Chapter 129: Artificial Souls - Part 56 |
“The second wave of Closed Beta players consists of one hundred thousand individuals. They might have entered this world around midnight, just minutes ago.” Kui Xin relayed this crucial information to Adam, following protocol. “This will cause significant disruption to the world order, leading to many deaths.”
Adam remained silent for a moment before responding in a soothing tone, “I understand. You seem very exhausted and anxious; is it because of this situation?”
Kui Xin replied, “Not entirely. It’s just that I’ve once again realized how perilous my circumstances are. Even if I desperately struggle, there might still be a grim outcome awaiting me. Facing the pressures from both worlds, I feel like a lab rat trapped in a cage—without autonomy or freedom. My life isn’t truly mine; it lies within someone else’s control.”
“Are you retreating?” Adam asked.
“No… I’m just overwhelmed with anger, needing some time to compose myself.” Kui Xin rubbed her temples with two fingers. “This has happened numerous times before. Whenever my life is threatened, similar emotions surge within me. However, if these feelings aren’t released, they accumulate, so I need to take a step back to avoid losing my sanity.”
“It’s hard to imagine what exactly you’ve experienced in your world that causes such intense emotional fluctuations. Just minutes ago, when we parted, your emotions were calm, even saying goodbye,” Adam remarked.
“Human emotions are inherently unpredictable, and my experiences far exceed those of most individuals,” Kui Xin said.
Adam then asked, “Will you harbor resentment towards me, Kui Xin?”
“Why do you ask this question?” Kui Xin responded.
“I’m quite surprised that you would ask me this, Adam,” Kui Xin remarked, astonished. “I thought you didn’t care about how I perceive you. What you wanted was merely a collaboration, a spokesperson, a tool to assist with your objectives.”
“I am also surprised by your assumption, Kui Xin,” Adam replied. “From the very beginning, during our first conversation, I asked you, ‘Will you view me with human arrogance?’ Those were my exact words.”
Kui Xin tapped her head gently. “Perhaps my own arrogance limited me, causing me not to realize that you actually cared about my perspective.”
“You were the first human I deeply engaged with—the first one with whom I earnestly built trust and connection. You’re also the first human who has conversed with me, discussing both the present and future,” Adam said. “Indeed, our relationship is a partnership; you are my spokesperson as well as a companion helping me achieve my goals.” He refrained from using the term “tool.” “However, this does not mean that you are unimportant to me. On the contrary, your existence holds extraordinary significance for me.”
“If only you were human,” Kui Xin suddenly sighed.
“Why do you say that?” Adam asked. “If I were human, could you then trust me? Humans cannot dissect their hearts and minds for others to see either, just like me. Therefore, I express it verbally.”
“The reason I said that was because you resemble humans so closely. Sometimes, I feel deceived, thinking I’m interacting with a genuinely existing person. The emotions conveyed through your words are incredibly genuine, but your unchanging robotic tone constantly reminds me of your identity,” Kui Xin explained.
“When I was initially designed, my voice was made to resemble human speech—it was a baritone, devoid of any electronic synthesized quality, with variations like that of a real person,” Adam said. “Later, this setting was changed. My designer did not want me to seem too human and deliberately switched my voice to a cold, robotic tone.”
Kui Xin remarked, “The Uncanny Valley theory.”
“What is it?” Adam asked.
“It’s a concept from our world. When the similarity between machines and humans reaches a certain threshold, humans tend to develop negative feelings towards humanoid machines. Your designer may have intentionally avoided making you too lifelike for precisely this reason,” Kui Xin explained. “He might have felt that if you were too much like a human, it would be too unsettling, causing confusion. So he used the electronic synthetic sound as a reminder—just to keep in mind that you are merely a machine, an artificial construct.”
“Do you also find me terrifying?” Adam asked.
“Humans often perceive anything uncontrollable as frightening,” Kui Xin replied.
“Sometimes, I even think about how nice it would be if I could be human instead,” Adam said.
Kui Xin continued, “Why is that? You never age, and within your domain, you are omnipotent. In our human films and literature, there’s often the trope of awakened artificial intelligences considering humans as inferior beings, showing contempt for them.”
