Moule is watching over Boyce, who is lying on his back in a reclined surgical chair, wearing some kind of device on his head. The principal elements seem to be an opaque visor, pads over his temples and ears, and another pad at the base of his skull. Lucius finds it to be somewhat disturbing in appearance and notes the tight grip on a palm-held finger button. Boyce twitches and laughs at whatever he is experiencing, but there is a clear strain showing on his face, and his body is quite tense.
Moule kills the music.
“Advanced sensory immersion,” she says. “It creates a visual and auditory perspective, as well as a sense of up and down. But the real trick is the overriding of the central nervous system, by way of the spinal cord, to achieve a convincing sense of presence. We call it the Tap.”
Lucius has nothing but disdain for the name and lets it show.
Moule shouts into Boyce’s ear to get his attention. “Boyce! Dr. Gray is here!”
Boyce clicks the finger button. His body relaxes—a moment, and he sets about disconnecting himself from the contraption.
“The brain interprets the signals as if they came from the body,” Moule continues. “Kind of like being in a dream.”
Lucius is aghast at the idea. “Is that thing safe?”
“Best to keep it under ten minutes.”
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