Greg got up at four a.m. to make his flight. He doubted there would be another flight half as important to him the rest of his life. He was heading to Houston to be tested to become an astronaut. He probably could have slept in, but his nerves were too much. His whole life had prepared him for this moment.
While he prepared, the latest generation of quantum computers, nicknamed Eigenweasels, were busily calculating and recalculating his fate. Using thermal quantum annealing and math that even an astronaut would balk at, the Eigenweasels took vast amounts of information in and solved staggering numbers of quantum optimization problems to verify that each and every plane would reach its destination.
Greg reached his gate with two hours to spare and sat staring at a novel, comprehending not a word. He wasn't worried about his flight. He took for granted that the Eigenweasels were watching out for him, recalculating the entire flight path and cross-checking it to make sure his flight avoided other planes and the worst of the storms. No, Greg was worried about doing three laps of the pool fully clothed. Sure, he'd done it a dozen times, but what if he cramped?
Settled into his seat in economy, Greg didn't notice takeoff or landing. He was focused on treading water for ten minutes. No one needed to focus on takeoff and landing, not even the pilots, as the Eigenweasels recalculated conditions using data from new instruments covering the plane that calculated wind shears and plotted minor course corrections live. If he'd been paying attention, he'd have realized both takeoff and landing were the smoothest of his life.
Disembarking, he never gave the Eigenweasels a single thought, but they never stopped thinking about making sure every flight, every day, made it to its destination on time and without incident.