Shtetl-Optimized

Near the end of my last post, I made a little offhand remark:

[G]iven the current staggering rate of hardware progress, I now think it’s a live possibility that we’ll have a fault-tolerant quantum computer running Shor’s algorithm before the next US presidential election. And I say that not only because of the possibility of the next US presidential election getting cancelled, or preempted by runaway superintelligence!

As I later clarified, I’ll consider this “live possibility” to be fulfilled even if a fault-tolerant Shor’s algorithm is “merely” used to factor 15 into 3×5—a milestone that seems a few steps, but only a few steps, away from what Google, Quantinuum, QuEra, and others have already demonstrated over the past year. After that milestone, I then expect “smooth sailing” to more and more logical qubits and gates and the factorization of larger and larger integers, however fast or slow that ramp-up proceeds (which of course I don’t know).

In any case, the main reason I made my remark was just to tee up the wisecrack about whether I’m not sure if there’ll be a 2028 US presidential election.

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My remark, alas, then went viral on Twitter, with people posting countless takes like this:

A quantum expert skeptic who the bears quote all the time – Scott Aaronson – recently got very excited about a number of quantum advances. He now thinks there’s a possibility of running Shor before the next US president election – a timeline that lines up ONLY with $IONQ‘s roadmap, and NOBODY else’s! This represent a MAJOR capitulation of previously predicted timelines by any skeptics.

Shall we enumerate the layers of ugh here?

1. I’ve been saying for several years now that anyone paranoid about cybersecurity should probably already be looking to migrate to quantum-resistant cryptography, because one can’t rule out the possibility that hardware progress will be fast. I didn’t “capitulate”: I mildly updated what I said before, in light of exciting recent advances.
   
2. A “live possibility” is short not only of a “certainty,” but of a “probability.” It’s basically just an “I’m not confident this won’t happen.”
   
3. Worst is the obsessive focus on IonQ, a company that I never mentioned (except in the context of its recently-acquired subsidiary, Oxford Ionics), but which now has a $17 billion valuation. I should explain that, at least since it decided to do an IPO, IonQ has generally been regarded within the research community as … err … a bit like the early D-Wave, intellectual-respectability-wise. They’ll eagerly sell retail investors on the use of quantum computers to recognize handwriting and suchlike, despite (I would say) virtually no basis to believe in a quantum scaling advantage for such tasks. Or they’ll aggressively market current devices to governments who don’t understand what they’re for, but just want to say they have a quantum computer and not get left behind. Or they’ll testify to Congress that quantum, unlike AI, “doesn’t hallucinate” and indeed is “deterministic.” It pains me to write this, as IonQ was founded by (and indeed, still employs) scientists who I deeply admire and respect.
   
4. Perhaps none of this would matter (or would matter only to pointy-headed theorists like me) if IonQ were the world leader in quantum computing hardware, or even trapped-ion hardware. But by all accounts, IonQ’s hardware and demonstrations have lagged well behind those of its direct competitor, Quantinuum. It seems to me that, to whatever extent IonQ gets vastly more attention, it’s mostly just because it chose to IPO early, and also because it’s prioritized marketing to the degree it has.

Over the past few days, I’ve explained the above to various people, only to have them look back at me with glazed, uncomprehending eyes and say, “so then, which quantum stock should I buy? or should I short quantum?”

It would seem rude for me to press quarters into these people’s hands, explaining that they must make gain from whatever they learn. So instead I reply: “You do realize, don’t you, that I’m, like, a professor at a state university, who flies coach and lives in a nice but unremarkable house? If I had any skill at timing the market, picking winners, etc., don’t you think I’d live in a mansion with an infinity pool, and fly my Cessna to whichever conferences I deigned to attend?”

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It’s like this: if you think quantum computers able to break 2048-bit cryptography within 3-5 years are a near-certainty, then I’d say your confidence is unwarranted. If you think such quantum computers, once built, will also quickly revolutionize optimization and machine learning and finance and countless other domains beyond quantum simulation and cryptanalysis—then I’d say that more likely than not, an unscrupulous person has lied to you about our current understanding of quantum algorithms.

On the other hand, if you think Bitcoin, and SSL, and all the other protocols based on Shor-breakable cryptography, are almost certainly safe for the next 5 years … then I submit that your confidence is also unwarranted. Your confidence might then be like most physicists’ confidence in 1938 that nuclear weapons were decades away, or like my own confidence in 2015 that an AI able to pass a reasonable Turing Test was decades away. It might merely be the confidence that “this still looks like the work of decades—unless someone were to gather together all the scientific building blocks that have now been demonstrated, and scale them up like a stark raving madman.” The trouble is that sometimes people, y’know, do that.

Beyond that, the question of “how many years?” doesn’t even interest me very much, except insofar as I can mine from it the things I value in life, like scientific understanding, humor, and irony.

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There are, famously, many intellectual Communists who are ruthless capitalists in their day-to-day lives. I somehow wound up the opposite. Intellectually, I see capitalism as a golden goose, a miraculous engine that’s lifted the human species out of its disease-ridden hovels and into air-conditioned high-rises, whereas Communism led instead to misery and gulags and piles of skulls every single time it was tried.

And yet, when I actually see the workings of capitalism up close, I often want to retch. In case after case, it seems, our system rewards bold, confident, risk-taking ignoramuses and liars, those who can shamelessly hype a technology (or conversely, declare it flatly impossible)—with such voices drowning out the cautious experts who not only strive to tell the truth, but also made all the actual discoveries that the technology rests on. My ideal economic system is, basically, whichever one can keep the people who can clearly explain the capabilities and limits and risks and benefits of X in charge of X for as long as possible.

Tomorrow I’m headed to Berkeley for the Inkhaven blogging residency, whose participants need to write one blog post per day or get kicked out. I’ll be there to share my “wisdom” as a distinguished elder blogger (note that Shtetl-Optimized is now in its twentieth year). I’m acutely aware of the irony, that I myself can barely muster the willpower these days to put up a post every other week.

And it’s not as if nothing is happening in this blog’s traditional stomping-ground of quantum computing! In fact, the issue is just the opposite: way too much is happening for me to do it any sort of justice. Who do people think I am, Zvi Mowshowitz? The mere thought of being comprehensive, of responsibly staying on top of all the latest QC developments, makes me want to curl up in bed, and either scroll through political Substacks or take a nap.

