Schild’s Ladder

Tchicaya shook his head, laughing. "I know! But it’s not! Answer me this: a quantum computer does a search for the solution to an equation, testing a few trillion candidates simultaneously. In how many worlds does it fail?"

Mariama scowled. "None, if there’s a solution at all. But that’s different. The divergence is all internal and contained; it doesn’t split the environment into branches halfway through the calculation." A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. "You don’t think we could — "

Tchicaya said, "We’re not in the near side anymore. Coherence is nowhere near as fragile here. Whatever this gulf is that we’re facing, there’s no fundamental reason why we shouldn’t be able to stretch a single quantum computer all the way across it. And if we handle all the strategies with sufficient care, we ought to be able to manipulate the whole coherent system so that the failures cancel out."

She nodded slowly, then broke into an astonished grin. "We reach out and swallow the problem; we internalize it completely. Then we can bludgeon our way through by trial and error, without the world ever seeing a single mistake."

They spent three days refining the idea, thrashing out the details with the toolkit and the ship. It was a complex maneuver, and it would require precise control over the ship’s environment, both before and after it crossed through the boundary. The toolkit had had plenty of time to study the surrounding vendeks, and it understood the physics of this obscure cul-de-sac as thoroughly as that of the near-side vacuum itself. The second half of the problem could not be dealt with by direct observation, but that didn’t mean they’d be taking a leap into the dark. Each strategy for making the crossing relied on a set of assumptions about the other side. Once they put the ship into a superposition of strategies, each component would know the kind of place it would end up in, if it ended up anywhere at all.

Tchicaya snapped awake, knowing the reason instantly. He’d been summoned to alertness by the tug of a trip wire that he’d installed, back on the near side, when he’d worked with the toolkit to construct a software container to sit between their minds and the raw quantum gates of the ship’s processor.

Mariama was seated a short distance away, gazing out into the vendek cell. Tchicaya said, "Do you want to tell me what you’re doing?"

She turned to him, frowning slightly. "Just rearranging a few things internally. I didn’t realize I had so little privacy."

"I own this whole setup," he said. "You knew that when you came into it."

Mariama spread her arms. "Fine. Rummage through my memories; see if I care."

Tchicaya sat up on the edge of the bed. "What were you trying to expel into the environment?" At the border of the simulated Qusp in which her mind was cocooned, he’d replaced some of the more arcane facilities of the standard hardware — things she’d have no good reason to want to use, under the circumstances — with fakes that merely rang alarm bells. It had been a last-minute decision; the toolkit would have happily simulated the Qusp in its entirety, as the simplest means of guaranteeing that everything worked smoothly when it was piped through.

"Nothing," she said. "It was a mistake. I didn’t even realize you’d put me in a cage, so I brshed against the bars by accident." She waved a hand at him irritably. "Go back to sleep."

He rose to his feet. "Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to look for myself?" In an ordinary Qusp, the owner of the hardware could freeze the whole program and inspect its state at leisure. But the quantum gates here were implemented at too low a level; there was no room for that approach. All he could do was send in a swarm of utility algorithms to search for anything suspicious, while shuffling her working mind aside. That would do no lasting damage, but he had no idea how she would experience it. It could be extremely unpleasant.

Mariama regarded him calmly. "You do whatever you think you have to. I’ve already been flayed once."

Tchicaya hesitated. He did not want to hurt her, and if he was wrong, he’d never be able to look her in the eye again. There had to be another way to call her bluff.

"There’s no need," he said. "I know exactly what you were trying to do." He wasn’t certain of anything, but of all the possibilities he could imagine, one stood out sharply.

"Really? Do you want to enlighten me?"

"You brought in a stock of qubits entangled with the near side. You had to get rid of them now, or they would have shown up tomorrow when we prepared the ship." Anything that interacted with an entangled qubit would have its phase irretrievably scrambled. To a pure quantum system they’d be poison. They’d have to be carefully isolated, locked away somewhere inside her mind.