enjoyebooks Chapter 15 is messed up; it's the mass kill line!
Chapter 15 is messed up; it's the mass kill line!
In the divine realm, Luo Huan's gaze returned from the glass building in Seattle.
Before her, the power representing Qian Liren was changing, but it was slow to materialize.
At the same time, I can also sense that the power I put in is for the first time actively extending outward to spread!
Is this the most basic Iron grade?
"Is it that Noah AI? General artificial intelligence?"
Luo Huan moved closer.
Inside the bead, Qian Liren sat at his workstation, the code scrolling on the screen.
However, the connections in the pathway of "knowledge transformation" clearly point to two sources:
Qian Liren's consciousness and the logic entity that was taking shape inside that machine.
The two are intertwined, serving as each other's anchor points.
"But does that make him a believer?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"You can even do this kind of infection?"
The power she bestowed upon Qian Liren is permeating the underlying architecture of AI through his thinking and actions.
And AI also continuously provides feedback to Qian Liren during this process.
"If this continues, will this AI turn into a god on its own?"
Luo Huan tilted her head.
"Or will a cyber cultist emerge? Interesting."
As for whether he will become a so-called god?
She didn't care; after all, even the most powerful algorithm needs to solve a problem.
That is matter and energy, and she is the end of everything.
Therefore, she decided not to get involved for the time being.
Let me see~
Attention shifted in another direction.
On the East Coast, in the Wall Street area, the fluctuations in those who are suited to the "Artistic Pleasures" remain clear.
Just as she was about to turn her gaze over...
Suddenly stopped.
"Huh?! That's amazing."
A faint, yet incredibly rapidly spreading resonance pierced through the edge of my senses.
It wasn't the meticulousness of the West Coast, nor the fervor of the East Coast, nor the fury of guerrilla warfare, but a pure yearning for life.
Luo Huan blinked and brought up the power structure diagram.
【A loving embrace】.
The basic pathway model, which she had stripped of most of its functions and carelessly tossed into the gray fog for random infection, actually found a suitable candidate and began to improve and exert its power within just one day?
"So fast?"
She was a little surprised.
A large sample size definitely increases the probability!
Following that resonance, I drew my gaze in that direction.
In an instant, the gray fog of war dissipated.
The city streets are bustling with traffic under the cover of night.
Neon lights reflected on the wet pavement, breaking into flowing patches of color.
Along the street, in the shadow of the building sheltered from the wind, a group of people leaned against the wall.
They wore dirty, out-of-season, heavy clothes, held bottles or tin foil of various colors in their hands, bowed their heads, inhaled, and moved slowly and intently.
It's a potent enhancer from students or illegal workshops.
Cheap, efficient, and awesome!
Edward Scott was among them.
He leaned against the cold brick wall, clutching a nearly empty plastic bottle in his hand.
It contains some kind of murky liquid.
He turned it on, tilted his head back, and gulped it down.
The burning sensation slid from my throat down to my stomach and then exploded.
The ecstasy of chemistry overwhelmed all the senses.
The cold disappeared, the dampness disappeared, and the sour smell on my body disappeared.
The world becomes softer, warmer, and more colorful.
He seemed to have returned to that bright clinic, wearing a crisp, starched white coat, his fingers clean, and a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
The medical record was filled with complicated medical terminology, and the family members looked at him with trust.
Then there was that face, that child, pale and weak, but with bright eyes.
He softened, signed the papers, and used the more effective medication that wasn't on the insurance list.
The images in my memory began to crumble.
Transfer notice, a payslip with a sharp drop in income, bills raining down: from the hospital, the bank, the school, the real estate...
The numbers kept piling up, eventually becoming an insurmountable wall.
The phone rang, debt collectors cursed, and a notice of foreclosure auction was posted on the front door.
His wife left without looking back that night.
Finally, there was the sound of the auction company's truck driving away, leaving him on the cold ground with only that small bottle in his hand.
In a daze, he felt himself floating, getting higher and higher.
Then, it plummeted.
The blissful feeling receded like a tide, even more rapidly than when it arrived.