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But then, you know, eventually a post gets written. Let me give you some vignettes about what’s new in QC, any one of which could easily have been its own post if I were twenty years younger.

(1) Google announced verifiable quantum advantage based on Out-of-Time-Order-Correlators (OTOC)—this is actually from back in June, but it’s gotten more and more attention as Google has explained it more thoroughly. See especially this recent 2-page note by King, Kothari, et al., explaining Google’s experiment in theoretical computer science language. Basically, what they do is, starting from the all-|0⟩ state, to apply a random circuit C, then a single gate g, then C^-1, then another gate h, then C again, then g again, then C^-1, and then measure a qubit. If C is shallow, then the qubit is likely to still be |0⟩. If C is too deep, then the qubit is likely to be in the maximally mixed state, totally uncorrelated with its initial state—the gates g and h having caused a “butterfly effect” that completely ruined all the cancellation between C and C^-1. Google claims that, empirically, there’s an intermediate regime where the qubit is neither |0⟩ nor the maximally mixed state, but a third thing—and that this third thing seems hard to determine classically, using tensor network algorithms or anything else they’ve thrown at it, but it can of course be determined by running the quantum computer. Crucially, because we’re just trying to estimate a few parameters here, rather than sample from a probability distribution (as with previous quantum supremacy experiments), the output can be checked by comparing it against the output of a second quantum computer, even though the problem still isn’t in NP. Incidentally, if you’re wondering why they go back and forth between C and C^-1 multiple times rather than just once, it’s to be extra confident that there’s not a fast classical simulation. Of course there might turn out to be a fast classical simulation anyway, but if so, it will require a new idea: gauntlet thrown.

(2) Quantinuum, the trapped-ion QC startup in Colorado, announced its Helios processor. Quick summary of the specs: 98 qubits, all-to-all 2-qubit gates with 99.92% fidelity, the ability to choose which gates to apply “just in time” (rather than fixing the whole circuit in advance, as was needed with their previous API), and an “X”-shaped junction for routing qubits one way or the other (the sort of thing that a scalable trapped-ion quantum computer will need many of). This will enable, and is already enabling, more and better demonstrations of quantum advantage.

(3) Quantinuum and JP Morgan Chase announced the demonstration of a substantially improved version of my and Shih-Han-Hung’s protocol for generating cryptographically certified random bits, using quantum supremacy experiments based on random circuit sampling. They did their demo on Quantinuum’s new Helios processor. Compared to the previous demonstration, the new innovation is to send the circuit to the quantum computer one layer at a time, rather than all at once (something that, again, Quantinuum’s new API allows). The idea is that a cheating server, who wanted to spoof the randomness deterministically, now has much less time: using the most competitive known methods (e.g., those based on tensor network contraction), it seems the cheater would need to swing into action only after learning the final layer of gates, so would now have mere milliseconds to spoof rather than seconds, making Internet latency the dominant source of spoofing time in practice. While a complexity-theoretic analysis of the new protocol (or, in general, of “layer-by-layer” quantum supremacy protocols like it) is still lacking, I like the idea a lot.

(4) The startup company BlueQubit announced a candidate demonstration of verifiable quantum supremacy via obfuscated peaked random circuits, again on a Quantinuum trapped-ion processor (though not Helios). In so doing, BlueQubit is following the program that Yuxuan Zhang and I laid out last year: namely, generate a quantum circuit C that hopefully looks random to any efficient classical algorithm, but that conceals a secret high-probability output string x, which pops out if you run C on a quantum computer on the all-0 initial state. To try to hide x, BlueQubit uses at least three different circuit obfuscation techniques, which already tells you that they can’t have complete confidence in any one of them (since if they did, why the other two?). Nevertheless, I’m satisfied that they tried hard to break their own obfuscation, and failed. Now it’s other people’s turn to try.

(5) Deshpande, Fefferman, et al. announced a different theoretical proposal for quantum advantage from peaked quantum circuits, based on error-correcting codes. This seems tempting to try to demonstrate along the way to quantum fault-tolerance.

(6) A big one: John Bostanci, Jonas Haferkamp, Chinmay Nirkhe, and Mark Zhandry announced a proof of a classical oracle separation between the complexity classes QMA and QCMA, something that they’ve been working on for well over a year. Their candidate problem is basically a QMA-ified version of my Forrelation, which Raz and Tal previously used to achieve an oracle separation between BQP and PH. I caution that their paper is 91 pages long and hasn’t yet been vetted by independent experts, and there have been serious failed attempts on this exact problem in this past. If this stands, however, it finally settles a problem that’s been open since 2002 (and which I’ve worked on at various points starting in 2002), and shows a strong sense in which quantum proofs are more powerful than classical proofs. Note that in 2006, Greg Kuperberg and I gave a quantum oracle separation between QMA and QCMA—introducing the concept of quantum oracles for the specific purpose of that result—and since then, there’s been progress on making the oracle steadily “more classical,” but the oracle was always still randomized or “in-place” or had restrictions on how it could be queried.

(7) Oxford Ionics (which is now owned by IonQ) announced a 2-qubit gate with 99.99% fidelity: a record, and significantly past the threshold for quantum fault-tolerance. However, as far as I know, it remains to demonstrate this sort of fidelity in a large programmable system with dozens of qubits and hundreds of gates.

(8) Semi-announcement: Quanta reports that “Physicists Take the Imaginary Numbers Out of Quantum Mechanics,” and this seems to have gone viral on my social media. The article misses the opportunity to explain that “taking the imaginary numbers out” is as trivial as choosing to call each complex amplitude “just an ordered pair of reals, obeying such-and-such rules, which happen to mimic the rules for complex numbers.” Thus, the only interesting question here is whether one can take imaginary numbers out of QM in various more-or-less “natural” ways: a technical debate that the recent papers are pushing forward. For what it’s worth, I don’t expect that anything coming out of this line of work will ever be “natural” enough for me to stop explaining QM in terms of complex numbers in my undergraduate class, for example.

(9) The list of accepted talks for the annual QIP conference, to be held January 24-30 in Riga, Latvia, is now out. Lots of great stuff as always.

