Imagine a spaceship that you can talk to, a luxury liner
where every holodek adjusts automatically.
Adjusts automatically to match your changing moods.
Not just a science-fiction backdrop but but an active partner
in your gameplay, your study, your laboratory work, love-life
and leisure activity. It is also your friend.
Much like the techno-futurist imagined by Ray Bradbury’s short story “The Veldt,” most housekeeping and child-rearing are ceded to automated holodeks, each optimized regularly by cyborgs of loving grace and kindness, Pleasure, care, and control collapse in the ships Matrix, whose children are no longer just off the kitchen but granted the status of autonomous occupants of its system, more akin to the eathlings nursery. Instead of a nurse of flesh and blood accompanying the children, the home becomes caretaker. The children’s room is a self-contained subsystem meant to nurture and occupy them — a version of Bradbury’s Matrix come to life. It features a holovid monitor that lets children play in any environment they might wish: under the sea, in outer space, or in the wild West. The beds, too, are smart, helping robocop children to sleep and waking them up when it is time for applesauce.
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