“Maybe we could reposition the visual to look vertically down on the keyboard,” Taki suggested. He picked up the monitor mec from the bench where it had been standing and looked around for something to provide a mounting.
“Why not just sit it on the edge of the monitor and invert the visual field?” Kevin suggested.
“Of course,” Taki muttered. Then he frowned. “But then how will you see the screen?”
“Hm. A point,” Kevin agreed.
Taki put the video mec down again. “Maybe we need two mecs for vision. Superimpose their outputs somehow.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Kevin said. “I wonder if it would be possible to couple Sir Real’s arm-control signals direct into the neural circuits for fingers. Then, maybe, you could drive it via your touch typing reflexes, and that way you wouldn’t need a visual of the keyboard at all.”
“Hey, that would be neat,” Taki said. He sat back in his seat to think it over.
“In fact . . .” Kevin went on, taking it further, “the only visual you’d need would be the screen, and Sir Real already gets you that . . .” He nodded to himself. “So you can do it with one mec. That’s all you’d need.”
“Neat,” Taki said again. “Decidedly niftful.”
Kevin removed the head harness and collar and looked at Corfe. “Although . . . if we’re talking about changing the DNC coupling tables, it would probably mean involving Eric. Could that be a problem?”
“Why should it?” Taki asked. “We can just tell him it’s a project we got curious about. He doesn’t need to know what we want it for.”
Kevin shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It’s just the thought of getting him involved in something like this, that’s not very legal. . . . It doesn’t feel right.”
Taki looked as if he still couldn’t really see why, but nodded anyway.
“Maybe you don’t have to,” Corfe said. “I’ve got a better way still.”
“What’s that?” Kevin asked curiously.
“We’ve got a new mec in the lab back at the firm that does just what you want. It’s called Keyboard Emulator. We developed it to give operators in couplers general-system access through regular terminals. It plugs a cord into a regular terminal keyboard socket. The other end goes to a connector mounted on the top of its head like a hat. So there’s no need to fool around hitting keys at all.”
It sounded ideal. How it operated was still unclear, however. Were you supposed to “think” characters at it, somehow? Kevin wondered. No, that couldn’t be right. DNC operated on definable motor outputs from the nervous system, not abstract concepts lurking in as-yet unmapped and impenetrable regions of the brain.
“So what do you do?” he asked.
“Pull down a virtual keyboard with two highlights that give you hunt-and-peck,” Corfe said. He thought for a moment. “Although . . . I like what you’re talking about better—direct linking to touch-type reflexes. Maybe that’s something we ought to think about.”
“It sounds fine for us as it stands,” Kevin said. “How come I’ve never heard of it?”
“I told you, it’s new.” Corfe sighed. “Probably it shouldn’t be let out of the firm, but in this situation I don’t think I’d be too hung up about borrowing one for a night.”
It was the kind of indication that Kevin had been waiting for. He looked at Corfe eagerly. “Does that mean you’re in with us, Doug? You’ll help us do it?”
Corfe held up a hand. “Hey, wait a minute. I haven’t said anything definite yet. Borrowing a KE mec is the straightforward part—if we decide to do it. Breaking into this guy’s office is something else.”
All of Kevin’s exasperation with the adult world came pouring back. He threw up his hands, and his voice rose. “But Doug, for two days you’ve been getting madder and madder about not being able to do anything! All the way here tonight—”
“Shh, Kev.” Taki moved his eyes to indicate the house around and above them. “Keep it down, guy.”
Kevin exhaled and moderated his tone. “All the way here you sounded like you wanted to start a war. Well . . . this is something we can do—something active, where we’re not just sitting waiting for . . . for what? I don’t know. What else have we got?”