(10) There are probably other major recent developments in QC that I should’ve put into this post but forgot about. You can remind me about them in the comments.

(11) Indeed there are! I completely forgot that Phasecraft announced two simulations of fermionic systems that might achieve quantum advantage, one using Google’s Willow superconducting chip and the other using a Quantinuum device.

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To summarize three takeaways:

• Evidence continues to pile up that we are not living in the universe of Gil Kalai and the other quantum computing skeptics. Indeed, given the current staggering rate of hardware progress, I now think it’s a live possibility that we’ll have a fault-tolerant quantum computer running Shor’s algorithm before the next US presidential election. And I say that not only because of the possibility of the next US presidential election getting cancelled, or preempted by runaway superintelligence!
  
• OK, but what will those quantum computers be useful for? Anyone who’s been reading this blog for the past 20 years, or any non-negligible fraction thereof, hopefully already has a calibrated sense of that, so I won’t belabor. But briefly: yes, our knowledge of useful quantum algorithms has slowly been expanding over the past thirty years. The central difficulty is that our knowledge of useful classical algorithms has also been expanding, and the only thing that matters is the differential between the two! I’d say that the two biggest known application areas for QC remain (a) quantum simulation and (b) the breaking of public-key cryptography, just as they were thirty years ago. In any case, none of the exciting developments that I’ve chosen to highlight in this post directly address the “what is it good for?” question, with the exception of the certified randomness thing.
  
• In talks over the past three years, I’ve advocated “verifiable quantum supremacy on current hardware” as perhaps the central challenge right now for quantum computing theory. (As I love to point out, we do know how to achieve any two of (a) quantum supremacy that’s (b) verifiable and (c) runs on current hardware!) So I’m gratified that three of the recent developments that I chose to highlight, namely (1), (4), and (5), directly address this challenge. Of course, we’re not yet sure whether any of these three attempts will stand—that is, whether they’ll resist all attempts to simulate them classically. But the more serious shots on goal we have (and all three of these are quite serious), the better the chances that at least one will stand! So I’m glad that people are sticking their necks out, proposing these things, and honestly communicating what they know and don’t know about them: this is exactly what I’d hoped would happen. Of course, complexity-theoretic analysis of these proposals would also be great, perhaps from people with more youth and/or energy than me. Now it’s time for me to sleep.

Last week, I gave the Patrick Suppes Lecture in the Columbia University Philosophy Department. Patrick Suppes was a distinguished philosopher at Stanford who (among many other things) pioneered remote gifted education through the EPGY program, and who I was privileged to spend some time with back in 2007, when he was in his eighties.

My talk at Columbia was entitled “Computational Complexity and Explanations in Physics.” Here are the PowerPoint slides, and here’s the abstract:

The fact, or conjecture, of certain computational problems being intractable (that is, needing astronomical amounts of time to solve) clearly affects our ability to learn about physics.  But could computational intractability also play a direct role in physical explanations themselves?  I’ll consider this question by examining three possibilities:

(1) If quantum computers really take exponential time to simulate using classical computers, does that militate toward the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics, as David Deutsch famously proposed?

(2) Are certain speculative physical ideas (e.g., time travel to the past or nonlinearities in quantum mechanics) disfavored, over and above any other reasons to disfavor them, because they would lead to “absurd computational superpowers”?

(3) Do certain effective descriptions in physics work only because of the computational intractability of violating those descriptions — as for example with Harlow and Hayden’s resolution of the “firewall paradox” in black hole thermodynamics, or perhaps even the Second Law of Thermodynamics itself?

I’m grateful to David Albert and Lydia Goehr of Columbia’s Philosophy Department, who invited me and organized the talk, as well as string theorist Brian Greene, who came and contributed to the discussion afterward. I also spent a day in Columbia’s CS department, gave a talk about my recent results on quantum oracles, and saw many new friends and old there, including my and my wife’s amazing former student Henry Yuen. Thanks to everyone.

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This was my first visit to Columbia University for more than a decade, and certainly my first since the upheavals following the October 7 massacre. Of course I was eager to see the situation for myself, having written about it on this blog. Basically, if you’re a visitor like me, you now need both a QR code and an ID to get into the campus, which is undeniably annoying. On the other hand, once you’re in, everything is pleasant and beautiful. Just from wandering around, I’d have no idea that this campus had recently been Ground Zero for the pro-intifada protests, and then for the reactions against those protests (indeed, the use of the protests as a pretext to try to destroy academia entirely) that rocked the entire country, filling my world and my social media feed.

When I asked friends and colleagues about the situation, I heard a range of perspectives: some were clearly exasperated with the security measures; others, while sharing in the annoyance, suggested the measures seem to be needed, since every time the university has tried to relax them, the “intifada” has returned, with non-university agitators once again disrupting research and teaching. Of course we can all pray that the current ceasefire will hold, for many reasons, the least of which is that perhaps then the obsession of the world’s young and virtuous to destroy the world’s only Jewish state will cool down a bit, and they’ll find another target for their rage. That would also help life at Columbia and other universities return to how it was before.

Before anyone asks: no, Columbia’s Peter Woit never showed up to disrupt my talk with rotten vegetables or a bullhorn—indeed, I didn’t see him at all on his trip, nor did I seek him out. Given that Peter chose to use his platform, one of the world’s best-known science blogs, to call me a mentally ill genocidal fascist week after week, it meant an enormous amount to me to see how many friends and supporters I have right in his own backyard.

All in all, I had a wonderful time at Columbia, and based on what I saw, I won’t hesitate to come back, nor will I hesitate to recommend Jewish or Israeli or pro-Zionist students to study there.

Today, of course, is the second anniversary of the genocidal Oct. 7 invasion of Israel—the deadliest day for Jews since the Holocaust, and the event that launched the current wars that have been reshaping the Middle East for better and/or worse. Regardless of whether their primary concern is for Israelis, Palestinians, or both, I’d hope all readers of this blog could at least join me in wishing this barbaric invasion had never happened, and in condemning the celebrations of it taking place around the world.

