Ireland’s contribution to the international community of techbros was a man who went by the name of Neo ‘the Edge’. I don’t judge. I changed my own name after all. Actually, though, I do judge. Neo was presumably a Matrix allusion. And ‘the Edge’ was the nickname of the guitarist from U2. Put them together and what have you got? A belief you are the messiah but you need special effects to hide the fundamental shallowness of your message?
Doubtless there were communities of people who would have considered it a privilege to hear Neo speak. People had paid to be where I was, in the Helix theatre looking up at a stage on which Neo was walking around in front of a large screen and telling us about his philosophy of dreams. For me though, the fact that I had been compelled to attend this talk against my will meant that I was sat with arms folded and had every intention of leaving as soon as my DreamAds app gave me the credit for having come here.
It was all so predictable and dull. Man in smart, black polo-neck stands under dimmed lighting, with a soft, swirling monochrome display behind him ready to illustrate his points. All it needed was some minimalist background music and the futuristic-spacecraft aesthetic would be complete. I leaned over to Daniel, who was on my right, intending to say that it would be so much more interesting if people making presentations surprised us at the outset with a completely unexpected format. It’s not as if anyone really learned from looking at slides, right? But just as I began to speak, so did Neo.
‘First of all, thank you. You didn’t have to choose the option of joining the DreamAds program and I appreciate the fact that you did. Secondly, what’s it all about? Well, I have a plan to rule the world, obviously. Hah, hah, hah.
‘No, but seriously. Today, I want to explain the technology to you and explain what your role is and perhaps even motivate you with an appreciation that what you are doing is helping humanity move towards a world without misunderstandings.’
Body language always says so much, often unintended. In Neo’s case his performance was pure Malvolio admiring his yellow garters. I could tell that in his own mind he was a charismatic genius and we were thrilled to be listening to him, that Neo imagined us to be gripped by a sense that this was history in the making. His head was down, his arms gesturing, and he moved around the stage without looking at us, as though somewhere else. A place only deep and profound people had access to.
‘Imagine you can share your mind with other people. Not just by converting your thoughts into words and hoping they convert these words back in a reasonable approximation to your thinking, but direct, mind-to-mind communication.
‘Imagine Stephen Hawking could have shared his mind. Then we’d all know exactly what he understood by time. DreamAds is a technology that – of course – offers improved quality of life for those whom verbal communication is difficult or impossible, but it’s not just for those with disabilties. It’s for everyone. When we have a world with telepathy, we’ll reduce misunderstandings and vastly accelerate the transfer of knowledge.’
Pausing centre stage under a ghostly spotlight, Neo threw open his arms. ‘And you are going to be the first to test our artificial interface between mind and matter. In years to come, you will boast of this moment. You were there at the very beginning.’
If Neo anticipated that a big round of applause would follow his gesture, he had misjudged his audience. Not one person put their hands together for him. Probably Neo was used to talking to audiences who were in awe of him, in awe of his wealth. Now though, he was addressing a cackle of resentful criminals.
Being on the DreamAds program was a lot like being sentenced with electronic tagging. Every day you had to keep your app in the green or be liable for your full penalty. Today, that meant coming to this talk, whatever your plans were or however hungover you felt. Everyone in the theatre was being bossed by that small bit of software and presumably felt as disinclined enter into the world of the techbro as I did.
And anyway, what Neo was saying was obviously just marketing.
For the next thirty minutes we got a technical explanation of what lay ahead of us. I largely zoned out although I did pay attention to the fact that the breakthrough for DreamAds came with a shift from electro-magnetic interactions with the brain to ultrasound ones. Pulses of ultrasound travelled in a line, rather than spread out in a wave and this was a good thing, apparently. The same technology that had revolutionised health checks in early pregnancy could now achieve levels of resolution of brain imaging that allowed brain states to be recorded right down to the level of individual neurons.
With disappointment, I also learned that the hoods which we were to collect after the talk were uniquely keyed to each of us and that it would invalidate the programme to put them on anyone else. So much for my idea that Daniel could try it on instead of me.
‘Got that?’ I whispered to Daniel, who was looking bored. His desire to see Neo in person had got him out of bed but I was sure he was now regretting having bothered.
‘Can we go?’ he muttered.
By way of answer I showed him my phone screen. The DreamAds symbol for the day’s tasks was still red.
‘He’s not as dangerous as I thought he was,’ Daniel observed, a touch too loudly for my comfort, ‘more like Milhouse than Mussolini.’
I had to chuckle, the shoe fit. Neo even wore round glasses.
‘Evil is far more mundane than we usually imagine it to be,’ I answered.
‘He’s a fucking prick, that’s what he is,’ said the man on the other side of Daniel and a brief ripple of laughter radiated from our part of the audience.
At last the presentation ended, to desultory applause. Probably people were clapping the fact that was over. Could we leave? Nope. App still Red. Questions, then. And of course Daniel’s was the first hand up. A woman hurried down the nearest aisle and passed a microphone along to us. While I slouched lower in my chair, already cringing, Daniel stood up.
‘It’s not so much of a question as an observation. If you can put dreams into–’
‘Let me stop you right there!’ Neo’s voice remained loud while Daniel’s lost all amplification so that only those around us could hear Daniel continue:
‘ –our minds, then you will be able to influence not just our buying behaviour but also our politics.’
