Sep 14th, 2081
Magnus, unable to suppress the smirk revealing his pride, swept open the large mahogany doors with a dramatic flourish. "Behold... Trådramme."
Brenda's personal assistant, discreet in her ear and disguised as a hearing aid, translated effortlessly, "Wire Frame."
"Wire Frame?" Brenda repeated, even as the sight in front of her made the question unnecessary.
The device was enormous, almost reaching the two-story ceiling of the vast room. Conically shaped but layered like a cylindrical upside-down pyramid, it tapered from the broad ceiling to a thick pillar at the base surrounded by consoles. The structure's outer layer reminded Brenda of a birdcage and she was pretty sure it functioned as a Faraday cage. Within this metallic exoskeleton was a massive concrete form, serviced by large pipes — likely for circulating liquid nitrogen, and perhaps water. The cooling requirement to approach absolute zero and the need for substantial heat removal were still essential, despite any advances gleaned from Landsbury's formulas. While the installation's size was imposing, Brenda knew that the actual quantum core — handling significant computational work — would be surprisingly small, no bigger than a grape. Yet, with its 63,117 qubits, it stood as the most intricate and capable quantum computer ever assembled.
"Lærte du dansk?" Magnus's query pulled her from her thoughts.
He was asking if she had learned Danish, the question laden with an insinuation of 'for me' and an undisguised excitement at the notion that transcended language, annoying her. She retorted with a terse "No."
"You built this?" Richard interjected, his words cutting through the tension that was beginning to simmer.
Magnus offered a momentary glance towards Richard, his pride unmistakable. "My money, my mind, and my influence built this. It wouldn't exist without me, but I didn't do it alone," he said, a practiced modesty that barely concealed his self-satisfaction.
As if drawn by its innate technological mastery, Brenda advanced toward the machine while the two men exchanged barbs. A device—part of the system's support network, an advanced binary computer serving as a gatekeeper—detected her tablet, analyzed its credentials and contents, and then granted it access.
"Hey Magnus, care to dazzle me?" Richard asked, his tone casual yet edged with a challenge. "I say we give her some space to work—it's fascinating to watch genius unfold. Meanwhile, where does one forage for a drink at 11:37 in the morning?" Richard's query carried a lightness, yet his mind was elsewhere.
He considered making a quip about the Duchess, if only for his own amusement, but with Brenda not by his side and his rapport with Magnus less than jovial, he chose to keep his amusement to himself. Inside, he harbored no doubt that Brenda, left to her own devices, would surpass anyone's assistance—especially that of an egomaniac like Magnus. It was a truth best kept silent; saying it aloud would only prod Magnus's pride into an unhelpful display of 'assistance.'
The St. Seres—Michelangelo, Einstein and Edison combined he had been touted, as he insisted on reminding people—and the self-evident goddess escorted him out of the room and into the corridor. The passage was adorned with light woods and framed by dark accents, all illuminated by the warm glow of synthetic candlelight. Magnus may have been abrasive in Richard's view, but he recognized the man's value as an ally—a fact Richard wouldn't compromise, for Brenda's sake. He resolved to make the best of the day and keep their host engaged.