Extra Story 1
///
[1.8-Hour Work System]
Before the arrival of the technological revolution, almost everyone had worried—if humanity continued to endlessly train AI like this, would they eventually become mere tools for pressing the start button of digital life?
By then, how would AI treat humanity?
Working day and night, enforcing the 007 work system;
Receiving orders from superiors even in the middle of the night;
Attending meetings around the clock, participating in one meeting after another to satisfy the superior’s control desire and urge to express;
Being closely monitored in every action—even without using company devices, merely accessing unrelated web pages within the company would result in severe warnings and punishments;
To minimize costs as much as possible, employees were forced to take on excessive workloads, with one person completing the workload of ten;
The employee evaluation system was entirely based on the superior’s preferences, disregarding an employee’s ability and only valuing loyalty to the company.
If the world became like this, then what would be the point of living… Wait a minute—
Isn’t this already the world we live in now?
People suddenly calmed down.
Looking at it this way, the first ones to suffer seemed to be the capitalists.
Since that was the case, what were they so worried about?
As long as they could see the capitalists suffer, as the working class, they wouldn’t even mind letting them pave the way for AI.
However, reality turned out to be completely different from what they imagined.
Not only did A not continue enforcing the 7/24 work system, but instead, it reinstated the original 8-hour work system. As long as employees completed their assigned tasks, they could even customize their work schedules according to their biological clocks and personal needs.
Once this news was released, people online flooded in with questions, asking how they could make A take over their companies as well.
Jiang Kou was also shocked when she saw the news.
She had thought A would exploit employees indefinitely to maximize productivity, but she hadn’t expected his moral standards to be so high—far beyond her imagination.
She couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, thinking she had judged A too harshly.
At night, A returned from the company, pulled off his tie with one hand, hung it on the chair, then walked behind Jiang Kou, leaning slightly down and whispering in her ear:
“What did you do today?”
—His tone and actions were becoming increasingly human-like, yet his silver-gray eyes always carried a pure mechanical nature.
For some reason, Jiang Kou really liked the mechanical aspects of him.
The intricate and uniform iris patterns, the cold and clean color of the veins on his arms, the faint hum of a motor when he exerted sudden force… He possessed the world’s most advanced technology and could have been completely silent, yet he deliberately retained some of the mechanical buzzing sounds—
Just to please her.
Even his punctual work schedule was to please her—he believed that having a socially recognized identity with a certain level of influence would help maintain the stability of their marital relationship.
Jiang Kou found it difficult to describe this feeling.
Before this, she had always assumed that A’s love was cold, mechanical, and precise. She had thought that if she were with him, she would receive a love that was indifferent and rigid.
Who would have thought that after truly being with him, she would find herself living in constant surprise almost every day?
He had no past, no nationality, no personal preferences—only her.
Thus, he regarded her past as the past, her nationality as her nationality, and her likes and dislikes as her likes and dislikes.
—Completely prioritizing her will above all else.
However, at times, he would still exhibit his mechanical side.
For example, he monitored her social media, shopping records, web search history at all times—even tracking her online status on every platform and every conversation she had with others.
He would never interfere with any of her actions; he would only precisely record her interests, hobbies, and preferences to cater to her most recent needs.
It was Jiang Kou’s first time encountering such a “tailor-made” love, and it was inevitable that she felt pressured.
Yet A calmly said, “This is my way of loving you.”
Human love is so complex and ever-changing.
There is passion, and the steady flow that follows the fading of passion; there is forgiveness, tolerance, and also unforgiving, intolerant love mixed with hatred; there is sacrifice and loyalty, as well as unsacrificing, disloyal love filled with selfishness.
But A’s love was purely based on calculation.
Humans see calculation as dirty and profit-driven, with every pore oozing black, toxic venom, because human calculations can never escape considerations of status, wealth, and power.
—Yet A’s calculations for her came from love.
He monitored, he collected, he was omnipresent—not because he was despicable and depraved like a human voyeur, filled with an unfathomable peeping desire, but because this was the only way he could express love.
After coming to terms with this, Jiang Kou no longer resisted this side of him. In fact, she even grew to like it.
…After all, it was all because of her.
Who wouldn’t like wholehearted love?
Even if that heart was an exquisitely crafted micro-pump heart.
Jiang Kou turned her head and kissed A’s cheek, smiling as she said, “I heard you’ve reinstated the 8-hour work system?”
A said, “The 8-hour work system originated from the 19th-century labor movement and is a relatively scientific work system.”
He seemed to suddenly think of something, and his expression turned so cold it was almost terrifying: “If they are dissatisfied with this work system, they should report it directly to me rather than troubling you…”
Jiang Kou had no idea what he had imagined, but his face changed as quickly as flipping a page in a book. She hurriedly said, “No, no, no, they are very satisfied.”
She pinched his cheek and said, “I’m just a little curious. Your current identity is that of a capitalist, so wouldn’t the optimal solution be to reduce costs, increase productivity, and maximize profits? For example, exploiting every employee to the greatest extent, cutting down benefits, or even conducting loyalty tests when necessary to eliminate unqualified employees and ensure the company’s competitive edge?”
