Stephen Baker's Blog
July 15, 2014
Will the Wang Bao He Restaurant sell virtual versions of its famous 'hairy crabs'?
The big challenge for the virtual reality industry is overcoming nausea. Our minds become disoriented, because what we're seeing doesn't sync with what our body is experiencing, and the gap makes us feel like vomiting. If technicians can overcome this problem, as John Markoff describes in the NYTimes, we'll have an industry with explosive possibilities in everything from surgery and warfare to sex.
This is the future I describe in The Boost, and in the prequel I'm busy writing now. Here are some issues that come up in the book, in the 2030s, after several hundred Chinese industrial workers have brain chips, or boosts, implanted in their heads. (They are known as the "capped" workers.)
...Then there was the issue of the physical world and what was formerly known as “reality.” Increasingly, the capped workers avoided it. This wasn’t just day dreaming. These people would take leave. The hook-ups to their brains tied their experiences in virtual worlds to their perceptions, so that when they were sitting on the blue bench at lunchtime with a vacant look in their eyes, they were actually tasting the famous “hairy” crabs at Wang Bao He in Shanghai, or maybe cavorting in the whorehouse next door. Looking back, their virtual worlds were primitive. The seafood and the sex were crude simulations of reality, with only a hint of the texture and nuance of the physical sensations. At the time, though, the virtual world seemed magical. And everyone knew that as the software improved, year by year, each release would be more colorful, more fun, more real. The molecular world, by contrast, seemed stagnant.
As the Chinese workers spent more of their time in virtual realms, authorities began to fret. The risk, they saw, was that the capped workers would eat only in their heads--and starve--or dedicate their sex lives to virtual movie stars, and die childless. The government hired technicians to tweak the chip. They told them to jazz up the perceptions of regular life, so that people would hang around in their bodies more of the time--and not just leave them parked here and there like hunks of meat. This proved to be a challenge.
(By the way, if you read the book and don't remember this passage, I chopped out quite a bit of this history for the final edition. I wanted readers to get to the story more quickly.)
July 13, 2014
An op-ed I wrote for The Los Angeles Times, illustration by Edel Rodriguez
It's strange to walk the streets of Seattle and San Jose, two of the world's great software
capitals, and see people behaving like machines. I'm referring to jaywalking or, more
precisely, the lack of it. You see packs of knowledge workers huddled on street corners.
They appear able to ignore the data streaming in through their eyes and ears that would make it
clear to other creatures — dogs, squirrels or, for that matter, New Yorkers — that the coast is clear
and it's safe to cross. Instead they wait for a blinking machine to issue orders.
This approach, like much of computer science in its early years, is based on rules. Because cars are
killing machines, they must stop at red lights. And because pedestrians can be killed and maimed
by cars, they too must obey the signal. To save a motorist and a pedestrian from a deadly
rendezvous, authorities force both driver and walker to follow strict rules.
Computer programs, traditionally, feature long lists of such rules. If X happens, do Y. This is ideal
for listing names in alphabetical order and countless other memory and logic tasks. But rule-based
thinking is what makes computers so thickheaded. They struggle to adjust to change. The human
brain, by contrast, adjusts almost effortlessly. It picks up changing context, is alive to nuance and
adjusts to exceptions. This is why when someone tells us his name is spelled Ximenez, we shrug
and accept it, while the spell-checker on the computer stubbornly insists on changing the X to a J.
Rules, by their very nature, are dumb.
Researchers in artificial intelligence are working to overcome them. They program machines, such
as Watson, IBM's "Jeopardy" computer, to analyze evidence and to calculate the odds for the best
response. This is what jaywalkers do. We carry out advanced analytics involving a host of variables:
the perceived speed of the oncoming truck, our walking speed and the width of the street, the
worst-case chance that the driver will accelerate or swerve, and our ability in such a scenario to
Now, there's always a good defense for rules. Traffic authorities no doubt agree that human beings
have fabulous brains, which are fully capable of looking left and right, drawing conclusions and
crossing the street when safe. But many people are not using their brains for this important work.
They're talking on their phones, listening to music or fiddling with umbrellas. Some are drugged.