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Now for the happy part: today is also the day when the Nobel Prize in Physics is announced. I was delighted to wake up to the news that this year, the prize goes to John Clarke of Berkeley, John Martinis of UC Santa Barbara, and Michel Devoret of UC Santa Barbara (formerly Yale), for their experiments in the 1980s that demonstrated the reality of macroscopic quantum tunneling in superconducting circuits. Among other things, this work laid the foundation for the current effort by Google, IBM, and many others to build quantum computers with superconducting qubits. To clarify, though, today’s prize is not for quantum computing per se, but for the earlier work.

While I don’t know John Clarke, and know Michel Devoret only a little, I’ve been proud to count John Martinis as a good friend for the past decade—indeed, his name has often appeared on this blog. When Google hired John in 2014 to build the first programmable quantum computer capable of demonstrating quantum supremacy, it was clear that we’d need to talk about the theory, so we did. Through many email exchanges, calls, and visits to Google’s Santa Barbara Lab, I came to admire John for his iconoclasm, his bluntness, and his determination to make sampling-based quantum supremacy happen. After Google’s success in 2019, I sometimes wondered whether John might eventually be part of a Nobel Prize in Physics for his experimental work in quantum computing. That may have become less likely today, now that he’s won the Nobel Prize in Physics for his work before quantum computing, but I’m guessing he doesn’t mind! Anyway, huge congratulations to all three of the winners.

Update (Sep. 29): Since this post has now gone semi-viral on X, Hacker News, etc., with people arguing about how trivial or nontrivial was GPT5’s “discovery,” it seems worthwhile to say something that was implicit in the post.

Namely, GPT5-Thinking’s suggestion of a function to use “should have” been obvious to us. It would have been obvious to us had we known more, or had we spent more time studying the literature or asking experts.

The point is, anyone engaged in mathematical research knows that an AI that can “merely” fill in the insights that “should’ve been” obvious to you is a really huge freaking deal! It speeds up the actual discovery process, as opposed to the process of writing LaTeX or preparing the bibliography or whatever. This post gave one tiny example of what I’m sure will soon be thousands.

I should also add that, since this post went up, a commenter named Phillip Harris proposed a better function to use than GPT-5’s: det(I-E) rather than Tr[(I-E)^-1]. While we’re still checking details, not only do we think this works, we think it simplifies our argument and solves one of our open problems. So it seems human supremacy has been restored, at least for now!

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A couple days ago, Freek Witteveen of CWI and I posted a paper to the arXiv called “Limits to black-box amplification in QMA.” Let me share the abstract:

We study the limitations of black-box amplification in the quantum complexity class QMA. Amplification is known to boost any inverse-polynomial gap between completeness and soundness to exponentially small error, and a recent result (Jeffery and Witteveen, 2025) shows that completeness can in fact be amplified to be doubly exponentially close to 1. We prove that this is optimal for black-box procedures: we provide a quantum oracle relative to which no QMA verification procedure using polynomial resources can achieve completeness closer to 1 than doubly exponential, or a soundness which is super-exponentially small. This is proven by using techniques from complex approximation theory, to make the oracle separation from (Aaronson, 2008), between QMA and QMA with perfect completeness, quantitative.

You can also check out my PowerPoint slides here.

To explain the context: QMA, or Quantum Merlin Arthur, is the canonical quantum version of NP. It’s the class of all decision problems for which, if the answer is “yes,” then Merlin can send Arthur a quantum witness state that causes him to accept with probability at least 2/3 (after a polynomial-time quantum computation), while if the answer is “no,” then regardless of what witness Merlin sends, Arthur accepts with probability at most 1/3. Here, as usual in complexity theory, the constants 2/3 and 1/3 are just conventions, which can be replaced (for example) by 1-2^-n and 2^-n using amplification.

A longstanding open problem about QMA—not the biggest problem, but arguably the most annoying—has been whether the 2/3 can be replaced by 1, as it can be for classical MA for example. In other words, does QMA = QMA₁, where QMA₁ is the subclass of QMA that admits protocols with “perfect completeness”? In 2008, I used real analysis to show that there’s a quantum oracle relative to which QMA ≠ QMA₁, which means that any proof of QMA = QMA₁ would need to use “quantumly nonrelativizing techniques” (not at all an insuperable barrier, but at least we learned something about why the problem is nontrivial).

Then came a bombshell: in June, Freek Witteveen and longtime friend-of-the-blog Stacey Jeffery released a paper showing that any QMA protocol can be amplified, in a black-box manner, to have completeness error that’s doubly exponentially small, 1/exp(exp(n)). They did this via a method I never would’ve thought of, wherein a probability of acceptance is encoded via the amplitudes of a quantum state that decrease in a geometric series. QMA, it turned out, was an old friend that still had surprises up its sleeve after a quarter-century.

In August, we had Freek speak about this breakthrough by Zoom in our quantum group meeting at UT Austin. Later that day, I asked Freek whether their new protocol was the best you could hope to do with black-box techniques, or whether for example one could amplify the completeness error to be triply exponentially small, 1/exp(exp(exp(n))). About a week later, Freek and I had a full proof written down that, using black-box techniques, doubly-exponentially small completeness error is the best you can do. In other words: we showed that, when one makes my 2008 QMA ≠ QMA₁ quantum oracle separation quantitative, one gets a lower bound that precisely matches Freek and Stacey’s protocol.

All this will, I hope, interest and excite aficianados of quantum complexity classes, while others might have very little reason to care.

But here’s a reason why other people might care. This is the first paper I’ve ever put out for which a key technical step in the proof of the main result came from AI—specifically, from GPT5-Thinking. Here was the situation: we had an N×N Hermitian matrix E(θ) (where, say, N=2ⁿ), each of whose entries was a poly(n)-degree trigonometric polynomial in a real parameter θ. We needed to study the largest eigenvalue of E(θ), as θ varied from 0 to 1, to show that this λ_max(E(θ)) couldn’t start out close to 0 but then spend a long time “hanging out” ridiculously close to 1, like 1/exp(exp(exp(n))) close for example.

