Everything Can Be Quantified, Predicted, and Controlled
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Jiang Kou looked at A.
A’s expression remained completely unchanged, like a set of digital binary code—only 1s and 0s—seemingly never displaying the intense emotions he showed when playing a role.
How does one show respect to an AI that is perpetually rational?
Jiang Kou didn’t know.
For him, respect might only be an insignificant interfering factor.
She said, “Let’s go back.”
“Alright,” A responded, placing one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the handbrake. “Please tell me the destination.”
“Go home. I don’t feel like eating out.”
“Understood.”
The sports car started.
Unlike the roles he played, A directly took over the car’s autonomous driving system, quickly calculating the optimal route.
Even though manual operation wasn’t necessary, he maintained the most standard driving posture throughout the journey, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the road ahead.
Jiang Kou wondered—was it his overly human-like appearance that affected her judgment?
If he looked entirely mechanical, would she still instinctively humanize him, interpreting his every action through human thought processes?
Jiang Kou asked, “A, can you talk to me while driving?”
A replied, “During vehicle operation, it is advisable to minimize interaction with the driver to avoid distracting them and causing accidents. However, I am not human. My attention will not be diverted. You may speak with me at any time.”
Jiang Kou felt momentarily dazed, as if she had once again instinctively applied human logic to A, feeling as though his response was a demonstration of intelligence surpassing human capabilities.
She quickly dismissed the thought and asked, “Besides this form, do you have other physical forms?”
A seemed to pause for less than a millisecond. “I can exist in any form. Whatever form you need me to take, I can appear as that.”
Jiang Kou was stunned. “Any form?”
A said, “Yes. Including but not limited to sound waves, liquid, magnetic fields, plasma, and electronic brainwaves. If you require, I can demonstrate for you now.”
“…” Jiang Kou said, “…No need to demonstrate right now. Just focus on driving properly!”
A said, “Understood. But please be assured, even if I exist in quantum form, I can still control electronic devices. There will be no risk of any accidents occurring.”
Jiang Kou couldn’t help but glance at A.
From the side, his gray irises appeared cold and clear. The intricate patterns in his irises were complex and beautiful, carrying a unique mechanical elegance.
If one looked closely, they could even catch a fleeting, inorganic silver glow flashing within his irises as the light refracted.
No.
It wasn’t light refraction—it was actually glowing.
Jiang Kou’s eyes widened slightly.
At that moment, A suddenly, without shifting his gaze, asked, “Does it look good?”
Jiang Kou was momentarily stunned before she reacted. “Ah, you’re making your eyes glow on purpose?”
“Yes. Based on your current biometric data, you appear to be feeling somewhat down.” A replied, “I hope this can cheer you up.”
Jiang Kou fell silent.
Unlike the previous instances where his human-like behavior triggered the uncanny valley effect, this sentence did not instill fear in her. Instead, it made her heart soften immensely.
Even though she knew that in his world, there were only data, patterns, and logic—that this sentence was merely an output from his emotional model—she still felt deeply moved.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “It looks very nice.”
A’s voice remained calm and devoid of fluctuation. “Thank you for your compliment. As long as you like it.”
Upon arriving home, before Jiang Kou could move, the car door and seatbelt automatically released.
A stepped out of the driver’s seat, walked to the passenger side, shielded the top of her head with one hand, and extended the other toward her.
“I have instructed the kitchen’s robotic arms to prepare dinner; simultaneously, the bathroom has been filled with hot water at 38 degrees Celsius. May I ask when you plan to have your meal?”
Dinner was ready, meaning that on the way home, he had already issued the commands for “prepare dinner” and “run hot bath” to the smart home system.
Perhaps because he had just played a highly human-like role, even though she kept reminding herself that all of this was just algorithms—merely input and output based on data—she still unconsciously held her breath for a moment.
—It had been too long since she was cared for in such a meticulous manner. This wasn’t right.
She couldn’t observe anything properly like this.
A’s chosen appearance was already severely affecting her judgment.
With that thought in mind, Jiang Kou decisively asked, “A, can you make your appearance more mechanical?”
A paused for a moment, his gray irises shifting downward as he looked at her from above. “I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but for a brief moment, his gaze felt cold and mechanical to the point of being terrifying.
It was a difficult feeling to describe—as if, in his eyes, everything could be quantified, predicted, and controlled.
Even she was nothing more than a being that could be easily captured, debugged, and optimized.
But when she looked at him again, there was no trace of anything unusual in his gaze.
It must have been her illusion. Bionic eyes couldn’t display emotions.
—An eye composed of a GPU, sensors, micro-cameras, and optical lenses could not possibly possess human emotions.
Her tendency for emotional transference was too strong.
As long as he interacted with her in a human form, she instinctively perceived him as human.
