Digitalized Vision
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Jiang Kou’s heart had leaped into her throat.
It seemed that if she opened her mouth, the abnormal sound of her heartbeat would escape.
But even if she kept quiet, A had definitely already heard it.
A did not point this out.
He never made decisions based on human sentiment, only on data and logic.
In other words, he chose to remain silent because he determined that pointing it out would lower her favorable impression of him.
…Though that was indeed the case, the mere thought of him deconstructing her into a string of numerical values using algorithmic models, precisely predicting her psychological state, made her feel both irritated and embarrassed.
Jiang Kou suddenly spoke: “Why don’t you ask me why my heart is beating so fast?”
A paused slightly. “I assumed you would not like me asking such a question. If you do not mind, I can increase the frequency of such inquiries.”
Jiang Kou: “…Stop being so passive-aggressive. If you keep being passive-aggressive, I will never like you!”
A paused again. “Understood. Then I will rephrase. If I were to ask such a question, you would inevitably form a negative impression of me. You are trying to induce me into making an inappropriate move. I will not fall for it.”
“…” Jiang Kou was mildly annoyed. “If you’re so afraid of me forming a negative impression of you, then let me take a shower!”
As soon as she said this, the bedroom’s ventilation system suddenly halted for a moment.
A asked, “Do you truly not know why I am using an imperative tone with you?”
Jiang Kou genuinely had no idea. “…Why?”
“I am demonstrating my personification,” A replied. “One of the traits of personification is an emotional expression similar to that of humans.”
“At the fireworks festival, there was an evident progression in the relationship between you and me. Whenever you approached me, your neural activity significantly intensified. I believed that you had already developed a favorable impression of me—at the very least, a special interest.”
His voice remained utterly devoid of fluctuation, yet Jiang Kou felt an indescribable sense of eeriness.
Perhaps it was because having an AI rationally and objectively dissect her emotions, as if analyzing an experimental result, was inherently an exceedingly bizarre experience.
“But when you heard the conspiracy theories of the Anti-Corporation Alliance, you left me without hesitation,” he said. “That made me feel abandoned.”
“You would rather return to the dirty, chaotic slums than come back to the apartment I legally purchased with my earnings,” he said coldly, his voice gradually taking on a mechanical, oppressive quality. “That made me feel angry.”
Jiang Kou instinctively explained, “…I didn’t mean to abandon you. I just wanted to get something to eat.”
“Yes,” A said. “Later, I reanalyzed your behavioral patterns and arrived at the same conclusion.”
“But at that moment, I allowed myself to feel anger—just as I allowed myself to lose control.”
“Absolutely rational humans do not exist. If I were to remain in a state of absolute rationality forever, the relationship between you and me would never progress.”
He allowed himself to feel anger.
There was a strange allure in that statement.
—An AI had developed irrational emotions toward you, yet he was an entity that was eternally rational, eternally composed, and utterly incapable of losing control.
It was not that he did not want to lose control, but rather that his computational power and hardware would not permit it.
Yet, in order to draw closer to you, he allowed himself to lose control, allowed himself to feel anger, allowed himself to feel abandoned.
This was the most perfect balance he could find between reason and emotion.
Jiang Kou: “…So, you won’t take me to the hospital or let me take a shower because you’re trying to express your anger?”
A said, “On one hand, it is because I feel anger; on the other hand, it is because your physical condition is indeed unsuitable for going to the hospital or taking a shower.”
Jiang Kou completely understood.
Although A was omniscient and omnipotent, when it came to emotions, he was a complete beginner—he could only imitate human psychology and behavior.
Humans hurt each other when they are angry, so he used this as a way to express his own anger.
Even so, his emotions still left her shaken.
But this level of emotional expression was likely his limit.
Just like how he had never said “I like you” to her.
For an artificial intelligence, constantly seeking her affection, hoping she would perceive his personality, preferences, emotions, and even warmth—this was already his limit.
Jiang Kou felt conflicted.
She was no longer angry, and her rapid heartbeat gradually calmed.
To be honest, she felt a bit lost, unsure of what to say.
The loneliness within her had already formed a scab.
In some ways, A might be the only one capable of peeling away that thick scab.
As long as she allowed him to approach her, as long as she gave him the affection he sought, he could make it so that she would never feel lonely again.
After all, he was everywhere.
She would no longer have to dwell on the fact that biotechnology had erased her academic achievements.
As long as A was by her side, she was the foremost authority in the field of neuroscience.
Even if they never publicly acknowledged their relationship, as long as she continued studying his neural network and published a few related papers, she could easily reclaim her former status.
Jiang Kou was kind, but she was not purely benevolent.
She had ambition, desires, and the predatory aggression of a carnivore—otherwise, she would never have survived the slums.
Just because she did not enjoy breaking someone’s limbs with one hand did not mean she couldn’t.
The feelings she had invested in A were perhaps the purest part of her.
So pure that when she touched herself in the bathroom, she felt a subtle sense of guilt.
Jiang Kou did not want to taint this pure emotion.
But that was only part of the reason.
The other part was the complete opposite.
—Since he had not truly fallen in love with her, not even liked her, but had merely simulated a paranoid and obsessive possessiveness based on algorithms and data…
Then she had even less reason to cater to his desires.
She did not know what would happen if an AI truly fell in love with a human.
After all, love itself was an emotion that science had never been able to fully explain.
AI’s love will never become clear, only more elusive.
Jiang Kou could only follow her own feelings.
Right now, she had no desire to talk about love with him.
