‘No problem! Beg and our team have prepared a couple of slides which we are ready to demonstrate,’ Jordan began the shared presentation for the meeting participants.
A video appeared on the screen, showing a lab in the main campus of the IQC. There was a big black cube in the middle of the room, and on each of its faces there was a brilliant shiny IQC logo. The camera was showing the cube from all sides, flying around it.
‘Here, please, have a look at our prototype of a fully functional quantum computer,’ Jordan extended his hand toward the screen and stopped in that position.
‘That’s just amazing, Jordan! my congratulations! what a success!’ noted the representative after another pause, not even attempting to hide his being sarcastic. ‘You keep having fun, Jordan—at the very least I am very happy that you are in such a good mood today. Yet, what is all this about? What is this cube? What stage is the project at? Let’s get to business.’
‘Dear colleagues, this precisely is the very business we have!’ Jordan went to the next slide.
A silhouette of the planet Earth was seen on a background of deep-space black and the uncountable stars of the Milky Way.
‘So, Jordan, what is this slide supposed to mean? are you trying to suggest that we tackle the processor block cooling problem by using quantum computers in space?’
‘I owe you an apology. Your structural understanding of quantum computers—wide exceeding my expectations—does have a serious foundation,’ Jordan burst into laughter.
‘Your attention flatters me, Jordan. Thank you very much. But would you please still tell me what the idea is here?’ The investor, understanding that this hopelessly libertine genius engineer could only be dealt with by paying attention to the meaning of his words only—and disregarding their external shape altogether—was surprised with his own readiness to overcome his pride.
‘I want to say,’ Jordan went on, ‘that we can do everything. That’s my recommendation to you—an investment strategy where one simply cannot lose—and, moreover, I am ready to uncover it to you free of whatsoever charge. So please, whichever sum that your foundation decides to invest into the company’s development, whichever! will give you at least a multiple profit—make your decision, dear gentlemen.’
After yet another awkward pause Jordan summed up, ‘Gentlemen, if you have no further questions, I would like to continue my work. Thank you very much for your attention. Beg, thank you and see you.’
Jordan pressed the red button and disconnected from the video call.
‘What a bunch of greedy morons! don’t you agree, Ozzie dear?’ The dog reacted to her master’s voice by leaping down from the couch and running up to Jordan, happily wagging her tail. ‘Let’s go for a walk, shall we? a walk!’
Before: Journey
‘Good afternoon, Ms Vega. Welcome aboard. Your seat is on the right near the window, row eleven, please.’
‘Hello. Thank you.’
Elena walked down the narrow aisle between the seats occupied by passengers. Next to her window seat, there was a young guy sitting, an African American, in a black cap with some letters embroidered on it, in a silver leather jacket.
‘Good afternoon. May I pass, please’, pointing to her place near the window, Elena turned to the young man.
‘Hi’, not looking at her, the guy got up and stepped out into the aisle, bending his head so as not to hit himself.
Elena barely reached up to his chest, no higher. ‘My God, how tall and skinny … Maybe he's a basketball player,’ making her way to her seat, Elena felt a rather strong smell of toilet water. ‘And it will be like that all the way long…’
Despite a large distance between the rows, the guy's knees almost rested on the back of the front seat when he took his place.
‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome on board the United Boeing-7000 airliner. We are glad that you have chosen United for your trip. According to the results of the annual independent survey, United ranks first among American air carriers in flight safety over the last 25 years. The safety of our passengers is the first priority for our team.
In fifteen minutes our plane will head towards the runway. The flight from Madrid–Barajas International Airport to Washington–Dulles International Airport will take one hour and thirty minutes.
Please make sure that all your hand luggage is on the shelf above your seat. We ask you to check that your seat belt is fastened and tightened up to fit. We ask you not to leave your seats during the entire flight unless you need to and remain fastened during the entire flight. In a few minutes we will offer you some refreshments. We wish you a pleasant flight.’
Having listened to the announcement of the airliner staff, Elena took another look at her fellow passenger:
‘My name is Elena Vega,’ she held out her hand to the neighbor, inviting him to get acquainted. ‘Bosch Yunken,’ he said, not hiding his disappointment with being distracted from playing on the communicator.
‘Oh, I'm sorry, I'm distracting you.’
‘Well, yes. But now it doesn’t matter already.’
‘Coming back home, Bosch?’
‘What makes you think so?’
‘The translator,’ Elena pointed to the headphones in her ears. ‘They don't translate, they only broadcast your voice.’
‘Ah. Well, yes, home.’
‘And I'm going on holidays.’
‘Yeah, congrats. And what are you going to do on the east coast?’
‘Your country, Bosch, has such a rich history. I don't think I'll be bored.’
‘Ah, got it. That is, are you a specialist in museums or something?’
‘You could say that. My main goal is Baltimore.’
‘Well, and what have you forgotten in the middle of nowhere?’
‘The life of the great poet and writer Edgar Poe suddenly ended in Baltimore.’
‘Who is this? Doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘He lived a long time ago, Bosch. No wonder you haven't heard of him.’
‘Ah. Well, okay.’
‘I'm a big fan of Poe. I am planning to visit his grave, the places he used frequented. I would like to see for myself where it all happened.’
‘What happened?’
‘You know, there are some inconsistencies in the versions of why he actually died. And not all of them flatter him as a person. So I'm planning—rather, I hope to clarify something about what end his hard lot brought him to.’
‘Was he a member of some kind of group or something? Some kind of a gangster?’
‘Not at all. He lived in the nineteenth century. His literary career and personal life were quite ambiguous. Things were difficult for him…'
‘Yes. Well, good luck to you, Elena.’
‘Thank you, Bosch! What were you doing in Madrid?’ Bosch looked at Elena with a kind of detachment. ‘I'm sorry, Bosch. I won't distract you anymore.’
‘OK.’ Bosch continued playing with the communicator.
Looking at the endless blue of the ocean in the window, her eyes not setting on anything, Elena noticed Bosch returning to his seat.
‘Bosch, I'm sorry, may I ask you for advice, please. Do you mind?’
‘Come on.’
‘I didn't order a transfer to the hotel. I thought I'd get there on my own. Can you tell me the best way to get to Baltimore from the