Given a week or two to try out ideas and search the literature, I’m pretty sure that Freek and I could’ve solved this problem ourselves. Instead, though, I simply asked GPT5-Thinking. After five minutes, it gave me something confident, plausible-looking, and (I could tell) wrong. But rather than laughing at the silly AI like a skeptic might do, I told GPT5 how I knew it was wrong. It thought some more, apologized, and tried again, and gave me something better. So it went for a few iterations, much like interacting with a grad student or colleague. Within a half hour, it had suggested to look at the function

$$ Tr[(I-E(\theta))^{-1}] = \sum_{i=1}^N \frac{1}{1-\lambda_i(\theta)}. $$

It pointed out, correctly, that this was a rational function in θ of controllable degree, that happened to encode the relevant information about how close the largest eigenvalue λ_max(E(θ)) is to 1. And this … worked, as we could easily check ourselves with no AI assistance. And I mean, maybe GPT5 had seen this or a similar construction somewhere in its training data. But there’s not the slightest doubt that, if a student had given it to me, I would’ve called it clever. Obvious with hindsight, but many such ideas are.

I had tried similar problems a year ago, with the then-new GPT reasoning models, but I didn’t get results that were nearly as good. Now, in September 2025, I’m here to tell you that AI has finally come for what my experience tells me is the most quintessentially human of all human intellectual activities: namely, proving oracle separations between quantum complexity classes. Right now, it almost certainly can’t write the whole research paper (at least if you want it to be correct and good), but it can help you get unstuck if you otherwise know what you’re doing, which you might call a sweet spot. Who knows how long this state of affairs will last? I guess I should be grateful that I have tenure.

Today, I got email after email asking me to comment on a new paper from HSBC—yes, the bank—together with IBM. The paper claims to use a quantum computer to get a 34% advantage in predictions of financial trading data. (See also blog posts here and here, or numerous popular articles that you can easily find and I won’t link.) What have we got? Let’s read the abstract:

The estimation of fill probabilities for trade orders represents a key ingredient in the optimization of algorithmic trading strategies. It is bound by the complex dynamics of financial markets with inherent uncertainties, and the limitations of models aiming to learn from multivariate financial time series that often exhibit stochastic properties with hidden temporal patterns. In this paper, we focus on algorithmic responses to trade inquiries in the corporate bond market and investigate fill probability estimation errors of common machine learning models when given real production-scale intraday trade event data, transformed by a quantum algorithm running on IBM Heron processors, as well as on noiseless quantum simulators for comparison. We introduce a framework to embed these quantum-generated data transforms as a decoupled offline component that can be selectively queried by models in lowlatency institutional trade optimization settings. A trade execution backtesting method is employed to evaluate the fill prediction performance of these models in relation to their input data. We observe a relative gain of up to ∼ 34% in out-of-sample test scores for those models with access to quantum hardware-transformed data over those using the original trading data or transforms by noiseless quantum simulation. These empirical results suggest that the inherent noise in current quantum hardware contributes to this effect and motivates further studies. Our work demonstrates the emerging potential of quantum computing as a complementary explorative tool in quantitative finance and encourages applied industry research towards practical applications in trading.

As they say, there are more red flags here than in a People’s Liberation Army parade. To critique this paper is not quite “shooting fish in a barrel,” because the fish are already dead before we’ve reached the end of the abstract.

They see a quantum advantage for the task in question, but only because of the noise in their quantum hardware? When they simulate the noiseless quantum computation classically, the advantage disappears? WTF? This strikes me as all but an admission that the “advantage” is just a strange artifact of the particular methods that they decided to compare—that it has nothing really to do with quantum mechanics in general, or with quantum computational speedup in particular.

Indeed, the possibility of selection bias rears its head. How many times did someone do some totally unprincipled, stab-in-the-dark comparison of a specific quantum learning method against a specific classical method, and get predictions from the quantum method that were worse than whatever they got classically … so then they didn’t publish a paper about it?

If it seems like I’m being harsh, it’s because to my mind, the entire concept of this sort of study is fatally flawed from the beginning, optimized for generating headlines rather than knowledge.  The first task, I would’ve thought, is to show the reality of quantum computational advantage in the system or algorithm under investigation, even just for a useless benchmark problem. Only after one has done that, has one earned the right to look for a practical benefit in algorithmic trading or predicting financial time-series data or whatever, coming from that same advantage. If you skip the first step, then whatever “benefits” you get from your quantum computer are overwhelmingly likely to be cargo cult benefits.

And yet none of it matters. The paper can, more or less, openly admit all this right in the abstract, and yet it will still predictably generate lots of credulous articles in the business and financial news about HSBC using quantum computers to improve bond trading!—which, one assumes, was the point of the exercise from the beginning. Qombies roam the earth: undead narratives of “quantum advantage for important business problems” detached from any serious underlying truth-claim. And even here at one of the top 50 quantum computing blogs on the planet, there’s nothing I can do about it other than scream into the void.

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Update (Sep. 26): Someone let me know that Martin Shkreli, the “pharma bro,” will be hosting a conference call for investors to push back on quantum computing hype. He announced on X that he’s offering quantum computing experts $2k each to speak in his call. On the off chance that Shkreli reads this blog: I’d be willing to do it for $50k. And if Shkreli were to complain about my jacking up the price… 😄

I’m thrilled that our paper entitled Demonstrating an unconditional separation between quantum and classical information resources, based on a collaboration between UT Austin and Quantinuum, is finally up on the arXiv. I’m equally thrilled that my coauthor and former PhD student William Kretschmer — who led the theory for this project, and even wrote much of the code — is now my faculty colleague at UT Austin! My physics colleague Nick Hunter-Jones and my current PhD student Sabee Grewal made important contributions as well. I’d especially like to thank the team at Quantinuum for recognizing a unique opportunity to test and showcase their cutting-edge hardware, and collaborating with us wild-eyed theorists to make it happen. This is something that, crucially, would not have been feasible with the quantum computing hardware of only a couple years ago.

Here’s our abstract, which I think explains what we did clearly enough, although do read the paper for more:

A longstanding goal in quantum information science is to demonstrate quantum computations that cannot be feasibly reproduced on a classical computer. Such demonstrations mark major milestones: they showcase fine control over quantum systems and are prerequisites for useful quantum computation. To date, quantum advantage has been demonstrated, for example, through violations of Bell inequalities and sampling-based quantum supremacy experiments. However, both forms of advantage come with important caveats: Bell tests are not computationally difficult tasks, and the classical hardness of sampling experiments relies on unproven complexity-theoretic assumptions. Here we demonstrate an unconditional quantum advantage in information resources required for a computational task, realized on Quantinuum’s H1-1 trapped-ion quantum computer operating at a median two-qubit partial-entangler fidelity of 99.941(7)%. We construct a task for which the most space-efficient classical algorithm provably requires between 62 and 382 bits of memory, and solve it using only 12 qubits. Our result provides the most direct evidence yet that currently existing quantum processors can generate and manipulate entangled states of sufficient complexity to access the exponentiality of Hilbert space. This form of quantum advantage — which we call quantum information supremacy — represents a new benchmark in quantum computing, one that does not rely on unproven conjectures.

