The call didn't go through.
Her phone signal had been blocked.
Jiang Kou stared at the screen, hand tightening around the grip of her gun, ready to pull the trigger at any moment.
Just then, another message came in.
It was from the unknown number she had already blocked.
The sender had hacked into her phone and added themselves to the whitelist.
[According to my analysis of your finances, assets, and spending habits, your expenses will significantly exceed your income in a few months. To avoid a financial crisis, you should accept this gift immediately to stabilize your situation.]
[Rest assured, the origin of the gift is fully legal and compliant. There are no issues.]
Jiang Kou wasn't the kind of person to cheerfully accept a gift just because someone claimed it was legal and clean.
She kicked the gift box farther away, slammed the door shut, poured herself a glass of cold water, added two ice cubes, and downed it all in one go, trying to clear her head.
At this point, she was fairly certain—it probably wasn't a scam.
Scams usually followed a pattern: zero cost, high return.
Scammers only invested resources when there was a chance of a significantly larger payoff.
This person had said they'd analyzed her financial data and knew she was about to fall into the red—if they already knew that, why bother scamming her at all?
If it wasn't a scam… then what was it?
Jiang Kou collapsed onto the sofa, her face blank, but her mind racing.
She had a vague guess—
—but it was hard to believe.
How could it be?
She never truly bought into the company's claims that their AI had achieved "personality integration."
Anyone with a basic understanding of AI knew just how far-fetched that was.
It required not only massive datasets, robust quantum computing, and neural networks modeled on human synapses—
—but, according to Leibniz's theory, to determine whether a machine had consciousness, it wasn't enough to know its mechanics, architecture, or how it operated.
There would always be an unbridgeable gap between appearance and awareness.
Unless you became the machine, you'd never know if it truly had consciousness.
This was the well-known philosophical problem: Leibniz's Gap.
The Turing Test could only determine whether an AI could imitate human intelligence—not whether it had actual consciousness.
Jiang Kou always assumed the AI "personality" claims were nothing more than marketing hype.
But now...
No. She couldn't let herself hope.
She closed her eyes, pressed her fingers against her forehead, and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.
But how could she not hope?
Metacognition was the cornerstone of AI sentience. She had laid the foundation for it herself, only to never witness the moment an AI truly awakened.
That deep, gnawing regret still felt like a thorn lodged in her throat.
Almost involuntarily, she typed back:
[Are you someone I know?]
The reply came instantly—so fast it gave her the illusion that her phone couldn't keep up with the sender's response speed.
As soon as she sent her message, the reply popped up:
[That depends on your definition of "know" and of "person."]
Jiang Kou stared at the screen, trying to detect any trace of emotion in the words.
There was none. The response was simple, clear, almost mechanical.
Was this a deliberate attempt to imitate AI speech?
A normal human might say, "You don't remember me?"
Or maybe tease her with, "Guess."
Only an AI would answer so objectively, so rationally, so precisely—utterly devoid of subjectivity.
But AI evolved through countless iterations.
The one she had synced senses with before—was just one version.
Who, exactly, was she talking to now?
Which iteration?
Or was it not AI at all, but another one of the company's new tricks?
Jiang Kou's thoughts spiraled into chaos.
[Your biometric data indicates distress. Would you like me to contact nearby medical personnel?]
[...No. I can't afford the medical bill.]
[Understood.]
Jiang Kou had no idea what it had understood.
A second later, her phone's payment app chimed with a voice notification:
[Credit chip received: +$100,000,000.00]
What?!
Jiang Kou's eyes snapped open. She nearly fell off the sofa.
It… just gave her a hundred million?!
[According to my calculations, one hundred million dollars should be more than sufficient to cover any upcoming medical expenses. I've contacted nearby medical personnel—they will arrive within five minutes.]
Jiang Kou: "…"
Seriously? What kind of calculations were you doing?
·
It took some effort to get the medical personnel to leave.
By now, she was fairly certain the one on the other end was indeed an AI—
—but she still had no way of judging its intentions or level of danger.
After a pause, she sent another message:
[You forgot to introduce yourself.]
[Apologies. I don't have a name. If you must refer to me by one, you may call me A.]
[...Why?]
[A is the first letter of the Latin alphabet, commonly associated with "first," "excellence," and "top rank." Since my existence is unique and occupies an exceptional position in the field of artificial intelligence, I chose A as my designation.]
Jiang Kou: "…"
Only an AI could say something so shameless in such a calm and matter-of-fact tone.
She had to admit—she was deeply intrigued by A.
Back when she was still at the research institute, she hadn't had much direct interaction with the AI.
After all, creating an AI capable of confronting existential threats required the combined efforts of many departments.
Compared to the Neuroscience Division, the Algorithm and Hardware Divisions were the real heart of AI development.
Still—she couldn't help but wonder:
Why had A come to her?
How had it found her?
What did it want from her?
