Orders of Magnitude (The Genie and the Engineer Series Book 2) (10 page)

“Yes,” Paul said, tilting his head to one side. “I want to
discuss
Errabêlu’s
hypocrisy.”

“Our what?” barked McDougall, his eyes blinking in surprise.
“Wait, this sounds like a question of philosophy. That will cost you a half
dozen steak dinners, one kilogram of beluga caviar—the good stuff mind you—and
a large waterproof tent. Oh, and two goose feather stuffed mattresses!”

After a bit of haggling (and since Paul was feeling generous
that day) they agreed on the dinners, the caviar, one mattress and an eight man
tent.

“Fine,” McDougall said, leaning back in his lawn chair and
smoking a Havana cigar. “Ask away.”

“My question is simple,” Paul explained. “I have observed
that the wizards of
Errabêlu
hate technology. Yet I’ve been told that
they push for the advancement of technology to happen, to advance the cause of
warfare. Indeed I was told that it is
Errabêlu’s
goal to push man to the
stars. Can you explain the hypocrisy involved?”

For a moment McDougall stared at him, his facial muscles twitching
in all sorts of interesting ways. But he suddenly burst forth in a roar of
laughter, slapping his knees and accidently dropping the cigar on the ground.
He was laughing so hard that the lawn chair fell over sideways and he rolled in
the sand. And still he laughed!

Paul saw nothing particularly funny about his question so he
waited patiently for the other wizard to recover his wits.

“That’s so rich!” McDougall finally managed to blurt out. “I
haven’t heard anything that funny in a very long time. Decades maybe. Oh, I
know! Not since the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand when it triggered World
War I!”

He got back on his feet and righted the chair, plopping down
in it and using a small spell to repel the sand off of his clothes.

“Okay, okay, I know that was a serious question on your part,
but that is one of the reasons I found it so funny,” McDougall told him, still chuckling.
“It’s really too bad that jokes can never be explained. So I know for certain
that you are never going to see the humor in it, even when I enlighten you. And
that’s too bad because you’re going to miss out on a real rib tickler. But
that’s life, is it not?”

He leaned over, recovering his cigar and using another small
spell to knock all the sand off of it before sticking it back in his mouth and
puffing on it. “Now, this is going to take some explaining and this time, I’m
going to enjoy doing it! We’ll start with that smart remark about going to the
stars. It’s obvious that you have been talking with Ruggiero, that charlatan,
that quack! He’s the only wizard that goes around talking about trips to the
stars! What buffoonery! What balderdash and poppycock! Did you know…no, I don’t
suppose that you
would
know. His title of “doctor” is an honorary one
that he received from the University of Zurich for making a rather large
donation sometime back in the seventeenth or eighteenth century, I forget
which. He constantly raves about this really wonderful library that he has…oh;
from your nod am I to understand that you’ve seen it? Hah, so it actually
exists!” And he slapped his knee again.

“Anyway, I digress,” McDougall said with even more
enthusiasm. “We—and I am speaking for the majority of
Errabêlu
when I
say this—we are in this for the money and for the power. That’s all. Ruggiero
just says that stuff about the stars because his wealth embarrasses him and he
wants to think of himself in noble, educated terms. Like I said. Balderdash.
He’s a true hypocrite, that one.”

Looking back, Paul remembered that Celeste had told him the
same thing; that the wizards of
Errabêlu
did what they did for the power
and for the wealth. He should have listened to her and not to Ruggiero.

“But you don’t use technology—” Paul started to say.

McDougall waved a dismissive hand. “What? Your question
about our hypocrisy, right? Hah. Hypocrisy is a universal human condition. Everyone
is a hypocrite about one thing or another, including Normies.” And then he
paused for a moment. “
Especially
Normies.”

“Maybe,” admitted Paul slowly. “But you do benefit from technology
and you do promote its advancement.”

“But of course we do. Silly question. Tell me, if power and
wealth is the objective, then which is better? Controlling the government of
Burundi or the government of the United States?”

“The United States, of course. It’s far more powerful and
wealthy. I’ve never even
heard
of Burundi,” Paul confessed.

“There, you see? Technology brings us success in warfare
and
it brings us wealth. So of course we promote it, even though we avoid using it
personally.”

