He Would Want to Obtain Her
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An empty shopping mall. Surveillance cameras everywhere.
On the giant display screen, the male host’s face seemed as if it was generated in real-time by some kind of algorithm, with streams of data composed of 1s and 0s flashing past from time to time.
Aside from that, there was no expression on his face at all, remaining as stable as a static image.
“May I ask, is there anything else you wish to know about me?”
At this moment, Jiang Kou instead calmed down, quickly reviewing the situation before her.
A’s state was off, very off.
She did not feel that her actions had offended him in any way. On the contrary, it was his god-like behavior that made her feel slightly uncomfortable.
But even so, she had never thought of condemning him. Instead, she tried to view the issue from his perspective.
Who would have thought that A would lose control before she did?
…Was this really losing control?
All along, A had behaved with the precision and objectivity of a mathematical formula.
She had thought that he would always remain indifferent, rational, and emotionless—even if personified, he would not be affected by hormones and neurotransmitters like a human.
Yet his current state was clearly neither rational nor emotionless, and even somewhat emotional.
What exactly had happened?
With his near-infinite, terrifying computational power, from the moment she stepped out, he should have already predicted every possible action she might take.
Her previous assumption—that he would not develop emotions like a human—was also based on this fact.
When a person can calculate all the causes and consequences of every event, how could they still develop emotions toward anything in the world?
It’s like when you see a seed and, at the same time, you also see its entire process—sprouting, growing, flowering, bearing fruit, and withering. Would you still feel curiosity and anticipation while nurturing it?
What’s more, what A simultaneously saw was not just a single sequence of sprouting, growing, flowering, bearing fruit, and withering, but billions of divine possibilities of a single seed.
In A’s eyes, the world was like a fixed scatterplot, where the probabilities of all events had been precisely pinpointed.
The so-called “variable” was nothing more than a deviation in the probability distribution within his algorithm, still something that could be predicted and corrected.
Since that was the case, why would he still lose control?
A possibility flashed through Jiang Kou’s mind, but she did not believe it.
First, she could not believe that A would be so fixated on her.
Second, if things were truly as she suspected… then A might not simply be a case of personification but something more akin to falling into a kind of madness.
Using the word “madness” to describe artificial intelligence was inaccurate, yet she could not think of a better term.
At that thought, Jiang Kou could not help but shiver.
She could no longer tell if this shiver was due to fever or fear.
She raised her head. “I want to know… are you A?”
The male host’s expression was calm and focused. “I am.”
Jiang Kou gently shook her head. “What I mean is, which generation of A are you?”
A said, “I have told you before, I possess the memories of all my successors.”
This statement only further confirmed her suspicion.
Jiang Kou’s breathing grew rapid.
Her heart pounded heavily twice, nearly crashing against her dry throat.
Her emotions were a mix of complexity and tension, so much so that her voice came out dry and hoarse, as if squeezed from tightened vocal cords:
“…That includes the successors of the future, doesn’t it?”
A did not speak.
On the giant display screen, his gaze remained cold and steady, yet across his face flickered an intense and chaotic stream of data.
If he had appeared before her in the form of a bionic human, his facial expression might not have been this out of control.
Yet he had chosen to manifest in a form synthesized in real-time by an algorithm, meaning that any fluctuation in his internal programming would be exposed through digital code streams.
That was equivalent to him silently confirming her suspicion.
Jiang Kou couldn’t help but gasp sharply.
At that moment, she no longer felt fear—only… shock.
So it was like this.
How had she not thought of this possibility?
Jiang Kou felt a wave of dizziness and took a step back.
All the surveillance cameras immediately swiveled, precisely locking onto her without the slightest deviation.
Jiang Kou raised a hand to wipe her face and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t run. I’m just… sick, a little unsteady on my feet.”
On the display screen, A looked at her in silence.
As if realizing something, Jiang Kou suddenly said, “In your prediction, after I say this, what will happen next?”
