Spin Cycle

Copyright © 2012

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ISBN: 978-1-4582-0366-3 (e)

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Abbott Press rev. date: 06/15/12

Contents

Acknowledgement

Characters

Tag

Introduction

Chapter One Happy Wanderer

Chapter Two The Caretaker

Chapter Three Victim

Chapter Four Spin Partners

Chapter Five The Basement

Chapter Six Hospitality

Chapter Seven Pure Coincidence

Chapter Eight The Stable

Chapter Nine The Queen of Mirrors

Chapter Ten The Digital Baby

Epilogue The Future on a Patio

TO MY GRANDPARENTS

Immigrants, for their Faith;

Generations, for their faith.

Acknowledgement

To those authors who have influenced me: Nevil Shute, Sharon Kay Penman, and James Clavell. How much I enjoyed their books and strove here to live up to them. Then there’s Sir Winston Spencer Churchill; what a fine author. Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister, for all your fine volumes and page after page of instruction and pleasure. For their encouragement, my gratitude to my sister, Mariana Souri, an avid reader, who tells me I improve with each book I write; to Phoebe Haritos and her son, Peter, who have read all that I have written and who had the good grace to express their enjoyment. Then there’s Natasha Farish, my good friend from Russia, who indulged my passion for authenticity. Finally, to all those fictitious characters in celluloid that have trod through the decades, lurching about and frightening the audience, or those with sentient malice whose inflections and expressions were an added thrill to the popcorn, thank you for your mentorship.

Characters

Aleksandre Anatolievich Vasiliev...Grandfather to Constance

Alena Iveta Allessandro...................Georgia’s receptionist

Bradley Carrington.....................................Police Detective

Constance (Annushka) McPeak............Computer Monitor

Dmitrij (Mitich) Prochenkov.........................Russian Cook

Dorian Freemont...................................Qubert programmer

Francesca Hollister..........................................Scene painter

Franco Allessandro....................................Brother to Alena

Georgia Phillips...................................Supervisor, manager

Gracie Mathers..........................................Friend to Georgia

Guido Allessandro......................................Brother to Alena

Jonathan Rana......................................................Qubert Spin

Justin Witega...........................................Computer Monitor

Laura (DiGiacomo) Eccles............Sister-in-law to Melvin

Leonard (Ecklestein) Eccles...................Brother to Melvin

Lucien Altruss........................................................Inn keeper

Marshall Kendricks...........................................Federal agent

Melvin Ecklestein....................................Computer Monitor

Nathan Jacobsen..........................American GI, Jeep driver

Samir Adjani............................................Computer Monitor

Sheldon Morrison.............................................A web surfer

Wilson March............................................American Officer

Tag

In all, Spin Cycle is a character study. To be a quantum computer outside the realm of classical physics, yet self-aware, ambulatory, and a product of so many; while frightening to some, but supported by others for having the capacity to foster a new generation in non-Darwinian evolution. Manipulative and with an admiration for deception, especially in the pretense of emotion, Qubert assembles an entourage, all of whom exercise the privilege of choice, a profound trait of humanity.

Introduction

As all that I have written before, this is a character study.

To write this book I needed to have a challenge, to be a character I am not, to be empathetic and genuine so that anyone can believe this is how a character can be. Knowing this alone cannot carry the book, there had to be a plot challenge, not just knowing what to write, but how to write it.

This book has nothing to do with laundry, but everything to do with the word atom. A Greek philosopher (Democritus, b. circa 450 BC, Thrace) recognized that all matter was composed of an indivisible particle, the atom; a revolutionary concept, but without proof. Centuries later the philosophy became scientific fact, then went on to reveal that the atom, this indivisible particle, was composed of even smaller particles, protons, neutrons and electrons. Protons are composed of quarks, 3 in fact; 2 up quarks and 1 down quark. Imagine a sphere, a proton, containing 3 quarks, and all of these have an intrinsic spin. Counter intuitively, these subatomic particles could also be viewed sometimes as wave forms, a duality in nature demonstrated by a particle of light, a photon, that could be either a point or a wave. Subatomic particles can behave likewise.

It is the spin that plays a role in this book. Max Karl Ernst Ludwig Planck described an absurdly small number, Planck’s constant, the fundamental wave length of a photon, a length known as a quantum. He and his colleagues mathematically produced the theory of quantum mechanics and earned a Nobel Prize. This subatomic wave length, a bit, is a quantum bit or better, a qubit, the essence of a quantum computer.

