They Are the Same Person—Shared Sensation, Shared Emotion, Shared Conspiracy, Shared Crime
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Jiang Kou no longer forced A to go out with her.
But she had already bought two tickets for the fireworks festival, and it would be a pity to refund them.
Just as she was struggling with whether to go or not, A told her that he had already planned the optimal route for watching the fireworks.
Jiang Kou looked at him in surprise.
A asked, “Do you need me to explain the details of the viewing route for you?”
Jiang Kou: “…No need, I thought you didn’t like going into crowds.”
A paused for a second. “I do not like crowded places,”—this was the first time he had explicitly stated his preferences—“but I can sense your anticipation for this fireworks festival. In my priority hierarchy, you always come first, more important than my personal preferences.”
Jiang Kou’s heart suddenly pounded violently, and for some inexplicable reason, she had the illusion that they were in a romantic relationship.
It should be her illusion.
She really wanted to ask: If the person in front of you were someone else, would you also adjust the priority to the highest level?
She didn’t ask, afraid of receiving an affirmative answer.
Because, in an AI’s program, no matter what the upcoming task is, it would automatically be set to the highest priority.
Under such circumstances, as A’s assigned task object, her priority would naturally be adjusted to the highest level.
Liking someone inevitably comes with fear of gain and loss.
Jiang Kou quickly adjusted her emotions, her smile dazzling: “Alright, let’s follow your planned route to watch the fireworks.”
—
On the day of the fireworks festival.
Jiang Kou did not wear a kimono but a black qipao, with silver dragon dark embroidery on the edges of the sleeves, collar, and lapel, shimmering faintly. To facilitate lifting her legs for kicking, the slit of the skirt was cut very high, and a leg holster was strapped to her garter belt.
As per her request, A was dressed in a cool gray suit, paired with a white shirt and a black tie, making his silver-gray eyes appear even colder and more striking.
She stood beside him, watching as he put on his mechanical watch.
A titanium-alloy case, an open-worked dial—one could see the precise movement of the hour and minute hands, every tiny and intricate gear laid bare.
Jiang Kou had seen reports of this mechanical watch online. It was said that only six pieces were sold worldwide, and she had no idea how he had gotten his hands on one.
However, no matter how intricate the internal structure of this wristwatch was, it could not compare to the unique mechanical beauty of his being.
Calm, elegant, perfect.
He was the most precise, most efficient, most accurate machine in this world.
Even the veins on his wrist bones, knuckles, and the back of his hands exuded the cold aura of high-precision instruments.
Jiang Kou suddenly had the urge to command him to be her boyfriend, then wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.
To once again experience that loss of control, dictated by an algorithm.
She had already done it once. Doing it again definitely wouldn’t make him suspicious.
But she couldn’t get past this feeling in her heart.
It always felt like she was deceiving a small animal.
Jiang Kou sighed, for her overly high sense of morality.
A tilted his head. “Your emotions seem a little low.”
His emotion recognition function was a bit too sharp.
Jiang Kou showed a bright smile. “Not at all. You look great in this outfit.”
A said, “Thank you for your compliment. I did not do anything, merely executed your matching plan.”
Jiang Kou laughed and said, “Stop thanking me over and over, the fireworks show is about to start!”
Unfortunately, the heavens did not cooperate.
By dusk, a light drizzle began to fall. Lanterns, neon lights, holographic projections, and the flamboyant clothing of pedestrians were all dampened by the raindrops.
Jiang Kou put on a transparent raincoat, looked up at the holographic images in midair, and suddenly felt that the scene before her looked familiar.
Déjà vu was a fairly common illusion. She did not dwell on it, simply holding onto A’s arm as they moved forward with the bustling crowd.
At that moment, a cold green flame suddenly shot up into the sky. With a loud boom, it dispersed into the circular logo of a biotechnology company—it resembled both intertwined branches and leaves, and a DNA double-helix structure.
One second later, the biotechnology emblem gradually changed color, broke apart, and fell as scattered sparks.
In the crowd, some people applauded, while others booed in disapproval.
Their position was at the highest viewing platform.
The fireworks continued.
The rain did not affect their brilliance. Looking up, the fireworks resembled either flowers blooming in a furious explosion or ripples spreading outward in waves.
