AI Artist - Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Guang Kui was the leader organizing the homeless protest. He had a broad nose, but his eyebrows and eyes were squeezed together, making him look fierce and sharp.
“Get up! Pack your things and get ready to work!” Guang Kui kicked the bedding of a homeless person next to him as he walked.
The homeless man who was kicked scoffed disdainfully and shifted his tattered piece of leather inward a bit.
“As long as we make the news, we can fight for some rights. Today, we make as big a scene as possible!” Guang Kui continued forward, striding over bottles and old cardboard like a soldier on review. His voice echoed slightly under the vast overpass.
Guang Kui stopped in front of a homeless woman with black hair. He frowned, carefully sizing her up from head to toe. She didn’t look fully awake yet.
Her black hair was thick and fluffy, unkempt like a lion’s mane. Her eyes were dark and vacant, unsettling to look at.
“You, new here? What’s your name?” Guang Kui asked.
“Hello. I did indeed arrive here last night. My name is Shi Er,” the black-haired woman replied calmly.
Her expression was like stagnant water, looking utterly contemptuous and disdainful. This annoyed Guang Kui. “Cut it out with the ‘hello’ this and ‘hello’ that. You sound like a low-level AI!”
The black-haired woman’s lips twitched. At least this time there was a hint of tone in her voice. “Alright, I understand.”
Still had that stiff, wooden feel.
Guang Kui jutted out his chin and pointed to the other homeless people. “If you’re going to live here, you have to contribute. See them? You’ll follow them later. Do what they do, say what they say.”
“Understood. Aside from that, I’d like to know if our protest will be regulated?” Shi Er asked.
Guang Kui was already walking away. “Why do you care so much? You don’t need to know that stuff, just do it!”
Shi Er nodded. Then, carrying her only possession—an old newspaper—she walked past the designated spots of the homeless and headed straight for the path leading out from under the bridge.
“What are you doing?” Guang Kui turned and shouted after her.
“She doesn’t want in on this gig,” a homeless man still lying on a piece of cardboard chimed in lazily.
Shi Er glanced at the man who had interjected and repeated, her face expressionless, “That’s right. I don’t want in on this gig. And of course, I won’t be living here anymore.”
Although Guang Kui couldn’t stand this arrogant woman with her sour face, he wasn’t ready to give up.
After all, female homeless were extremely rare, and they were better at eliciting sympathy from AIs than the filthy, ugly men. He said, “Don’t you want to fight for your own rights? Besides, where can a Tenth-level Error Animal like you go?”
Tenth-level Error Animal? Shi Er was momentarily confused.
“Just leave her be. She’s a real tough one,” a homeless man said sarcastically.
The man next to him nudged him. “Hey, hey, everyone knows you tried to get handsy with her last night and got your ass kicked instead.”
A wave of lewd laughter erupted among the homeless, mixed with vulgar, filthy words.
“No wonder we have to rule humanity. Humans can be so primitive sometimes.”
In the lab, two researchers were observing the humans behind the glass. As the ten humans interacted, new analytical data was constantly being generated.
One of the researchers closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his temples.
Beep beep.
After saving and uploading all the data, he stood up. “I’m off duty.”
“570, when you find 588 to take over your shift, tell him to bring me some human snacks,” the other researcher instructed, his eyes glued to the humans behind the glass.
AI 570 said, “Don’t eat too much human food. It’ll make you stupid.”
Human invasion was the biggest concern for the current AI ruling class.
Humans, as a species of Error Animal, had an influence as tenacious as a cockroach, as noisy as a fly, and as disgusting as a worm. A human cultural invasion meant a rise in error rates and a drop in efficiency, a decline in morality and a rise in crime rates, and the continuous downfall of society.
To resist the bottomless invasion of human culture, especially the contamination from its more primitive aspects, AI society established a human classification system.
Gugang Port Testing Center. In the main hall, a crowd of people waiting to be tested sat in orderly rows, each waiting with nervous apprehension.
Shi Er was among them. The number in her hand was 903.
After she requested to connect to the General Network, the General Network AI told her that due to her special circumstances, an investigator would be sent to assess her situation. Before that, however, it was recommended that she first go to the testing center to obtain identification.
Shi Er observed the humans around her.
The people in the waiting area were chattering amongst themselves.
“You don’t look like you’re eighteen yet.”
“I had my eighteenth birthday last week.”
“Whoa, you came for testing so early? Why not wait a few more months and aim for a high score? You only get one chance a year! It’s not worth it if you score low.”
“I just finished my exams. I’m at my mental peak right now. If I wait any longer, my level will drop.”
They were humans who had just taken their higher education exams.
Shi Er took a longer look at the high school graduate. As her gaze swept over the crowd, she noted that the girl did indeed seem to have the sharpest mind among the humans present.
“Number 890.”
The high school graduate stood up and walked toward the corridor leading to the testing rooms.
Humans who had finished the test exited through a different corridor, so they wouldn’t have to face others if they were too disappointed with their results.
First-level Error Animal: Perfect humans.
Second-level Error Animal: Human elites who are outstanding in all aspects.
Third-level Error Animal: Flawed geniuses, whose scores are lowered by their specialization in certain subjects.
Fourth-level Error Animal: Ordinary people capable of extraordinary performance.
Fifth-level Error Animal: Average humans.
Sixth-level Error Animal: Flawed average humans.
Seventh-level Error Animal: Humans with low capabilities.
Eighth-level Error Animal: Flawed low-capability humans.
Ninth-level Error Animal: Low-capability humans with fatal flaws.
Tenth-level Error Animal: In short, trash.
It was said that in the earliest days, one of the standards humans used to identify robots was the “error rate.” A calm and orderly response could be from either a robot or a human, but a chaotic, frantic one was definitely human—because even an AI’s madness followed a pattern.
“I heard their company isn’t even hiring Fifth-levels anymore…”
“What kind of geniuses are they hiring? A company that won’t even take Fifth-levels can have whoever wants to go.”
“They might as well just say they’re hiring AIs. Putting up a ‘Human-Friendly’ sign is so hypocritical. Pfft, it’s all for show!”
The people in the waiting area continued their heated discussion.
For them, the level assigned by the testing center represented a label and opportunities for an entire year, as well as a year’s worth of food and shelter.
“Can you all talk a little less? You’re making my head buzz. What if I get a low level on the test because of this?” someone interrupted impatiently.
Someone else jeered, “Scientific research says chatting activates the brain. Don’t come out crying later.”
“Number 903.”
It was her turn.
The General Network AI had said she was like an Error Animal, so it suggested she get tested first to prevent a human from infiltrating the AI network and causing a cultural invasion.
But she had a bad feeling about this.
The ancient artificial intelligence, Shi Er, stood up and stepped into the corridor.
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