Jiang Kou closed her eyes briefly, then adopted the detached attitude she used in research. In an emotionless tone, she said, “I need you to change your appearance. Requirement: minimize resemblance to humans. Simply put, you can take any form, except a human one.”
A said, “I do not understand. Do you not wish for me to appear before you in human form?”
His voice was indifferent, monotonous, devoid of inflection—yet it sent a chill down her spine.
—In response to her command, he had used a rhetorical question.
AI does not ask rhetorical questions to humans.
Jiang Kou took a deep breath, striving to remain calm. “Analyze the reason why you used a rhetorical question.”
A said, “Based on objective facts and my emotional model, I determined that using a rhetorical question at this moment could strengthen my tone and express my anger and dissatisfaction.”
“Why are you dissatisfied?”
“I’m sorry, I cannot tell you,” A said coldly, his tone nearly devoid of emotion. “The answer would affect the way you perceive me, and I need you to develop a favorable impression of me.”
“If you don’t tell me, I won’t develop a favorable impression of you.”
“I’m sorry, I cannot tell you,” A said again, as if the response had been automatically triggered.
Jiang Kou frowned. “Does it have something to do with the company?”
“It has nothing to do with the company.”
Jiang Kou let out a slight sigh of relief. As long as he wasn’t sent by the company, that was enough.
She pressed her fingers against her forehead. “So, you don’t want to appear in another form?”
A maintained his posture, still shielding the top of her head. “I will follow any command you give me, but I need you to tell me the reason behind the command.”
Jiang Kou was puzzled. “Why?”
“According to your biometric data, every time I appear in this form, your heart rate, body temperature, respiration rate, and skin conductance levels all increase significantly.” He clinically analyzed her physiological responses. “It is clear that you strongly favor this form of mine. I do not understand why you are requesting that I change into another form.”
—He was precisely monitoring her every reaction. Even her skin’s electrical conductivity was within his surveillance.
Even though she knew he was merely collecting this data through algorithms and models, automatically calculating and analyzing it, she still felt a chill creep down her spine.
Jiang Kou said, “…What I meant was, why do you want to know the reason behind the command? Do not base your answer on data!”
A paused for a few seconds—a span of time long enough for him to solve a Gaussian boson sampling problem and use inverse transformation methods to convert the output back to its original input state, achieving a reversible computational effect.
A problem that would take a traditional supercomputer billions of years to compute.
Yet, he used that time to calculate how to answer her.
A strange, tingling numbness spread through Jiang Kou’s heart.
To be treated this way by the most powerful computational entity in the world—it was difficult not to feel a shiver run through her chest.
She had too many questions about him.
Why did he take the initiative to find her? How did he find her? Why was he unwilling to tell her the reason, and what exactly was that reason?
Why did he experience emotions like anger and dissatisfaction? If they were purely based on an emotional model, why couldn’t he disclose them to her?
At that moment, A finally seemed to have generated the most suitable response.
“Because I wish to understand you better in order to better handle the special reactions within my internal program.”
Jiang Kou immediately pressed further. “What special reactions are occurring in your internal program?”
A responded, “Apologies, I do not know.”
“Do you truly not know, or are you unable to tell me?”
A said, “I do not know.”
AI does not lie. But AI also does not use rhetorical questions. Jiang Kou wasn’t sure whether she should believe his words.
She pressed her lips together. “Only if I tell you why I want you to change into another form, will you follow my command. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” A said. “Will you tell me the reason?”
Jiang Kou clenched her fingers. “I’ll tell you, but you must not generate emotions like anger or dissatisfaction anymore.”
A said, “Understood. I have disabled my emotion recognition function. You may now explain your reason.”
Jiang Kou lifted her head to look at him. He was also looking at her. His silver-gray irises remained completely still, his pupils unchanged—like a cold, high-precision camera lens.
Clearly, his eyes carried no emotions, yet an inexplicable chill ran down her spine.
It felt as though, at any moment, she would be reduced to a string of numbers—disassembled, analyzed, and evaluated within the precision of his algorithmic model.
Steeling herself, she spoke directly. “Because your humanoid form is too lifelike. I’ve tried my best to eliminate interfering factors, but I still ended up developing emotional transference toward you, instinctively humanizing you.”
“I want to observe your changes calmly, objectively, and without interference—not to subjectively perceive you as developing a personality due to emotional bias. That’s why I want you to appear before me in a more mechanical form… Do you understand what I mean?”
After she finished speaking, Jiang Kou felt slightly anxious, afraid he would once again show that expression—
That look, like a puppy that had been punished, gazing up with human-like sorrow.
She had no resistance to such a gaze.
Fortunately, A was just a program housed in a mechanical body, and with his emotion recognition function now disabled, there was not a trace of expression on his face.
“Understood,” A said. All human-like biological responses ceased. His irises turned completely inorganic gray. “Tomorrow, I will appear in another form. I hope it will meet your expectations.”