Archive for the ‘Innovation’ Category

Banshee Construction Copter Robots

by Bruce Kasanoff

There are some days when I sit on my back porch and yearn for the days when good old-fashioned human construction crews would invade our neighborhood for nine months, and build another McMansion.

Sure, I’d complain about the crews that started pounding at 6:30 a.m., violating the “no construction before 8 a.m.” town rule. But, man, those were the glory days. I had no idea how lucky we were.

Now, we only know a new house is coming when the skies darken and a swarm of construction copters swoop down from the heavens above. Thousands upon thousands of these mad creatures dip, bank, settle and rise in a chaotic dance that scares the hell out of me. They move too fast for my feeble human brain to follow, and it constantly seems as though they will crash, lose control, and perhaps annihilate nearby creatures (like me.) But they never do.

They just chip away at the old house, biting it into pieces, making it literally disappear in a day, and then proceed to build a new one. No more sheetrock, pre-made windows or large beams. The copters use tiny components that resemble grownup Lego-like blocks, which they fuse into place. No piece weighs more than 14 ounces, but the resulting houses are far stronger than mine.

My dogs won’t leave the house when the copters swoop in; I have to carry them outside to do their business, and they tremble the whole time. I do, too.

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James Bond meets Jonathan Livingston Seagull?

by Bruce Kasanoff

Arthur Mulkuns looked up at the sky and frowned. As usual, it was a cloudy London day and the dog park was filled with an assortment of pets. But Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off the birds above.

“That seagull looks suspicious to me.”

His Mom cocked her head. She hadn’t been aware that her seven-year-old son knew that word. “Which seagull?” she prompted.

“The one on the edge of the flock, with the daffy way of flying,” said Arthur.

The boy had a point. There was one seagull who circled the flock, looking a bit off. It wasn’t quite as graceful as the others and didn’t seem – how could she put this? – as hungry as the others.

As they watched, that seagull dove towards the ground, then did a long banking turn and landed on the roof of a taxi. The driver had his arm out the window, and he seemed to extend a piece of bread or maybe even a piece of paper to the bird, who grabbed it and immediately took off again.

Instead of returning to the flock, the bird then headed towards the City Centre.

“Very suspicious,” said Arthur.

“Indeed,” said his Mom.

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Sometimes Words Escape Me

by Bruce Kasanoff

Aha! (You Are a Cheating Spouse)

by Bruce Kasanoff

I was this close to having the perfect life, but the Random Check wrecked everything.

My name is Jimmy Ridge, and for almost nine years I lived on the dark as well as the bright side of life. Most days, I was a near-perfect husband, father and business executive: dependable, consistent, capable. You needed something, I was there for you.

Do this too long, and eventually you burn out. Folks will tell you otherwise, but such a life is too predictable, too deadening. You can’t be there for others if all the life has been sucked out of you.

I’m not the only one who feels this way, so eventually I found a sexy ball of energy named Laura. One thing led to another, and 3-4 times a year we’d sneak away for a wild romp: partying in Mexico, gambling in Vegas, or even just finding a cabin in the woods and shutting off the world.

Talented as I am at many things, I truly excel at deception. Being detail-oriented and disciplined, I can construct perfect cover stories and stick to them. Laura is even better.

So for eight wonderful years, I had a free pass to use every quarter. Leave responsibilities behind. Cut completely loose. Come back a new man (but not too new, that would invite scrutiny.)

It kills me that I never heard about Random Check, that no one told me it was a glorified trap for cheating spouses, lying employees and common criminals. I thought it was just a toy, nothing more.

Here’s how it went down.

One night, my wife and I were relaxing in the family room and she showed me Random Check, which she explained as one of our teenager’s latest games. It was just a headset connected to a game on her tablet. She told me the game could detect when I recognized something personal, and dared me to beat it.

The game pulled images from our family photos and mixed them up with scores of others. So I’d see photos of eight different kids, then one of our son. Bingo! Every time, the PERSONAL light would glow, sometimes even before I consciously realized it was my child.

Same thing happened with my dog, my house, my car. I could never conceal my reaction. The pesky thing was reading my mind.