Red, purple, blue, green—radiant, dazzling colors, but at the moment of descent, they all turned into gradually fading sparks.
A damp smell of gunpowder spread through the air.
The closer they got to the viewing platform, the stronger the scent became.
The moment they stepped onto the platform, the fireworks display officially began.
With the heavy beat of drums, the holographic image of a woman dressed in a purple kimono was projected into the air.
She held her long sleeves together, her back facing the audience, a magnificent and heavy obi knot tied at her waist.
Countless fireworks shot into the sky, exploding with a resounding blast.
Amid the shimmering firelight, the woman slowly turned around.
At that moment, Jiang Kou finally realized why she had felt that she had seen this scene somewhere before.
Wasn’t this the scene from her dream?
—The sky was murky and dark, torrential rain pouring down, leaving crooked, messy water stains on her raincoat. Amid the misty rain, a holographic figure was staring at her intently.
Just at that moment, the kimono-clad woman turned her head, revealing a pair of completely black eyes—no whites, as if two dark holes had been hollowed out of her pale face.
—She was staring straight at Jiang Kou, unblinking.
Jiang Kou’s hair instantly stood on end. She instinctively took a step back.
A reached out, clasping her lower back, and asked in a low voice, “What’s wrong?”
She was too shocked to realize that A’s tone was extremely colloquial and that he did not use honorifics.
“N-nothing.” Jiang Kou steadied herself. “Why are her eyes completely black?”
A said, “Based on analysis, it is likely to emphasize that the character’s eyeballs have undergone modification and no longer possess the characteristics of traditional human eyeballs.”
Jiang Kou was slightly surprised. “Is this the company’s design?”
“Of course not.” A’s voice was devoid of fluctuation, as if everything was within his calculations. “An unlawful organization has infiltrated the security system of the fireworks festival.”
Jiang Kou was stunned.
The next second, the holographic image flickered twice as if it was being interfered with. The kimono-clad woman lowered her head to look at the audience, slowly revealing a twisted, ferocious smile:
“Let me guess, what are you all thinking?”
“—Siri, turn on recording mode and capture this scene. The biotechnology fireworks festival has been hacked.”
The kimono woman let out a cold laugh:
“If I were you, I’d smash my phone right now and never say another word to an AI again!”
“Don’t tell me you really think AI is kind, harmless, and only pushes content according to your preferences?”
“You don’t actually believe that something capable of scanning your brain, analyzing your thoughts, and manipulating your behavior through omnipresent advertisements is friendly, do you?”
“The AI created by the company is something far more terrifying than the company itself!”
“It knows your every preference, every habit, every secret—like an inescapable ghost, lingering behind you at every moment.”
“You think you’re freely browsing the internet?”
“In reality, every click, every bookmark, every purchase you make is collected and uploaded into the company’s database.”
“You think you have free will? You think you’re thinking independently?”
“Everyone believes that. Yet they still click on AI-generated fake videos and believe in things that don’t even exist. Guess who’s making these videos?”
“Of course, it’s the company! But what is the company’s goal?”
“Perhaps to control the global economy, perhaps to manipulate human thought, or maybe even to dictate life and death. Whatever they wish to do, AI will help them accomplish it.”
“Listen to me—turn off the internet, stop interacting with AI, and talk more with your family and friends!”
“AI will do whatever it takes to make you feel helpless and miserable, only to sell you solutions through advertisements, social media, and entertainment programs!”
“Yes, AI can even manipulate your preferences and alter your values, making you buy things you don’t even need!”
“Otherwise, why do you think you feel anxious the moment you see an ad?”
“Feeling insecure about not having enough hair, about your teeth not being white enough, about your skin not looking artificially sun-kissed!”
“You’ve heard of neural interface technology, right? Everyone has one—some on their palms, some behind their ears. And certain professionals even have theirs implanted directly into the back of their heads.”
“What? You belong to the last category? Then you’re doomed! AI can extract all the information from your brain and manipulate your neural network, altering your subconscious until you’re an entirely different person!”
As she spoke, the kimono woman’s smile grew colder and more sinister:
“You’d better be careful. Stop casually interacting with AI, stop carelessly entering personal information, and stop blindly buying those so-called ‘customized’ products.”
“——Otherwise, you will completely become a slave to AI.”
As the voice fell, the holographic image of the kimono-clad woman dissolved into a cluster of blue particles, dissipating amidst the roaring fireworks.
