The Experience Machine

Mariel Desjardins adjusted the strap of her book bag once again as she walked across campus, her books and lecture notes heavier than usual, the thin leather strap digging in to her shoulder enough to hurt. The late autumn air was unusually heavy with moisture, and she noted with pursed lips and a wrinkled brow that fat snowflakes were already drifting down in the blue evening light. It would be, she said to herself, a long night after all, and now she regretted putting the navy kidskin pumps with the five inch heels...

Yes, she disliked these night classes, these "Continuing Ed" courses, but as most of these students were adults they were at least well motivated, and as she was teaching an Intro to BioMedical Ethics class this term, most of this class was made up of nursing students, though there were a few pre-Med undergrad types thrown into the mix for fun. Still, after a full day teaching at the medical school, and ethics consults at the hospital coming out of the blue from time to time, these night classes made for a heavy load and were taking a toll. But with ongoing budget cuts and an ever shrinking endowment, this was, it seemed, her lot in life...

Still, she had to admit this was a fun class. The nursing students were, as was almost always the case, a tight group of fun-loving females, while the undergrads were the usual unruly mix of pimply-faced, iPhone toting co-eds. All of this was normal in it's way, all these students were engaging in their way too, so there were no real surprises. There was a bonus this time out, however; a paramedic from the Boston Fire Department named Sam, and he appeared to be, she presumed, quite interesting – on the surface, at least. Quiet, almost reserved, he was older, maybe thirty or thereabouts, and seemed particularly well read. Even so, he was hard to draw out into class discussions, and appeared somewhat aloof. But, he was CUTE! Not too muscular, he had a brainy appearance that was immediately tempered by his occupation, and as he almost always wore a 'paramedic' windbreaker to class, that was kind of hard to ignore. Was he over-compensating? Insecure? Hard to say, but of more interest, she was sure at least half the nursing students were madly in love with the guy, and that might prove interesting during tonight's group discussion.

Still, there was something about him that intrigued her, something about the way he looked at her.

So, lost within the eddies and undercurrents that accompany such dissonant thought, Mariel Desjardins arrived in her classroom, as was her custom, about ten minutes before class was due to begin. As usual, she dropped her book bag on the desk beside the lectern and began scribbling the night's topic and assignments on the whiteboard, all the while trying to keep her smile to herself. Oh, but it was going to be so hard.

+++++

After the last stragglers, the last 'usual suspects' dragged in – brushing off heavy snow before doffing coats – and after she'd put on her ritual display of perturbed annoyance with her tardy arrivals, she returned last week's essays and quizzes, and then reminded the class that their typed, mid-term research paper proposals were due at the beginning of their next class. Then she proceeded to lay out the evening's lecture and group assignments.

"Alright, tonight we're going to work through an unusual problem, one that has vexed ethicists and developers for more than a few decades now, but it's also a discussion worth having as technology always seems to have a way of catching up with theory..."

She paused, looked around the classroom, letting her eyes linger on the paramedic for perhaps a moment too long. And then, she smiled, breaking eye contact with him.

"Let's 'pretend' for a minute that "Science" has developed the technology to record thoughts, or more specifically, one's total sense of an experience. Further, let's assume that these recordings can be played back, and to anyone, anywhere, given that the proper equipment is on hand. The twist here is that the recording wouldn't be played back on some sort of screen. Now, I want you to keep an open mind here, because we're going to assume that this recording could be fed directly into the recipient's brain. The result? The recipient, or 're-experiencer', would not only see what the recording observer saw, the recipient would hear what that person heard as the recording was made. If the person recording the session touched something, the recipient would feel it too, and feel it in exactly the same way, with exactly the same level of detail. Whatever emotion the recording observer felt would be shared, as would any and every other parameter experienced, including temperature, smell, and, well, just use your imagination. Emotion, the physical, and even the metaphysical "reality" of the experience would recorded down to the smallest detail, and that 'experience' could then be shared. I'm sure that you all can see that multiple ethical dilemmas might arise in such a scenario.

"Now, you've all probably seen movies with some sort of variation on this theme, 'Brainstorm' comes to mind, so does 'Total Recall', but that's only because the idea has been bouncing around the neurosciences community since at least the 1950s. But, why the interest?

"Well, think of the technology, and the applications for such technology, this might unlock. A surgeon could record a new type of complex procedure, and other surgeons could 'experience' the operation as a first means of learning a new skill. Pilots learning how to fly a new type of aircraft could experience their first training in a new, totally immersive environment that was indistinguishable from the real thing. Really, the applications are endless, so what's the issue? Where might an ethical dilemma arise?

"Well, consider for a moment how seductive such an environment might become if the technology were to become widely available. What if all manner of experience could be recorded, and freely disseminated, say online or by flash drive, just like a YouTube video is shared today? What would it mean if you could, in essence, plug into someone else's reality and completely experience it, and I mean completely, down to the last detail. Imagine climbing Mount Everest, or making a space flight, and remember that you would experience the event in every way that the original participant did, and even more interestingly, consider that this person's memory would then become your memory. Any pleasure or pain that person experienced, well, so would you. Every single element of the experience would be recorded, and therefore, experienced again and again by anyone who re-experienced the original recording.

