen.
“No worry, Ezekiel,” she said. “The program will be ready.”
Zeke checked the spreadsheet again. “VR Services business is booming,” he said. “Two more VR trip orders came in this morning.”
Large monitors on the wall displayed scenes from recent virtual reality experiences Cy had coded. One showed a computer-generated image of a bedroom. This was ordered by the parents of a seven-year-old girl. The girl’s family had recently moved to Canada, and she was homesick. With this VR program, the girl could virtually visit her old bedroom anytime she wanted, until she felt comfortable in her new one.
Another screen displayed the inside of an airliner. The grandparents of a ten-year-old boy who feared flying asked for this program. For months, the boy took virtual flights in the computerized plane until he felt safe. Now he flew to his grandparents’ house in Florida on a real airliner feeling calm and happy.*
A third monitor showed a grass soccer pitch. This virtual reality program, ordered by a high school soccer coach in North Dakota, allowed his soccer team to virtually practice soccer during the winter months until their real soccer field was cleared of snow.
Cy leaned back in her swivel chair. “I’ve watched every Sherlock Holmes movie and TV show made in the past twenty years,” she said. “I can’t decide which British accent is the best for our avatar.”
“Just pick one,” said Zeke. “And code it fast. Another order just came in.”
Cyra Nichols, the founder of VR Services, coded the programs for the VR trips. Each of her newest 3-D computer-generated journeys included not only full six degrees of function movement—forward, backward, up, down, left, and right—but also full five-senses control—360 sight, surround sound, sensitive touch, smell, and the seven basic tastes.
Zeke Martin joined the startup a month ago and was still learning the business. He was the VR Services manager. He took care of new commissions, client background checks, scheduling, and VR equipment delivery. Zeke and Cy never met a client in person. All business was done online.
“Online no one knows we’re just two twelve-year-old nerds,” Zeke was fond of saying.
“Online no one knows who we are or where we are,” Cy would add.
VR Services operated from the basement of Cy Nichols’ house at 222 Magnolia Avenue Bayview, California. Desktop computers, keyboards, mics, headphones, joysticks, dials, and switches crowded the two workstations in the front of the room. In the center hung a pair of haptic chairs. These raised, lowered, and turned to give the rider a sense of climbing, falling, and turning during virtual reality trips. Next to the chairs were two VR 360-degree treadmills and a pair of VR steps. These helped simulate walking, running, and climbing in a virtual world.
Cy rolled back in her chair. “Voila! Sherlock Holmes’s voice is fixed,” she announced. “Our good detective now has the proper Oxford accent.”
Zeke checked his computer screen. “I’ll send Samantha’s parents the VR equipment they ordered, an HMD, data gloves, and bodysuit. I’ll throw in a nose cap for free. Then Samantha can visit her crime-busting hero and all the odors of jolly-old England any time she wants.”
“And 3W will always be virtually present to answer any questions Samantha has,” said Cy.
Zeke checked the schedule on his computer display. “Cue the VR Services Headquarters program, Cyra,” he said. “Our next customers are due in two minutes.”
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