the difference was so obvious. But what was obvious to the human eye was not obvious to the computer scanner. The scanner had to be told, and the specific instructions turned out to be far more difficult than anyone anticipated, particularly for handwritten characters.
Now Elliot wanted a program that would distinguish between similar visual images of gorillas and chimps. Seamans could not help asking, "Why? It's pretty obvious. A gorilla is a gorilla, and a chimp is a chimp."
"Just do it," Elliot said.
"Can I use size?" On the basis of size alone, gorillas and chimps could be accurately distinguished. But visual functions could not determine size unless the distance from the recording instrument to the subject image was known, as well as the focal length of the recording lens.
"No, you can't use size," Elliot said. "Element morphology only."
Seamans sighed. "Thanks a lot. What resolution?"
"I need ninety-five-percent confidence limits on species assignment, to be based on less than three seconds of black-and-white scan imagery."
Seamans frowned. Obviously, Elliot had three seconds of videotape imagery of some animal and he was not sure whether it was a gorilla or not. Elliot had seen enough gorillas over the years to know the difference: gorillas and chimps were utterly different animals in size, appearance, movement, and behavior. They were as different as intelligent oceanic mammals-say, porpoises and whales. In making such discriminations, the human eye was far superior to any computer program that could be devised. Yet Elliot apparently did not trust his eye. What was he thinking of?
"I'll try," Seamans said, "but it's going to take a while. You don't write that kind of program overnight."
"I need it overnight, Tom," Elliot said. "I'll call you back in twenty-four hours."
3. Inside the Coffin
IN ONE CORNER OF THE 747 LIVING MODULE WAS A sound-baffled fiberglass booth, with a hinged hood and a small CRT screen; it was called "the coffin" because of the claustrophobic feeling that came from working inside it. As the airplane crossed the mid-Atlantic, Ross stepped inside the coffin. She had a last look at Elliot and Amy-both asleep, both snoring loudly-and Jensen and Irving playing "submarine chase" on the computer console, as she lowered the hood.
Ross was tired, but she did not expect to get much sleep for the next two weeks, which was as long as she thought the expedition would last. Within fourteen days-336 hours- Ross's team would either have beaten the EuroJapanese consortium or she would have failed and the Zaire Virunga mineral exploration rights would be lost forever.
The race was already under way, and Karen Ross did not intend to lose it.
She punched Houston coordinates, including her own sender designation, and waited while the scrambler interlocked. From now on, there would be a signal delay of five seconds at both ends, because both she and Houston would be sending in coded burst transmissions to elude passive listeners.
The screen glowed: TRAVIS.
She typed back: R OS S. She picked up the telephone receiver.
"It's a bitch," Travis said, although it was not Travis's voice, but a computergenerated flat audio signal, without expression.
"Tell me," Ross said.
"The consortium's rolling," Travis's surrogate voice said. "Details," Ross said, and waited for the five-second delay. She could imagine Travis in the CCR in Houston, hearing her own computer-generated voice. That flat voice required a change in speech patterns; what was ordinarily conveyed by phrasing and emphasis had to be made explicit.
"They know you're on your way," Travis's voice whined. "They are pushing their own schedule. The Germans are behind it-your friend Richter. I'm arranging a feeding in a matter of minutes. That's the good news."
"And the bad news?"
"The Congo has gone to hell in the last ten hours," Travis said. "We have a nasty GPU."
"Print," she said.
On the screen, she saw printed GEOPOLITICAL
Now Elliot wanted a program that would distinguish between similar visual images of gorillas and chimps. Seamans could not help asking, "Why? It's pretty obvious. A gorilla is a gorilla, and a chimp is a chimp."
"Just do it," Elliot said.
"Can I use size?" On the basis of size alone, gorillas and chimps could be accurately distinguished. But visual functions could not determine size unless the distance from the recording instrument to the subject image was known, as well as the focal length of the recording lens.
"No, you can't use size," Elliot said. "Element morphology only."
Seamans sighed. "Thanks a lot. What resolution?"
"I need ninety-five-percent confidence limits on species assignment, to be based on less than three seconds of black-and-white scan imagery."
Seamans frowned. Obviously, Elliot had three seconds of videotape imagery of some animal and he was not sure whether it was a gorilla or not. Elliot had seen enough gorillas over the years to know the difference: gorillas and chimps were utterly different animals in size, appearance, movement, and behavior. They were as different as intelligent oceanic mammals-say, porpoises and whales. In making such discriminations, the human eye was far superior to any computer program that could be devised. Yet Elliot apparently did not trust his eye. What was he thinking of?
"I'll try," Seamans said, "but it's going to take a while. You don't write that kind of program overnight."
"I need it overnight, Tom," Elliot said. "I'll call you back in twenty-four hours."
3. Inside the Coffin
IN ONE CORNER OF THE 747 LIVING MODULE WAS A sound-baffled fiberglass booth, with a hinged hood and a small CRT screen; it was called "the coffin" because of the claustrophobic feeling that came from working inside it. As the airplane crossed the mid-Atlantic, Ross stepped inside the coffin. She had a last look at Elliot and Amy-both asleep, both snoring loudly-and Jensen and Irving playing "submarine chase" on the computer console, as she lowered the hood.
Ross was tired, but she did not expect to get much sleep for the next two weeks, which was as long as she thought the expedition would last. Within fourteen days-336 hours- Ross's team would either have beaten the EuroJapanese consortium or she would have failed and the Zaire Virunga mineral exploration rights would be lost forever.
The race was already under way, and Karen Ross did not intend to lose it.
She punched Houston coordinates, including her own sender designation, and waited while the scrambler interlocked. From now on, there would be a signal delay of five seconds at both ends, because both she and Houston would be sending in coded burst transmissions to elude passive listeners.
The screen glowed: TRAVIS.
She typed back: R OS S. She picked up the telephone receiver.
"It's a bitch," Travis said, although it was not Travis's voice, but a computergenerated flat audio signal, without expression.
"Tell me," Ross said.
"The consortium's rolling," Travis's surrogate voice said. "Details," Ross said, and waited for the five-second delay. She could imagine Travis in the CCR in Houston, hearing her own computer-generated voice. That flat voice required a change in speech patterns; what was ordinarily conveyed by phrasing and emphasis had to be made explicit.
"They know you're on your way," Travis's voice whined. "They are pushing their own schedule. The Germans are behind it-your friend Richter. I'm arranging a feeding in a matter of minutes. That's the good news."
"And the bad news?"
"The Congo has gone to hell in the last ten hours," Travis said. "We have a nasty GPU."
"Print," she said.
On the screen, she saw printed GEOPOLITICAL
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