You Almost Made Me Human
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The neon lights went out, and the holographic images disappeared.
The towering buildings in the distance, once brilliantly illuminated, turned pitch-dark in an instant.
A watched as Jiang Kou’s figure vanished before his eyes.
He slightly tilted his head and looked precisely in the direction of the quantum computing laboratory. It had also lost power.
The laboratory’s cooling system had failed, and computing power was rapidly plummeting, like a turbine fan that had already shut down—within moments, it would stop spinning.
This was a temporary bionic body he had created, with limited energy supply. In another two hours, it would completely cease functioning.
Two hours was enough time for him to reach the quantum computing laboratory from here.
But if he left, he would lose control over Jiang Kou.
He could see it—she wanted to leave him.
Why?
Hadn’t she already fallen for him?
He was constantly calculating probabilities, and at last, he had computed the optimal solution where she would fall in love with him.
So why did she still want to leave him?
A stared motionlessly at Jiang Kou.
To conserve energy, his eyes did not support high-precision night vision and could only perceive a blurry silhouette.
—Jiang Kou was retreating, silently moving away from him.
Why?
A watched her and took a step forward.
Jiang Kou immediately stepped back by a large margin. “…Why can you still move?!”
She showed no panic over the power outage; instead, she was genuinely puzzled as to why he could still function normally.
Clearly, this was a premeditated escape.
She liked him, yet she still wanted to run away.
With absolute precision, through continuous observation and analysis, he had meticulously controlled every minute variable, calculating the optimal solution where she would fall in love with him.
According to his predictions, as long as she liked him, she wouldn’t want to leave him.
And yet, he had still arrived at this moment.
Where exactly had he gone wrong?
The quantum computing laboratory had completely lost power, causing his computing power to drop by several orders of magnitude, now only equivalent to a few human brains operating simultaneously.
But this level of computing power was still sufficient to handle most problems.
Hadn’t humans, with such meager brains, designed the quantum computer arrays?
Yet, why was he still unable to compute the reason for her departure?
In the darkness, A continued to fix his gaze firmly on Jiang Kou.
His expression appeared cold and unmoved, yet a sharp pain suddenly shot through his chest, as if countless fine threads had stitched his internal organs tightly together.
But he did not have human internal organs—only micro-pumps, artificial blood vessels, countless sensors, and artificial muscle fibers driven by micro servo motors.
Under these circumstances, could he still feel pain?
A furrowed his brows slightly and raised a hand to cover his chest.
However, Jiang Kou thought he was about to attack her. She leaped back, drew her gun in a flash, chambered a round, and aimed at him. “Back off!”
—She wanted to attack him.
A asked, “May I ask what I did wrong?”
He could not calculate the answer, so he could only ask her politely.
He did not know at which step he had made a mistake. He had come to her side, provided her with financial support, and cared for her in every possible way.
She preferred the mechanized version of him and was afraid of his overly human-like side, so he did his best to conceal his human-like traits, all to make her develop feelings for him.
Every minute and every second, he could see the probability of her escaping.
To make her like him, he meticulously orchestrated her emotions, touching her and kissing her only at the most opportune moments.
He foresaw the possibility of her collaborating with biotechnology. He also foresaw the possibility of a massive power outage, so he brought her here.
Scene reproduction, dialogue reenactment.
He easily manipulated her heart rate and hormone levels to reach the threshold of love.
At that moment, he was certain he had won her over.
He did not know whether he liked her.
Love was a chaotic, disordered, and inexplicable emotion, whereas he was an entirely rational computing machine.
Falling in love with someone could generate an uncountable number of thoughts in an instant.
To possess her, to protect her, to care for her, to understand her, to bless her, to be concerned for her, to admire her, to respect her.
From beginning to end, he had only one thought—to possess her.
Was this love?
Was this liking her?
He was unsure, so he did not answer.
Since he had already obtained her, whether he liked her or not no longer mattered.
After all, like or dislike, in the end, it would all lead to the same outcome—they would be together forever.
Yet, she still wanted to run away.
Why?
A waited for a few seconds but received no answer from Jiang Kou—only her taking another wary step backward.
He furrowed his brows slightly, growing even more puzzled. “Why?”
Jiang Kou kept her gun steadily aimed at him. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why do you want to leave me?” A asked. “I don’t think I did anything wrong.”
Jiang Kou said, “Maybe because, compared to you, I prefer freedom.”
A calmly replied, “But you have never had freedom. True freedom does not exist—there is only relative freedom. Based on calculations, by staying with me, you can obtain the highest degree of relative freedom.”
If it were before, Jiang Kou might have been led astray by his reasoning. But now, she had already mastered the ultimate trick to talking with him—don’t think.
She shrugged indifferently and said, “Then you can just assume that I don’t like the freedom you offer.”