You can guess what happened next. Photos of a bunch of women flashed by, and then one of Laura. PERSONAL flashed. I could hear the air punched out of my wife’s gut. She’d had suspicions – I still don’t know how – but wasn’t sure. Now she was. That was the end of my marriage, my perfect life.

I may be saying this wrong, but it turns out there’s something called a P300 potential in our brains. When we recognize something, it shrieks, “Aha!” And there ain’t a damn thing we can do about it.

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Companies hire Bruce Kasanoff to write stories that help their employees – and sometimes their customers – better understand what it will take to compete successfully. His clients use these customized pieces in many different areas of their business.

Machiavellian Virtual Presence

by Bruce Kasanoff

When Jake Tremblay stopped going to meetings, he claimed it was because a painful back injury made sitting and travel uncomfortable, and that he felt embarrassed that he sometimes needed to lie down on the floor to relieve the pain.

In retrospect, that probably was an elaborate cover story. Let’s count the advantages the eccentric investor gained by sending his virtual presence robot instead of attending meetings himself:

1.) Look me in the eye

Jake Junior, as he calls the R2-D2 shaped device, contains two cameras inside a swivel head. It’s believed that the real Jake uses a Kinect-type set of sensors that enables him to turn Junior’s head when he turns his own. The cameras simulate eyes, making it possible for Jake to look around the room just as he could if actually there.

But attendees have reported watching the camera lenses zoom longer than necessary to refocus on one face then another. They guess that Junior focuses in tight enough to see irises contract or widen, and to even see minute changes in skin tone and perspiration.

In other words, Junior knows when you are nervous, better than the guy next to you.

2.) If I heard you correctly

Junior’s audio capabilities are likely much greater than a normal human being. Tremblay invested in an audio technology firm that does work for the Defense Department, and he has access to highly sophisticated technology. So when you whisper something at the end of the table, Tremblay can hear it, through his robot.

Junior also functions as an instant translator, instantly deadening the sound of any words it recognizes as spoken in a language other than English and replacing them with their English equivalents. We know this because Tremblay occasionally starts debating a foreign speaker before the official translation has been completed.

3.) Don’t bother reading my lips

Aside from where he looks and what he says, Junior is impossible to read. Tremblay refuses to have his image be shown in a meeting, giving him a huge advantage. Participants can’t read his body language or facial expressions.

Some executives speculate that Junior also contains a “self-control” switch. During tense discussions, they report that Tremblay’s voice seemed to get unnaturally calm, almost deadened, as though Tremblay enabled a filter that prevented any rapid changes in tone or language from being transmitted at the meeting. In other words, even if he loses his temper, participants won’t know it.

4.) Won’t take no stinking Turing Test

It’s highly likely that Junior can to a certain degree participate in conversations without Tremblay. He has thousands of hours of recordings of Tremblay’s voice, the investor’s portfolio companies long ago leapfrogged Siri’s AI capabilities, and Tremblay is famous for speaking in short, cryptic phrases.

So you never really know whether you are speaking to Tremblay or a machine. Nor do you know how many copies of Junior exist, or how many meetings Tremblay conducts at one time. Some guess four or five.

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Author’s note: I found these videos after writing the story…

VGo Communications… “represents a person in a distant location.”

Written by Bruce Kasanoff of Now Possible, where science fiction meets business.

PreMergency EMS

by Bruce Kasanoff

Two miles into her hike, Jessica could finally see the ridge line up ahead. From there, she would have an amazing view of the valley below.

She heard her two dogs barking. A few strides later, she had her first glimpse of the clearing at the top of the ridge, and was surprised to see the dogs surrounding a man who was sitting cross-legged on a big boulder. Their tails were wagging enthusiastically, so she decided to trust their instincts.

“Hey,” the man said with a big grin, “You found my secret hiding place.”

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Jessica responded.

“No worries, I just finished meditating. I’m Jake.”

“Jessica,” she said, shaking his hand.

She looked out over the vista, which stretched for dozens of miles. Nothing but wilderness and blue skies. Heaven.