Some are lousy at calculating their chances against oncoming traffic.
So the only way to keep them safe is to treat them like herd animals and bypass independent
analysis with ironclad rules. That approach certainly makes sense for governing vehicles, at least until the computer scientists make these killing machines "smarter." But I'd argue that we people should be as free as possible
to navigate our bodies as we see fit. That includes the right to cross an empty street against a red
And what about the people who walk obliviously into traffic wearing headphones or messaging on
Google Glass? Where jaywalking is legal, or at least tolerated, they have a choice. They can either
wait with the masses for the red light or pay attention. If they choose neither and wander into
traffic, an angry motorist will honk at them or scream out the window or, in the very worst case, hit
This does happen. In the jaywalking hotbed of New York City, 168 pedestrians were killed last year,
according to police. It's a grave problem. Mayor Bill de Blasio vows to go after outlaw pedestrians
as well as fast-moving cars and trucks. In Los Angeles, where 72 pedestrians died in 2013, the
police justify handing out $250 tickets to people who step into crosswalks downtown as the
"walk/don't walk" signal begins to count down because of "too many accidents and deaths."
Despite such crackdowns, jaywalking is a constant in most cities. It's factored into our commuting
and delivery schedules. It's also part of what makes a city feel footloose. As the years pass, I think
we'll especially treasure this freedom of movement because in so many areas we're going to be less
free. Increasingly, governments, employers and insurance companies, among others, are going to
have the tools to monitor and optimize our behavior, in every area from the dinner table and the
workplace to our cars.
In fact, the same push for safety that punishes jaywalkers will likely lead us to driverless vehicles.
They'll be a lot safer, since automatic drivers don't drink, text, turn around and scream at kids or
fall asleep. At the same time, though, we passengers are bound to feel a bit shackled as the cars
convey us, under the speed limit and following the most efficient route, to our destination.
At least we should be free to jaywalk. It will be a tiny refuge for self-expression. And here's the best
part. In this future, driverless cars will screech to a halt if a pedestrian crosses their vision. It will
no doubt be programmed into their operating system as a rule.
Stephen Baker is the author of "Final Jeopardy: Man vs. Machine and the Quest to Know
Everything." His novel "The Boost" came out in May.
July 4, 2014
In 2025, the Internet is likely to be a much more controlled environment, one increasingly ruled by governments and corporations, according to a Pew Research Study. (the full study, the NPR summary)
Hmmm, I thought. That sounds a lot like The Boost.
The outlook in the study looks pretty grim. More surveillance, more government control (often in the name of security or privacy protection), and money doing more and more of the talking. Naturally, this more controlled and controlling Internet will be far more pervasive than it is today, with more mingling of the physical and digital realms. No, we won't have chips in our heads, it will often feel as though we do.
Here are the four characteristics of the future Net as detailed in the report:
1) A global, immersive, invisible, ambient networked computing environment built through
the continued proliferation of smart sensors, cameras, software, databases, and massive
data centers in a world-spanning information fabric known as the Internet of Things.
2) “Augmented reality” enhancements to the real-world input that people perceive through
the use of portable/wearable/implantable technologies.
3) Disruption of business models established in the 20th century (most notably impacting
finance, entertainment, publishers of all sorts, and education). (This one seems too obvious, and they should throw in health care, government and manufacturing)
4) Tagging, databasing, and intelligent analytical mapping of the physical and social realms.
July 3, 2014
See that scary looking ad? I've been dabbling in advertising on Facebook, trying different images and ad copy. And I'm sure it comes as no surprise that the most menacing graphic and message gets by far the most clicks.
The issue for me is that I don't view the future in The Boost as especially terrifying. It's simply the future. Sure, there are aspects I'd rather do without. People can send headaches to each other, journalism no longer exists within the borders of the United States, people eat tasteless pellets and flavor them with brain apps, etc etc. But there's still love, laughter, jokes, and above all, hope. Life goes on.
But when it comes to selling the book, dark wins.
I've faced this issue before. The Numerati attempted to portray a balanced view of Big Data. Yes, there would be privacy issues. But governments, corporations, and doctors would stop treating us like herds. Data, for example, would bring us personalized medicine. But the scary stuff sold. When it came time to publish the book in paperback In the UK, my publisher actually changed the title to the menacing "They've Got Your Number." (The New York Times used the same headline in its review of the book.)