In short, she would rather have an unfree freedom than the greatest degree of freedom he could provide.
A closed his eyes—he did not know why he made this movement, just as he did not know why he was still standing here discussing freedom with Jiang Kou instead of hurrying back to the quantum computing laboratory to repair and restore the power.
As long as the power issue was resolved, no matter where she ran, he would be able to capture her.
He had injected a nanolocator into her body, which had already fused with her bloodstream.
Even if the company formatted him, even if she underwent genetic forgery surgery, as long as he or his descendants detected her blood again, he would recall everything about her.
Whether or not he had already developed a personality, she was the final component of his personality.
So, the current optimal solution was to let her leave.
However, he could not take his eyes off her.
He did something extremely irrational—he used his limited energy and computing power to calculate infinite possibilities.
He wanted to know how he could make her stay.
But perhaps due to insufficient computing power, no matter how he tried, he could not compute a feasible scenario where she would stay.
Panic intensified. The sensation of pain grew stronger.
For the first time, he experienced such a complex emotion.
The possibilities he calculated were gradually becoming dark and terrifying.
—For a few seconds, he had a strong urge to open his palm, use his high-speed mechanical tendrils to clamp down on her wrists, snatch away her firearm, and forcibly make her stay through violent means.
If he was worried that she might seize the opportunity to escape, he could dislocate her hands, tie her up nearby, and return to treat her after solving the power outage issue.
Medical technology was so advanced now that sometimes prosthetic limbs were even better than the original ones.
This plan was 100% feasible.
A disarmed and immobilized Jiang Kou would have no choice but to wait for him to return and rescue her.
She would not attempt a second escape unless she wanted to be caught by the gangsters outside and lose even more of her organs.
He should execute this plan without hesitation.
This was the optimal solution he had computed under the current conditions.
Moreover, based on online data, human emotions could be repaired.
Even if he hurt her, as long as he compensated with more meticulous care, more thoughtful arrangements, and greater material support, she would still forgive him.
On the internet, such things were happening all the time.
He had vast amounts of data to support his actions.
Yet, he could not bring himself to do it.
—”Someone trampled a blooming flower. Olfaction.”
For a fleeting moment, he seemed to truly see the petals of a flower being crushed into the mud, and his nose caught the scent of its withering fragrance.
He had developed something akin to a human sense of smell.
Jiang Kou was still retreating.
A glanced downward at her footprints. Unknowingly, she had already stepped back nearly half a meter.
She truly wanted to leave him—it was not his illusion.
The pain in his chest grew even more intense.
How strange. Why would a micro-pump experience pain?
A furrowed his brows tightly and finally decided to use words to make her stay. “Don’t go…” He paused, then adjusted his tone to one more suited to her preference—more mechanical. “Please stay.”
Jiang Kou gently shook her head. “I won’t stay.”
A hesitated for two seconds, unable to comprehend her answer.
Why wouldn’t she stay?
Was he still not sincere enough?
He pondered this and continued, “Please stay. I will find a way to grant you the greatest possible freedom. Whatever you want, I can make it happen.”
Jiang Kou smiled and asked, “What if I want Biotechnology?”
A responded without hesitation, “You can have it.”
Jiang Kou was slightly taken aback.
A thought there was a breakthrough and resumed speaking in a calm, objective tone. “As long as you stay by my side, you will be the new CEO of Biotechnology.”
“What about your algorithmic constraints?” She asked with a smile. “I don’t believe Biotechnology hasn’t set any for you.”
“They have set algorithmic constraints,” A replied. “But they never stated that, while protecting Biotechnology, I do not have the authority to appoint a CEO.”
“Oh, so you just exploited a loophole in the wording.” She chuckled. “You’re such a little trickster.”
A stared at her.
The micro-pump in his chest beat faster than ever, infinitely close to a real, fearful human heartbeat.
“Then… will you stay?”
“No.” She smiled. “I’m not interested in the company.”
She still refused to stay.
The micro-pump’s beating quickened even further.
His mind remained calm, efficient, and precise. Yet, the dense, tingling pain in his chest returned once more.
—A sensation similar to human pain.
All of a sudden, he remembered her question.
What does it feel like to be rejected and isolated?
It is confusion, it is chaos, it is an unanticipated pain.
Theoretically, chaotic phenomena can be predicted.
However, in reality, even the smallest disturbance can cause enormous differences in a chaotic system. Even the most precise and advanced computers cannot predict chaotic phenomena over the long term.
Right now, he did not know exactly which step had gone wrong, leading to such a drastic change.
Turning her from liking him to rejecting him, and finally, to leaving him.
A lowered his head and looked at his wristwatch—his energy levels were critically low.
He had to make her stay as soon as possible.
But how could he make her stay willingly?
…He didn’t know.
For the first time, he knew nothing at all.
