Free The Sensory Deception by Ransom Stephens Page A

wage.” He smiled.
    Ringo said, “Okay, what was I going to do with all that money Intel has been paying me, anyway? Besides, I don’t really like to sleep.”
    Gloria reached into her briefcase and handed each of them a small box: business cards. She also took out a bottle of champagne and handed it to Farley.
    “Chopper,” Farley said.
    It seemed like he was going to continue speaking, but Chopper interrupted him. “I’ll put it on a shelf over the door to the lab. We’ll know when to celebrate.”
    Farley said, “And away we go.”

T he garage became Ringo’s kingdom. His lab included a hardware-design bench with cables, oscilloscopes, network and spectrum analyzers, and transducers and sensors; a data acquisition, or DAQ, area with wireless routers and satellite transmitters and receivers; and a software development space based on a car-length rack of blade-computing servers capable of mixing and rendering five-sense virtual reality in real time. To the side of the server rack sat five used stainless steel, hourglass-shaped sensory deprivation chambers. All this gear represented an outlay of more than eight million dollars, which had already put them over budget.
    The garage door was locked down and reinforced. A month in, Farley built a cooling and ventilation system based on ocean breezes, fans, and a dehumidifier. They’d considered air conditioning but were already tired of resetting circuit breakers.
    The family room became a conference area, complete with full-size whiteboard and overhead projector. The living room and adjacent bathroom became Chopper’s chemistry lab with the addition of a makeshift hooded vent. Discussion of the legality of the configuration was avoided. The dining room table became a bench for Farley and Chopper to test and debug Ringo’s transducer, sensor, and DAQ inventions. Gloria used the Captain’s office for accounting and operations. The only areas unscathedwere the kitchen and upstairs bedrooms, which became a dormitory for three men who worked hundred-hour weeks.
    The lines of responsibility blurred in the way of start-ups. When someone needed help, everyone helped. The centerpiece of the VR system was the central transducer processing chip and associated electronics and software—Ringo’s baby, so he needed the most support.
    Farley submitted proposals for zoological studies of bull sperm whale behavior to the Pacific Whale Foundation and Greenpeace. The proposals included recording behavioral data and data sharing with the conservation societies, plus payment of a royalty on sales of the Moby-Dick app. He would have liked to submit to research organizations, but they required co-patent and copyright agreements that would have violated Sand Hill Venture’s policy. Since the conservation groups stood to gain financially and politically, it felt like a lock.
    Gloria’s role as business consultant evolved into that of business manager, though she preferred “chief operating officer.” She commuted to Santa Cruz from her Cupertino apartment seven days a week and usually arrived as the sun rose. When she was early, she would join Chopper on the bluff. She would try to sneak up behind him, and he always let loose an annoyed but tolerant and smoky sigh and then scooted over to make room for her. Sometimes at the end of a long day, she’d fall asleep at the desk or on the couch, so they put a futon in the office for her. When she woke up, she’d tread into the living room and Ringo would pour her a cup of “caffeinate,” which is how he referred to his collection of high-octane coffees, and hassle her for being the soundest sleeper on earth.
    The different layers of intimacy with each of these men—the immediate presence of Farley in everything they did, Ringo’s laughter from the garage, and smoking barches with Chopper onthe bluff—gave her a sense of family. She did a lot for them in the way of care and maintenance but drew the line at tidying up after them. After