“There’s nothing here,” Ambra declared.

Langdon saw nothing either but could feel a low repetitive pulsation emanating from within the cube.

“That slow thumping beat,” Winston said, “is the pulse tube dilution refrigeration system. It sounds like a human heart.”

Yes, it does, Langdon thought, unnerved by the comparison.

Slowly, red lights within began to illuminate the interior of the cube. At first, Langdon saw only white fog and bare floor space—an empty square chamber. Then, as the glow increased, something glinted in the air above the floor, and he realized there was an intricate metal cylinder hanging down from the ceiling like a stalactite.

“And this,” Winston said, “is what the cube must keep cold.”

The cylindrical device suspended from the ceiling was about five feet long, composed of seven horizontal rings that decreased in diameter as they descended, creating a narrowing column of tiered disks attached by slender vertical rods. The space between the burnished metal disks was occupied by a sparse mesh of delicate wires. An icy mist swirled around the entire device.

“E-Wave,” Winston announced. “A quantum leap—if you’ll pardon the pun—beyond NASA/Google’s D-Wave.”

Winston quickly explained that D-Wave—the world’s first rudimentary “quantum computer”—had unlocked a brave new world of computational power that scientists were still struggling to comprehend. Quantum computing, rather than using a binary method of storing information, made use of the quantum states of subatomic particles, resulting in an exponential leap in speed, power, and flexibility.

“Edmond’s quantum computer,” Winston said, “is structurally not that different from D-Wave. One difference is the metallic cube surrounding the computer. The cube is coated with osmium—a rare, ultradense chemical element that provides enhanced magnetic, thermal, and quantum shielding, and also, I suspect, plays into Edmond’s sense of drama.”

Langdon smiled, having had a similar thought himself.

“Over the past few years, while Google’s Quantum Artificial Intelligence Lab used machines like D-Wave to enhance machine learning, Edmond secretly leapfrogged over everybody with this machine. And he did so using a single bold idea …” Winston paused. “Bicameralism.”

Langdon frowned. The two houses of Parliament?

“The two-lobed brain,” Winston continued. “Left and right hemispheres.”

The bicameral mind, Langdon now realized. One of the things that made human beings so creative was that the two halves of their brains functioned so differently. The left brain was analytical and verbal, while the right brain was intuitive and “preferred” pictures to words.

“The trick,” Winston said, “was that Edmond decided to build a synthetic brain that mimicked the human brain—that is, segmented into left and right hemispheres. Although, in this case, it’s more of an upstairs-downstairs arrangement.”

Langdon stepped back and peered through the floor at the churning machine downstairs and then back to the silent “stalactite” inside the cube. Two distinct machines fused into one—a bicameral mind.

“When forced to work as a single unit,” Winston said, “these two machines adopt differing approaches to problem solving—thereby experiencing the same kinds of conflict and compromise that occur between the lobes of the human brain, greatly accelerating AI learning, creativity, and, in a sense … humanity. In my case, Edmond gave me the tools to teach myself about humanity by observing the world around me and modeling human traits—humor, cooperation, value judgments, and even a sense of ethics.”

Incredible, Langdon thought. “So this double computer is essentially … you?”

Winston laughed. “Well, this machine is no more me than your physical brain is you. Observing your own brain in a bowl, you would not say, ‘That object is me.’ We are the sum of the interactions taking place within the mechanism.”

“Winston,” Ambra interjected, moving now toward Edmond’s work space. “How much time until launch?”

“Five minutes and forty-three seconds,” Winston replied. “Shall we prepare?”

“Yes, please,” she said.

The viewing window’s shielding slid slowly back into place, and Langdon turned to join Ambra in Edmond’s lab.

“Winston,” she said. “Considering all your work here with Edmond, I’m surprised that you have no sense at all what his discovery was.”

“Again, Ms. Vidal, my information is compartmentalized, and I have the same data you have,” he replied. “I can only make an educated guess.”

“And what would that be?” Ambra asked, looking around Edmond’s office.

“Well, Edmond claimed that his discovery would ‘change everything.’ In my experience, the most transformative discoveries in history have all resulted in revised models of the universe—breakthroughs like Pythagoras’s rejection of the flat-earth model, Copernican heliocentricism, Darwin’s theory of evolution, and Einstein’s discovery of relativity—all of which drastically altered humankind’s view of their world and updated our current model of the universe.”

Langdon glanced up at the speaker overhead. “So you’re guessing Edmond discovered something that suggests a new model of the universe?”

“It’s a logical deduction,” Winston replied, talking faster now. “MareNostrum happens to be one of the finest ‘modeling’ computers on earth, specializing in complex simulations, its most famous being ‘Alya Red’—a fully functioning, virtual human heart that is accurate down to the cellular level. Of course, with the recent addition of a quantum component, this facility can model systems millions of times more complicated than human organs.”