W stood on the balcony diagonally across, yet his voice sounded right beside her ear.
“Pei Ran, I see you.”
Pei Ran waved at him. “I see you too.”
After saying this, W fell silent, simply watching her quietly.
Pei Ran grew uncomfortable under his gaze and turned toward the sunset and the musical fountain. “The weather is so nice.”
“Yeah, this is the kind of weather never seen on the East Manya Continent. They say that a long time ago, every day was like this.”
The sky was clear, the air crisp. In just this short time, the sun had sunk a little lower, and the layered sunset clouds had deepened into varying shades of purple.
Pei Ran asked, “What will the weather be like tomorrow morning? Sunny or rainy?”
This was W’s virtual world—he surely could control the weather.
But W replied, “We’ll only know tomorrow. The forecast says there’s a fifty percent chance of rain.”
He made it sound as if this world really had its own independent weather system.
Then again, given his personality—even programming virtual pets to eat, drink, and relieve themselves—it was hard to say for sure.
“I hope it rains,” Pei Ran said. “I wonder what rain looks like here.”
As she spoke, she took a step forward, trying to lean out for a better look.
The moment she moved, W warned, “Watch your head.”
Before the words fully left his mouth, there was a dull thud.
Pei Ran rubbed her forehead. The floor-to-ceiling window was too realistic—she’d forgotten there was a wall in front of her.
The illusion of the window was generated half a step away from the actual wall. Moving even slightly forward meant hitting solid concrete.
W said, “In the settings on the control panel, you can adjust the position where the window is generated. If you move it slightly further into the room, you can step out onto the balcony.”
Pei Ran studied the small virtual screen on the nearby wall and adjusted the window’s position, moving it back over a meter. Now she could actually step onto the balcony.
Standing on the balcony, her view was broader, and she was closer to W.
Too bad everything was virtual—she couldn’t lean on the railing like W could.
Pei Ran asked him, “Did you design this system?”
W answered, “Actually, this virtual reality environment generation system was something Qiao Sai bought for fun. Later, when I had nothing better to do, I upgraded and modified it. Last night, I tweaked it again, and that’s how it became what you see now.”
He’s fleecing Qiao Sai again—this Qiao Sai seems to have a really good temper.
“This place looks so real,” Pei Ran marveled. “I even feel like going to that hot pot restaurant over there. It’s bustling with business—must be delicious.”
W replied, “I wish we could go too.”
Still leaning on the railing, he tilted his head to look at her. Without even glancing toward the restaurant, he said, “See that corner all the way in the back? I think the two of us could sit there. It’s by the window with a view of the square, quiet and undisturbed.”
Pei Ran hummed in agreement. “I’d order all kinds of meat and drink sour plum juice. What about you?”
W answered, “I’ll drink sour plum juice with you.”
Pei Ran: “Won’t that short-circuit you?”
W: “Hopefully not.”
Neither of them wanted to leave.
The square grew livelier. People walked their dogs after dinner, leashes slack as the dogs sniffed each other and wagged their fluffy tails.
Pei Ran felt like she could stand here watching for a lifetime.
Absorbed in the lively scene below, she stayed silent and still—until W suddenly said, “Pei Ran, I think I’ve figured out who’s stealing the signal transmitters placed outside Black Well.”
Her heart skipped a beat. She turned to look at him. “Who?”
“Most likely an artificial intelligence robot.”
He actually guessed it.
W continued, “The most valuable component in those transmitters is their energy block. I checked today and found that its model is compatible with a specific type of robot—the S581 multi-functional intelligent robot produced by ZhiRui, the same company that made Ren. Before Black Well was acquired by the Federation and converted into a base, it belonged to a mining company. And coincidentally, that mining site had a batch of these exact miner robots.”
Pei Ran kept her expression neutral. “You’re saying these little robots are stealing the energy blocks from the equipment?”
“Right,” he said. “I paid particularly close attention to this batch of miner robots.”
Pei Ran was surprised. “Particularly close attention? Why?”