Paul was still shaking his head in confusion. “But why do
you hate technology?”

“We don’t
hate
it,” McDougall said, rolling his eyes.
“I for one was positively
thrilled
when indoor plumbing was invented. Even
as a wizard, I hated those midnight trips in the dead of winter out to the privy.
Really hard on a fellow’s constitution when he’s more than two hundred years
old, don’t you know.”

Eyes widening, Paul was abruptly convinced by the
Errabêlu
wizard’s sanctimonious grin that he was being teased. He couldn’t conceive of
the other wizard using an outhouse at all, let alone in the dead of a cold
winter’s night. It was at that moment that he caught a glimmer of what the
other man was trying to tell him. With magical powers, there were likely half a
dozen ways to avoid the use of that type of facility. And if magic could do
that, and almost anything else he could think of, then what did a wizard need
with technology? But McDougall was still talking.

“…And there have been a few other technologies that have
come along that we have embraced. But a lot of this new stuff in the last
century or so, the gadgets and things—that is stuff that we tolerate but personally
want nothing to do with.” Then he paused and studied Paul’s face for a moment.
“You still don’t understand, do you? Tell me; don’t you know any old Normies
that have had problems with new technology?”

Paul instantly thought of his mother. He had tried to give
her a computer for Christmas ten years previously. And he had spent hours
explaining to her just the basics, like how to turn it on and off and how to
use email. She had given it her best shot but the technology was obviously
beyond her.

“Yes,” he unwillingly acknowledged. “I have.”

McDougall earnestly leaned forward. “If people who are only
sixty and seventy years old have trouble with it, can you imagine how hard it
is for those of us that are five and six hundred years old?”

This conversation was sounding remarkably like the one that Paul
had participated in with the hologram of Sherlock Holmes more than eight months
previously.

“You could use your magic to assist you,” Paul hesitantly pointed
out. “To make the learning easier.”

But McDougall was vigorously shaking his head. “And
still
you don’t see! It’s our magical powers that
insulate
us from technology!
Think, man, think! For a thousand years, our magic has given us everything we
could ever need! All the necessities of life, near eternal youth, power,
wealth! And what does your vaunted technology offer us, hmm? Bah! Nothing that’s
the equal of what magic can do! So why should we constantly learn, constantly
change our style of life and adapt ourselves to the changing face of technology,
year after year, decade by decade, generation after generation after generation?!
That would get
so old
after a hundred years or more. And your overhyped
technology is
so
inferior to magic! Why do any of that when we already
have
what we need! There is no
point
in us constantly learning or grappling
with the continuous change of technology! We have Normies to do that for us,
don’t you see?!”

Reluctantly, Paul completely understood—now. He didn’t agree
with it. Oh, to be sure, he himself was definitely becoming increasingly more
dependent on magical spells, not just for special occasions but for everyday
and mundane activities as well. However, in his case, Paul had no intention of exorcising
science or technology from his life. Far from it. Instead, his intent was to
combine the advantages of both wherever possible.

But now, after hearing McDougall’s explanation, Paul finally
did understand more about what motivated the other wizards of the world.

McDougall waved the hand with the cigar in it. “Oh, and that
last steak you brought me was a little overcooked. The next ones should be bigger,
please. And rarer.” Leaning back in his chair, he puffed the cigar a few times
while grinning like the Cheshire cat.

• • • •

After two more days of interviews, McDougall woke up one
morning to find himself on a different island. The hologram of Paul was
standing nearby.

“Where are we now?” McDougall asked, more than a little
upset that he had not been forewarned of the move.

Paul was grinning, appearing to be very pleased with himself.
“You are on Flint Island, an uninhabited island in the South Pacific Ocean. It
is 799.5 miles south of the equator, 99 miles from the next nearest island and
a shade over 310 miles from the nearest inhabited land. Moreover, it is well
off the beaten track, even for people who like to visit uninhabited islands.”

He graciously waved an arm around him. “The island is well
stocked with coconut trees, its beaches are crawling with turtles and king
crabs and there is plenty of fish in the sea. And there are various berries and
fruit trees around, more than enough to keep you and eight Oni fed until
someone stumbles along and finds you here.”

