Next, Pham showed Parkowski how to input her planned path into the mission planning software. It was cumbersome to use, with an antiquated interface that reminded her of some of the old video games from the nineties that her dad played on his laptop. Parkowski had once complained to one of the Aering in-house software engineers, who had shrugged. “It was bid out,” the man had told her, “and we always pick the lowest bidder with a government contract. I don’t think ease of use was very high on the list of selection criteria.”
After thirty minutes of using the awkward software, Parkowski was done. The computer took a little bit of time to compute the expected parameters for both of the ACHILLES robots, as well as the communications bandwidth and pathway for the entire mission. “Am I good to go?” she finally asked.
“Yes, you are.” He closed out of the software and they walked to the raised platform. Pham helped her put her gear back on and started hooking the cables up to it. Parkowski tried to count them, but lost track after ten.
A pair of technicians swooped in to help Dr. Pham as he struggled to plug one of them in. “Let me help you, doc,” one of them said, taking the cable out of Pham's small hands.
“Fine, fine,” Pham said with a smile. He took a step back, still holding Parkowski’s VR helmet in his hands. “Remember, when we first hook you up, you’re in view mode only. Marx’s gear is still in control.”
“I remember, I remember,” Parkowski said. Some operators had experienced motion sickness while viewing another person controlling the ACHILLES robots. She had not.
But, her body was shaking a little. She was so excited.
This was the closest she might ever get to being on another planet, a childhood dream of hers from watching old science-fiction shows with her dad; an aspiration that had been dashed when she found out that an arrhythmia would keep her from ever being an astronaut. “Can I have my helmet?”
“Of course.” Pham handed her the slim, black helmet that covered her head and eyes. “Here you go.”
He paused. “And Grace, you’re going to do great.”
Parkowski smiled, put it on, and fastened the strap under her chin. She saw nothing but darkness, the screen still wasn’t on. Someone, she couldn’t tell who, plugged a cable into the helmet at the back near her neck. Immediately a blue screen came on, showing her that the helmet’s software was booting up. It then went black again.
“I’m ready,” Parkowski said. “Dial me into Marx’s feed.”
A second later she was looking out onto the surface of Venus.
Parkowski steadied herself. The shock of being in the virtual environment was overpowering at first, but she got her footing as the haptic feedback of her connected shoes helped her body regain its balance.
The view was incredible. Rather than the blue sky of Earth, Parkowski saw the same yellow-orange atmospheric hue that the Soviet Venera probes had transmitted back to Earth. Her visibility was good, allowing her to see anywhere from forty to eight kilometers in any direction. On the actual planet, the thick clouds made of sulfuric acid would have clouded her view, but inside the virtual setting, only a few were rendered.
It was like something out of a science-fiction movie, but right there in front of her eyes. She paused, remembering that she wasn’t in control, yet. The scene was still.
“Comm issue, Grace,” she heard Marx say. “Give us a sec.”
“Okay.”
The virtual environment was created by an Aering subcontractor with inputs from a variety of aircraft simulator and video game companies. Using real-time data, the simulated world was synchronized with the real one, allowing a virtual explorer to see the weather, temperature, and other features of Venus in near real-time with incredible graphical fidelity.
The algorithms used to give feedback to the user on the sticks in the VR gear was top-notch as well. The supercomputer physically located at the Aering facility that also ran the virtual environment was able to predict the next “move” for each of the input devices and seamlessly link the virtual environment that the human experienced with the real, hostile, alien world of Venus.
The entire world started to move in front of her. Whatever issue that had popped up was now fixed. Marx took a few steps forward using his own gear, a disorienting move. “Ready to transfer.”
Parkowski stretched her arms. The next time she moved, her movements would be copied on Venus. “Ready to take control.”
“Switching,” a technician said. “Thirty seconds.”
She slowly breathed in, then out, then in, then out. Parkowski was ready to go.
“Switched,” the same technician said. “Ready to go.”