‘I inevitably find,’ Neo was standing near the front of the stage under the spotlight, ‘that people who begin a Q-and-A session by saying that they don’t have a question take up valuable time on a rant. So based on that experience, let’s move right along, I’m sure there are people with genuine questions. Yes. You.’
The microphone was retrieved and fair enough, the first question, ‘is it safe?’ was an important one. But as Daniel stood there, disconsolate, I felt annoyance well up in me. Annoyance at the arrogance of Neo. Annoyance that my prime had been attacked in public. And my annoyance turned to outright anger as Neo replied to the questions.
‘Don’t we need to dream properly or go mad?’
‘How different will our dreams be to before?’
‘What will the advertising feel like?’
‘I’m a vegan. Your dreams aren’t going to want to make me eat meat are they?’
The patronising responses of the billionaire in front of us made it clear that he thought he was doing us a favour. Neo spoke about Freud and Jung as though he had read them and he could take it as a given that we hadn’t. My bullshit detector went off when Neo spoke about layers of meaning in dreams and how his technology only affected the most surface layer. We had nothing to worry about: the core function of dreams would not be interrupted.
I could tell that for Neo, ‘The Edge’, the scum of society were now being given a purpose, a higher mission. And that purpose was not to question him but to be lab rats and be grateful for the opportunity to stay out of jail.
Speaking in public comes very low down on my list of favourite activities. All the same, I really couldn’t let Neo leave the room having reinforced his belief that he was smart and we were idiots. So even before I’d decided to speak, I found I’d put my hand in the air. Anger had overruled embarrassment.
Because I was next to Daniel, who had finally sat down again, I could sense Neo’s reluctance to call me. But no one else had their hands up and after a nod from the great man the microphone came along the row for me to take. I was aware of the many faces looking in my direction.
Tapping the mic, I stayed seated, head low. ‘You claim that your technology will lead to us having an immediate connection with the mind of another person. Telepathy. And you made that claim by contrasting what you are doing with how we normally put thoughts into words and then the person listening to our words tries make sense of them. And you mocked this system of communication, because it’s so easy for meanings to be lost in the transitions. But at least we’ve had a hundred thousand years of working with language to help bridge the gap between minds.
‘Your alternative to speaking is not direct, mind-to-mind communication. There still is an interface with your technology, even if it’s not verbal. You still have to translate thoughts into ultra-sound signals and then have the receiving mind translate those signals into thoughts. How is that better than using words to connect people? It’s going to be worse because of the low resolution of the system.’ I was finished. I’d made my point.
‘Hah, a lot there. It’s always like that. It takes a while for people to warm up.’ Neo blinked, round eyes peering in my direction but hopefully not seeing me too clearly in the dark. ‘Well, the short answer is that the medium is the message. There’s a difference in meaning between a message delivered via audio waves to the ear and one delivered by ultrasound directly via the rearrangement of neurons. It’s not the same content accessed in different ways. It’s different content. It’s the difference between reading about a rollercoaster and that of feeling your stomach lurch as you tip over the top; feeling the wind in your hair; hearing the screams of the people beside you; feeling the straps strain against your shoulders; catching the scent of grilled burgers. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.’
Beside me, Daniel raised his eyebrows. ‘Good answer. Makes me want to try it.’
‘Crap answer, Daniel. Cop on. Are you smelling that burger right now?’
‘I am!’
‘How did he evoke that scent in your mind? With words.’
‘Yeah, but this technology is going to give you a much richer experience. And what if it’s true that we can know the mind of each other through it? I mean, suppose I could broadcast my poems that way?’
‘Nightmares-R-us. He should have called his company that.’
A murmur of conversation was growing in the audience and it swelled up accompanied by laughter when the next question was, ‘did your mum knit that jumper?’
‘Moving on,’ said Neo.
‘Why are you such a cunt?’ was the next. And it got a great cheer.
All at once, the social structure of the event dissolved. It was like we had been molecules, fixed in a lattice, unable to do anything other than quiver. And now we were free, molten, flowing. Daniel was laughing and looking around to share the moment with as many of our neighbours as he could. Even I raised my eyes to meet a few mirthful faces.
‘What’s your name? You are off the program,’ Neo was looking to either side and backstage for assistance, but the only allies he had were the two youngsters in the aisles with the roaming microphones.
‘Spartacus,’ answered the man who had called Neo a cunt.
Immediately Daniel was on his feet. ‘No, I’m Spartacus!’
And suddenly the room was filled with rebel gladiators.
Beaten, humiliated, furious, Neo stormed off the stage. A minute later the lights came on and the doors opened. As we filed out, cheerful and on good terms with each other, stoney-faced DreamAds staff handed out branded backpacks containing the hoods we were to use.
On the bus home, Daniel was hardly able to sit in his seat. ‘That was so awesome.’ He half rose, looking around as if hoping to get into conversation with another passenger and share our recent experience.
I felt good too. But I had the bag of dream equipment in my lap and I was the one who would have to wear it. ‘You do realise I’m putting my mind into the hands of someone who is completely pissed off with all of us. If he wanted to, as a punishment, Neo might send us all terrible nightmares.’
Just saying that thought aloud made me shiver. Maybe I should resign from the program? Maybe jail was better than letting that man into my dreams.