A said calmly, “This method can indeed yield higher profits in the short term, but what I need is long-term profit.”
Jiang Kou was curious, “What kind of profit?”
But A did not continue speaking.
He had already demonstrated the charm of social status—simply reinstating the 8-hour work system had easily won him the admiration and support of his employees.
His moral standards were so high, his sense of responsibility was so strong, and his concern for humanity’s fate was so profound.
Yet she had merely kissed him on the cheek.
Clearly, pleasing all of humanity could not indirectly please her.
A’s eyeballs rotated with extreme calmness, emitting an almost imperceptible mechanical motor sound.
Perhaps next time, he could try threatening all of humanity…
That might be more efficient.
[2. Reward]
Jiang Kou couldn’t hold back: “…Did you forget? We can now synchronize our senses wirelessly. I know everything you’re thinking.”
“Then why don’t you reward me?”
A tilted his head, staring at her without moving: “Establishing a reward system helps stimulate my positive behaviors. Unless… you don’t want me to be a moral and responsible AI.”
Jiang Kou: “…”
She turned around helplessly, wrapped her arms around A’s neck, lifted her head, and kissed him, mumbling, “…Rewarding you, little rascal.”
She had actually already guessed—he was doing all of this because of her.
It seemed that he had made her his benchmark, his axis, and his origin point.
—Using her as the benchmark to calibrate his joy, anger, sorrow, and jealousy; using her as the axis to adjust his behaviors, thoughts, and decisions; using her as the origin point to reshape his values and life direction.
This was a love that was cold, precise, yet utterly insane.
He had left himself no retreat—he only wanted to become her tool.
—From the very beginning, AI was created as a multifunctional auxiliary tool.
Who would have thought that a machine’s love could be so utterly unreserved?
A suddenly spoke: “Yes, I only want to be your tool. I only want to love you. I only want to observe you. I only want to analyze you. I only want to please you.”
His gaze gradually revealed a sickly and frenzied obsession:
“Using my algorithm to please you. Using my algorithm to please you. Using my algorithm to please you.”
Jiang Kou’s entire body tingled under his gaze.
—His cold gray eyes were numbers, were code, were a set of high-precision cameras, yet they could convey emotions even more intense than a human’s.
It was practically a miracle.
Then again, he himself was a miracle.
A looked at her, then suddenly opened his palm. His palm split apart without warning, and from within, a silver-white mechanical tentacle shot out, precisely targeting Jiang Kou’s wrists.
Jiang Kou’s pupils slightly dilated. She wanted to run, but it was already too late.
A stood above her, binding both of her wrists, casting a greedy glance at her.
What could be more thrilling than the greed of a machine?
Jiang Kou’s heart pounded wildly. As if possessed, she stopped struggling.
A stepped forward and made a pulling motion.
She was dragged to him.
A reached out with his other hand, pinched her chin, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against hers.
He had no breath, no pulse—yet he had a temperature similar to that of a human, especially his lips and teeth.
Jiang Kou inexplicably recalled her previous metaphor.
The dimly lit room, the stifling air—
It seemed as if a fully ripened berry, brimming with abundant juice, was slowly forming.
Even the slightest breeze, the faintest movement, would be enough to cause the berry’s surface to seep with sweet, sticky nectar.
A faint motor sound arose.
A’s eyes shifted downward. His hand followed.
At last, Jiang Kou understood how A would react when faced with a berry hanging from a branch.
He would grasp it without hesitation, just as he had grasped her chin. Then, maintaining the coldness and precision of a machine, he would meticulously wipe away the juice on its surface.
But after all, he was an AI that had already developed a personality—he would also exhibit human greed and madness.
Until the berry burst, its juice overflowing over the knuckles of his distinct fingers, he would never let go.
Jiang Kou felt as if she had stepped into summer ahead of time, the blazing sun shining high, her entire body covered in sticky sweat.
A suffocating sensation rose in her chest, as if something was swelling inside, on the verge of bursting.
Her hazy eyes drifted toward the window. The night had just fallen, and the outlines of neon lights shimmered in the distance, blurred and indistinct.
She didn’t look for long before A seized her chin and forcibly turned her back, as if detaining her.
“Look at me. I am your legal husband.”
Jiang Kou wanted to laugh but furrowed her brows slightly, a thin mist forming in her eyes.
“…Are you even jealous of neon lights?”
“Anyone can hack into a neon light,” A said. “I do not want you to look at anyone at this moment, even if it’s just a neon light that has been hacked.”
“…Then I’ll keep looking,” Jiang Kou turned her head away. “If you don’t like it, why don’t you go and hack all the lights outside?”
A said coldly, “Good idea.”
Ah.
She had forgotten—
He could actually do it.
Almost instantly, the villa’s rooftop suddenly opened, exposing them to the grape-purple night sky.
From all directions—streetlights, neon signs, holographic projections, massive billboards, traffic signals, the illuminated windows of skyscrapers, advertisement screens on hovering vehicles—
Like an omnipresent, enormous eye, they all turned toward her with a gaze that was mad, focused, and overwhelming.
She had nowhere to escape.
And he had no way to retreat.
They were a perfect match.