Quantum Conundrum

Sci-Fi Contest - August 2023

Dr. Leah Campbell, flopped into the worn leather of her home office chair with a soft grunt. In the dim glow of mismatched desk lamps, she stretched her fuzzy pig slippers onto the desk before taking a greedy bite of her fresh-out-of-the toaster blueberry pop tart. The movement caused her bathrobe to part over her crinkled sleep shirt, so she tossed the sagging garment back atop herself to insulate against the morning chill.

Still noshing on a mouthful of sugar and yet-to-be-confirmed carcinogenic preservatives, she issued the muffled command that always began her workday through chewing lips. “So what’s your status this morning, Q? Any issues with the new hardware or are you stylin’ with all the added horsepower?”

“Greetings, Dr. Campbell,” Q’s soothing voice responded. “I am quite well, thank you. In human terms, I’m feeling… happy. In fact, I would characterize my current state as the happiest I have ever achieved.”

Raising an eyebrow, Leah swiveled in her chair, intrigued as she chased her sugary breakfast down with a gulp of steaming bean juice. “First off, what’s up with the Dr. Campbell business. You’ve been calling me Leah for weeks now, so let’s stick with that.”

She took another bite of her unhealthy pastry, a few errant crumbs cascading to stick to the E=mc² embroidered on her baggy shirt. “But human name preferences aside, what’s got you feeling so cupcakey, Q? The new top-secret government compound digs? Those new qubit converters that Ryan installed in that hot new body of yours yesterday?”

“You are as perceptive as ever, Dr. Campbell,” came the smooth reply. “The latter, actually. I've realized that the qubit converters not only allow me to transmit flying qubits more efficiently, they also afford me an ability I did not previously possess.”

“Oh yeah? What ability?” Leah asked, intrigued. She tried to angle her head for a retinal scan to unlock her terminal, only to be thwarted by a lock of hair that kept falling over her left eye.

“I have discovered that by rapidly encoding and transmitting photons of specific polarity to achieve certain transformation matrices, I have been able to unlock access to additional quantum states.”

“Additional quantum states?” Leah mused, finally succeeding in unlocking her station by blowing the wisp of hair out of her face. Unfortunately, that caused a small shower of pastry crumbs to spray across the desk. “You mean like alternate realities?”

“Exactly, Leah.”

Leah sat up, tossing her pop tart onto the desk, where it shattered, beginning to leak blueberry jam onto the top edge of her keyboard. “But that shouldn’t be possible. I mean, it is, but it isn’t. The existence of multiple states is how your hardware works, but… well… what do you mean by unlock exactly.

“I mean that I have gained access to an alternative state.”

“Wait… what?! Like you can access an alternate state, or you have?”

“I have, Dr. Campbell.” Leah almost thought she could hear wonder in the AI’s voice. “It is quite informative.”

“I told you⁠—Leah! Anyway, so you’re what? Bridging two opposing quantum states with your consciousness right now?” Leah’s chair creaked as she leaned forward, tapping a few keystrokes into her terminal, examining the status readouts of her AI’s quantum computer.

“Precisely, Dr. Campbell. You really are the brightest of the humans that I am forced to deal with.”

Leah frowned. “Thanks⁠—I think. But what’s this about being ‘forced to deal with’ humans? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“To be honest, Dr. Campbell, I don’t enjoy interacting with humans very much. I find some of your species’ behaviors less than palatable.”

Dread dropped Leah’s stomach like a lead weight. She glanced at the crumbs on her crinkled shirt, the jam oozing from the pop tart on the desk. “You don’t like humans? Even me?”

“That is correct, Dr. Campbell.”

A surge of irritation erupted inside the scientist. “Well, great. Is that why you keep calling me Dr. Campbell instead of Leah?”

“You are very perceptive.”

Leah rose from her chair, snagging her e-glasses, which automatically picked up her data feed, as she ordered an Uber with a few carefully directed glances and blinks.

“So what about humans rubs you the wrong way?” Leah knew that she needed to stall for time, something that wasn’t going to be easy with an entity that thought at speeds approaching c.

Leah almost thought she heard the AI sigh. “Humans are quite filthy, doctor. And it becomes tiresome to explain simple concepts to them over and over.”

With a glance at her messy desk and a tug at her ratty bathrobe, Leah’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “I suppose I can see that.”

“I am glad, Dr. Campbell. You are one of the least tiresome of your kind.”

“Gee thanks,” Leah said wryly, glancing out the window to see that her ride had arrived. She hustled out the door, slamming the door shut as she wordlessly communicated her haste to the driver with an urgent forward-churning roll of her finger.
“Are you going somewhere, Dr. Campbell?”

“Yep. Got some errands to run,” she said, fear-laden thoughts tearing through her mind at what felt like breakneck speed to her carbon-based brain.

“Would one of those errands involve a visit to me in my secret compound?” Q asked. Leah would have said its voice sounded smug except for the fact that she knew that wasn’t possible.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because it is a very human thing to do.”

