In her white jeans and a colorful T-shirt emblazoned with the single word "Grapefruit," Keiko Miura, a vivacious 43-year-old Tokyo housewife, somehow doesn't fit the image of an early adopter of third-generation (3G) digital cellular technology. But when her digital handset chirps and she unfolds it to reveal her husband -- talking onscreen in brilliant, full-motion, real-time color video -- she's suddenly a one-woman showcase for eye-popping, world-leading, bleeding-edge technology. Hideo Miura is videoconferencing with his wife from inside a speeding "Shinkansen" bullet train midway between Tokyo and Osaka. He's calling to enjoy some face-to-face time, virtual though it may be, with Reina, the couple's 5-year-old daughter. "He's very conscientious," notes Mrs. Miura. "He calls as many as 10 times a day." Mr. Miura, an entrepreneur who owns and operates a small television program production company, explained that he often gets home after his daughter is already in bed. "My work keeps me away from home a lot, and that limits my time with Reina. With the videophone, I can see and talk to her every day," he says. Digital cognoscenti elsewhere in the world would no doubt envy the Dick-Tracy lifestyle enjoyed by the Miuras, who between them carry a pair of NTT DoCoMo digital FOMA handsets capable of full-motion, full-color audio/videoconferencing at 384Kbps between nearly any two locations in Japan. And mobile technology aficionados in the West might well imagine the Miuras experimenting with a host of cutting-edge applications, such as capturing full-motion video footage and zapping it through the ether to friends or business partners, or snapping digital photos of breaking news and uploading the images to blogs with commentary attached. But the truth is much more prosaic. In a country where it isn't uncommon for fathers to go for days without seeing their children, it often seems the role of technology is to compensate for an over-stressed society short on time -- and unskilled in vocalizing emotion.
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"My work keeps me away from home a lot, and that limits my time with Reina. With the videophone, I can see and talk to her every day."
--Hideo Miura |
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"Keeping in close touch with my family is by far the most important reason for having this phone," Mr. Miura says. "I feel I can be with my daughter even though we aren't physically together. 3G cell phone ownership has nothing to do with my work; I rarely talk with friends or non-family members via videophone. The key application for me is seeing and speaking with my family."Even pioneering 3G developer NTT DoCoMo didn't initially foresee how consumers in Japan would actually use FOMA videophones. A year and a half ago DoCoMo placed full-page advertisements in the Asahi Shimbun, Japan's second-largest newspaper, suggesting consumers might like to capture and transmit videos of their pets. Last month in the same newspaper, DoCoMo's full-page FOMA ads showed four cute babies parading behind a dancing dog, indicating the mobile telephone giant now figures that consumers are more interested in humans as subjects of communication. If the Miuras' usage pattern is any indication, DoCoMo's new direction is right on target. "Being able to see each other while we talk takes the communication beyond words," Mrs. Miura says. "But the real drive behind buying the phones was my husband wanting to see and talk to our daughter at the same time. You know how people carry pictures of their kids in their wallets? Well, having a videophone is like carrying living pictures." "This videophone is truly remarkable," adds her husband. "It's still hard to believe that I'm actually using such a device every day. It represents something that was inconceivable to all of us only a few short years ago." Mr. Miura has always been curious about new technology, and is generally eager to try out the latest electronic gadgets, says his wife. In the business arena, he feels the videophone has the potential to eventually eliminate much of the time differential in international communications since users tend to carry their handsets with them late into the evening and can talk on the spur of the moment with little preparation. What does Mr. Miura think about blogging and other business-oriented videophone applications?
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In a country where it isn't uncommon for fathers to go for days without seeing their children, it often seems the role of technology is to compensate. |
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"That stuff is for newspaper and television reporters," says Mr. Miura with a dismissive air. "Seeing images captured by professional television camera operators is completely different from viewing amateur videos." But he lets it slip that he knows what the real killer application for 3G videophones will be."Pornography," he asserts. "That's a timeless application: messaging services, bulletin boards, plus the full-motion 3G aspects you can imagine. I don't think it's available yet, but it's coming soon, no doubt about it." Considering the wild popularity of "dating" services available now via i-mode and other 2G predecessors to FOMA, and the hundreds of millions of sex-related spam messages inundating Japan's cellular network daily, Mr. Miura's prognostication seems a safe, if sad, bet. Calling his wife so that a reporter can snap a photo of the handset screen, Mr. Miura explains that what's compelling to him about FOMA is the emotional impact of seeing his family in real time. Yet no technology can overcome the need for close person-to-person contact. "It's a little disappointing that he wants to see and talk to our daughter rather than me," Mrs. Miura jokes over the phone, with a touch of wistfullness in her voice. Her comment prompts a question: Does Mr. Miura use the videophone to tell his wife he loves her? "Well, I can't actually speak the words 'I love you,'" he admits. "When I want to tell her I love her, I do it by e-mail."
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