“It’s great that you meditate. I’ve tried it off and on.”

“It’s part of my job, literally. We’re required to meditate and exercise consistently.”

Jessica looked back at Jake. He was about 30, lean and strong, with close-cropped hair. She couldn’t figure out what his line of work was, so she asked, “What sort of job requires meditation?”

“PreMergency crews.”

“Pre Mergency? Like before an emergency?”

Jake smiled. He liked explaining his job, especially since less than 100 people in the world had so far been trained to do it.

“I’m part of a test program in Minneapolis where we respond to potential medical emergencies before they happen. The meditation and exercise requirement is because we’re constantly showing up on people’s doorsteps and telling them they are just minutes away from a heart attack or other life-threatening problem. We need to project calm assertive energy, or otherwise the person might freak and die.”

Jessica narrowed her eyes. She was trying to decide if he was being sincere, or putting her on. But he really did project calm and assertive energy, so she decided to believe him.

“How do you know someone is about to face an emergency?”

“Lots of ways. We have almost two dozen wireless biosensors that monitor heart rate, pulse, and other vital signs. With elderly patients, we monitor movement – movement is good, by the way. We use different sensors for different patients. Over 35,000 patients are enrolled in the program, ranging from the very sick to some who are in better shape than you or me.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. All the signals go into an automated center, and when anything varies from normal, someone like me goes out to check. I’m somewhere between an emergency medic and God.”

Jessica took a moment to digest this. She imagined a middle-aged man sitting in a big easy chair, rubbing his chest to wish away indigestion, when the doorbell rings. Jake is at the door and says something like: you’re not going to rub away that pain; let’s get you to the hospital and stop that heart attack before it happens.

“Why do you say God?” she asked.

“In the past three months, I’ve saved twelve people who most likely would have died if I hadn’t rang their bell. One was a mother who gave birth three weeks later; she was going to name her child after me, but it turned out to be a girl. In most of the cases, the person didn’t even know anything was wrong. It sure feels like divine intervention.”

Jessica looked out over the valley. She couldn’t help wondering if she had what it takes to play God, too.

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Written by Bruce Kasanoff of Now Possible, where science fiction meets business. Echo Valley Ranch inspired this story.

“Mommy, Why Won’t the TV Answer Me?”

by Bruce Kasanoff

early November in 2015

Julia stood in front of the television set, wailing. Her Mom rushed down the basement stairs to see what was troubling the little girl.

“What’s wrong, Julia?”

Her daughter gave her a look of confusion and hurt. “She won’t answer me, Mommy. Why won’t she answer me?”

Katie smiled. Julia was standing in front of their old TV, which Bill last night decided to pull out of the garage and set up in front of the treadmill.

“She won’t play Sesame Street! She won’t turn up the music!”

Katie crouched and put her arms around the little girl. “This TV is old, Julia. It doesn’t talk. It doesn’t listen.”

Julia rubbed her eyes. “Everything talks, Mommy. Toaster talks. Frig talks. Garage talks. Why won’t TV talk?”

“No, honey, just a few years ago nothing but people talked. None of the things around our house used to talk. So anything that’s older than you probably can’t talk.”

Julia tilted her head. “But that’s stupid, Mommy. How do things know what you want if they can’t talk and they can’t hear?”

Katie smiled. “We used to have to push buttons, twist knobs and type on keyboards. Everything had controls you touched with your hands.”

“Yuch,” said Julia with a grimace. “Dirty.”

“Maybe a little bit, yes.” It certainly was easier to keep appliances and electronics clean, now that you barely touched them.

Julia looked back at the TV. “Old TV is stupid. Old toasters are stupid, too. Everything old is stupid.”

Katie looked her daughter in the eye. “I’m sort of old. Am I stupid?”

Julia shook her head aggressively. “No, Mommy. You can talk. You listen to me. You’re not stupid. Only things that don’t listen are stupid.”

Wow, thought Katie, Julia’s generation will only know intelligent devices. Her daughter still had trouble holding a crayon properly, but she was creating stories just by talking to the bulletin board next to her bed. At night, Julia would chat happily with “Sarah,” and Sarah would record every word the little girl said – unless Julia told her to “forget that last part.”