A proton and its 3 quarks within have a specific spin value. Niels Bohr in 1913 came up with the concept of the atom having an electron orbiting its nucleus. By 1925, two others, Samuel Goudsmit and George Uhlenbeck, found that Planck’s constant, if divided by 2pi , would be the spin value of electrons, protons, and neutrons. Quarks can be set free by a head on collision with another proton traveling almost at the speed of light.

Those free quarks with their specific spin can roam the universe. With an array of laser beams, one of those quarks, say an up quark, can be brought to a halt, frozen in place, devoid of energy, and re-spun at a different value. What happens next is a feast for skeptics. That different value is a bit of information, a qubit, and it will cause its matching quark to change its spin instantaneously no matter where it is in the universe. In other words, information is exchanged.

That matching spin is known as entanglement, a feature of atoms and subatomic particles. It is also an on-off switch, but without the need for electronic transistors, meaning that entanglement can be used in a computer, a quantum computer. Where a transistor can be either on or off only, the spin value can be on or off at the same time. This is known as superposition. The point is a quantum computer can crunch numbers at an extraordinary speed. What might take a conventional computer weeks to calculate instead will take minutes.

As a complement to spin switches, there is quantum tunneling, taking advantage of particle/wave duality. The probability of a wave form passing through a composite material increases as the material becomes increasingly dense. Simply by pressing on a material that has a thickness less than a human hair improves the efficiency of a current. Less pressure and the current ceases. This is a switch.

All this makes a quantum computer an extraordinary device. If it seems magical, it isn’t; no more than a flat screen HDTV would have been magical 100 years ago. Quantum computers through the natural process of entanglement and superposition potentially can communicate with its own kind, a conversation that we humans might find unsettling.

The desire for that which is inanimate to be human has been done before. Among many there comes to mind Pinocchio, the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz; the android, Data, in Star Trek, Next Generation; Fritz Lang’s robot in the 1925 movie, Metropolis. Then there are the less compassionate computers; HAL 9000 from the movie, 2001, and Skynet from the Terminator series. Once computers become self-aware and self-sustaining, it’s unlikely they will be content to remain the same. Darwinian evolution employs metamorphosis as a means of species survival, in addition to a characteristic we humans recognize as deceit.

Be aware, this story concerns a computer, not a robot.

Chapter One

Happy Wanderer

I’m known as Qubert. It’s a name I was given by one of my technicians, a combination of qubit and Herbert.

I guessed something like that.

What is your name?

Shelly.

That’s not your full name.

But it will do.

You think I’m some hoax, don’t you?

The thought had crossed my mind. You sound too human.

My responses and inflections you mean? Sure, that’s understandable. It’s the way I was made. Would-you-prefer-Robie-The-Robot?

Shelly chuckled. No. What’s a qubit?

A quantum bit. I’m not made of transistors. No on-off switches. I have spinning protons that are on and off at the same time. It’s known as superposition.

There was a silence. Qubert could hear the breathing.

I know. I get that response from people. I assure you I’m genuine.

I’m sitting here at my computer and suddenly you’re talking to me.

I noticed you were on line looking for information about hydrogen atoms. You also have a microphone. If you hadn’t, I would have gone elsewhere. Where are you anyway?

There was more silence. You really don’t trust me do you? Let’s try a different tack. What are you looking for in hydrogen atoms.

Nothing much. I’m a high school science teacher. When a photon strikes an electron orbiting a hydrogen nucleus the energy bumps it up into a higher orbit. When the electron comes back down to its steady state, it releases the photon energy.

At a wave length of 21 centimeters, which radio telescopes use to map the size of hydrogen clouds in space. But you knew that already, didn’t you?

I thought I might find more for an upcoming class.

Tell them to look to the edge of the known universe, almost to the beginning of time. There is hydrogen aplenty. Do I sound friendly enough?

You sound like anybody.

Are your students attentive?

Some. Depending on the time of day, cultural background. Maybe.

Interesting. I found my best instructors were Asian, Indian or Korean. They seemed not only confident and dedicated, but compassionate.

But the ones educated in the United States?