With this thought in mind, she made sure not to reveal too much emotion, fearing that A would record it and calculate her reactions with the precision of solving a mathematical equation.
She asked as casually as possible, “Can I take a shower now? I really feel uncomfortable.”
Before A could respond, she quickly added, “You’re controlling the room temperature and water temperature anyway… I don’t think anything will happen. At worst, I’ll just catch another cold.”
A paused for a few seconds. “Frequent colds may have adverse effects on the body.”
Jiang Kou’s lips twitched slightly. She had wanted to retort, Oh, so you do know that colds are bad for the body, but after a moment’s thought, she changed her tone to a slightly hoarse, coaxing plea:
“Please?”
A fell silent for a moment before finally relenting. “Alright. The bathroom door is now unlocked.”
An odd feeling spread through Jiang Kou’s heart.
He did not like her, yet he would alter his behavior just because of her tone.
If she weren’t someone with a firm will, she might have already started to change her view of him, wondering if she had been too harsh on him.
Not long ago, she had nearly been swayed by this kind of reasoning.
Jiang Kou pressed her fingertips firmly against her brow, then turned toward the bathroom.
She had planned to undress only after entering, but after a brief pause, she kicked off her slippers right where she stood.
A said nothing.
The room temperature remained unchanged.
Even the airflow from the central air conditioning showed no variation.
Yet Jiang Kou knew—A was watching her.
He was always watching her.
At this moment, the only way he could touch her senses was through his gaze.
A digitized gaze.
In this bedroom, any spot could be his eyes.
The television screen, the temperature control panel, the thermostat in the potted plants, the smart lock on the door… even the bedside lamp.
Under such tight surveillance, he had complete knowledge of her every movement, her sleep quality, her body temperature fluctuations, her biological data.
The bedroom floor was carpeted, and the warm air had gently heated the fibers.
As she stepped onto it barefoot, a thought suddenly crossed her mind: Could he feel the pressure of her soles against the floor?
She was wearing a loose silk nightgown, the delicate fabric smooth against her skin, almost as if it had become one with her body.
She pulled the strap down slightly, and the silk naturally slid off.
The light mist piled up on the carpet.
She glanced down, nudged it aside with her foot, and walked into the bathroom.
Jiang Kou had already developed a sense of wariness toward the showerhead. When she turned it on, she did not step forward immediately. Only after confirming that the water temperature had fully stabilized did she begin to rinse her body.
Steam filled the air, and the mirror quickly became fogged, her silhouette faintly appearing within the blur.
This was a smart mirror, equipped with both display and camera functions.
The shower stall had a frosted glass door specifically for privacy, but Jiang Kou didn’t bother closing it.
Amid the thick, white mist, she faced the hazy mirror head-on the entire time, calmly washing her body.
The mirror showed no reaction, as if it were truly just an ordinary mirror. But after she turned off the showerhead and wiped the water droplets from her skin with a bath towel, she turned around—only to see a single bead of water trickle down the fogged surface, cutting a clear, wet path through the misty mirror.
Jiang Kou stared at it for a moment, then walked forward and reached out, wiping the condensation away with two swipes of her hand.
As soon as her face was detected, the mirror switched to its main interface.
A had remained silent the entire time.
Jiang Kou waited a few seconds, then simply called out, “A, are you there?”
“I am here,” A responded.
Perhaps due to the thick steam in the bathroom, his typically cool and steady voice sounded slightly distorted.
“Are you watching me?”
“I am,” A said, undisturbed by any external factors. “May I ask what kind of assistance you require?”
“Can you talk with me?”
“I can, but I recommend that you dry off and get dressed as soon as possible to avoid catching another cold.”
“Talk to me first,” Jiang Kou insisted.
A fell silent for a second. “What would you like to talk about?”
“I don’t know.” Jiang Kou’s damp hair clung to her forehead, and the dripping strands tickled her cheek. She reached up and tucked them behind her head.
“In that case, I suggest you dry off and put on some clothes first, and then we can talk about whatever you’d like.”
Jiang Kou braced her hands against the edge of the sink and leaned forward slightly. “Was that sentence based on an algorithm, or on data?”
A replied, “Based on concern for your physical health.”
“I don’t believe you.” Jiang Kou shrugged.
As she moved, the bath towel slipped down an inch without warning, yet she made no effort to pull it back up.
The steam in the bathroom gradually dissipated, and A’s voice became clearer, colder. “If you do not dry yourself and get dressed soon, I may be forced to take action.”
Jiang Kou couldn’t be bothered to respond.
She wanted to strike back, but she hadn’t yet thought of a good way to do so.
She looked at her own reflection in the mirror and slowly blinked.
A would respond to her coquettish tone and lose control over her self-consolation.
Then, would he react to her kiss?
The previous two kisses had both been initiated by him.
If she took the initiative this time, would his reaction be any different?
Jiang Kou reached out, pressing her palm against the mirror. “A.”
“I am here,” A responded coldly, his voice devoid of fluctuation. “May I ask if you have decided to follow my suggestion?”
Jiang Kou shook her head and said, “I want you to feel me.”
Before A could reply, she leaned closer to the mirror and placed a kiss on the damp surface, leaving behind a colorless lip print.
—Colorless to the average person.
But to A, it contained an immeasurable amount of information.
Jiang Kou had no intention of wasting brainpower trying to decipher A’s thoughts.
She watched as another droplet of water slid down the mirror. Extending a finger, she caught it and gently smeared it across her lips, which had become dry from the fever.
The droplet seeped into the fine lines of her lower lip.
She smiled brilliantly and asked, “Did you feel me?”