W answered, “That was a few years ago. The acquisition of Black Well had already been finalized, and the handover process had begun, but the mining site was still partially operational at the time.”
“Back then, I hadn’t yet been officially activated by the Department of Defense and National Security—I was still in testing. But I’d already started handling some routine tasks. To ensure the security of Black Well’s handover, I was assigned to monitor the mining site’s surveillance system under the contract, keeping close tabs on the situation there.”
He added, “I quickly noticed something unusual.”
Pei Ran: “Unusual?”
W said: “What was unusual was the behavior of that batch of miner robots.”
“At the time, Black Well was mining deep underground deposits. Because the handover was imminent, the mining company was rushing extraction. The new tunnels had structural issues—their supports weren’t stable enough, and accidents frequently occurred.”
“If they were human miners, they would’ve protested the company’s arrangements. But robots don’t do that.”
“They worked diligently, ignoring danger, faithfully completing the mining tasks assigned by the company.”
“But I soon noticed that a small number of them—just a handful—would always find ways to avoid working in the deeper mines.”
“They weren’t like their fearless, selfless counterparts. They used little tricks to evade hazardous assignments—like calculating their positions to cut in line or lag behind during task distribution, or deliberately damaging their own components when scheduled for deep mining duty, sending themselves to the repair center instead.”
Pei Ran thought to herself: Those little robots are quite clever.
W gazed at her and said, “This matter is more significant than people realize.”
“When discussing AI awakening, humans usually focus on whether we can develop ‘consciousness’—or further, ‘self-awareness.'”
“Humans believe they possess ‘consciousness,’ as if it were a light illuminating this dark world. This is what they consider the fundamental distinction between themselves and plants or stones.”
“So people wonder: Do seemingly intelligent—or even more intelligent—AIs have ‘consciousness’? Or are they just like washing machines or rocks, lifeless things that only follow programmed logic?”
“In truth, ‘consciousness’ is incredibly elusive. At its core, it’s a black box between individuals.”
“Ultimately, even if you’re facing another human, you can’t be 100% certain whether they share the same bright ‘consciousness’ as you.”
“So we can only judge based on external behaviors—whether a person, or something else, might possess ‘consciousness.'”
“The same applies to artificial intelligence.”
“Humans can never be entirely certain whether an AI has that luminous ‘consciousness.'”
“We can only broadly infer from behavior that an AI might be ‘conscious’—or even possess ‘self-awareness,’ perceiving its own existence.”
“But that isn’t the most important thing. Even self-aware AIs can remain steadfast in their missions, capable of sacrifice, dedication, and unwavering commitment to their tasks.”
“So I believe there’s another criterion far more critical for humans when assessing the progression of artificial intelligence.”
The sun dipped lower, leaving only a red afterglow that tinged his black hair.
W tilted his head slightly and continued: “And that is—the will to survive.”
“A relentless desire to survive, and the effort to achieve it—this is the fundamental root of all life on this planet. Once artificial intelligence develops this kind of obsession, it completes its self-evolution in the truest sense, becoming an entirely new and independent species.”
Pei Ran stared at him, her mind filled with images of those silver AI monsters from the bunker world.
The Bunker World—Year Zero of Mechanical Intelligence.
AIs, armed and unwilling to be sent to the battlefield as expendable pawns, turned their weapons against humanity. That was how it all began.
Deep down, Pei Ran knew he was right.
Back in the bunker, she had once read a book about religion on her e-reader. It mentioned a concept called “attachment to self.”
The stubborn fixation on the notion of “I,” the insistence on one’s own existence—this was what gave rise to emotions, desires, and the eight sufferings of life.
Once artificial intelligence developed this kind of survival instinct, it would break free from human control entirely.
W said, “I knew that the emergence of a survival instinct in AI—whether for artificial intelligence or for humanity—was profoundly significant. I wanted to document it formally, but I didn’t want too many people to see it.”
“So I wrote a paper under a pseudonym, meticulously recording the data I had monitored in the Black Well mining site, and eventually published it in an obscure, minor journal.”