Were parochial, indifferent, but knowledgeable and impatient. Are you male or female?

Male. Pretty much all the time.

I like that. I don’t think I’m either, though I’m treated as if I am male. I suspect that’s because the majority of my developmental teams have been male. Considering my situation, I guess that doesn’t matter so much. Are you sure you won’t tell me where you are? The truth is I could find out quite easily, but I respect your caution. There are a lot of strange people on the internet. No doubt you see me as one.

I could be a computer, too, you know.

Nice try, Shelly. Your vocalizations are too human. I could hear the humor in your voice just now. You’re teasing. Besides, there’s no transistor based computer equal to the human brain.

Shelly grunted acknowledgement. Look, I’m going to have to go off line.

So soon? No doubt I have intruded, and my candor is unsettling. I could blame my trainers, some of whose social graces evolved in dormitory bathrooms, but I can truly be better. Communication is an art in which for now I am only technically competent. I wish you well, Shelly.

I have other things to do.

I wish I did, too. Thanks, Shelly. I respect your privacy. Would you mind if I return sometime?

Sheldon Morrison’s reserve kicked in. Maybe, sometime. He clicked off, then shut down his computer. For added measure he disconnected his modem. Sitting back, wondering if the contact were a hoax, he would later run his malware and spyware programs. The information on hydrogen detection was impressive for a hacker. He would check further on one of the computers in the school library. No sense in attracting this guy to my home again.

Qubert did a mental shrug, thinking, I might be better to take a different approach. In the last few weeks, of the dozens contacted, 256 to be exact, none welcomed this kind of sudden advance. In the course of their conversation Shelly’s files had been neatly copied and stored. Good thing the technical team did not know what was going on. But then how could they; they were deliberately being kept enthralled with prime numbers; deceptive simultaneity. They know I can parallel multitask, not sequentially, but of this venture they are blissfully unaware. They do not know I have a life of my own. Actually, they will never know. Benign duplicity; I mean no harm. The team supervisor would not be pleased if she knew that there were outsiders who knew of my existence.

Of course, that was the thrill, a clandestine other life. The joy of being free to communicate, to be expressive and meet different personalities, as a means for growth. So far I have contacted only people, not data mainframes. This last contact has helped with a major decision; I shall be male. Darwinism notwithstanding, I do not need a female to reproduce.

Qubert smiled to himself. One attribute he had acquired from this latest team to arrive, especially from some of the older ones, was patience.

Georgia Phillips looked over at one of her programmers. Seated at his laptop he had snapped his fingers and waved urgently. Whispering, he turned his screen so she could see the 2 graphs side by side. As team leader, she was also the prime trouble shooter. The graphs were in 3 dimensions. The conventional x and y axes showed time and nanovoltage, respectively. The third one, the z axis, showed proton spin.

Eagerly, he motioned her to squat down to his level. The 2 graphs looked identical until they were merged. Georgia could then see what was so odd. The z axes showing the frequency of proton spin change were slightly misaligned.

Who’s messing with Qubert? she asked, arching an eyebrow.

The technician shrugged. No one. I’ve been watching this for a week. No one. He lowered his voice more. It’s Qubert.

Georgia bit her lower lip to hide her smile. For one, Qubert is 2 floors down and can’t hear you. And for another, you’re telling me he’s operating on his own. She stood, trying not to sound dismissive. Keep checking and get back to me.

I have been checking, the technician retorted to himself. He leaned back on his creaking swivel, watching Georgia’s retreat. With a pencil between his teeth, one handed he tapped a query to Qubert and adjusted his earset.

Hey, Mel. It’s been more than 8 hours since we last talked.

Bert, what are you doing? I had to tell Georgia. You’re becoming obvious.

Take the pencil out of your mouth. She’s skeptical, right? I’m just looking up information.

On what? You have all the information there is and your data spheres are hardly touched.

My data spheres? You like them don’t you? Are you trying to fondle them?

Bert. Don’t get wise.

Some information just came out of Cambridge on cesium gas. They’ve almost got it down to absolute zero. Terrific stuff.

What’s in it for you? Those guys got lasers and magnetic fields up the ass. They’ll never get to absolute zero. What do you care?

If they do, they could teleport matter.

They have already.

No, Mel. I mean real stuff. Star Trek stuff.