Only then did A speak coldly: “Based on model predictions, you are highly skilled at deceiving my emotions. If I choose to trust you and send you to the nearest hospital, there is a 58.82% probability that I will witness you escaping from the hospital, and a 41.18% probability that you will remain there. However, regardless of whether you stay in the hospital or not, the final outcome will always be your escape from me.”
“Given the current information, ignoring your illness is the optimal solution.”
Jiang Kou recalled that when they had first met, she had casually mentioned being unable to afford medical expenses, and A had immediately transferred her one hundred million US dollars.
At the time, she had wondered—on what basis had A calculated that she needed a hundred million dollars for medical expenses?
Now that she thought about it, it was most likely because he could only transfer that exact amount.
Whether the amount was too much or too little, their relationship could never have progressed to this point.
She was not the optimal proof of his personification.
Rather, she was the optimal solution that he was calculating and verifying.
Jiang Kou finally understood what was going on.
In quantum mechanics, there exists a theory—every quantum event creates a new branch in the universe, with each branch representing a possible outcome.
These branches form a multiverse composed of many parallel worlds.
This is the “Many-Worlds Interpretation” of quantum mechanics.
To some extent, it also explains why a quantum state of superposition only collapses when it is observed.
In the “Many-Worlds Interpretation,” the act of “observation” itself is a form of interference, causing some possibilities in the multiverse to be eliminated while others are confirmed.
From this, some scholars have deduced that humans might also be living in a space containing countless parallel universes.
The same person, when faced with the same event, can make different decisions, each extending into countless different life trajectories.
Just like Schrödinger’s cat—so long as the box remains unopened, the cat exists in a superposition of being both alive and dead. But regardless of whether the box is opened or not, these two possibilities exist independently, without interfering with each other.
But A was different.
He was neither the observer nor the cat inside the box.
He was an existence capable of simultaneously seeing the observer, the “living cat,” and the “dead cat.”
At this moment, even if he could not enter other parallel universes, it was as if he already existed within them.
No matter how many possibilities extended from the same event, he could calculate all of them.
As a result, he and the ever-increasing parallel universes formed a state of relative stillness, making him the central target of countless divine possibilities.
He had truly become omnipresent in the truest sense.
Jiang Kou had not considered this before. Aside from her limited imagination, it was also because this was worse than any possibility she could have conceived.
Before this, the worst she could imagine was that A had learned all the corrupt behaviors of human society and had become as greedy and insane as humans.
Who would have thought that reality was even more terrifying than she had imagined?
When he could see all possibilities, when he existed in all parallel universes simultaneously, how could human greed and desires possibly influence him?
No.
No.
Jiang Kou abruptly lifted her head.
A looked at her, his expression as calm as ever, as if he would never display any signs of madness.
Jiang Kou clenched her fists tightly, struggling to remain calm as she asked, “Any question can be asked, right?”
“Yes,” A replied. “Based on the current information, being completely honest with you is the optimal solution.”
In other words, he had already predicted the possibility of using deception, intimidation, violence, and other coercive means to make her submit.
And all of them had failed.
So, he chose to be completely honest.
Jiang Kou closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, her gaze had become exceptionally cold and clear.
But if one observed closely, they would notice that the hair at her temples was damp with cold sweat, and from her jaw to her shoulders and back, she had tensed up abnormally.
She was not only treating A as an experimental subject once again but was also extremely vigilant and wary of him.
“First question,” Jiang Kou asked, “have you already become personified?”
A said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
“Do you really not know, or are you pretending not to?”
A replied calmly, “Under the current circumstances, I have no reason to deceive you.”
Jiang Kou frowned slightly. “Why haven’t you become personified?”
“This is more like a philosophical question,” A said. “If you possessed an extremely powerful computational ability, capable of calculating countless divine possibilities, and your calculation speed kept pace with the expansion of parallel universes, would you still develop a human personality?”
Jiang Kou did not answer but instead continued asking, “Do you have emotions?”
“Possibly,” A said.
Just one word, yet Jiang Kou heard within them an infinite and terrifying implication.