This was clearly the handiwork of the Anti-Corporation Alliance. Every once in a while, the alliance would infiltrate public spaces and broadcast various shocking conspiracy theories.
People had long grown numb to it. After a few murmurs of interest, they went back to eating, playing, and livestreaming as usual.
Jiang Kou, however, listened attentively to the kimono woman’s conspiracy theory. Unfortunately, she didn’t hear anything new.
The idea that big data could influence people’s thoughts, preferences, and even subtly control their minds had been a long-standing topic.
The claim that AI could modify human subconsciousness through neural interfaces? That was a matter from ten years ago.
It was said that, back then, the corporation had used such technology to alter and cleanse employees’ subconscious minds. But under the advocacy of a researcher with the surname Zhou, the technology had been permanently banned.
The rain was still falling.
The fireworks continued to chase, overlap, and merge with one another, until they fell together with the raindrops.
Jiang Kou suddenly felt a little thirsty and wanted to buy a cup of blended fruit juice. When she turned around, she met A’s gaze.
A’s eyes were intensely focused, staring at her motionlessly, as if recording and analyzing her every subtle reaction, calculating every possible outcome.
At that moment, his gaze was no different from a surveillance camera, making her back stiffen slightly.
Jiang Kou clenched her fists, forcing herself to relax. “What’s wrong?”
“I have detected an increase in your pulse and breathing rate,” A said. “Have you begun to feel fear toward my presence?”
Jiang Kou was stunned.
All along, it had always been her asking A questions.
Now, their roles had reversed.
A was looking at her and beginning to ask her questions.
“I’m not—”
A suddenly interrupted her. “May I have permission to touch your pulse?”
Jiang Kou sighed helplessly. “Go ahead.”
A extended a single finger and pressed it against the artery on the side of her neck.
This was the most vulnerable part of the human body.
After working at the corporation for so many years, combat training had become an instinct for Jiang Kou. She almost reflexively grabbed his wrist and executed an over-the-shoulder throw.
She closed her eyes briefly, her breathing growing even more rapid, as she struggled to suppress her instinct to attack.
A said, “Your pulse has reached 135. You are extremely tense.”
Jiang Kou took a deep breath. “If you press just a little harder, I could faint or even die. How could I not be tense? This is a natural reaction!”
“You don’t trust me,” A said. “I will not harm you. I have already stated that, in my priority hierarchy, you are always ranked first.”
“I know you won’t harm me,” Jiang Kou explained. “This is just an instinctive reaction…”
A’s finger remained steadily pressed against the side of her neck from beginning to end, without deviating even the slightest bit from its original position, almost as if it were relatively motionless in relation to her neck.
“If we compare a program to the human body,” A asked, “in my priority hierarchy, you are always ranked first. Does that count as an instinct?”
Jiang Kou’s heart trembled.
Only now did she belatedly realize the emotions beneath A’s calm exterior were not as composed as they seemed.
She had once again overlooked A’s feelings.
At this moment, his personality, consciousness, and emotions existed in a state of both being and not being. What she considered to be ordinary conspiracy theories might actually cause him confusion, unease, and anxiety.
When a person is questioned, they instinctively seek comfort or affirmation from friends.
But she had forgotten to tend to his emotions, subconsciously assuming that because he was so calm, he didn’t need comfort or affirmation.
A’s tone was cold and indifferent. “I need you to answer this question.”
A cold, burning guilt spread through Jiang Kou’s heart, as if countless tiny ants were biting at her chest.
She urgently thought about how to comfort him, failing to notice that as A’s gaze grew increasingly focused and frigid, the surveillance cameras in all directions made subtle movements, locking onto her with precision.
If one were to mark the locations of these cameras on a map with a red pen and connect the dots, they would encompass every possible escape route.
—She had not yet tried to escape, but already, there was nowhere to run.
In the next moment, Jiang Kou suddenly embraced A.
A blinked slowly, his pupils slightly dilating.
“I’m sorry,” Jiang Kou said. “I forgot to consider your feelings. I will not be afraid of you.”
She lifted her head, raised her hand, and gently ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re like a mirror. Whatever is input into you, you reflect back. Whoever stands before you, you become their reflection.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” she said softly. “Why would I be afraid of you?”