"Give me
the world," Mark Lucente called out to a wall-size screen
projected in front of him. He spread his long arms to define a
circle, and a large blue globe materialized, spinning on the
screen. The trade-show crowd drew closer—a guy controlling
a computer with gestures. "Make it this big," the lanky
inventor said to the wall, moving his hands closer together,
and the world got smaller. The crowd gasped.
The public got its first hard look at Mark Lucente—and the
things that preoccupy him—three years ago in the IBM booth at
computer trade show Comdex. At the time, the 30-something
MIT-trained researcher was exploring new ways for people to
interact with computers, and many still talk about the
demonstration he gave—part David Copperfield, part high-tech
soothsayer—in the crowded Las Vegas Convention Center.
Lucente, now 36, has spent his career inventing technology
like this—natural interfaces to computer data that might
someday be the way we all control machines. His work at IBM
making computers responsive to body movements was a milestone
on the road to seamless human-machine relations. Someday,
indeed, the break throughs Lucente has pioneered might help
seismologists model oil fields without touching a keyboard or
online shoppers inspect merchandise that isn't really there.
Nothing would make him happier.
But for an ambitious young inventor, the promise of
someday is a carrot. After a while, the meat and
potatoes of now start to look tasty too.
Now means e-commerce, which Lucente hopes to
revolutionize with user-friendly tools. So in a Silicon Alley
loft space, as chief technology officer of startup Soliloquy,
Lucente is building tools that let Web merchants bring their
products to shoppers on more human terms. We're not talking
about video holograms and gesture-based interaction—not
yet—but we're talking about tools that can bolster companies'
bottom lines today.
The first of Lucente's tools is something called Notebook
Expert, which lets visitors at a Web site type a phrase like
"Find me the lightest laptop that plays DVDs," and receive a
list, plucked from a product database, of lightweight,
movie-playing computers. It sounds like a simple natural
language database query, but it's much more. Lucente's
computer expert has a dialogue with the user, assembling what
resembles a human understanding of what the shopper really
wants. It might be just an explanation of how much RAM you
need for playing games. Or it might be a very accurate and
insightful product recommendation, and an easy way to buy the
notebook you want.
Online Brain: What do you want to use your
notebook for?
Shopper: I play Tomb Raider.
Brain: The latest computer games require a fast
computer with a big screen, a large hard drive, and lots of
memory. There are 60 items that satisfy your requirements;
here are some examples. How much money can you spend?
Shopper: I need something cheap.
Brain: There are 25 items that satisfy your
requirements . . .
In the course of that short dialogue, the brain has pulled
data from various places: from its internal knowledge base to
interpret what "play" and "cheap" mean in the context of
notebook computers, from the seller's product database, and
from the profile it is building of the shopper.
Does it work? In a five-month trial on Acer America's
Shopacer.com site, nearly one-third of shoppers who used
Notebook Expert clicked through the "buy" page, and Acer's
online notebook sales rose by 21 percent. To e-tailers, that's
magic—even more amazing than waving at a screen to make a blue
ball appear.
And it's just the beginning. Soliloquy is working on more
experts—to help shoppers learn about and choose mutual funds,
home mortgages, and cars.
Lucente brings his technological genius to e-commerce at a
critical time. BizRate.com, an e-shopping rating and
comparison site, estimates that shoppers abandon online
shopping carts 78 percent of the time. Boston Consulting Group
estimates that e-tailers missed out on $15 billion thanks to
aborted purchase attempts in 2000, on total sales of $61
billion. This sky-high rate of e-commerce interruptus
frequently happens when shipping charges are revealed or
shoppers are reluctant to fill in forms, but it's also often a
result of disorientation or inability to find the desired
information.
And that's why Lucente hopes his work connecting customers
with information could give the e-tailing industry a boost. It
turns out that being there to hold shoppers' hands when they
need it—to help them find what they need, even to literally
close the sale—is another one of those fundamental
good-business practices that never really went
away.