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A week ago Monday, a funny thing happened to Justin Kloer on his way to the IMU. He ran into the former leader of the former Soviet Union. It was also the day that Indiana University became his school instead of merely his father's.
As an honors diploma graduate of the Indiana Academy, an accelerated residential program on the Ball State University campus funded by the Indiana General Assembly, Justin's opportunities for college admission were pretty much boundless. It's safe to say he could have made a decision to attend school on either coast or anywhere between. But the political science and Slavic studies curricula on the Bloomington campus were just too good to pass up. And, well, his father had gone to IU, Justin told me as we stood in the drizzle outside the back entrance to the IMU, waiting for Mikhail Gorbachev and entourage to leave the building for a campus tour.
What the sponsoring Union Board had planned for the dignitary was a golden autumn stroll through what is arguably the most beautiful campus in the American Midwest. But the walking tour of the Old Crescent became a rainy motorcade to places of note.
Justin had not simply stumbled upon the entourage as it left the Federal Room Parlor after luncheon. He was enterprising a little magic, a little personal history. Dressed in a coat and tie, and sporting a Russian commemorative medal and a European Unity pin on his lapel, he quickly ascertained correctly that I was the "fly on the wall" reporter who got to observe the afternoon's events. He had a camera in his knapsack.
Justin speaks Russian. And after high school graduation in May, he spent time in Moscow before beginning his freshman year. Literally and figuratively, he was still getting his feet wet on the IUB campus.
When Gorbachev and party passed him on the sidewalk, Justin's eyes became big as saucers. Do you think I might get to see him up close? he asked me. Probably not, but follow me, I said, I'll show you a place to stand outside Lindley and when the CAVE tour is over, you might get a chance to get a picture. He was soaked. I figured he'd drift back to the dorm.
Now for just a moment, picture, if you will, a 10-year-old boy in a very sophisticated video arcade. Then you have a pretty good idea of Gorbachev's response to IU Vice President Michael McRobbie's introduction to the university's virtual reality (VR) initiative (see photo, related story). In the CAVE (Computer Automatic Virtual Environment), we "flew" beside Saturn's rings, we watched the red moons of Neptune swirl about us. Our Russian companions lit up when the space station Mir appeared through our VR goggles.
And when we left the building, there was Justin snapping photographs. I can't believe this is happening, he told me. This is just amazing. I'll be telling my grandchildren about this.
The last time I saw Justin, who hopes for an international career that is related to peace-keeping, he had just come out of the Lilly Library and was standing on the steps with the rest of the Russian delegation.
Picture, if you will, a young man of 19 years in a very sophisticated virtual environment.
Only this was reality.
(Editor's Note: Justin's father is IU alumnus Dr. James J. Kloer of Muncie (B.S.'73, D.D.S. '77)