Katie had to admit it was an unsettling change when the first few companies made the transition from horrific voicemail systems to Talking Company. Now you could just call Best Buy and a gentle female voice knew every detail about every product; she even remembered your previous call.

Katie nearly hung up the phone in panic the second time she called Best Buy’s Talking Company and the voice said pleasantly, “Hi, Katie. It’s good to talk with you again.”

“Mommy,” said Julia, trying to get her Mom to focus on what is really important. “Please make the stupid TV play Sesame Street.”

Written by Bruce Kasanoff of Now Possible, where science fiction meets business.

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Siri Meets Soulmate

by Bruce Kasanoff

Imagine if Apple’s Siri was combined with a location-based dating service, just a bit more powerful than the ones Jenna Wortham profiled yesterday in the New York Times.

One day, a voice in my ear said, “Alex, this is Soulmate. Please stop. I’d like you to meet someone special.”

Rushing through the brick plaza outside Boston’s Faneuil Hall, late on a gorgeous summer afternoon, the words almost didn’t register. I was tired from a tough day at work, and wanted to catch the T early enough so I could run along the river before the sun went down.

I kept moving for a few hundred feet before it dawned on me that this was the first time that Soulmate, my new social GPS unit, had ever come to life. Given to me as a gift by my concerned parents, who were almost as tired as me of a succession of flawed girlfriends, it had spent three months sitting silently on my phone, never making a peep.

Think of Soulmate as a dating service with ESP. It broadcasts all of your interests, dislikes, bad habits, unique qualities, personal characteristics and dreams in a quarter-mile-wide circle that follows you everywhere you go.

The data is encrypted, thank God, so your office mates won’t be able to discover that you really like cuddling by the fire and giggling at bad jokes, to use a purely hypothetical example. Only other Soulmate software units can “read” the data.

Although the technology is complex, the idea is pretty simple. If you ever cross paths with a potential soul mate, Soulmate stops you both in your tracks and introduces you.

At last, I stopped.

For a moment, I actually froze. Did she stop, too? Was she staring at me now? Do I look stressed out?

I tried to look casual. It didn’t work.

Then I remembered the instructions. “Match us up,” I said to my phone.

“Excellent,” replied Soulmate. “Julia is 240 feet to the northeast of you.”

I have a bad sense of direction. “Which way is northeast?”

“Turn around and she will be ahead and slightly to your right.”

Summoning my courage, I turned around. As I did, Soulmate prompted me, “Please take out your phone.”

Soulmate introductions often take place on crowded city streets or at parties or public events, so the service created a simple step to help people find each other. You are supposed to actually take out and hold your phone – something no one ever does since the advent of wireless earpieces and voice activated dialing – so the other person can spot you.

I took out my phone, holding it somewhat awkwardly in front of me, and started walking forward. It was dinnertime, and the restaurants and bars were filling up quickly. People were hustling across the plaza, many in groups but plenty on their own. I could see dozens of women in front of me.

Then I saw her. Julia has red hair that falls onto her shoulders, and her hair stood out against the ivory color of her blouse. She, too, had her phone out, but had an expression and pose that suggested she was debating whether to bolt before I showed up. Then she saw me, and I actually managed a welcoming smile.

“She’s 92 feet in front of you,” Soulmate said.

“Shut up,” I said, turning off my phone.

Julia was stuck now. She returned my smile and walked towards me. As I was calculating how to greet a perfect stranger my phone identified as my soul mate, Julia broke the ice. She gave me a big hug.

“Hey, Alex. I’m Julia.”

You can learn a lot from a hug. Julia was a warm and outgoing person, in great shape. She was both soft and hard, if that makes sense. Soft in the right places, but in wonderful shape. A runner, I guessed, like me.

She pulled away and looked me right in the eyes, for a long time. Her eyes and her lips sparkled.

“Why don’t we sit on the bench?” I suggested. One was right next to us.

She looked at me for another few seconds, then smiled and said, “That would be nice, Alex.”