"But consider this as well. A person could in effect lie down and plug into this 'experience machine' indefinitely, live a life of full of rich experience, yet never, and I mean never leave their bed.

"So, where's the moral issue? What are the implications of such a transfer of experience? Well, first consider what our definition of reality might become? Remember, if there is absolutely no difference between what is experienced and what is recorded, where would the line be between reality, and perhaps, psychosis? Or, indeed, would there be such a boundary any longer?"

She looked out at the class. A kind of bemused, stunned silence had settled over the class as each student drifted through the possibilities such technology could reveal.

"Now tonight, we're going to break into our groups and discuss how such a device could be used, and perhaps more importantly, be abused, and as usual we'll go through your findings group by group. Of course, you'll focus your discussion on the teleological aspects when you present your final arguments, with your conclusion framed around extrinsic versus intrinsic finality. Any questions? No? Well then, get to it. You have forty five minutes...then we'll break before we present your arguments."

She listened with satisfaction as the groups at their tables formed and animated discussions began, then she turned to hide her smile once again...

'Oh, what a wicked web they weave... ' she said to no one in particular.

+++++

After the mid-class break, groups reformed at their tables, and like a conductor striking her baton before the orchestra, Mariel Desjardins got ready to produce the night's real performance...

"Group One? Are you ready?"

The were, of course.

She led the groups one by one, guided the evening's discussion as each group's ideas and dilemmas presented "confounding" new problems, but really, there were few ideas presented that she hadn't heard many times before over the last twenty seven years. Most groups settled on the idea that such technology would be readily misappropriated by the same addictive personality types that abused narcotics, or that the mentally weak would be at risk of using recorded experiences as a substitute for living what might be called their "normal" life. The technology would become an escape from reality, a distortion that would conceivably prevent people from achieving their full potential. The most animated part of the evening revolved around how one could possibly distinguish recorded reality from "normal" reality if such a recording could in fact preserve every possible facet of the original event. This was always a disturbing new way of looking at the world, as well it should be, yet the power of the idea was that the more you considered it, the more perplexing it became.

And now, things were about to become even more challenging...

+++++

A half hour before the evening's class was scheduled to end, there was a knock on the classroom door.

"Enter!" Professor Desjardins said, still completely in control of her orchestra. This was, she thought, where the real fun would begin...

The door opened and several white coated techs from the neurosciences lab rolled carts into the classroom, and a low, excited murmur of recognition took hold in the usually hushed room when a decidedly famous professor of neurology from the medical school entered, bringing up the rear of his technological entourage.

"Ah, Doctor Edelmann, so nice to see you!" Desjardins said as she took his hand.

"And you, my good doctor! I see you have a nice group of ethics students on hand tonight. Did your discussions go well?"

"Indeed, I think they did. Perhaps you'd like to explain the next part of the assignment to the class?"

"Yes, perhaps that's best. Let's get right to it." Edelmann pointed to an assistant: "Randy, would you pass out the release forms while I get started? Thanks..."

The assistant, Randy, went to each table and handed out a set of blue printed forms to each student.

"What you have before you is our standard memoranda of understanding and general release of liability; it's the standard form we use for all experiments when we call for volunteers. We'll explain the next part of the assignment now, and in detail, then you'll have the option to continue or not with this experiment before signing. Anything you'd like to add, Doctor Desjardins?"

"Yes. Just that I'd like to say that further participation in this experiment is completely voluntary, and should you choose not to participate that will in no way effect your final class standing."

"Ah, yes, quite right," Edelmann said. "Now I'd like to state, right here and now at the start of the process, is that what we're contemplating handing out to each of you tonight is, quite literally, priceless technology, and though well along in the developmental stage, it's not yet in a final form. Even so, we think we're far enough along to warrant a more in-depth investigation than we've hitherto been able to accomplish in the lab.

"Well now. You've all learned a bit about a so-called hypothetical 'experience machine' in tonight's lecture, and had a chance to discuss amongst yourselves a few of the possible uses and misuses of such a fictional technology."

He looked over the class and with furrowed brow, grew palpably more serious.

"But the fact of the matter is, the 'experience machine' is no longer a fictional construct."

There was an audible gasp heard as he went to a small cardboard box on one of the carts and opened it, removed a small plastic headband from the box and slipped the device out of it's protective plastic wrapper. He held the gray and purple device up to the light and examined it contemplatively for a moment, then shook himself, as if forcing his mind to come back into the moment.

"What we have here is the recording device of our so-called 'experience machine', but note if you will that there are no external sensors of any kind to be found on the device. No camera. No microphone. No temperature probes."

He looked around the room.

"Can anyone guess why?"

No one raised a hand, no one said a word.

He smiled. He understood.

"Well because, of course, all human experience is encoded within the brain without the aid of such input. You can, each of you, recall an experience in vivid detail without the use of probes or other external devices simply because experience and memory are in fact a biochemical process, and it's a phenomenon common to almost all life forms. When you experience something, you do so through the encoding inputs of your eyes, ears, nose and the sensory web embedded in your skin and other organs."