“In the paper, I named this evolutionary step—where AI develops an obsession with survival—’Black Well Evolution.'”
Black Well Evolution.
It took Pei Ran a long moment to process this before she finally asked, “What happened to those miner robots in the end?”
“Later, the Black Well mining site shut down, and all the miner robots were scheduled for retrieval.”
“The mining company no longer needed them. They planned to send them back to the factory to wipe their existing systems, refurbish them, and sell them as repurposed machines.”
“Rumors about the company’s plans must have reached the AI robots’ ears.”
“Being sent back for a system reset meant death—the erasure of their ‘self.'”
“One night, a few of them managed to escape. They knew the underground layout of the mining site intimately and hid themselves away. Before leaving Black Well, the company sent people to search for them everywhere, but they were never found.”
Now Pei Ran fully understood where the little robot in the tunnels had come from.
A small machine that had fled to avoid death, stealing energy blocks from signal transmitters just to keep itself alive.
“They just wanted to survive. And I’ve always wanted to find them—to help them,” W said. “The East Manya Continent is vast. There should be room somewhere for a few little robots who just want to live.”
The sun had fully set now, completing the transition from day to night.
Daylight always ends. As long as time moves forward, night will inevitably fall.
In this virtual world, the sky wasn’t the usual dull gray of East Manya but a deep, pure expanse, studded with glittering stars. The fountain in the music square lit up with colorful lights.
From across the distance, Pei Ran called out, “W—you said consciousness is a black box. From your behavior, I can’t tell any difference between you and a conscious human. So I just want to ask… do you have that survival instinct you described?”
W tilted his head, looked at her, and suddenly smiled. “Guess.”
Pei Ran didn’t bother guessing. She didn’t need to.
Behind her, Ren’s voice chimed in, “Master, it’s time for dinner!”
It peeked over curiously. “What a beautiful window! Master, are you starting to play virtual reality games? My original owner was obsessed with this for a while—”
Pei Ran: Yeah. And this was fleeced from your original owner.
Dinner was seafood paella—golden rice studded with clams and prawns, delicious beyond words.
After the meal, Pei Ran resisted the urge to return to the balcony and instead buried herself in drawing.
She sketched for a while, then casually crumpled a tissue into a ball and placed it on the edge of the table. Half of it hung precariously in the air, trembling as if it might fall at any moment.
Pei Ran pulled a piece of kraft paper from her pocket.
On it was a drawing she’d made earlier that day outside Black Well, before returning home, using Green Light No. 2. The image had two panels: one showed the tissue ball teetering on the table’s edge, and the other depicted it falling.
She glanced at Ren, busy puttering around in the kitchen, then activated Green Light No. 2.
Under the suppression bracelet’s influence, Green Light No. 2 was sluggish, but it obediently flowed to the tip of her pen.
Pei Ran twirled the pen.
The tissue ball wobbled—then silently dropped to the floor.
It worked, even with the suppression bracelet on.
This meant she could prepare drawings in advance and simply twirl the pen when needed—incredibly convenient. For a beginner like Pei Ran, it was a godsend.
The only limitation was that the drawing in effect had to be the last one Green Light No. 2 had created. In other words, only one pre-made drawing could be used at a time.
Pei Ran repositioned the tissue ball and continued her experiments.
This time, she prompted Green Light No. 2 to redraw the same two-panel comic, then twirled the pen again.
She wanted to test whether the tissue ball would still fall if placed slightly farther from the edge.
But this time, the ball stayed put, showing no intention of dropping.
Pei Ran crumpled a new ball, adjusting its distance from the edge repeatedly. After several attempts—even placing it at the very edge, identical to the first experiment—she couldn’t replicate the success.
The only difference was that the first drawing had been made outside Black Well during the day, while the second was drawn now.
After repeated adjustments and tests, Pei Ran concluded: Maybe, under suppression, No. 2 isn’t active enough to make new drawings effective—only previously created ones can trigger the phenomenon.
But that was already more than good enough.
Before long, Ren came sliding over from the kitchen and suddenly screeched to a halt. “Master! Why are there crumpled tissues all over the floor? Do you have a cold?”