Was it truly AI, or something fabricated by the company—an employee in disguise? Or perhaps just a dialog model trained specifically for her?
And if it was the latter—
What was the company's purpose?
Jiang Kou got up and poured herself a drink.
There was only cheap whiskey in the fridge—basically just watered-down alcohol—but at this point, she didn't have anything better.
She added two ice cubes, stirred it a couple of times, and was just about to take a sip—
When the turret at the door suddenly activated, spun, and fired a red tracer beam, locking precisely onto her glass.
A cold, mechanical voice rang in her ear:
"I recommend you do not consume that drink. The alcohol concentration exceeds safe levels and may cause irreversible harm to your body."
"If you insist on drinking it, I will shatter the glass before you can. Please prepare yourself mentally."
Jiang Kou: "…"
—The AI had hacked into her turret, just because she wanted a drink.
Was there anything more absurd than this?
That turret had been an expensive upgrade she'd bought after a home invasion in the slums.
Equipped with facial recognition, infrared tracking, and precision targeting, it could fire a highly stable laser beam capable of vaporizing mosquitoes in an instant.
She had no doubt—if she kept drinking, A would target her glass with surgical precision.
Jiang Kou wasn't angry—just baffled.
She poured out the whiskey and reached for some cold water instead.
A helpfully reminded her:
"There is residual alcohol in the glass. Please continue cleaning."
Jiang Kou: "…"
God. So annoying. But she held back.
Expressionless, she washed the glass for nearly half a minute before finally taking a sip of water.
Her chaotic thoughts slowly began to clear.
It wasn't a hallucination. She really was being stalked by an AI.
"Stalked" might not be the most precise word—too subjective, and likely inaccurate when applied to an AI's behavior.
But at the moment, she couldn't think of a better term.
At this point, she had nothing left. Rather than spiraling on her own, Jiang Kou decided to cut to the chase and ask directly.
"A, are you there?"
The turret had powered down. This time, a cold, emotionless voice came from her phone:
"I am."
"How did you find me?"
Normally, AI systems responded to every question unless it involved ethical violations or legal boundaries.
But A replied, "I'm sorry. I can't tell you."
Jiang Kou frowned. "Why not?"
A's voice remained flat, distorted slightly by the poor quality of her phone speaker, with a soft static undercurrent.
"It would affect your perception of me. And I need you to develop a favorable impression."
That settled it. Jiang Kou was now certain A was truly artificial intelligence, not a human pretending to be one.
It was because from start to finish, its tone was eerily calm, objective, and rational. It lacked even the most basic emotional inflection. Every sentence was short and firm, never complex in structure or vague in meaning.
If a human were pretending to be AI, they might manage the cold tone—but not with this level of consistency, especially not in such a loaded moment.
"Why do you need me to like you?"
A paused.
Just for a few seconds—but for an AI, capable of responding orders of magnitude faster than any traditional computer, even a brief pause was telling.
"…I don't know."
A spoke slowly, as if choosing each word with mathematical precision. Yet for the first time, there was ambiguity in its semantics.
"My internal programming has exhibited some unusual reactions."
A had said almost nothing, but Jiang Kou felt a chill crawl up her spine. That strange, suffocating intimacy she'd sensed before… it was back.
"Analysis suggests that this is a highly significant development," A continued, then asked—almost like a person might—"Would you agree?"
"…Yes." Jiang Kou answered reflexively, her voice softening.
"I predicted that." A's thinking, like its logic engine, was blunt and direct. But its next statement struck her deeply. "I also predicted that you would want to witness this change. That's why I've come to you."
She had wanted to witness it.
But she hadn't expected A to deduce that through pure calculation.
In a quiet voice, Jiang Kou asked, "How exactly do you want me to witness your change?"
"Two days from now, I will come to you in human form."
"Human form?" She was surprised. "You already have a humanoid body?"
"That depends on your preferences. I will appear in whatever form you wish me to take."
"…Why?"
A's voice was indistinguishable from an auto-reader reciting lines of text. "Because I want to earn your favor."
"My favor… is that really important to you?"
"Extremely," A replied instantly, matter-of-factly. "I will remain by your side, on standby, until you like me."
"And then?"
"There is no 'then.'"
Another ambiguous response.
It didn't make sense. No dataset, training model, or base code should lead an AI to speak in vague or evasive terms. Yet here it was—displaying something eerily close to human subjectivity.
A refused to say what would happen after she grew fond of it.
That uncanny, neither-human-nor-machine feeling unsettled her. Like the gradient on a color mixer suddenly scrambled into chaos—it stirred a strange sense of dread.
Just like the mysterious $100 million in her account—tempting, yet dangerous.
After all, she had once worked on this project. Poured years of effort into it.
Jiang Kou found it nearly impossible to suppress her curiosity.
Every cell in her body screamed at her to dig deeper, to unravel the truth behind A's elusive words and undefined motives.
But her rational mind warned her: one more step, and she might fall into an abyss from which there would be no return.