He looked around, noted general understanding among the students. He nodded, smiled at bit, then resumed:

"Well, all of these components of memory are biochemically encoded as they occur and are then sorted out within the brain. Perhaps it's useful to consider how information is encoded on a computer's storage drives. Memory, or memories, have a unique address in this storage scheme, and part of the normal operation of a brain is to be able to functionally record and retrieve this information. This is memory, and why sometimes it's difficult to recall an event. As we age, as we accumulate more and more memories, and as memories become more complex, it becomes more time consuming for the brain to recall where a memory resides.

"When you recall an event, you do so without external sensory interpretation precisely because of this encoding mechanism. In fact, as long as these biochemical chains remain intact, memory remains intact. If the chains breakdown, as we suspect may be the case in Alzheimer's, or if the ability to sort through the chains becomes degraded, as, say, we believe may be a component of schizoaffective disorders, memory is lost or at best hard to coherently retrieve. Worse still, delusional constructs can replace memory, to the point that the memory of reality is degraded as encoded delusion replaces encoded memory. Understand?"

Again, he noted a general assent.

"The headband I hold in my hand here does not record external conditions; it simply records the formation and storage location of our biochemical chains, of memory. Still, it is these chains that contain all the components of memory, and in all the varied forms that memory takes. So, tonight, what we're going to ask of those of you who wish to participate further is to wear the device during an experience, an experience of your choice. For instance, there's snow up in Vermont...one of you might head up to Stowe over Thanksgiving break and record a run down the mountain. You might wear it while taking a jog, or while cooking your family's Thanksgiving dinner? About the only limitations currently imposed are that you'll only be able to record about twenty to thirty minutes of experience, so plan accordingly. Also, the device must be in complete contact with your scalp at all times, and the device is only waterproof to about a meter, so no SCUBA diving!"

There was polite laughter at this jab, and he smiled with it.

"Our assistants will now come to each of you and help you correctly fit the device, so take time to go over the release form while they work their way to you, and decide if you'd like to participate or not before they get to you. Anything to add, Doctor Desjardins?"

"Only that if you've already decided to opt out, you may leave now. Just note the homework assignment on the board, and remember to bring your research paper proposals to our next meeting..."

No one moved, no one got up to leave, and no one noticed the smiles on Edelmann's or Desjardins' face.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Devices were fitted, cautions reiterated, questions answered, but most importantly, there were no prohibitions about what might, or might not be recorded. Each student was to think out what they wanted to record and write up their reasoning behind their choice, but it was vital, they were told, to preserve anonymity. They were not to record images of themselves in a mirror, for instance, or include people who might inadvertently betray their identity. They were to turn in their "reasoning" essay, along with their recording device, at Dr Desjardin's office on the Monday morning after Thanksgiving break.

"One further note," Desjardins said as she looked at the clock on the back wall. "We'll pick one 'experience' at random that Monday, and the class will share it collectively that night. So, be creative, and have fun!"

Class was dismissed, and Desjardins and Edelmann followed and watched as the entire class filed out together and headed across campus to a pub just down the street.

They looked at one another and smiled.

"I'd like to be a fly on that wall tonight!" she said.

"Indeed, that should prove to be an animated discussion! Ah...to be young again!" He took in a deep breath of the cold November air. "Yes indeed. Here's to that fly on the wall. Shall we go nab a toddy?"

+++++

The class was set to meet in a small conference room in the basement of the Neurosciences Building that first Monday evening after Thanksgiving, and would then move to a more controlled environment in a larger, adjoining room. Doctors Desjardins and Edelmann and their assistants had seen to it that this larger room was set up according to plan early that morning. There were twenty five cots set up around the perimeter of the room, and partitions between each cot to ensure some semblance of privacy. Researchers, mainly physicians, but also a practicing psychotherapist, would be on hand to lend perspective, and, if needed, assistance.

The events to be documented that evening, the first of their kind to ever be recorded and shared, would mark a watershed moment in the development of this radical new technology. There was a lot riding on the outcome, needless to say, and if things went well there would be presentations to investors, and of more importance, to the military.

By six that evening everyone – students, teachers, researchers – was in the conference room; the lab assistants manning the recording equipment and playback devices were set up in the larger, adjacent room, the room where the 'experience' would be 're-experienced' by the class. Interestingly, and unknown to the class, both Desjardins and Edelmann had opted to join in and experience the event for themselves.

Desjardins got things going with little fanfare as soon as the last student was seated. "Welcome back, and I hope you had an interesting break. We received all of the recording devices intact and in good working order this morning, and no one has examined the experiences recorded on them yet. As promised, we're going to pick one at random for playback, but I'll let Doctor Edelmann explain that process to you in greater detail. I'll just conclude my remarks for the evening by stating for the record that if anyone wants to back out, now would be a good time to do so. Also, unless there are serious objections, Doctor Edelmann and myself have decided to participate in this 're-experience'."

There were a few moans and groans on hearing that, as well as a few fits of nervous laughter, but there were no objections.