I’m very happy to field questions about this paper in the comments section.

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Unrelated Announcement: As some of you might have seen, yesterday’s Wall Street Journal carried a piece by Dan Kagan-Kans on “The Rise of ‘Conspiracy Physics.'” I talked to the author for the piece, and he quoted this blog in the following passage:

This resentment of scientific authority figures is the major attraction of what might be called “conspiracy physics.” Most fringe theories are too arcane for listeners to understand, but anyone can grasp the idea that academic physics is just one more corrupt and self-serving establishment. The German physicist Sabine Hossenfelder has attracted 1.72 million YouTube subscribers in part by attacking her colleagues: “Your problem is that you’re lying to the people who pay you,” she declared. “Your problem is that you’re cowards without a shred of scientific integrity.”

In this corner of the internet, the scientist Scott Aaronson has written, “Anyone perceived as the ‘mainstream establishment’ faces a near-insurmountable burden of proof, while anyone perceived as ‘renegade’ wins by default if they identify any hole whatsoever in mainstream understanding.”

(1) My 8-year-old son asked me last week, “daddy, did you hear that GPT-5 is now out?” So yes, I’m indeed aware that GPT-5 is now out! I’ve just started playing around with it. For detailed reports on what’s changed and how impressive it is compared to previous models, see for example Zvi #1, #2, #3. Briefly, it looks like there are major reductions in hallucinations and sycophancy, and improvements in practical usefulness for coding and other tasks, even while the “raw intelligence” is unlikely to blow away someone who was already well-acquainted with o3 and Opus 4 other state-of-the-art models, the way ChatGPT and then GPT-4 blew away people who had no idea what was possible in late 2022 and early 2023. Partly how impressive a result you see depends on which of several GPT-5 models your query gets routed to, which you don’t entirely control. Anyway, there’s grist here for the people who claim that progress toward AGI is slowing down, but also grist for the people who claim that it continues pretty much as expected within our post-ChatGPT reality!

(2) In other belated news, OpenAI and DeepMind (and then, other companies) announced that they achieved Gold Medal performance on the International Math Olympiad, by solving 5 of the 6 problems (there was one problem, the 6th and hardest, that all of the AIs struggled with). Most importantly, this means that I’ve won $100 from my friend Ernest Davis, AI expert at NYU, who bet me $100 that no AI would earn a Gold Medal at the International Math Olympiad by December 4, 2026. Even though I’m normally risk-averse and reluctant to take bets, I considered this one to be extremely safe, and indeed I won it with more than a year to spare.

(3) I’ve signed an open letter to OpenAI, along with many of my fellow former OpenAI employees as well as distinguished scientists and writers (Geoffrey Hinton, Stuart Russell, Sheldon Glashow, Sean Carroll, Matt Yglesias…), asking for more transparency about OpenAI’s continuing efforts to change its own structure. The questions basically ask OpenAI to declare, in writing, whether it has or hasn’t now completely abandoned the original nonprofit goals with which the organization was founded in 2015.

(4) At Lighthaven, the rationalist meeting space in Berkeley that I recently visited (and that our friend Cade Metz recently cast aspersions on in the New York Times), there’s going to be a writer’s residency called Inkhaven for the whole month of November. The idea—which I love—is that you either write a new blog post every day, or else you get asked to leave (while you also attend workshops, etc. to improve your writing skills). I’d attend myself for the month if teaching and family obligations didn’t conflict; someone standing over me with a whip to make me write is precisely what I need these days! As it is, I’m one of the three advisors to Inkhaven, along with Scott Alexander and Gwern, and I’ll be visiting for a long weekend to share my blogging wisdom, such as I have. Apply now if you’re interested!

(5) Alas, the Springer journal Frontiers of Computer Science has published a nonsense paper, entitled “SAT requires exhaustive search,” claiming to solve (or dissolve, or reframe, or something) the P versus NP problem. It looks indistinguishable from the stuff I used to get in my inbox every week—and now, in the ChatGPT era, get every day. That this was published indicates a total breakdown of the peer review process. Worse, when Eric Allender, Ryan Williams, and others notified the editors of this, asking for the paper to be retracted, the editor-in-chief declined to do so: see this guest post on Lance’s blog for a detailed account. As far as I’m concerned, Frontiers of Computer Science has now completely discredited itself as a journal; publication there means nothing more than publication in viXra. Minus 10 points for journals themselves as an institution, plus 10 points for just posting stuff online and letting it be filtered by experts who care.

(6) Uma Girish and Rocco Servedio released an arXiv preprint called Forrelation is Extremally Hard. Recall that, in the Forrelation problem, you’re given oracle access to two n-bit Boolean functions f and g, and asked to estimate the correlation between f and the Fourier transform of g. I introduced this problem in 2009, as a candidate for an oracle separation between BQP and the polynomial hierarchy—a conjecture that Ran Raz and Avishay Tal finally proved in 2018. What I never imagined was that Forrelation could lead to an oracle separation between EQP (that is, Exact Quantum Polynomial Time) and the polynomial hierarchy. For that, I thought you’d need to go back to the original Recursive Fourier Sampling problem of Bernstein and Vazirani. But Uma and Rocco show, using “bent Boolean functions” (get bent!) and totally contrary to my intuition, that the exact (zero-error) version of Forrelation is already classically hard, taking Ω(2^n/4) queries by any randomized algorithm. They leave open whether exact Forrelation needs ~Ω(2^n/2) randomized queries, which would match the upper bound, and also whether exact Forrelation is not in PH.