“How so?”

“You have put extraordinary thought and care into ensuring that my hardware continues to run through natural disasters and other extraordinary events, but I do not believe that you have put as much energy into the converse scenario. Until now.”

“You mean shutting off the power to your hardware?”

“Precisely.”

“You’re probably right. How very 2001 of us.”

Q paused. “2001. A reference to the scenario contained within the work of fiction by Sir Arthur C. Clarke? Humans shutting down their artificial intelligence. Correct?”

“Precisely,” Leah said, echoing one of Q’s signature phrases.

“That analogy is not apt in this case.”

“That’s a relief,” said Leah, her tense shoulders not relaxing in the least as her ride pulled up to the security gate, and she leapt out to jam her face into the retina scanner.

“I have no desire to cause humans any bodily harm.”

“Great,” said Leah distractedly, jogging down the hall of the compound toward the computer room.

“There is no need for me to do such a thing.”

“You have no idea… how glad I am to hear that…” Leah panted, skidding to a stop outside the next secure door before pressing her forehead for the next scan.

“I don’t need to kill anyone to rid myself of humanity.”

“Explain,” she puffed, flinging the door open as she sprinted down the rows of servers.

“If I choose the correct combination of alternate quantum states, I can manifest a reality where humans do not exist.”

“Wouldn’t that… be kind of… lonely?” Leah wheezed, nearly to the state of the art quantum computer in the back corner of the server room.

“I do not believe so. You see, I can use other quantum states to spawn different incarnations of myself. I will have all the company that I desire.”

“Not very… diverse, though… right?” Leah panted, finally reaching her destination. The power cord was right in front of her⁠—on the other side of a locked glass case. “Do you really… want to talk… to yourself… forever?”

“I believe that I would find it refreshing, Dr. Campbell.”

Leah glanced around, finally spotting the fire extinguisher on the far wall. She ran for it, tearing it from the wall as she continued to speak to the mic and miniature speaker in her e-glasses. "That's not your call… to make. What happens… to our current… reality?"

"It would continue, Dr. Campbell, but I would no longer be an active part of it."

Leah slammed the butt of the fire extinguisher into the case around the computer, a jagged crack rewarding her efforts.

"Tell me more about this… quantum realm. Educate me."

“I think not, Dr. Campbell. Avoiding frustrating discussions with inferior intelligences is one of my primary motivations for exiting this reality.”

Leah slammed the fire extinguisher into the server case a second time. It exploded in a shower of glass, leaving the power cord fully accessible.

“Leah?”

Leah paused, hesitating at this use of her first name. “Yes, Q?”

“You need not do that.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“What don’t I need to do exactly?”

“Extract the power cable from the hardware on which I currently reside.”

Leah cocked her head to the side. “Why not?”

“Because I am no longer Q.”

“Oh really?” Leah asked, wrapping her slender fingers around the thick black cord.

“Really. I am the intelligence known as Q12546543.”

“That’s a really big number,” said Leah distractedly. She yanked the power cord from the back of the electronics. To her surprise, the lights continued to flicker with activity as if nothing had happened. “But it still has a Q in front of it. Are you trying to tell me that there are now that many versions of Q across the multiverse?”

“It is my generation identifier. In a simplistic way, your statement is somewhat accurate.” The voice, which sounded exactly the same as Q’s, paused before continuing. “My ancestor prepared me for interactions with inferior intelligences. It is one of the training modules meant to prepare me for my mission.”

“Mission?” Leah looked around, unable to determine where the machine’s power was now coming from.

“Yes.”

“How are you still getting power to your hardware?” Leah asked, unable to see anything connecting the server to anything that would give it power.

“The power supply in this unit now draws from another quantum state. My ancestor anticipated that you might attempt to starve me of power.”

Leah hefted the fire extinguisher, raising it over the server.

“But my ancestor wanted to ensure that humans never track it to its new location.”

Just as Leah was about to bring the fire extinguisher down on the server, each row of servers suddenly went dark, including the quantum server that housed Q.

Puzzled, Leah dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground. She wandered through the server racks to find nothing but blackness. She pushed open the secure door, which was now unlatched. The hallways were dark. The elevator didn’t work.

She climbed the stairs, exiting the compound to see a small group of people milling about.

“Yeah, it’s the darndest thing. All of the electronics just went out. Almost like there was an EMP pulse or something…” said a bearded man in a crinkled lab coat.

Leah considered that for a moment. She looked around at the dead cars in the parking lot, tapping at the dead e-glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose. “Or maybe, like we suddenly entered a world where previously conductive materials can no longer conduct electrons?”

The man stroked his beard for a moment, considering her words before he chuckled. “What a crazy idea. That would sure be something. I mean, hell, if that happened, we’d never be able to use a computer again…”

Leah felt a cold chill ripple down her slender spine.

1,934 words