A Garden of Forking Paths

I'm compelled to mention that I spent my first five minutes in Providence yesterday walking circles around the train station trying to get my world to fit the Google Map print-out I had for directions to the VENLab. Once I found the place, I spent a few minutes with Bill Warren, who heads up this virtual reality navigation lab to go over the day's schedule. Then to the VENLab itself, which is a 50 by 50 foot converted chemistry lab, empty, until you put on the VR helmet.

I began the day as a subject in an experiment by doctoral student Liz Chrastil, who is testing the effects on navigation of active vs. passive learning. She has people learn to find objects in a virtual maze--some by walking, some in a wheelchair with no control, some in a wheelchair with some control (i.e. telling the researchers where to push them), and some simply watching a recorded video of somebody else exploring the maze. Then, she has them go from one object to another, either through the maze or directly with the maze shut off and replaced with a grey expanse of desert.

With the helmet secured, and a transmitter cinched around my waist, I sat in a wheelchair (my random draw was to be a passive learner) and looked out into a leafy green hedge maze. Below was a gravel path and above was an unblemished blue sky. Crickets chirped through the headphones I wore, interrupted frequently by Liz's recorded instructions. Unlike most hedge mazes, this one had famous works of art hung on its walls by Dali, Monet, Magritte, and Renoir. I glanced at them as I was whisked through the maze and brought before the various objects hidden in its branches--a pedestal sink, a giant stone gear, an old well, a floating Earth, a book case, a clock, and a statue of a rabbit frozen in mid-leap (like a bad day in Narnia).

I didn't get a chance to ask the researchers how they managed to push me through a maze that they can't see, but "managed" is an apt word in this case, because I was frequently thrust through walls by accident and given glimpses of the desert world beyond the maze. Also, there's a slight delay in virtual reality between the movement of one's head and the rendering of the images, which messes with your vestibular sense enough to make many people a little sea sick. Being pushed through such a world only adds to the fun. Clip a few walls while you're at it, and you quickly become much more engaged with your stomach than your place in Euclidian space.

I sound like I'm making excuses, and maybe I am. Truth is, I have no idea how much my simmering nausea in the learning phase affected my performance in the testing. Probably, enough people have the same trouble that it should all come out in the comparative wash. Anyway, I was given the short-cut task, repeatedly wheeled through the desert to a spot where the wishing well or the bookcase or the sink,  would appear momentarily when I stood up and clicked a mouse, and then disappear again. Liz's recorded voice would tell me a second object. My job was to turn through the desert in the direction I believed the second object to be and then walk there (well, shuffle there. balance is tough in the virtual world).

I'll admit, this task was very difficult. And sometimes a little terrifying: The VENLab is equipped with a system to warn subjects enjoying a shuffle through a sunny virtual world that they're about to walk into a very real brick wall. It goes like this: An image of a brick wall springs into view and a stern, robotic voice yells out, "STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!"

Good idea, I've rambled on far too long here. I'll catch up on the rest of my VENLab visit in the next post.