“You are putting the Oni here too?” McDougall asked, some of
the irritation evaporating from his voice.

“It’s convenient for me,” Paul replied, steel in his voice. “This
island has nothing you can use to create a portal with. No concrete, no large
rocks, and no steel, let alone any precious minerals. And palm trees make a
very poor raft.”

McDougall looked around him, noting all the manufactured
goods he had been given on Little Sandy Island, now laying along the beach in
front of him.

He turned back to Paul. “Haven’t you figured out yet that
you can’t keep me as a prisoner forever? Sooner or later, I will escape and
then hunt you down. Perhaps it might take a few years. But I can afford to take
the long view.”

“In a few years,” Paul responded with his fists on his hips,
“you’d be welcome to try.”

Rental House

Magdalena Rd

Los Altos Hills, CA

July

Wednesday 1:54 p.m. PDT

“I
t’s
just a guess, Dom, but since you look like your best friend just died, I assume
that your work is not going real well.”

Paul swiveled on his workbench stool to face his wife, an
impudent expression on his face.

“Your guess is a good one, dear,” he admitted. “I’m afraid
it’s toast,” he added, waving at the desktop computer on the workbench in front
of him.

She nodded sadly, eyeing the computer. “Water damage, right?
I lost a cell phone that way once, in a bathtub.”

Paul stood and slowly started to pace in the nearly empty
three car garage. “It sat too long in the water underneath Bauer Street, yes. My
magical spells can’t seem to find all the short circuits, not even after I used
a portal filter to removal all the water.” He sighed heavily. “And maybe, just
maybe, it’s for the best.”

She glanced at him in surprise, lowering herself onto a
second workbench chair. “Oh? Why is that?”

“I didn’t tell you before, but I was starting to have doubts
about my approach in creating the first Scottie. The software seemed to be
coming along okay, but the computer! Even the hottest desktop on the market was
just too slow and too small.” He waved at the PC on the workbench again. “Too
little RAM, for one thing. The bus speeds are too slow, even with solid state
hard drives. And the CPU speeds? Nowhere near as fast as it needs to be, even
with the multi-core processors.”

“So, what are you going to do?” Capie asked, tilting her
head downward and frowning.

For a moment, Paul stopped pacing to consider the question.
“I need a higher level of tech, even if I have to develop it myself.”

Capie half smiled. “A higher level, huh? Such as…?”

“A quantum computer,” Paul responded, rubbing his chin, deep
in thought. “It’s all the rage in science fiction, right now. And there are
some leading-edge tech companies working on experimental designs. I’ll have to
start doing some research, of course, into the methods used. And talk to super
intelligences and avatars of the experts in the field. Some of those experts
will likely be here in Silicon Valley too.” He looked up sharply at her. “This
could take a while. And with your math skills, you can help too, as an
assistant.”

With a grimace, she nodded. “Yes, that is a good idea. But I
still need to practice a bit. Especially portals.”

“Remember to keep the energies low, please,” Paul suggested.
“Lest the bad guys find us and ruin our whole day.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise,” she assured him with a grim
smile. “And it if it’s not too complicated, just what is a quantum computer
anyway? In words of English, please!”

Offering a bemused smile, Paul said, “In English, hmm? That
definitely raises the bar, but I accept your challenge. So, to start with, classical
computers are based on the processing of digital 0’s and 1’s where each binary
bit represents only those two possible states. Are you with me so far?”

“Yes, keep going.”

“However, a quantum computer uses qubits. Each qubit can be
a 1, a 0, or it can be a superposition of both—”

“Huh? How is that possible?” she asked in an uncertain tone.

“Ever hear of Schrödinger’s cat?” Paul asked with raised
eyebrows.

“No. What does a cat have to do with computers?” she asked
back, crossing her arms.

“It was a thought experiment Erwin Schrödinger asked Albert
Einstein. You see, in the microscopic world of quantum particles such as atoms,
electrons, and photons, these particles can exist in multiple simultaneous
states. This is not true, of course, in the macroscopic world, the one we live
in. Things on our level can only exist in one state. Schrödinger was having
trouble accepting the idea of quantum superpositions—the multiple simultaneous
states of photons—so he created the thought experiment of a cat, sealed in a
metal box, such that no one could tell what state it was in.”

