The New Yorker, vol. 87, issue 11 (2011) p. 34
On the outskirts of Oxford lives a brilliant and distressingly thin physicist named David Deutsch, who believes in multiple universes and has conceived of an as yet unbuildable computer to test their existence. His books have titles of colossal confidence ("The Fabric of Reality," "The Beginning of Infinity"). He rarely leaves his house. Many of his close colleagues haven't seen him for years, except at occasional conferences via Skype.
Deutsch, who has never held a job, is essentially the founding father of quantum computing, a field that devises distinctly powerful computers based on the branch of physics known as quantum mechanics. With one millionth of the hardware of an ordinary laptop, a quantum computer could store as many bits of information as there are particles in the universe. It could break previously unbreakable codes. It could answer questions about quantum mechanics that are currently far too complicated for a regular computer to handle. None of which is to say that anyone yet knows what we would really do with one. Ask a physicist what, practically, a quantum computer would be "good for," and he might tell the story of the nineteenth-century English scientist Michael Faraday, a seminal figure in the field of electromagnetism, who, when asked how an electromagnetic effect could be useful, answered that he didn't know but that he was sure that one day it could be taxed by the Queen.
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