Were you in on that?"
"Oh, yeah. Some of it, anyway." Dixie Mae figured that she couldn’t say more than twenty words without blowing it. But what the heck–how many more minutes did the masquerade have to last, anyway? Little Victor and his self-terminating thread ...
"That’s great. We don’t have budget for real equipment here, just simulators–"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Ellens exchange a fer sure look.
"–so anyone who can explain the theory to me will be so welcome. I can’t imagine how Satya managed to do so much, so fast, and without us knowing."
"Well, I’d be happy to explain everything I know about it."
Rob waved Danny-boy away from the data display. "Sit down, sit down. I’ve got so many questions!"
Dixie Mae sauntered over to the desk and plunked herself down. For maybe thirty seconds, this guy would think she was brilliant.
The Ellens circled in to save her. "Actually, I’d like to know more about who we’re working with," one of them said.
Rob looked up, distracted, but Danny was more than happy to do some intros. "It’s just the two of us. You already know Rob Lusk. I’m Dan Eastland." He reached around, genially shaking hands. "I’m not from UCLA. I work for LotsaTech, in quantum chemistry. But you know Gerry Reich. He’s got pull everywhere–and I don’t mind being shanghaied for a year. I need to, um, stay out of sight for a while."
"Oh!" Dixie Mae had read about this guy in Newsweek. And it had nothing to do with chemistry. "But you’re–" Dead. Not a good sign at all, at all.
Danny didn’t notice her distraction. "Rob’s the guy with the real problem. Ever since I can remember, Gerry has used Rob as his personal hardware research department. Hey, I’m sorry, Rob.
You know it’s true."
Lusk waved him away. "Yes! So tell them how you’re an even bigger fool!" He really wanted to get back to grilling Dixie Mae.
Danny shrugged. "But now, Rob is just one year short of hitting his seven year limit. Do you have that at Georgia Tech, Dixie Mae? If you haven’t completed the doctorate in seven years, you get kicked out?"
"No, can’t say as I’ve heard of that."
"Give thanks then, because since 2006, it’s been an unbendable rule at UCLA. So when Gerry told Rob about this secret hardware contract he’s got with LotsaTech–and promised that Ph.D. in return for some new results–Rob jumped right in."
"Yeah, Danny. But he never told me how far Satya had gone. If I can’t figure this stuff out, I’m screwed. Now let me talk to Dixie Mae!" He bent over the keyboard and brought up the most beautiful screen saver. Then Dixie Mae noticed little numbers in the colored contours and realized that maybe this was what she was supposed to be an expert on. Rob said, "I have plenty of documentation, Dixie Mae–too much. If you can just give me an idea how you scaled up the coherence." He waved at the picture. "That’s almost a thousand liters of condensate, a trillion effective qubits. Even more fantastic, your group can keep it coherent for almost fifty seconds at a time."
NSA Ellen gave a whistle of pretended surprise. "Wow. What use could you have for all that power?"
Danny pointed at Ellen’s badge. "You’re the NSA wonk, Ellen, what do you think? Crypto, the final frontier of supercomputing! With even the weakest form of the Schor-Gershenfeld algorithm, Gerry can crack a ten kilobyte key in less than a millisecond. And I’ll bet that’s why he can’t spare us any time on the real equipment. Night and day he’s breaking keys and sucking in government money."
Grader Ellen–Sonya, that is–puckered up a naive expression. "What more does Gerry want?"
Danny spread his hands. "Some of it we don’t even understand yet. Some of it is about what you’d expect: He wants a thousand thousand times more of everything. He wants to scale the operation by qulink so he can run arrays of thousand-liter bottles."
"And we’ve got just a year to improve on your results, Dixie Mae. But your solution is years ahead of the state of the art." Rob was pleading.
Danny’s glib impress-the-girls manner faltered. For an instant, he looked a little sad and embarrassed. "We’ll get something, Rob. Don’t worry."
"So, how long have you been here, Rob?" said Dixie Mae.
He looked up, maybe surprised by the tone of her voice.
"We just started. This is our first day."
Ah yes, that famous first day. In her twenty-four years, Dixie Mae had occasionally wondered whether there could be rage more intense than the red haze she saw when she started breaking things. Until today, she had never known. But yes, beyond the berserker-breaker there was something else. She did not sweep the display off the table, or bury her fist in anyone’s face.
She just sat there for a moment, feeling empty. She looked across at the twins. "I wanted some villains, but these guys are just victims. Worse, they’re totally clueless! We’re back where we started this morning." Where we’ll be again real soon now.
"Hmmm. Maybe not." Speaking together, the twins sounded like some kind of perfect chorus. They looked around the room, eyeing the decor. Then their gazes snapped back to Rob. "You’d think LotsaTech would do better than this for you, Rob."
Lusk was staring at Dixie Mae. He gave an angry shrug. "This is the old Homeland Security lab under Norman Hall. Don’t worry–we’re isolated, but we have good lab and computer services."
"I’ll bet. And what is your starting work date?"
"I just told you: today."
"No, I mean the calendar date."
Danny looked back and forth between them. "Geeze, are all you kids so literal minded? It’s Monday, September 12, 2011."
Nine months. Nine real months. And maybe there was a good reason why this was the first day. Dixie Mae reached out to touch Rob’s sleeve. "The Georgia Tech people didn’t invent the new hardware," she said softly.
"Then just who did make the breakthrough?"
She raised her hand ... and tapped Rob deliberately on the chest.
Rob just looked more angry, but Danny’s eyes widened. Danny got the point. She remembered that Newsweek article about him. Danny Eastland had been an all-around talented guy. He had blown the whistle on the biggest business espionage case of the decade. But he was dumb as dirt in some ways. If he hadn’t been so eager to get laid, he wouldn’t have snuck away from his Witness Protection bodyguards and gotten himself murdered.
"You guys are too much into hardware," said NSA Ellen. "Forget about crypto applications. Think about personality uploads. Given what you know about Gerry’s current hardware, how many Reich Method uploads do you think the condensate could support?"
"How should I know? The ‘Reich Method’ was baloney. If he hadn’t messed with the reviewers, those papers would never have been published." But the question stopped him. He thought for a moment.
"Okay, if his bogus method really worked, then a trillion qubit simulation could support about ten thousand uploads."
The Ellens gave him a slow smile. A slow, identical smile. For once they made no effort to separate their identities. Their words came out simultaneously, the same pacing, the same pitch, a weird humming chorus: "Oh, a good deal less than ten thousand–if you have to support a decent enclosing reality." Each reached out her left hand with inhumanly synchronized precision, the precision of digital duplicates, to wave at the room and the hallway beyond. "Of course, some resources can be saved by using the same base pattern to drive separate threads–" and each pointed at herself.
Both men just stared at them for a second. Then Rob stumbled back into the other chair. "Oh ...
my ... God."
Danny stared at the two for another few seconds. "All these years, we thought Gerry’s theories were just a brilliant scam."
The Ellens stood with their eyes closed for a second. Then they seemed to startle awake. They looked at each other and Dixie Mae could tell the perfect synch had been broken. NSA Ellen took the dollar coin out of her pocket and gave it to the other. The token holder smiled at Rob. "Oh, it was, only more brilliant and more of a scam than you ever dreamed."