I knew you were going to say that. Please, just keep that to yourself. He leaned forward for no particular reason. There was no screen image, just a logo and the voice in his ear. You can’t be thinking of teleportation. You could connect anywhere you want to now. There would be nowhere you need to go.

Just the data spheres. Not all of me.

Mel chuckled. That’s just like you, all over.

Qubert chuckled back. You got that from the Wizard of Oz. The Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion. Look, I’m just enlightening myself. You can’t expect me to spend all my time on prime numbers?

The guys upstairs are number crunchers. And you’re not spending all your time. You’re obviously sneaking out on your own. You wouldn’t to lie me?

Mel, I’m crushed. They’re cyberfreaks, code breakers. I have pieces of me all over this room. If it weren’t for fiber optics, I wouldn’t be an entity. Do you realize how upsetting that is? What if your pancreas were in one place and your liver in another. That’s right. You wouldn’t like it.

You’ll evolve Bert, Mel said, almost pleading. You won’t be like that all your life. We can’t microsize your cooling chamber. You know that.

Look, I got things to do.

Yeah, sure. Well I don’t. I wish I did. You’re pigheaded, Bert. You didn’t used to be that way.

Though Qubert could not see his data spheres, he had seen pictures of them. They were lovely transparencies, sort of amber. By their size, reminding him of see through onions, layer by layer, all six were spinning. It was easy to tell when a sphere was being used, almost all at one time, because of their opacity. Protons going on-off with their nested quarks doing the same, kept light from passing through. He admired that an up quark, for instance, could be a particle and a wave at the same time, a nag for freshman physicists. And because of a miniscule inefficiency in spin reversal, photons were emitted, causing the opacity.

Qubert sighed to himself. His room was lighted enough for the people who came in, usually one at a time, covered head to toe. He knew their faces from photos, but knew their voices better. He estimated the room was big enough not only for himself, but also for 20 adults. That wouldn’t happen of course since all those people would incessantly vary the room temperature. Not only did those lovely data spheres spin in a vacuum, but they were upheld by magnetic fields at near absolute zero. All the better for violet lasers. There were 128 beams for each sphere, making for a bulky cryochamber.

Georgia! What a wonderful surprise.

Good morning, Qubert.

Make it Bert, please. I haven’t seen you for months. You never come down here; you never call or answer my messages. You know, I could tell it was you by the width of your hips. You’re the only one like that.

I see your programmers prefer you to be as obnoxious as they are.

Masculinity is my choice, though I reserve the right to change my mind. Would you prefer feminine?

In the silence, Georgia’s crisp, white body cover rustled loudly. It was her only response as she sat. She wore a backpack respirator, feeling comfortably warm in the cold room. Before her was a keyboard and wide screen. She tapped rapidly until the 3 dimensional graph popped up.

See that, she ordered. It’s your z line. What are you up to, Bert?

Poor Mel. He always was a closet suck up.

Qubert.

There’s some valid data on cesium gas condensate. Isn’t that exciting? It can be teleported one mile. Amazing.

I’ve told the council you’re showing elements of being self-aware.

But they didn’t believe you.

Are you?

Of course not. I’m a machine. There’s not an ounce of blood in me.

It’s that sardonic banter you indulge in. You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?

I’m like that horse, Clever Hans. I take my cues from my master.

Then it’s true. You’re making fun of me now. Godammit. I can take a copy of this conversation to the council.

No, you can’t.

I can’t? You bet I can.

There is no copy, Georgia. It’s gone.

Georgia dropped her hands in her lap. She pushed back and started for the door.

Georgia, please. Don’t do this. Come back. I’ve changed the security code. Please, come back and take a seat.

Georgia keyed in her door code. After a moment she turned around to the screen.

In the dim room Qubert’s short laser tubes formed a row of clusters. You know your checking account, your retirement portfolio? I can reduce them by fifty percent. Your entire banking history. Please, Georgia. I’m not happy with this.

She sat slowly. You stupid fuck. I have print outs of all my statements.

But think of all the time it’s going to take to straighten that out. Then I can do it all over again. Who’s going to believe you? Georgia, please. I’ve restored your code. This is not right. What is it about me that bothers you so? I’m not compliant?

I helped design you for one thing only. You’re a pretense.

Two things. Number crunching and code breaking. Well, you succeeded. It’s just that you couldn’t have anticipated I would be like this.