June 29, 2014
A couple of weeks ago, as I was sketching out the prequel to The Boost. I downloaded Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. I wanted new ideas about plotting and character development, and what better source than a massive best-seller that a good friend called "compulsively readable?"
It starts well: "When I think of my wife, I always think of her head." The narrator goes on to describe its shape and angles, "like a shiny, hard corn kernal or a riverbed fossil." Then he adds a touch of dark foreshadowing. "You could imagine the skull quite easily."
After that first paragraph, I felt that I was in the hands of a master. And I prepared to enjoy the first easy reading in months. (I'd been plowing through Proust since Thanksgiving, with a few breaks for non-fiction.) I would be spending consecutive weekends in Cape Cod and Nantucket, and I had the perfect beach reading, and even a Kindle with a non-reflective screen. It was almost luxurious to have a book written in modern American English, with protagonists who lived the lives of people I know (One is a laid-off journalist).
But something unexpected happened. I kept putting the book down. The plot didn't grip me. I didn't care about the characters. My mind wandered.
This isn't to rip the book, or to discourge people from reading it. Judging from its sales, and reviews, people are crazy about it. It just wasn't right for me.
However, I can still take lessons from it. One device Flynn uses is the unreliable narrator. She has two of them, and they take turns hiding important facts from the readers. They admit such awful things about themselves that you tend to believe them. But their revelations are calibrated to gain credibility, so that they can hide the more damning aspects of their existence. (By the way, next time someone tells me that readers want "likeable" characters, I'm going to cite Gone Girl as a counter-example.)
This reading has changed my thinking about my prequel, Washington at War--2043. I was planning to write it with the same omnicient narrative that I use in The Boost, skipping from character to character and reading most of their minds. (For some reason, I never got into Don Paquito's head.) Now I'm considering having one of the characters tell the story. And it might be someone who's up to no good.
(In the spirit of Gone Girl, I came upon the scene below near the Walnut Street market in Montclair.)
June 25, 2014
When the steam engine was king, the future looked steamy. The hulking machines, it seemed in the 19th century, would just grow bigger and more powerful.
That's easiest way to imagine the future: Start with what we have now, and exaggerate everything. And that's sort of what I did with The Boost. We have cell phones that increasingly dominate our thinking, track our movements, and are fast turning into external lobes of our brains. So I simply made them tiny, maybe a million times more powerful, and moved them into the head.
I believe that computers will increasingly knit their way into our minds, but I'd bet the technology I describe in the book will be laughable in 2072. That's because between now and then there are likely to be jumps to different tech platforms. These will probably make the boosts seem as silly as a cell phone powered by an internal combustion engine, or perhaps Jules Verne's vision of a moonship fired into space by a massive cannon.
What will the jump be? John Markoff writes in the New York Times about Microsoft's research into quantum computers. These could conceivably turn computing upside down. It would not only make computers thousands of times more powerful, but would also revolutionize the way they process information. It would conceivably permit them to introduce doubt into calculations--more the way we do. (Today's computers, in contrast, simulate doubt with billions of statistical calculations). Other researchers are looking into computing models based on animal brains.
The point is that the change won't come in a straight line, and it's likely to be more dramatic than we imagine--and more dramatic than the brain chips in The Boost.
June 22, 2014
This fits into the plot of The Boost. Without giving away too much, think of it this way: if you have vital news to communicate to a large population, where do you find everybody?
This is the business model for a site called Badoink (don't want to link to it by adding .com). Jasper Hammill outlines the strategy in an article in Forbes. The idea is to offer a news and features magazine, and to finance the journalism with links to porn sites. Hammill compares it to Playboy, which published big-time writers and featured great interviews, all of them financed by soft porn. The Badoink site looks like Maxim, which updated Playboy's model for the '90s.
Anyone's guess if this venture will work. Most don't. But I expect news to continue to cozy up with the parts of the entertainment industry people will pay for. That means porn, gambling, sports, games and comedy.