Julia was a researcher from Yale, in town for a week to attend a neuroscience conference at MIT. Being a public television producer who generally made programs about gardens, dogs and old houses, it was pretty unlikely I would have ever crossed paths with her.

Sorry, if I don’t speed things up this story will take five years, eight months, two weeks, four days and – let’s see – 27 minutes, which is how long it’s been since Julia and I met. We have only been apart for seven nights since.

Thanks, Soulmate. Both of you.

Written by Bruce Kasanoff of Now Possible, where science fiction meets business.

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Kensington Palace royalty come out to greet commoners

by Bruce Kasanoff

What do you do when events conspire against your organization, and business as usual becomes impossible? Go way out of your comfort zone, and try something completely different.

Historic Royal Palaces is the independent charity that cares for London’s Kensington Palace as well as the Tower of London, Hampton Court Palace, the Banqueting House, and Kew Palace. They began a £12 million major renovation project at Kensington Palace that required shutting all areas but the State Apartments – and for removing most of the furniture from the Apartments.

Sounds bleak, eh? A tour of a smaller number of empty rooms? The reality is just the opposite.

Artist Chris Levine created a series of unique light works, called Echoes, which combine with historical clues and thought-provoking questions to make visitors feel as though they are truly inhabiting the same space as royalty.

By waving my phone through the air, I took the above photo in the Palace, and it gives you a hint of what the experience is like. You can’t look directly at any of of the seven princesses who once lived at the palace – Mary, Anne, Caroline, Charlotte, Victoria, Margaret and Diana – but you see them in your peripheral vision as you turn.

You can learn more here

Siri, “wired for war,” ends up as huge commercial success

by Bruce Kasanoff

As you probably know, Apple bought Siri, they did not develop the personal assistant in-house. According to Wade Roush, the algorithms that make the (original) app work… are the product of years of defense-sponsored research at Menlo Park, CA-based SRI International.

In other words, Siri has its roots as a military application, not a consumer one. Over the next few years, we are likely to see hundreds of consumer and business applications that result from technologies used in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Dr. P. W. Singer’s remarkable book, Wired for War, highlights how technology is changing warfare. I despise wars, but read the book when originally published with the recognition that the military drives many innovations, and many of these end up powering commercial applications.

This passage from the book shows how technology even ends up blending warriors into society, creating a stunningly narrow line between war and everyday life:

One of the most familiar unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) is the Predator. At 27 feet in length, the ­propeller-­powered drone is just a bit smaller than a Cessna plane. Perhaps its most useful feature is that it can spend up to 24 hours in the air, at heights up to 26,000 feet. Predators are flown by what are called “reach-back” or ­“remote-­split” operations. While the drone flies out of bases in the war zone, the human pilot and sensor operator are 7,500 miles away, flying the planes via satellite from a set of converted ­single-­wide trailers located mostly at Nellis and Creech Air Force bases in Nevada. Such operations have created the novel situation of pilots experiencing the psychological disconnect of being “at war” while still dealing with the pressures of home. In the words of one Predator pilot, “You see Americans killed in front of your eyes and then have to go to a PTA meeting.” Says another, “You are going to war for 12 hours, shooting weapons at targets, directing kills on enemy combatants, and then you get in the car, drive home, and within 20 minutes you are sitting at the dinner table talking to your kids about their homework.”

This passage troubles me to no end. I give a lot of speeches, and a few times have brought family members along to a particularly appealing venue. It was almost impossible to concentrate appropriately on either my family or speaking obligations, and I stopped that practice. I can’t imagine why it makes sense to allow drone pilots to live with their families while they are at war.

But technology breaks down walls. (What time do you stop working? Your spouse and kids might dispute your answer, given how often you text or check email.) Since we’ve poured billions of dollars into developing new technologies to support our troops, these technologies will come home along with our soldiers.

In these wars, American forces have used a broad assortment of drones and robots. Devices that many executives still consider to be “science fiction” have been used for years on the battlefield under far worse conditions than the average shopping mall, one of the many places they are likely to end up next.