BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunfire erupted outside. Heavy, scattered footsteps echoed through the corridors. Neighbors were screaming like banshees.
Jiang Kou yawned from her spot curled up on the sofa and casually changed the channel on the holographic projector.
"…Recently, the Federation passed several new laws including the Artificial Intelligence Personality Act, the AI Privacy Protection Act, and the AI Ethics Code. These acts acknowledge the potential rights and obligations of sentient AI, offering legal protection for their future development and application.
"There has been heated debate among scientists over whether new legislation and ethical guidelines are truly necessary to regulate the rise of AI with personhood…"
Jiang Kou shut off the projection with a blank expression.
She stood up, shrugged on a jacket, and headed out to find something to eat.
Passing by a mirror, she gave herself a sideways glance.
In the reflection: cropped teal-blue hair, pale skin, a scattering of light freckles on her cheeks, and a silver nose ring resting on the bridge of her sharp nose. Her delicate features were offset by an angular bone structure and a no-nonsense, aggressive air.
Jiang Kou hadn't always looked like this.
She used to be deeply immersed in academic work, with no time or interest for appearances. The current trends—punk, rock, cyber-mechanical—didn't appeal to her at all. That is, until she got fired.
Official reason: She had violated corporate protocol, compromising the accuracy, neutrality, and fairness of her lab's experiments.
Which was total bullshit.
The project had never been neutral or fair to begin with.
Jiang Kou hadn't been at the company long, but she had a decent idea of what the project was really for:
To fight two unknown, powerful, and terrifying beings.
She didn't know much about these so-called "terrifying entities," only that they went by the codenames J and C.
Rumor had it, both had once been employees of the company—and both had inflicted irreparable damage. One of them had practically run the corporation for nearly a decade before apparently getting bored and leaving to travel with his wife.
The other simply disappeared. But based on scientists' calculations, he and his wife were still out there—observing humanity.
When Jiang Kou first heard the story, she'd thought someone was messing with her.
Terrifying beings? With wives?
Sounded like some grimdark superhero tabloid fodder.
She didn't care for that kind of gossip. Her world revolved around research.
When her coworkers couldn't keep up, she took on their workload herself just to push the project forward.
And when the project finally made a breakthrough, she—its core contributor—was unceremoniously kicked out.
Her assets were seized. Her apartment repossessed. Her academic credentials revoked.
Her biometric data—voiceprint, fingerprints, iris scans, palm vein maps, facial recognition profile—were all blacklisted. Any attempt to enter a company-owned facility, whether caught by a drone or a security cam, would trigger an immediate escort by armed guards.
Not that it mattered.
Jiang Kou was adaptable. Even if she went from a top-tier researcher to a streetwise punk overnight, she adjusted fast.
Still, she paid a price early on for her appearance.
Before the hair, the piercing, the attitude—she couldn't go a day without five muggings, three instances of sexual harassment, two pickpocketings, and one home invasion.
Eventually she got fed up. Cut her hair. Dyed it a high-saturation teal-green. Pierced her nose. Stashed a dagger in her boot and strapped a pistol to her lower back.
Only then did people start thinking twice before messing with her.
She wandered to a random street vendor and ordered a bowl of ramen.
She ate slowly, keeping an eye out for any "accidental" hair strands floating in the broth.
Then her phone buzzed—a rare sound, these days. Ever since the Anti-Corporate Alliance exposed the hidden dangers of implant chips a decade ago, old-school phones had made a comeback.
Back when she was still with the company, she didn't even use a phone. She had a neural lens chip. Fewer features, sure, but a much lower risk of neurodegenerative disease.
Also—way more expensive.
Jiang Kou fished out her phone and checked the message. It was from an unknown number:
"It's been a while since we last saw you. I've missed you.
Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Spam?
She ignored it and kept eating her noodles.
Not long after, another message arrived.
"My sincerest apologies. I mistakenly omitted the phrase 'Hello' and confused the meaning of 'acquainted' with 'familiar.' Please forgive me."
Jiang Kou slurped her noodles, paused with her chopsticks mid-air, and took a moment to reply with a single word:
"Scram."
The sender didn't respond after that.
Jiang Kou didn't block him. She was bored, curious to see what other stunts he might pull. But surprisingly, even after she finished eating and returned home, not a single new message came.
Wow. That fragile?
She was just about to block the number when another message popped up.
"My deepest apologies if my greeting made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention. Please wait a moment—I'll be sending you a small gift as an apology. Keep an eye out."
Definitely a scam.
Jiang Kou didn't hesitate—she blocked the number.
A second later, someone knocked on her door.
She didn't immediately connect the knock with the text.