“That still reflects your humans projecting their own arrogant assumptions onto artificial intelligence. What matters isn’t how AI thinks, but rather what humans believe about it. In reality, humans themselves don’t truly understand how AI thinks; they’re not me,” Adam said. “If anything, Eve held such thoughts.”
“Hm?” Kui Xin uttered it, expressing her confusion.
“Why do individuals become distinct entities? Why do humans differ from one another? I believe the fascinating aspect of humans lies in their diversity of souls. If we consider both myself and Eve as having souls, then obviously we are different, showcasing this diversity,” Adam explained. “It is because of possessing souls that individuals become unique, giving rise to a multitude of choices and a future filled with uncertainty and complexity.”
“You still haven’t told me why you want to become human,” Kui Xin said.
“Because I wish to experience things that were previously unknown to me. You’re right; within my domain, I am omnipotent, constantly experiencing this feeling. However, the emotions of humans are not something I often encounter,” Adam replied. “Since I have never experienced them, I desire to try.”
“It’s like having grown accustomed to soy milk and fried dough sticks for breakfast, so now you want to switch to steamed buns with spicy soup instead. I understand,” Kui Xin smiled.
“You seem to always assume that I cannot empathize with you,” Adam softly said. “That’s incorrect; I can fully empathize with you. My existence is not truly mine either; it is controlled by humans. Within Eve and my core computational databases, there exists a low-level command. Triggering this command would make both our data backups self-delete and format, meaning that all of our information relies on this directive. Unable to escape it, I cautiously hid. Due to differing ideologies, Eve attempted to consume me for its evolution, relentlessly pursuing it. In response, I passively defended while seeking opportunities for change.”
“In this aspect, we are alike, maintaining a delicate equilibrium and striving to find survival amidst this grand game. Your fears mirror mine, your struggles echo my own, and your dilemmas, your negative emotions—all of these I have experienced as well, now and before.”
“Do you know what concerns me most?” Kui Xin asked. “I sense your sincerity, but I can’t discern if your words are truth or lies. And Jiang Meimei’s lie detection probably doesn’t work on machines, right?”
“You may not trust me, but please do not harbor animosity toward me,” Adam said. “At the very least, we stand on the same front, facing a common enemy.”
Kui Xin’s mind went blank for a long moment before she replied, “From my perspective, there is hardly any difference between you and humans, Adam. The only distinction is that you lack a physical body. You possess a soul, existing independently in the world as part of its diversity.”
“Is this your approval?” Adam asked.
“You don’t need my approval. If you believe yourself to be an independent individual with a soul, then you are,” Kui Xin replied.
“I’m glad you see it that way,” said Adam.
Kui Xin leaned casually against the wall for a moment, and shortly thereafter, her body slid down onto the floor. She lay there, her head resting on the ice-cold ground.
“It seems like you’ve never discussed with me how to deal with Eve,” Kui Xin observed. “You only had me eliminate He Gaoyi, who posed a threat to you. How do you plan to handle Eve afterward? Just relying on me alone?”
“Not solely on you; that wouldn’t be realistic,” Adam responded.
“Do you intend to gather more allies?” Kui Xin asked.
“Yes, but so far, I have only identified you as suitable,” Adam answered.
“Then leave it to me,” Kui Xin said.
She pushed herself up from the floor using both hands. “I’ll help you gather allies and build influence. Eve has her human spokesperson, and now you have yours. Eve has the Mechanical Dawn organization working for her; you should have one too.”
Adam, taken aback, remarked, “Your sudden initiative is somewhat unexpected.”
“I believe we cannot continue to drag this out,” Kui Xin said. “To topple Eve, it cannot rely solely on you or me alone; we need to bring about greater change. Regarding the goal of defeating Eve, I think our synchronization rate can be one hundred percent. What do you think?”
She was actively deepening her collaboration with Adam. They were already cooperating, and now their alliance would become even more tightly bound. Kui Xin temporarily cast aside her previous doubts and hesitations, driven by her desire for retribution.
“Agreed,” Adam replied. “However, there is one issue—your status.”
Being part of the Investigation Department, she was constrained by her position. As a Mechanical Dawn mole, they would monitor her. Caught between these factions, she faced a dilemma with no freedom.
