William D. Oliver

Quantum computers require magical states — special helper particles for error-free operation. Previously, they were obtained through repeated purification, akin to endless distillation of alcohol: each step added энтропию (disorder), like weeds in a garden, and consumed resources.

An orchestra plays inside a giant refrigerator. The musicians are qubits, the elementary cells of a quantum computer. To play in harmony, they need silence: thermal noise drowns out the melody. That's why the heart of a quantum processor is cooled to nearly absolute zero — minus 273 degrees Celsius.

Quantum particles in a strongly disordered environment behave like dancers executing steps in sync: each knows its own move and never collides with others. This kind of coordinated, frictionless flow, superfluidity, unexpectedly emerged in an experiment on a superconducting quantum chip.

Ice cubes in a glass melt, and the water mixes on its own. Many quantum systems behave this way: particles exchange energy, and after a while, order disappears. But if you add a spoonful of honey to the glass, mixing slows down, and in intense cold, the water freezes into glass — without a crystal lattice, but also without flow.

A superconducting qubit is like a finicky musical instrument: until you tune it, you won't get a clean note. But even after tuning, the pitch drifts. The culprits are tiny defects in the material that physicists call two-level systems. They're like invisible cracks that appear and disappear, throwing off the processor's rhythm.

In a quiet room with no magnets anywhere, two electrons in a silicon trap still feel a faint trembling. It comes from the nuclei of silicon and germanium atoms, which spin randomly like the needles of broken compasses. This trembling was once considered noise, but now it has become a measuring instrument itself.