“Sounds cruel,” Capie observed, with a disapproving frown.

“It’s theoretical, dear. ‘No live animals were harmed during
the creation of this experiment’—”

“Funny man,” she muttered. “Does this story have a point?”

“Yes. Inside of the box, with the cat, was a Geiger counter,
a radioactive particle, a relay and a small bottle of poisonous gas. If the
particle decayed, the Geiger counter triggered the relay which released the
gas. Presto, the cat was dead. But if the particle didn’t decay, then the cat was
still alive. Thus, without opening the box and looking in, the cat could be
said to exist in multiple states, both alive and dead simultaneously.”

“That’s absurd,” scoffed Capie with a small laugh.

“At our level of existence, you are quite right. But at the
level of atomic particles, that’s the way things work. For qubits, we can’t
know what state it is in until it is measured. Once it is measured, it is
either a 1 or a 0 but it can’t be both.
Before
it is measured, it can be
both. Now, for this conversation, there is one other important aspect of
quantum mechanics, known as quantum entanglement. That’s where you have two
particles that are interconnected in some way. One way to entangle them is to
create the pair of them simultaneously, through a single quantum reaction of
some sort, such as two photons released by the same atom. You can’t know what
state they are in until one of them is measured. If you measure one of them,
then the state of the other collapses to a single solution.”

“That sounds impossible too,” she stated.

“Einstein didn’t like it either. He called it spooky action
at a distance. However, another scientist, John Bell, proved that’s the way quantum
mechanics works. And it is on those two functions that the theory of quantum
computers becomes possible. Now, the advantage to a quantum computer is that
it’s not restricted to going through a computer program step by step. It can,
instead, consider all possible answers to a problem simultaneously and generate
the answer in far less time.”

“What did Arthur C. Clarke say about magic and science? “It
sounds like magic to me,’” she said, shaking her head and grimacing at all the
hardware on the workbench. “You have a lot of work in front of you, don’t you?”

“‘Oh, lassie. You’re the most understanding woman I know,’”
Paul said, quoting Scotty from
Star Trek V, The Final Frontier
.

• • • •

They threw themselves into the quantum computer project
during the day but reserved their evenings to spend out on the town. Capie
started first by researching the names of specialists and experts in a variety
of related scientific fields: physicists in quantum mechanics, mathematicians,
computer systems analysts, system designers, software engineers and so forth.
When she found any such experts living in the Silicon Valley, Paul would then
carefully create a microportal to that individual’s house or place of business
and, through the portal, create an avatar of that person to consult with on the
project. Most of the time, he did this in conjunction with a super-intelligence,
to draw on that apparition’s superior intellect.

In addition, Paul researched material sciences on qubit technologies,
creating lists of hardware and supplies needed so that Capie could start ordering
some of the necessary material to begin experimentation. Furthermore, Paul
found and purchased a used IBM Power Systems computer, a 755 Express Power 7
work station with four microprocessor sockets capable of handling up to thirty
two cores. Paul was delighted when it arrived and spent hours setting it up in
one corner of the garage and bringing it online.

Late each day, when they grew tired and had trouble focusing
on the work, they went out for the evening, into the valley or even up to San
Francisco or across the bay to Oakland to dance, attend a concert, go to a
movie, or enjoy any of a multitude of other forms of entertainment.

Their progress seemed agonizingly slow to them, but by the
standards of the rest of the world, would have generated unqualified respect
and approval from any number of experts.

In a week, Paul thought he had it narrowed down to five
possible technologies.

“Number one is trapped ions in electromagnetic fields,” he
said, pointing to a list on a holographic display floating in the air in front
of them at the breakfast table. He stuffed another bite of egg and sausage in
his mouth, chewing rapidly and swallowing. “The second choice is quantum
semiconductor dots. Third, optical lattices. Fourth is cavity quantum
electrodynamics. And fifth is linear optical quantum computing.”

“Which is the best choice?” Capie asked as she buttered a
slice of toast.

“Each of them has advantages and disadvantages,” Paul
answered quietly before sipping some of his orange juice. “There is no clear winner.
Not yet, anyway.”