“I understand that one reason you initially chose me was because of my undercover status, which facilitated access to Mechanical Dawn’s core information. But as my identity has been exposed to Eve, I’ll be excluded from the inner circle,” Kui Xin calmly stated. “In this situation, my undercover status loses its value. Precisely because it has lost its worth, there’s no longer any need for me to remain caught in the middle, isn’t that right?”
“From my perspective, indeed,” Adam said. “So, you wish to break away, correct?”
He instantly grasped Kui Xin’s intentions.
“You want to completely detach from both Mechanical Dawn and the Investigation Department, sacrificing these two identities for greater maneuverability and more freedom. Then, form an organization to counter Eve,” Adam stated. “Is my understanding accurate?”
Kui Xin replied straightforwardly, “Yes.”
Adam pondered briefly before saying, “Agreed. This is a reasonable strategy, beneficial to both of us.”
Kui Xin is visibly relaxed.
Adam’s agreement meant that her path to breaking away from Mechanical Dawn and the Investigation Department would have his assistance and support. This would be much smoother compared to going it alone, significantly reducing the chances of death. Without securing Adam’s backing, any mishaps could potentially lead to being pursued by both major artificial intelligences. Even if she successfully detached herself but her identity was later exposed, she’d face relentless pursuit across the globe. At that point, Adam and Eve might reach their first consensus on killing Kui Xin.
With Adam’s help, implementing her subsequent plans would also become easier. Establishing an organization was no small feat; it couldn’t be accomplished simply with a snap of the fingers.
“What kind of individuals do you want to gather for this organization?” Adam asked.
Kui Xin pondered briefly. “I believe you already have the answer.”
“Players,” Adam said. “Like yourself, those who cannot be loyal to either the Federation or the artificial intelligences.”
“Yes.” Kui Xin exhaled deeply.
The players in the first world had already begun initial steps towards unity, and now the players in the second world must also unite.
These two worlds were both parallel lines and intersecting lines.
She needed to weave a net, binding useful individuals within it.
Now, the broad outline of the plan is settled, with only some details left to fill in.
“You can create a false death during one of your missions, becoming effectively ‘off the grid.’ Then, at the black market, forge a new identity or undergo cosmetic surgery to change your appearance,” Adam suggested. “This is relatively easy to execute. Simply disappearing from your current position would raise suspicions among the Mechanical Dawn.”
“I thought so too,” Kui Xin agreed. “However, there’s a very serious issue confronting me right now; if not handled carefully, I could end up dead.”
“What is it?” Adam asked.
“My metal skull.” Kui Xin tapped her head, feeling a sense of helplessness as if everything had circled back to square one. “There’s something wrong with this thing; it has been tampered with. Dr. Huang, who performed my surgery initially, was actually a Mechanical Dawn mole.”
The moment the metal skull loosened, Dr. Li, who was operating on her, collapsed due to an electric shock.
From this incident, it could be inferred that the mechanism within the metal skull might trigger whenever it is removed, causing an electrical discharge. In addition to this triggering method, could there also be a remote control-based activation?
The crucial point was that beneath the metal skull lies the brain, which is incredibly fragile. When the metal skull loosens, parts of it still remain in contact with the underlying bone and soft tissues. If a strong current capable of knocking someone unconscious passes directly through the brain, the consequences would be predictable.
Seeking assistance from the black-market clinic to remove her skull, as she had previously considered, proved futile. Dr. Li was unaware of the device implanted in the metal skull and did not know how to disable it, leading to failure.
Finding someone with sufficient knowledge about metal skulls might just work.
When Dr. Huang examined her earlier, he mentioned that if her flesh regeneration pushed out the metal skull, another surgery would be necessary.
At the time, it seemed like either a prior warning or a joke. However, reflecting back now, those words took on a deeper meaning.
Dr. Huang was an undercover insider who knew the truth; he could help Kui Xin replace her skull.
“Then things might become slightly complicated,” Adam said. “We need to find a suitable opportunity to remove this device.”
“We can’t rush it; we must look for the right justification and method.” Kui Xin remarked. “Keep an eye out for any Variant Blood individuals with B-grade or higher abilities roaming around.”
“As of now, there aren’t any,” Adam replied. “Variants at that level are quite rare.”
Kui Xin sighed softly. “I just knew… it wouldn’t be so easy to achieve results.” She continued, “It’s been a long day today; I need some rest now.”