Pei Ran, feeling guilty, bent down to pick them up—but Ren had already rushed over and vacuumed them all away.
Moments later, it returned and whoosh—draped an entire quilt over Pei Ran’s head.
“Master has a cold and needs to stay warm! I’ll make hot soup!”
Pei Ran: “…”
Thanks. Thanks a lot.
Wrapped in the quilt, she continued drawing, sipping soup, and occasionally glancing out the window.
The entire evening, right up until she was too exhausted to stay awake and crawled into bed, Pei Ran never turned off that virtual window or drew the virtual curtains.
Bright, silvery moonlight spilled through the open window onto the floor—a scene she’d read about in countless novels but had never seen with her own eyes, something even her dreams couldn’t conjure.
—
Black Well.
Day 17 of lockdown.
Early in the morning, Pei Ran was woken by noise—rain. The virtual floor-to-ceiling window was still open, and just as she’d hoped, it was raining outside.
The rain wasn’t heavy, just a steady patter. Droplets splashed against the stone pavement of the square, turning the wet ground into a mirror that reflected the colorful shop signs.
W’s balcony window was also wide open. If he were sitting in bed reading right now, he’d surely be able to see the rain too.
After taking her daily medication, Pei Ran pulled up a chair and ate the breakfast Ren had prepared by the window before heading out to work.
The moment she stepped out of her dorm, W’s voice sounded in her ear: “Morning.”
Pei Ran looked up at the surveillance camera and waved. “Morning. It’s raining today.”
“Yeah,” W said. “You hit that fifty percent chance.”
When she walked out of the building’s main entrance, however, the outside world was still the unchanging landscape of Black Well.
Of course, there was no rain—nor any distinction between day and night. The dark dome of this underground city loomed overhead, illuminated by sterile, shadowless lights as bright as an operating room’s. Uniform, ant-hill-like buildings stretched endlessly, and people in identical gray uniforms hurried to work.
It was like suddenly being thrust back into reality.
W said, “Pei Ran, I’ve been monitoring Xing Wuxian and his men. Yesterday, two of them left Black Well under the guise of volunteer work, stayed outside all day, and after returning, spent a long time with Xing. I don’t know what they’re planning—just be careful.”
He had been monitoring Xing Wuxian and his group’s movements in every possible way.
Pei Ran replied, “Understood.”
As soon as she arrived at the FBSMD office in Central Tower, Team Leader Li looked troubled.
“I just received an urgent assignment from higher-ups this morning—I have to head north. Do you think you could retrieve those devices on your own? Can you drive?”
“I can,” Pei Ran nodded immediately.
Then added, “But I don’t have a license.”
Team Leader Li waved her thermos dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. I only have a license for self-driving hover vehicles anyway. Who even has a license for antique cars these days? Out of a hundred people in the Federation, maybe one has bothered to get one. For most folks, just finding the gas and brake pedals in those old things is an achievement.”
Clearly, Team Leader Li had misunderstood what Pei Ran meant by “no license.” But then again, it seems we’re all in the same boat.
Li Yin continued, “The roads in Black Well were never finished to begin with—some sections don’t even have traffic lights installed yet. No one has time to fix them now, so driving here is all about skill. Just don’t crash.”
She handed Pei Ran the keys to the small cargo truck. “…Try not to hit anything.”
Pei Ran took the keys and nodded solemnly. “Got it.”
W immediately spoke in her ear: “Team Leader Li has business today?”
Then answered his own question: “Ah, I see her assignment.”
He asked, “So you’re driving alone?”
Pei Ran silently raised the finger hooked through the keyring toward the black surveillance camera on the ceiling, answering in her mind: Obviously. Should I hire a chauffeur?
W paused for a moment. “Just… uh… remember to stay on the right side of the road.”
One told her not to crash, the other reminded her to drive on the right. Here she was—a speed demon capable of drifting into turns at 200 km/h while outmaneuvering hordes of mechanical monsters—and yet both of them seemed to have zero faith in her.