Gravity yanked him back to the ground.
boom!
It wasn't a real sound, but the vibration of consciousness crashing back into the body.
Edward opened his eyes.
The field of vision is clear.
The first thing I noticed was my hands, which were resting on my knees and were severely frostbitten and no longer flexible.
Then there's the smell, the sour stench emanating from my body, a mixture of sweat, urine, and garbage.
He sat on the cold sidewalk.
In front of him, another person lay directly on the ground, also wearing dirty clothes whose original color was unrecognizable.
He was African American, looked younger than him, and was huddled up.
However, in Edward's vague understanding at this moment, skin color didn't matter much.
They're all the same, they're all the same.
"Old Ford? Is he dead?"
He mumbled incoherently, drool involuntarily dripping from the corner of his mouth.
He felt a slight itch on his back, and sluggishly turned his head to see several others leaning against the wall, motionless, probably also having a blast.
He couldn't remember how long he had been there.
Three months?
a year?
Time has lost its measure.
He moved his body slowly, like a rusty machine.
He reached out and nudged Old Ford on the ground.
The fingers touched the skin of the other person's neck.
Cold and stiff.
But the next moment, a strange, sticky sensation came from the point of contact.
Like mycelium in some movie, it flowed backward along his fingertips into his frozen blood vessels.
A voice echoed deep within his mind, calm, gentle, and carrying an indescribable weariness and acceptance:
"Child, live on!"
Edward's confused mind paused for a moment.
This voice... it's somewhat familiar, yet completely unfamiliar.
It wasn't anyone's voice from my memory.
But instinctively, his chapped lips moved:
"Lord? Is that you?"
no answer.
Instead, another set of memories flooded in.
It wasn't his own.
It's an old Ford.
Ford was of mixed Black and Indian descent, and fortunately or unfortunately inherited the advantages of both ethnic groups.
After a childhood in which his father was absent, he used his intellectual advantages, typical of people of Indian descent, to find a decent job.
A drug reviewer at a large health insurance company.
His job is to ask doctors to choose the most economical treatment option from several proposed options, based on insurance terms and the principle of maximizing company profits.
He is also part of the team that reviews doctors' reimbursement receipts and has the right to question or even reject unreasonable medical expenses.
A few months ago, he was betrayed by a colleague to a white supremacist group because he refused to cooperate with certain internal operations.
He was nearly killed in a street attack.
The exorbitant costs of emergency treatment and subsequent care triggered his medical insurance, but also left him with astronomical out-of-pocket expenses.
Immediately afterwards, student loans, medical loans, car loans... all debts matured at the same time.
Like a precisely stepped domino, it instantly pushed him into bankruptcy, ultimately leaving him homeless.
Fragments of memory flowed through Edward's consciousness.
"……Oh."
Edward made a soft, whistling sound, it was hard to tell whether it was laughter or crying.
"We're in the same boat!"
On the ground, Old Ford's pupils, which had been unfocused and rigid, twitched extremely slightly.
On his cold, pale face, there seemed to be a faint trace of color struggling to return.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. However, Edward heard the response, which resonated directly in his mind:
"Yeah, bro."
Two equally dirty and cold hands were clasped together.
A faint, dim green light,
It appeared faintly where their skin touched, like the cheapest fluorescent paint, clinging to each other, flashing weakly for a moment before disappearing again.
"Praise be to God..."
Edward repeated it unconsciously, his voice fading.
He held onto Old Ford's hand tightly, but his other hand slowly and somewhat blankly reached out and touched another unconscious homeless man lying next to him.
The moment fingertips touch.
"Oh~..."
He let out a short, sharp sound that sounded like a sigh or a groan.
More fragments of memory flooded in.
Different faces, different trajectories of falling, the same destination: this damp and cold street.
The clinging, faint green seemed to spread out again after this contact.
Several figures, still dazed or convulsing in the afterglow of chemical ecstasy, were unaware of this subtle change by the wall.
The night was still deep.
Across the street, the river of car headlights continued its ceaseless flow, rushing towards the more dazzling neon lights in the distance.