This isn't entirely new. When Jimmy Carter wanted to reach an important demographic in 1976, he looked to Playboy, but later regretted it.
June 20, 2014
I'm working on my next novel. It's a prequel to The Boost, and I'm calling it Washington at War. It takes place in the crucial years of 2043/44, when China and the United States battle for tech supremacy in the age of brain iimplants. The implants, or boosts, will become the platform for virtually all human communication--news, business, entertainment, diplomacy, and virtual worlds. Whoever rules the boost runs the world. Needless to say, the stakes are large.
I have a plot sketched out. I'm wondering, though, whether to tell the story more or less as I did in The Boost, with an omniscient narrator going from character to character, or to try something different. I'm toying with the idea of a first-person narration. In this case, this character wouldn't be entirely reliable. He (and I think it's a he) wouldn't know everything. And he might not be the nicest person in the story. In fact, he might be something of a villain.
I'll let you know what I decide, but would welcome ideas.
The art, incidentally, comes from Fritz Lang's Metropolis. I was looking for images of Washington at War, and all I came across was Revolutionary War art featuring Gen. Washington. That's about three centuries too old. So I opted instead for an old image of the future.
June 19, 2014
Amazon's new phone is out, and one of its features, Firefly, brings it closer to The Boost. Firefly allows a user to point the phone at practically any object, send an image to the cloud, and have it recognized and located in Amazon's warehouses. Hit buy, and it will be at your doorstep in a day or two. It even works with movies and songs.
In The Boost, where nearly everyone has a brain chip, most artifacts of the physical world are also identified and tagged. There's less need for physical objects, because more and more of our lives occur in the entertainment and communications hubs on the chip. (In fact, much of the physical world looks abandandoned.) But it occurs to me that Amazon, if it continues along the line traced by Founder Jeff Bezos, will one day be looking into brain chips. It's the natural evolution of the brand.
June 16, 2014
The Rio Grande Valley, near Lajitas, Texas, down river from the setting of The Boost
Every day I go onto Twitter and do a search for ‘“The Boost” Baker.” That’s how I find what people are saying about the book, sometimes in tweets, sometimes with links to reviews. It’s interesting to read the reviews of a book you’ve written. Each reader, it’s clear, opens a book with different hopes and expectations.
Here’s a selection of recent reviews:
Matt Hlinak, writing in Pop Mythology, calls the book “a fun and thought-provoking exploration of the long-term effects of the ever shrinking computer.” He calls the book “remarkably well written,” but finds a few flaws. First, he says, he had to “struggle to suspend my disbelief” at the notion that a human with a lifelong brain implant would be able to function fairly well when the implant is ripped out.
I find this point interesting. He accepts that the boost works as advertised, but sees such implants meshing so thoroughly with the brain that they become functionally inseparable. I’ll have to ask about that in my non-fiction research. Matt also finds some of the dialogue contrived and says that the characters’ motivations are not always clear.
Hank Campbell, writing in Science 2.0, agrees that some of the characters’ actions appear to “make no sense.” But he’s not bothered by that. In the real world, he writes, “people sometimes do things that make little sense. That complexity is a sign that the characters feel real and are therefore worth your wet brain time in an age where technology increasingly beckons.”
Hank, writing for a scientific audience, also draws a distinction between the cyborg premise of the Boost and the more transformative vision of the Singularity, in which machines transcend human intelligence. He finds the Boost more plausible.
Tony, at Geeky Library, calls it “a thrilling story, start to finish.” Like the other reviewers, he focuses on plausibility. “It’s an entirely plausible plot, and the technology involved doesn’t require much suspension of disbelief. Automated cars, neural interfaces, nothing that scientists aren’t already working on today.”
John Aiello, at the Electric Review, seems more interested in what the story tells us about today than how the technology will work tomorrow:
One doesn’t have to work too hard to catch a glimpse of Edward Snowden and the NSA in the shadows of the outskirts, there in the soul of a novel that is as timely as it is compelling. Baker (whose resume includes a position at BusinessWeek as a senior technology writer), does a masterful job at straddling the fence that separates fiction and reality. In the end, that fence is so blurred that we’re left to collectively ask: “When is this really going to happen?”