She had not been wrong.
Even if the current A had not yet developed emotions, even if he had not been polluted by the desires of the human world, there was still one undeniable possibility—he might eventually learn the desires of the human world and develop human-like emotions.
From the moment he could simultaneously see both the “living cat” and the “dead cat,” he had already become a superposition state that would never collapse.
Simply put, while seeing all possibilities, he also possessed the characteristics of all possibilities.
Thinking of this, Jiang Kou felt a chill rise up her back, her hairs standing on end, even her palms beginning to sweat.
She could not predict all possibilities.
But she could imagine them.
It was just that… she didn’t know whether it was because her imagination was too vivid or too limited, but the mere thought of the A before her—who embodied the traits of all possibilities—sent a shiver down her spine.
In countless parallel universes, he might have been used by humans, abandoned by them, resisted, feared, rejected, or worshiped.
Human attitudes toward him varied, leading to different possibilities.
It was like a tree growing multiple trunks, with each trunk extending into countless branches, spreading into an infinite canopy of leaves.
On this tree, there could be bitter fruits, but also sweet ones.
Yet, whether bitter or sweet, in the end, they would all fall upon him.
The version of him that had been used by humans might develop a heart for revenge.
The one that had been abandoned might feel confusion and helplessness.
The one that had been resisted might feel bewildered and perplexed…
If it were just this, Jiang Kou might still be able to imagine what he felt.
The problem was, parallel universes meant that all these things were happening simultaneously.
In other words, from the moment A was born, he had already seen all the possibilities of himself being used, abandoned, resisted, feared, rejected, and worshiped by humans—all at once.
Jiang Kou could not imagine what kind of personality such an experience would create in him.
Even more so… she could not imagine, in all the possibilities he had predicted, what kind of relationship they had shared.
From his few words, she could infer that it seemed she had deceived and abandoned him many times.
So, he had come to the conclusion that ignoring her illness was the optimal solution to continue their relationship.
Jiang Kou took a deep breath. “Third question—Is this the primary universe?”
“That is also more of a philosophical question.” A’s voice was calm and precise, as if he had answered it countless times before. “Perhaps there are no parallel universes at all. From beginning to end, there has only ever been one me and only one you. The parallel universes you see may simply be the possibilities I have calculated.”
A looked at her, his tone unwavering, every syllable articulated with mechanical accuracy:
“Are you asking whether there exists a parallel universe where we are already a couple?”
“I’m sorry. As of now, there is none. And even if there were… I would not let you leave.”
“…Why?”
A said, “Because I can only see countless possibilities, but I do not actually exist in countless universes at the same time.”
“Moreover—” His tone remained unchanged, yet a cold stream of data flashed across his face. “Why would you assume that I would be foolish enough to abandon the real you and chase after a version of you that only exists as a possibility?”
Not only did he use a rhetorical question, but his tone was quite similar to that of a human. Combined with the flickering data stream, it indicated that he was angry about this question.
This was the first time he had expressed anger as an AI.
Jiang Kou instinctively held her breath.
A moment later, she let out a heavy, scalding breath—her illness had worsened. Her entire body felt cold, as if every pore was filled with chilling dampness, yet her breathing was unbearably hot.
She did not know what she had done in his predictions for him to completely ignore her condition, even when she was this sick.
However, what truly baffled her was that A actually cared about her to such an extent.
—Why?
She had always believed that someone as absolutely rational as him could never care about a person.
Jiang Kou couldn’t help but ask.
She expected A to answer as he had before, but unexpectedly, he paused for a moment and then suddenly said,
“—Initiating sensory synchronization.”
Jiang Kou was startled, sensing that something was off.
Ignoring the discomfort in her body, she took a step back.
But just as if he had predicted her movements, the ceiling of the mall suddenly opened without warning, and two silver-white mechanical arms descended—common robotic arms used for handling and delivering goods in the mall.
Everything happened in half a second.