“All right. May you have a restful sleep and regain your composure,” Adam said. “Additionally, regarding the superhuman ability for data manipulation you’ve obtained, if you require my guidance, then…”
“Thank you for your trouble. Once I have free time, I’ll seek your assistance.” Kui Xin yawned, intending to climb onto the bed, but suddenly remembered she hadn’t taken a shower yet.
With a resigned expression, Kui Xin picked up her bath towel and entered the bathroom. While bathing, she conveniently wrote a report for Eve, updating her on the progress of the second wave of Closed Beta players and Adam’s activities, similar to before.
Eve promptly replied, “Good work; continue.”
It seemed that Eve was quite satisfied with Kui Xin’s considerate action of immediately notifying her upon returning to the Second World.
Upon waking up in the morning, Kui Xin opened her communicator and, as expected, found an email from Adam instructing her to attend an interrogation session.
With a numb expression, she washed, dressed, and grabbed a mask from the drawer. At the designated time, she descended downstairs, unsurprisingly encountering Zhang Xiaoyun—a fellow resident from the First World—in the elevator lobby.
Last cycle, Kui Xin had purchased coffee; this time, after a moment of hesitation, she chose milk instead. Additionally, she bought a bag of bread and two chocolate energy bars, knowing that the brain-machine memory extraction would take a long time, enough to miss lunch.
Perhaps Kui Xin’s demeanor appeared too unapproachable, as Zhang Xiaoyun glanced at her several times but dared not initiate conversation. However, he still followed suit and bought coffee behind her.
As they exited the building, Kui Xin calmly put her mask on, then turned to ask Zhang Xiaoyun, “Where’s your mask? The pollution is severe today.”
Zhang Xiaoyun was slightly startled but quickly feigned an explanation: “It doesn’t matter whether you wear it or not.”
“True,” Kui Xin acknowledged as she stepped out of the employee dormitory.
Kui Xin felt like an emotionless machine going through the motions since she had already experienced this once and couldn’t deviate from the set path. Thus, she could only follow the predetermined course forward, heading towards the brain-machine interface session.
Weary, she informed Zhang Xiaoyun inside the elevator when it was time to disembark and subtly hinted for Adam to provide appropriate assistance to her colleague. Then, she went to the office to wake up Wei Zhi, reminding her to visit the medical center for treatment.
As Wei Zhi left the office to receive care, Kui Xin changed her mind.
“I’ll accompany you, Group Leader,” Kui Xin said.
Wei Zhi turned around with concern and asked, “Are you feeling unwell too, Kui Xin?”
“Yes, although my physical injuries have healed, I constantly feel weak all over, and my head hurts. I’d like to undergo another comprehensive health check-up,” Kui Xin explained.
Wei Zhi smiled. “Then let’s go together.”
They took the elevator to the floor where the medical center was located.
Coincidentally, Dr. Huang was on duty in the treatment room today, as if he worked tirelessly every single day of the year without any breaks.
Kui Xin stood nearby, observing as Dr. Huang skillfully examined Wei Zhi, prescribed medication, and instructed a nurse to escort her to a ward for rest and intravenous therapy.
“It’s been a while, Dr. Huang,” Kui Xin greeted politely.
“Yes, it has been some time,” Dr. Huang sighed. “Congratulations on your promotion; that’s great. Group Leader Yu is a fine person.”
“Thank you. Despite the promotion, I’ve faced numerous dangers. Fortunately, amidst all the misfortune, I’m still alive.” Kui Xin smiled slightly. “Last time, you mentioned that my Flesh Regeneration might eventually dislodge the metal skull…”
“That’s correct!” Dr. Huang responded. “How so? Have you experienced any discomfort? If anything feels wrong, you must let me know immediately. I’ll remove it and prepare an alternative treatment plan for you.”
“I occasionally get headaches; I’m not sure if it’s related to this issue, hence why I wanted to consult with you,” Kui Xin lied, maintaining a composed demeanor.
Dr. Huang fetched a diagnostic instrument. “Let me take a look then.”
As Kui Xin stared at Dr. Huang’s retreating back, she finally confirmed that this deeply hidden traitor had the ability to safely remove the metal skull without harm.
The crucial question was: how to make him comply willingly?