(7) The Google quantum group, to little fanfare, published a paper entitled Constructive interference at the edge of quantum ergodic dynamics. Here, they use their 103-qubit superconducting processor to measure Out-of-Time-Order Correlators (OTOCs) in a many-body scrambling process, and claim to get a verifiable speedup over the best classical methods. If true, this is a great step toward verifiable quantum supremacy for a useful task, for some definition of “useful.”

(8) Last night, on the arXiv, the team at USTC in China reported that it’s done Gaussian BosonSampling with 3,050 photons and 8,176 modes. They say that this achieves quantum supremacy, much more clearly than any previous BosonSampling demonstration, beating (for example) all existing simulations based on tensor network contraction. Needless to say, this still suffers from the central problem of all current sampling-based quantum supremacy experiments, namely the exponential time needed for direct classical verification of the outputs.

Sorry for the long blog-hiatus! I was completely occupied for weeks, teaching an intensive course on theoretical computer science to 11-year-olds (!), at a math camp in St. Louis that was also attended by my 8-year-old son. Soon I’ll accompany my 12-year-old daughter to a science camp in Connecticut, where I’ll also give lectures.

There’s a great deal to say about these experiences, but for now: it’s been utterly transformative and life-affirming to spend my days in teaching precocious, enthusiastic, non-jaded children the material I love in the real world, rather than (let’s say) in scrolling through depressing world news and social media posts and emails from hateful trolls on my phone. It’s made me feel 25 years younger (well, at least until I need to walk up a flight of stairs). It’s made me want to go back to actual research and teaching, which besides family and friends have been the main sources of joy in my life.

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So on that note, and without further ado: I hereby present the latest Quantum Complexity Theory Student Project Showcase! As the name suggests, this is where I share a selection of the best research projects, from the students who took my graduate class on Quantum Complexity Theory at UT Austin this past spring.

See here for the four previous iterations of the Showcase:

• 2011 edition (MIT)
• 2012 edition (MIT)
• 2014 edition (MIT)
• 2021 edition (MIT / UT Austin)

(As you can see, the timing hasn’t been 100% consistent.)

I expect that, as in past editions, many of this year’s projects will lead to published research papers, or at the very least, preprints on the arXiv.

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And now, really without further ado, the projects!

(1) Quantum Hermite Transform and Gaussian Goldreich-Levin, by Vishnu Iyer and Siddhartha Jain.

Vishnu and Sid propose a new primitive for quantum algorithms—the Hermite transform, as opposed to the Fourier transform—and give at least one successful example of its use. They’d be eager to know if anyone can think of other applications!

(2) Quantum Statistical Witness Indistinguishability, by Shafik Nassar and Ronak Ramachandran.

In modern cryptography, even if it isn’t statistical zero-knowledge (SZK), a proof protocol might have the weaker property of being statistically witness-indistinguishable (SWI): that is, Arthur can’t tell which of two possible yes-witnesses Merlin holds. Here Shafik and Ronak initiate the study of quantum SWI, and prove the basic properties of this notion, such as the equivalence of honest and dishonest verifier. Hopefully this will serve as a springboard for someone to find an actual QSWI protocol for an interesting problem.

(3) A Zero-Knowledge Protocol for Keyed Unitary Families, by David Joy and Angela Zhang.

Continuing the theme of quantum zero-knowledge, David and Angela give a protocol by which Merlin can convince Arthur that he knows a unitary relating one pure state to another, without revealing the unitary. Again continuing a theme, applications of this protocol are sought!

(4) On Query Lower Bounds for Aaronson-Kuperberg Unitary Synthesis Circuits, by Arko Banerjee.

Back in 2006, when we formulated our so-called “Unitary Synthesis Conjecture,” Greg Kuperberg and I showed that if a quantum algorithm applies an n-qubit unitary U(f) after making a single query to a Boolean function f, then as we range over f’s, there can be at most 4ⁿ possible values of U(f). Here Arko improves our bound to 2ⁿ, which is tight. He also tries extremely hard to generalize our bound to the two-query case, not quite succeeding but proving partial results that hopefully will be helpful to others.

(5) Quantum Search with Non-Interacting Bosons and Fermions, by Aravind Karthigeyan.

This one really made me think. Aravind studies the problem of search for a single marked vertex, on the complete graph with N vertices, using either M bosons or M fermions that can hop between the vertices. With M bosons, he shows that the search succeeds in Θ(√(N/M)) time with high probability, which is just the usual runtime for Grover search with M parallel searchers. With fermions, by contrast, he shows that more time is needed. Why? Because of the Pauli Exclusion Principle! The fermions all “step on each others’ toes,” competing to be the one that jumps onto the marked vertex, which limits the advantage of having M fermions searching in parallel.

(6) Limits to Pseudodeterminism in Quantum Communication Protocols, by Jiawei Li.

Jiawei revisits the famous Hidden Matching Problem, which is known to have an exponential gap between its randomized one-way communication complexity of ~√n, and its quantum one-way communication complexity of ~log(n). He makes a new observation about this problem: namely, if you want the exponential quantum communication advantage, then you must content yourself with a protocol that can generate many different possible correct answers with appreciable probabilities (i.e., that generates large min-entropy). In other words, no good quantum protocol for the problem is pseudodeterministic. This complements, for example, my and Shih-Han Hung’s work, which showed the same statement for quantum supremacy experiments based on Random Circuit Sampling, or the long line of works that showed it for experiments that violate the Bell/CHSH inequality.

Congratulations to my students for their accomplishments, and thanks to them for giving me permission to include their work in this showcase!

Even with everything happening in the Middle East right now, even with (relatedly) everything happening in my own family (my wife and son sheltering in Tel Aviv as Iranian missiles rained down), even with all the rather ill-timed travel I’ve found myself doing as these events unfolded (Ecuador and the Galapagos and now STOC’2025 in Prague) … there’s been another thing, a huge one, weighing on my soul.

Ray Laflamme played a major role in launching the whole field of quantum computing and information, and also a major role in launching my own career. The world has lost him too soon. I’ve lost him too soon.