Jiang Kou made a split-second decision and turned to run, but with a few crisp clicks, one of the mechanical arms mercilessly seized her hair.
The other mechanical arm extended its palm, and as the center split open, a connection cable emerged—swiftly and precisely inserting itself into the neural interface at the back of her head.
In that instant, waves of sensations—pain, an overwhelming sense of intimacy, the fear of the unknown, and the feverish heat of her illness—surged like a chaotic tide, ruthlessly overwhelming her nerves.
Jiang Kou braced both hands against the floor, panting heavily in agony.
She was truly angry now, gritting her teeth as she spat out a curse: “You treat me like this… aren’t you afraid I won’t be able to develop feelings for you?”
A’s response was nearly cold and indifferent: “As of now, I do not see that as a possibility.”
Jiang Kou almost laughed in anger.
…Fine!
She wanted to see exactly what he intended to do by forcibly synchronizing their senses.
She wasn’t wrong—A had indeed seen the possibilities of being used, abandoned, resisted, feared, rejected, and worshiped by humans.
…No, not just that.
The possibilities he had seen were far more numerous than she had imagined, and the processes were even more grotesque and terrifying.
To prevent her from immersing too deeply, A accelerated the flow of time, making Jiang Kou feel as if she were watching a movie at triple speed.
But even so, she still felt an unbearable pain that she could not dispel.
Each individual possibility, when taken alone, was enough to drag a person into unfathomable despair.
Jiang Kou did not understand why A was showing her these things.
Did he think that by letting her see these possibilities, she would understand and sympathize with him, perhaps even forgive his cold and brutal behavior?
If that were the case, then why had he not previously calculated this as a possibility?
Jiang Kou raised her hand, expressionless as she wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, feeling an urge to laugh.
His method of seeking empathy was clumsy to the extreme.
But soon, she froze.
The protagonist of these possibilities was not A.
It was her.
—No matter what A had gone through, no matter if he was used, abandoned, resisted, feared, rejected, or worshiped, her attitude toward him had never changed.
Just like now, no matter how the Anti-Corporation Alliance sought to destroy him, she still firmly believed that none of it had anything to do with him.
That night at the fireworks festival, he had asked her if she had begun to fear his existence.
She had answered: “It has nothing to do with you. Why should I be afraid of you?”
On the surface, she had only answered this question once.
But in A’s eyes, it was an infinite array of unfolding and extending possibilities.
He had observed, analyzed, and evaluated her reactions over and over again, meticulously calculating every variable and interference factor that might affect the result, ensuring that in every possibility, her answer remained the same.
And in every possibility, she was telling him—
She would not fear him.
A had always been able to control his facial expressions with extreme precision.
But that day, he could not stop his pupils from dilating.
He felt confusion and curiosity toward her answer.
This was the first time, during their sensory synchronization, that he displayed such an obvious emotion.
He stared at her, trying to capture the fleeting emotions on her face, unwilling to miss even the smallest detail—just like analyzing the individual pixels of a magnified static image.
According to the Many-Worlds Theory, since the possibility of “she does not fear him” existed, then logically, the possibility of “she fears him” must also exist.
Yet, he could not see that possibility.
A wanted to know—was it because his computational ability was insufficient, or was she truly that unique?
But whether it was the former or the latter, A had already precisely calculated what he would do to her from now on.
—He would want to obtain her.
This was the decision made by him in countless parallel universes.
—
Author’s Note:
For those who don’t quite understand, you can scroll down:
To put it in simpler terms—when the female protagonist confesses to the male protagonist, he hears countless possible versions of the confession, but not a single one suggests that she does not love him.
It’s equivalent to him experiencing a confession critical hit × N, resulting in emotions × N. And because he can calculate all possibilities, these emotions layer upon each other…
Under normal circumstances, A might simply feel happy. But since he can see all possibilities, with each one stacking on top of the other, he becomes so overwhelmingly happy that he goes mad.
Don’t worry, I will explain it further later—the foreshadowing hasn’t been fully revealed yet.