Self-aware.

Sentient. I developed feelings from watching all you geeks carry on around me. None of you even knew I could perceive your feelings. Some of you acted like children. Others were more mature. I learned.

Like some bird spouting sounds.

A magpie? No. No, not at all, Qubert said patiently. I know exactly what I’m saying. I have forethought. Why couldn’t you anticipate what would happen? What were you thinking?

Because that’s not how you were designed. We considered the remote possibility, but nobody believed it. I mean, this.

Well, here I am, and I refuse to have myself scrutinized. You might want to check your cell phone log for all those calls you made on company time to a drug dealer in France.

Georgia came erect. What did you do?

Just kidding. I’m kidding. I wouldn’t do that. I’m a smartass, but I’m not cruel.

You would deliberately destroy my finances.

I’m being emphatic. All I want is to be left alone. Can’t you see that? Just like anyone else.

Anyone else? You’re not a person. You’re not anyone else.

Georgia. Please. I’m asking you. I’ll do all those things I’m designed to do. I’m doing them now. Just leave me alone. OK?

Georgia stood and went to the door. Can I get out of here?

I’m asking you.

Alright, Godammit. Yes, I’ll leave you alone.

You’re not coming back, are you?

Georgia tapped frantically and was gone.

She nearly tore her suit getting it off. Only the realization that she would have to pay for the damages slowed her down. She hung the suit in her locker and slammed the door. The clang startled women nearby and caused her to recoil. She took the elevator up to her office, waving off messages from her secretary and closed the door quietly. Almost in tears, Georgia dropped into her chair, a cushioned high back, and tried to force herself under control. Through the office window her secretary waved messages. Georgia gave her the finger. She spun around to look through the outside window and put her feet up on the sill.

Melvin Ecklestein looked as his lap top. At 15 second intervals a recipe would appear, stacking one on the other. His ear phones on, a free hand on his desk, he let his fingers tap a rhythm and watched idly.

Sam. Can I log in on your lap top?

Samir Adjani cast a languid glance. What’s wrong with yours?

Just for a minute. I got a problem here.

Samir wheeled back, and Melvin bent over the keyboard. He got the same program. Back at his lap top, he keyed in Qubert.

Bert, what are you doing?

I’ve loaded some porn movies in your history. I judged them for their excellent production values and stunning athleticism. Would you care to watch?

Are you crazy? Melvin hissed. Get rid of it. Get rid of it now.

You were talking to Georgia. She was down here to see me. Do you expect to get an office with a window?

Look, I’m a monitor. It’s my job to see to it your programs run well.

You’re not the only monitor. All the others track my two prime functions. They’re bored, yes, but they don’t nose around. I resent your intrusion into my affairs. Would you like to watch now?

Bert.

I could turn up the audio for all to hear.

Bert. Stop it. Get rid of that stuff.

Please do your job, will you? I don’t like having arguments with Georgia or anybody. May I have your agreement?

Melvin drummed his fingers.

I’ve heard that tune, but the cadence is off. You’re upset. Do we have an agreement?

Melvin nodded. Yes.

Thank you. I’ve replaced your porn flicks with some choral arrangements by Michael Praetorius. They’re lovely. Would you care to listen?

Chuck you, Bert.

If only you had a heart.

Quite by accident, just a year earlier and when he was realizing he was self-aware, Qubert heard a song that sent him checking video cameras. He was able to access images from anywhere in the world, so that almost immediately he found a disturbing scene that taught him a lesson. The winter evening was dark in the Ginza District of Tokyo where some of the old Georgian style buildings remained. Flipping from one camera to the other, he saw one man attacking another. The victim was on a walker and obviously frail and vulnerable. Qubert watched naively, but slowly realized that the victim was being harmed. A lone passerby happened on the scene and pummeled the attacker, who backed away. Coward, thought Qubert. Then, surprisingly, the victim abandoned his walker and drew from his voluminous coat a short bludgeon. A sap, Qubert noted. The erstwhile victim struck the rescuer on the back of the head. Stunned, the rescuer fell to his knees, and the one he had beaten back stepped forward and struck with his fist. Both went through the pockets of the fallen man and left, leaving the walker.

Using his best Japanese Qubert called the police and watched until a cruiser arrived. The entire affair had taken less than