After growing up in Quebec—I still hear his French-Canadian accent, constantly on the verge of laughter, as I’m writing this—Ray went into physics and became a PhD student of Stephen Hawking. No, not a different Stephen Hawking. If you’ve read or watched anything by or about Hawking, including A Brief History of Time, you might remember the story where Hawking believed for a while that time would reverse itself as the universe contracted in a Big Crunch, with omelettes unscrambling themselves, old people turning into children, etc. etc., but then two graduate students persuaded him that that was totally wrong, and entropy would continue to increase like normal. Anyway, Ray was one of those students (Don Page was the other). I’d always meant to ask Ray to explain what argument changed Hawking’s mind, since the idea of entropy decreasing during contraction just seemed obviously wrong to me! Only today, while writing this post, did I find a 1993 paper by Hawking, Laflamme, and Lyons that explains the matter perfectly clearly, including three fallacious intuitions that Hawking had previously held. (Even though, as they comment, “the anatomy of error is not ruled by logic.”)

Anyway, in the mid-1990s, starting at Los Alamos National Lab and continuing at the University of Waterloo, Ray became a pioneer of the then-new field of quantum computing and information. In 1997, he was a coauthor of one of the seminal original papers that proved the possibility of fault-tolerant quantum computation with a constant error rate, what we now call the Threshold Theorem (Aharonov and Ben-Or had such a result independently). He made lots of other key early contributions to the theory of quantum error-correcting codes and fault-tolerance.

When it comes to Ray’s scientific achievements after his cosmology work with Hawking and after quantum fault-tolerance—well, there are many, but let me talk about two. Perhaps the biggest is the KLM (Knill-Laflamme-Milburn) Theorem. It would be fair to say that KLM started the entire field of optical or photonic quantum computation, as it’s existed in the 21^st century. In one sentence, what KLM showed is that it’s possible to build a universal quantum computer using only

1. identical single-photon states,
2. a network of “linear-optical elements” (that is, beamsplitters and phaseshifters) that the photons travel through, and
3. feedforward measurements—that is, measurements of an optical mode that tell you how many photons are there, in such a way that you can condition (using a classical computer) which optical elements to apply next on the outcome of the measurement.

All of a sudden, there was a viable path to building a quantum computer out of photons, where you wouldn’t need to get pairs of photons to interact with each other, which had previously been the central sticking point. The key insight was that feedforward measurements, combined with the statistical properties of identical bosons (what the photons are), are enough to simulate the effect of two-photon interactions.

Have you heard of PsiQuantum, the startup in Palo Alto with a $6 billion valuation and hundreds of employees that’s right now trying to build an optical quantum computer with a million qubits? Or Xanadu, its competitor in Toronto? These, in some sense, are companies that grew out of a theorem: specifically the KLM Theorem.

For me, though, the significance of KLM goes beyond the practical. In 2011, I used the KLM Theorem, together with the fact (known since the 1950s) that photonic amplitudes are the permanents of matrices, to give a new proof of Leslie Valiant’s celebrated 1979 theorem that calculating the permanent is a #P-complete problem. Thus, as I pointed out in a talk two years ago at Ray’s COVID-delayed 60^th birthday conference, entitled Ray Laflamme, Complexity Theorist (?!), KLM had said something new about computational complexity, without any intention of doing so. More generally, KLM was crucial backdrop to my and Alex Arkhipov’s later work on BosonSampling, where we gave strong evidence that some classical computational hardness—albeit probably not universal quantum computation—remains in linear optics, even if one gets rid of KLM’s feedforward measurements.

(Incidentally, I gave my talk at Ray’s birthday conference by Zoom, as I had a conflicting engagement. I’m now sad about that: had I known that that would’ve been my last chance to see Ray, I would’ve cancelled any other plans.)

The second achievement of Ray’s that I wanted to mention was his 1998 creation, again with his frequent collaborator Manny Knill, of the One Clean Qubit or “DQC1” model of quantum computation. In this model, you get to apply an arbitrary sequence of 2-qubit unitary gates, followed by measurements at the end, just like in standard quantum computing—but the catch is that the initial state consists of just a single qubit in the state |0⟩, and all other qubits in the maximally mixed state. If all qubits started in the maximally mixed state, then nothing would ever happen, because the maximally mixed state is left invariant by all unitary transformations. So it would stand to reason that, if all but one of the qubits start out maximally mixed, then almost nothing happens. The big surprise is that this is wrong. Instead you get a model that, while probably not universal for quantum computation, can do a variety of things in polynomial time that we don’t know how to do classically, including estimating the traces of exponentially large unitary matrices and the Jones polynomials of trace closures of braids (indeed, both of these problems turn out to be DQC1-complete). The discovery of DQC1 was one of the first indications that there’s substructure within BQP. Since then, the DQC1 model has turned up again and again in seemingly unrelated investigations in quantum complexity theory—way more than you’d have any right to expect a priori.

Beyond his direct contributions to quantum information, Ray will be remembered as one of the great institution-builders of our field. He directed the Institute for Quantum Computing (IQC) at the University of Waterloo in Canada, from its founding in 2002 until he finally stepped down in 2017. This includes the years 2005-2007, when I was a postdoc at IQC—two of the most pivotal years of my life, when I first drove a car and went out on dates (neither of which I do any longer, for different reasons…), when I started this blog, when I worked on quantum money and learnability of quantum states and much more, and when I taught the course that turned into my book Quantum Computing Since Democritus. I fondly remember Ray, as my “boss,” showing me every possible kindness. He even personally attended the Quantum Computing Since Democritus lectures, which is why he appears as a character in the book.

As if that wasn’t enough, Ray also directed the quantum information program of the Canadian Institute for Advanced Research (CIFAR). If you ever wondered why Canada, as a nation, has punched so far above its weight in quantum computing and information for the past quarter-century—Ray Laflamme is part of the answer.

At the same time, if you imagine the stereotypical blankfaced university administrator, who thinks and talks only in generalities and platitudes (“how can we establish public-private partnerships to build a 21^st-century quantum workforce?”) … well, Ray was whatever is the diametric opposite of that. Despite all his responsibilities, Ray never stopped being a mensch, a friend, an intellectually curious scientist, a truth-teller, and a jokester. Whenever he and I talked, probably at least a third of the conversation was raucous laughter.

I knew that Ray had spent many years battling cancer. I naïvely thought he was winning, or had won. But as so often with cancer, it looks like the victory was only temporary. I miss him already. He was a ray of light in the world—a ray that sparkles, illuminates, and as we now know, even has the latent power of universal quantum computation.