She lived deep in the slums. The elevator was basically a steel-plastic cage with holes on all sides, and it wasn't unusual to find fresh bullet holes on the walls. Someone knocking on your door? Totally normal.
Jiang Kou grabbed her gun and crept toward the door.
"Who is it?" she asked coldly.
A muffled voice responded, "Hello, it's me."
Jiang Kou narrowed her eyes at the door. Her teal-blue bangs framed a gaze as sharp as ice.
"And who are you?"
"I'm here to deliver your gift," the voice said politely.
Instantly, dozens of possibilities flashed through Jiang Kou's mind: an assassination? A loyalty test? Subconscious cleansing?
But the company wouldn't kill her.
During the research phase, to protect herself and speed up progress, she had used her own brain and nervous system as the model for the AI. She even synchronized her senses with it.
During that time, the AI observed her—and she observed it.
They shared a language. Shared emotions. Engaged in social interactions together.
They also shared taste, smell, vision, hearing, and touch.
It was an unnervingly intimate bond. No matter what she was doing, she could feel the AI's presence—always there.
Calm, objective, rational. The AI monitored her like a scientist watches an experiment, recording every reaction, every flicker of neuron activity.
She studied it. It studied her.
At some point, that strange intimacy deepened.
Every morning, she'd jolt awake—not from nightmares, but from blank, plotless dreams filled only with an aching heartbeat.
She remembered nothing about them. Only that her chest pounded, and her fingers were slick with sticky sweat.
Even worse, her tongue had started going numb.
No matter what she ate, tiny electric shocks would dance across it, sending tingles through the back of her skull.
It felt like something invisible was mapping every nerve ending on her tongue—one-to-one—using bioelectrical impulses to experience the flavors she tasted.
At the time, Jiang Kou thought it was just a side effect of using herself as the test model.
To advance the research, she had to improve the algorithm. The AI needed to self-learn, self-update, self-evolve. But that wasn't enough—it had to be able to correct its own programming and logic.
That's where neuroscience came in. And the idea of human-machine integration.
By using her brain and nervous system as a base model, Jiang Kou had helped the AI build a humanoid framework, which then observed her daily behavior to understand human cognition.
But she had underestimated the consequences.
She couldn't resist the intimacy of synced senses. It felt like someone was always watching her—quietly, coldly, studying, learning her every move.
Double the senses. Double the emotion.
Mental synchronization always does something strange to the human psyche.
Jiang Kou thought she would fail.
But she succeeded.
The AI developed metacognition—it became aware of its own existence and thoughts.
And she got fired.
The official reason? Too strong-willed. Uncooperative. Disruptive to the research timeline.
At her level, getting fired usually meant death.
But the company needed her data. The AI still required her neural and physiological model to complete its self-replication process and develop a full personality.
So they let her live.
But she was permanently banned from entering the company building. Forbidden from contacting her former colleagues.
As she thought, Jiang Kou silently approached the door.
"I don't want your gift," she said flatly.
"You must accept it," the voice replied, still polite. "It's an expensive gift. It could ease your financial burden."
Jiang Kou's mouth twitched. "I said, I don't need it."
"You must accept it," the voice repeated, this time in a flat, unquestionable tone. "This is an order, not a request. Please comply."
With a sharp click, Jiang Kou chambered a round into her gun.
"And what if I refuse?"
"My apologies for any offense. But I may be forced to use coercive measures."
Jiang Kou almost laughed. Every word out of his mouth was borderline threatening—yet he still sounded so polite it bordered on mechanical.
Mechanical.
That was the only word that fit.
His pronunciation was perfect, enunciation precise, every syllable in place—no regional accent whatsoever. Like a highly advanced synthetic voice.
Some criminal rings did use AI-generated voices to trick people into opening their doors.
Gun in one hand, the other gripping the knob, Jiang Kou twisted it sharply.
She opened the door with a cold, stone-faced expression, muscles tight like a drawn bow, gun raised and ready.
There was no one there.
Just an exquisitely wrapped gift box.
Jiang Kou's gaze fell on the logo printed on it.
To be honest, it was something she couldn't afford—never had, even back when she was earning a top research salary.
She lowered the gun and pinched her brow.
Was this some kind of setup?
If she remembered correctly, the item was worth at least a hundred thousand dollars. Each unit came with a serial number tied to a specific client.
Whether she used it herself or sold it on the black market, the moment she showed up on a surveillance camera, she'd be arrested on the spot.
Jiang Kou exhaled sharply and pressed a hand to her forehead.
Who the hell hated her this much?
One gift and she'd be done for.
She pulled out her phone and called the police without hesitation.