“Let me guess,” she said, putting the butter knife down.
“We’re going to try them all.”

“Which is why I asked you to order all of that material and
hardware earlier this week,” Paul said, confirming her assumption. “We should
run the experiments in parallel, trying all the technologies until we find one
that works.”

She stared at him for a few moments. “Paul, there are
literally thousands, maybe tens of thousands of researchers around the world experimenting
with quantum computer technologies. They’ve spent years working on this. And
will probably spend more years. How are we going to do better than them?”

Smiling, Paul reached out to lay his hand on top of hers.

“We have several advantages,” he pointed out. “We can access
virtually all of their research to date and avoid the blind alleys that they
have encountered up to this point. And we can consult with super-intelligences
via our magic. Also, too, our magical powers allow us to very quickly
manufacture the qubit prototypes in minutes—designs that might take other
researchers weeks or even months to fabricate. And, on top of that, our magical
powers will let us see and manipulate things almost down to the quantum level.
We will know if our experiments are working whereas anyone else would have to
determine their results in a more indirect fashion.”

“In theory,” she commented with a humoring smile.

“Yes, in theory, CB.”

She pulled her hand from his and gave him a studied look.

“I don’t think I’m going to be of much help to you while you
are conducting your experiments,” she observed quietly.

Paul’s smile faded slowly to a frown. “I sense you are about
to tell me something I may not want to hear.”

She fidgeted a bit, giving him a hesitant smile. “‘Exactly,
Captain. How very perceptive of you!’” she said, quoting from an early
Star
Trek
episode.

One corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “What is it,
dear?”

She sighed. This was going to be harder than she thought.
Perhaps if she tried to steer him down the same logical path she had taken.

“It’s what McDougall said. About the death of who knows how
many Normals.”

Paul jerked his head back slightly in surprise. “That was
just a ploy, to convince me to let him go.”

To which, Capie cocked her head to one side. “You’re betting
the lives of real people here.”

He flinched then rubbed his chin. “What is it that you
propose? You can’t be serious about releasing him.”

Leaning forward, Capie reached out to touch her husband’s
hand again. “Not that, no, dear. We should check out his story, that’s all.”

Curious, Paul half-smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “How?”

“Well, McDougall is the
Errabêlu
wizard over the
Canadian government, right? So, I could drop into Ottawa—”

“It’s a capital city, CB,” protested Paul. “There could be
hundreds of Oni there.”

“I’ll take McDougall’s talisman with me,” Capie countered.
“At the first sign of trouble, I’ll leave, dear. But I’m a big girl now.” She
paused. “Paul, as you yourself said, this is war. We have to take some risks,
if we are going to save the people of Earth.”

Grunting, Paul glanced downward. Her proposal had truly caught
him out of the blue. And not just the idea itself but her obvious emotional
energy involved in proposing it.

His instant gut reaction to her idea was to reject it out of
hand, to insist that she not go gallivanting off to Canada, let alone to Ottawa
and thereby risk her life on the claims of an evil wizard. That was crazy,
almost verging on recklessly insane. And he opened his mouth to utter those
words, to tell her what he really thought.

But then he stopped and considered it a little more.

Yes, he loved Capie. Deeply. And after having lived all his
life so far without her, he was loath to risk her life in so cavalier a
fashion. He needed her, wanted her by his side for the rest of his life.
Naturally enough, he wasn’t willing to risk her life, for any reason.

But, even though she was his wife, Paul recognized that he
did not own her. He could not dictate how she lived her life, nor her coming
and goings. He was not a ‘swaggering, overbearing, tin-plated dictator with
delusions of grandeur’, a line from an early
Star Trek
episode.

What was more, Paul could see the determination reflected in
her eyes. She wasn’t asking his permission. She was telling him what she was
going to do. And if he disagreed, then there would be an argument, perhaps
worse.

But maybe, just maybe, despite the risk involved, perhaps
her idea did have a great deal of merit.

Ever since her father’s death, Capie had not been herself.
Yes, she
was
recovering, that much was true. The trip around the world
and their nightly outings had contributed substantially to that cause. But
during the day, he still frequently caught her staring out the window at
nothing in particular, and there were times when she was obviously caught in a
deep funk.