I was greeted by a wave-like mass of fabric that seemed to be levitating off the ground. But this description only scratches the surface of Taubman College Teaching Fellow and DSI affiliate faculty member Alina Nazmeeva’s research project: “Bug in My Software.”


Nazmeeva’s project is not designed to simply be seen, but to be interacted with. Visitors are invited to step onto the structure—which was incredibly soft beneath my feet, I might add—and wear a VR headset to immerse themselves in a vibrant world of bugs. The creatures within the simulation interact with one another and occasionally follow the person wearing the headset, but the viewer’s main task is to simply observe and relax in the space. 


The term “bug” was coined by Thomas Edison in the 1870s while working on the quadruplex telegraph system in which he created a “bug trap” to work around unwanted issues. But it was a team of computer scientists and engineers from Harvard University that really inspired Nazmeeva’s project. In 1947, the team discovered a literal moth in the hardware of their Mark II computer that was causing errors. Playing on the dual meaning of “bugs,” the title “Bug in My Software” incorporates both supposed technical flaws and moths into the design with the nature of the programmed insects.


“Bug” creatures within the simulation aren’t necessarily bugs that exist in the natural world, though they are loosely based on the characteristics of silk moths. They appeared simultaneously strange and familiar, and I felt a bug déja vu: I had seen these bugs before, but couldn’t remember the specific instance of when or where. The unnaturally bright color pallet used to create the entire landscape also made me feel like I took a trip through the multiverse to an alternate reality. All of these elements combine to emphasize that the entire simulation is slightly glitched, flawed, or “bugged.”


Silk moths also influenced the fabric design across the surface. Nazmeeva took the DNA sequence of a silk moth, broke it down, and twisted or stretched the colors to create the array of pinks, blues, and yellows found in the design. Sitting down on the structure without the VR headset, I was reminded of Falkor from The NeverEnding Story. From the pink hues to the levitating appearance, there seemed to be something almost magical and a sense that I was about to embark on a journey to another world. 


Since this world is digital, it is constantly changing. No experience from Nazmeeva’s project is identical because the VR experience is not a mere video, but a simulation. The purpose of this is to create an experience that is as unique as possible for each viewer; after all, the my in “Bug in My Software” should look different for each individual if they are to make the interaction their own. Data can then be collected and compared from each run. The longest that the simulation ran was for a week without stopping. 


Ultimately, Nazmeeva didn’t want to over-explain her project or make grand claims about what the “point” was; instead, she wanted every person who experienced “Bug in My Software” to form their own conclusions. For me, Nazmeeva’s project is about looking beneath the surface. The odd creatures can’t be seen until you put on the magic goggles, but a visitor can still invade their habitat without knowing their presence. Sometimes we need to just take a break and acknowledge the beauty of all the little things, even something as microscopic as silk moth DNA.