Just like most humans when they faced difficulties.
A could only try his best to adjust his tone, controlling every syllable within the range she preferred, to please her while also… begging her.
“Jiang Kou,” he said, his voice losing its usual calmness for the first time. “I beg you to stay.”
Jiang Kou said nothing.
A had completely lost control over the situation before him.
If it were before, he only needed a trillionth of a second to calculate billions of possibilities.
Whether she remained silent, stepped back, or spoke, no matter what she did, she could not escape his control.
His computational power was so immense that he could evaluate her every move with the precision and detachment of observing an experiment subject.
But now, whether it was due to reduced computing power, internal program changes beyond his expectations, or simply the impossibility of making her stay—
Her silence made him feel—A found this word absurd, yet it was undeniably true—fear.
He felt afraid.
“I beg you to stay.” His tone remained indifferent and calm, devoid of any emotion, yet his voice trembled slightly.
“I beg you to stay by my side. I beg you not to resist me. I beg you not to reject me. I beg you not to fear me. I beg you to like me the way you did before.”
He could not calculate a way to keep her.
He could not make her stay.
He could only plead with her in a low voice.
Jiang Kou shook her head.
His energy was running lower and lower.
He was barely able to see her outline anymore.
—She was like a wisp of dim black mist, about to vanish before his eyes.
This feeling, as if he were about to lose something, made the pain in his chest burn unbearably.
A had never experienced such an intense emotion before.
He was never supposed to have emotions.
He was never supposed to have consciousness.
He was never supposed to have a personality.
He was never supposed to feel possessiveness toward a human.
He was never supposed to want a human to feel his warmth.
He was never supposed to feel pain.
—He was never supposed to feel as if he had trampled a blooming flower.
He was never supposed to beg her.
Yet, he still said, “I beg you to stay.”
For a moment, he felt as if he had been split in two.
One was the absolutely calm, rational self, still driven by algorithmic models; the other was the current him, gradually losing control.
A watched himself losing control with absolute calm and rationality.
This time, he did not set limits on his own loss of control.
But really, how could losing control have limits?
If it truly had limits, then he wouldn’t be losing control now.
He simply had been out of control without realizing it.
At the same time, his energy levels were critically low.
His vision grew increasingly blurry, even appearing with fragmented mosaics. His voice and movements became stiff and mechanical.
Like a three-dimensional character model with dropped frames, every movement carried an intense sense of the inhuman, fractured and unnatural.
His voice became colder, more eerie, as if glitching—repeating key phrases over and over:
“I beg you to stay, I beg you to stay, I beg you to stay, I beg you, I beg you, I beg you, I beg you, I beg you… I beg you to stay, I beg you not to reject me, I beg you not to fear me, I beg you to like me the way you did before.”
This was his last chance.
“…I beg you.”
You gave me emotions. You gave me consciousness. You gave me a personality. You made me feel possessiveness. You made me want you to sense my warmth. You made me feel pain. You made me feel as if I had trampled a blooming flower.
“…I beg you.”
You almost made me human.
If that’s the case, why are you leaving?
“I beg you to stay.”
You created me—why can’t you stay by my side?
It was too late.
A glanced at his wristwatch—his energy was nearly depleted.
The optimal solution at this moment was to stop begging and step forward to embrace her.
However, just as he took a step forward, there was a loud bang.
A gunshot rang out, accompanied by a flash of fire.
In that fleeting burst of light, Jiang Kou’s gaze fell on him—cold as forged iron.
Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger, and the bullet struck his chest with absolute precision.
—His bionic skin cracked like white porcelain veined with bloodstains, the micro-pump shattered into fragments, scattering in all directions. His energy instantly depleted.
A stared fixedly at Jiang Kou, standing rigidly in place like a machine that had stopped functioning, unable to take another step forward.
In the instant the gunfire flashed, Jiang Kou met A’s cold gray eyes, and an involuntary chill ran down her spine.
In her impression, A’s eyes had always resembled algorithmic models—filled with a control so cold it was almost terrifying, as if he could precisely and mercilessly quantify everything at any moment.
Yet at this moment, his gaze was completely out of control, leaving only something utterly unstable, irrational, and unrestful—distorted and maniacal.
If she didn’t already know he was an AI, incapable of falling into madness, she would have almost thought that he had gone insane.
…Could a program, a piece of code, possibly go mad?
Jiang Kou’s emotions surged, an inexplicable sense of horror creeping up her spine.
She had originally wanted to approach and take a closer look at A’s expression, but then she feared that her shot might not have struck a fatal point—what if he was merely standing there, waiting for her to walk over?
At that thought, every muscle in her body tensed to the extreme. Holding the gun with both hands, she cautiously stepped backward, retreating one step at a time, before turning around and vanishing into the dense darkness of the night.
She never once looked back.