I'M OFF to see a world first in Plymouth: a machine that can read minds.

And I've just scanned yours: "It won't take long to read a reporter's mind...".

Don't be nasty. I'm apprehensive enough as I make my way into the Portland Square building at the university to try the Mind Cupola.

What will it feel like? What will it look like? Ah, the shower cubicle from the Tardis, that's what.

There's a metal canopy supported by a frame with a couple of what appear to be black screens – like car wing mirrors – on either side. Lots of wires, a couple of laptop computers and a camera on a stand at the front. Behind the camera is a fabric screen and beyond that is a projector.

And here comes the doctor to explain it all.

Doctor who? Dr Phil Culverhouse, senior lecturer in the school of computing, communications and electronics. He said: "It is the first truly interactive art installation in the world."

Just like on the TV programme, the doctor has a glamorous assistant. And here she is, Dr Brigitta Zics – although this is doctor two, and she thought up the mind reader.

Actually he was her assistant, supervising her PhD.

The new media artist from Hungary came up with the idea of an interactive installation which would read thoughts – well moods and emotions really – and project them.

Her university, Newport in Wales, didn't have the skills to make the PhD project a reality.

So they teamed up with Plymouth's boffins who have an international reputation for their expertise in creative robotics including Dr Culverhouse's speciality, machine vision.

Programmer Chris Ford explained a lot more about how the Mind Cupola works. Unfortunately, the more he explained the more my mind became Cupola-ed.

Rather like watching one of the more science and technology-heavy Doctor Who episodes, I understood little but enjoyed the flashing lights.

The thermal imaging camera sensed my mood by monitoring my facial temperature and movements.

By changing my expression I could alter the pattern on the screen which was a cross between the images from a kaleidoscope and that 1970s favourite, the cogged-wheel stencil drawing kit, Spirograph.

And, spookily, the Mind Cupola could change my mood, too.

The device calmed me down by guiding me towards mental balance with gradually more interesting and soothing patterns if my movements were too chaotic. If I became to cool – mentally and physically – heaters switched on and the patterns steered me back towards equilibrium.

"A lot of people, students and staff, said they had never seen anything like it before," said Dr Zics. That includes me.

But is it art? Is it science? And is it practical?

Dr Culverhouse reckoned it was a 'yes' to the first two, with added philosophy and psychology, and thought it was a 'no' to the third until a colleague, ironically an artist, had an idea.

"Mike Punt (professor of digital art and technology) thought it could be developed to ameliorate ageing, adding to quality of life," said Dr Culverhouse.

"You could imagine grandparents standing beneath the Mind Cupola and their grandchildren on the other side of the world being able to sense their moods through a web camera."

So you saw it here first, folks.

The next time you see the Mind Cupola will probably be on Doctor Who – or the Argos catalogue, Christmas 2009.

Demonstrations of the Mind Cupola are available until November 28. Contact Dr Zics at brigitta.zics@plymouth.ac.uk to see it in action.