“Hold it over a bit more—more to the left.”
“Any good?”
“Nah, it’s slipping again.”
“Maybe I can wedge it. . . . How’s that?”
“Better. . . . Okay, keep it right there.”
Michelle gave Heber a mystified look. He enjoyed her befuddlement for a moment, then waved her over to the bench standing alongside. On top was a maze of wires and meaningless apparatus arranged around a number of tray-like constructions, about the size of shoe boxes but shallower. They had glass tops and were lit internally to reveal what appeared to be mechanisms of some kind. But the contents looked strange and were organized peculiarly. Instead of the kinds of components that would be found, say, behind an automobile instrument panel or filling a radio, everything was delicately fabricated and spread out across the floor, as if something incredibly intricate had been disassembled and its parts laid out on display. The first thing to suggest itself to Michelle was a scale model of an exhibition hall for machines; then she wondered if it could be some kind of extended mechanical computer. Moving along the bench, she saw that while the different boxes all had the same general theme, none were identical. She gave up and looked at Heber inquiringly.
He turned his head toward the two men seated in the chairs. “Hello, Dean. Where are you?”
The one with his eyes open answered. “Is that Eric?” Apart from his jaw he didn’t move, and his faraway expression didn’t alter.
“Yes,” Heber said.
“We’re in three—aligning the rotary grinder.”
“How’s it going?”
“Oh, we’re getting there.”
Heber directed Michelle’s attention to one of the boxes on the bench. A red 3 was stenciled outside on the end. Michelle peered down, but still she was unable to make any sense of what she was looking at. Heber swung a large, rectangular magnifying lens toward her—one of several mounted on hinged pivot arms attached to the bench. “Try looking with this,” he suggested.
She did, and suddenly a portion of the scene leaped out and took form. It was, indeed, as she had at first conjectured: an incredibly detailed model of a factory floor or some kind of machine shop . . . except that this wasn’t a model. Michelle didn’t know too much about machines, but she recognized the general form of a lathe from ones she had seen in pictures and museums; and a pillar drill would be difficult to mistake. There were handles and clamps, tool holders riding on screws. Everything was there in impossibly realized miniature. . . .
And then she spotted the two figures hunched over one of the machines, both silver and black like the one she had seen in Heber’s office. She blinked disbelievingly. Even with Ohira having given her some idea what to expect, it was still hard to swallow. “Oh my God!” she whispered.
“Ahah, yes, I think you’ve got it,” Heber said. He raised his voice a fraction. “We have two visitors here, Dean. Ohira knows us already, but it’s Michelle’s first time. Can you show us which one you are?”
One of the micromecs centered in the magnifier stood back and waved an arm. It lifted its head to look up. “Hey, Grandma, what a big eye you’ve got!” one of the men in the chairs said. Then the mec turned away again and resumed what it had been doing.
“These are experimental machining setups,” Heber said, waving at the boxes on the bench top. “We’re making a production facility next door. Our factory is a room at the back of the corporate offices—a lot better than needing acres of real estate and having to handle materials by the ton, eh?”
Michelle shook her head, awed. Ohira, who had been watching phlegmatically, nodded his head at the figures in the chairs. “You see, it’s the way I told you. No ordinary VR helmets here. This connects straight into your head.”
“DNC: Direct Neural Coupling,” Heber said to Michelle. “That’s what makes Neurodyne different.”
She nodded. “I have read a little about it.”
“Would you like to try it?” Heber invited.
Michelle moved her gaze to the empty chairs but looked apprehensive. “I’m not sure. I wouldn’t want to get one of your little guys shredded or caught up in a wringer.”