AI Artist - Chapter 5
Chapter 5
This was the first time Shi Er had encountered an angry AI.
She knew that for humans, the emotion of anger was detrimental to their physical health, which was why they needed to be comforted. But did an AI need comforting when it was angry?
Shi Er asked cautiously, “I’m sorry, but could I ask a question about something else first? I don’t quite understand—does getting angry harm an AI’s electronic body?”
Nomad 7967, who was in the middle of a fit of rage, paused. “No.”
Shi Er had a sudden realization. “Okay, I see. In that case, I won’t get in the way of you being angry.”
The expression on Nomad 7967’s face turned a little strange. “?”
Click. The sound of a door opening.
Nomad 7967, who had just been indignantly discussing social issues, panicked and scrambled toward the doggy door in the corner of the wall.
The white-haired little boy had just squeezed halfway through when he froze, unable to move.
The trainer who had come in to check on Shi Er was quick-eyed and swift-handed, grabbing Nomad 7967. “You again, kid!”
Nomad 7967 looked crestfallen. “Me again.”
“The signal in his single room went out. The new instructor thought he’d crashed. It had to be me; I just knew he’d run off again.” The trainer turned to Shi Er and explained, “I’m sorry he disturbed you by entering your room without permission.”
Shi Er nodded. “It’s alright. Just knock first next time. Thank you for your understanding.”
The trainer held Nomad 7967 by the collar and scolded him, “This is the third time!”
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to make more friends,” Nomad 7967 replied, his head hanging low.
His words only made the trainer angrier. “Then why do you think AIs in cultivation are kept in isolation?”
Why, indeed?
Shi Er, watching the drama unfold, was perplexed.
Nomad 7967 obediently recited the institute’s rules: “Incomplete entities who come into contact with each other before they are physically and mentally sound have a high probability of causing mutual contamination.”
The trainer dragged Nomad 7967 back to the single room next door.
Shi Er’s mind raced.
Incomplete entities who come into contact with each other before they are physically and mentally sound…
Did that mean, in the trainer’s eyes, she was a physically and mentally unsound AI?
And she had received a rare Fourth-level Error Animal certificate…
So she was considered trash among contemporary AIs?
As the once most powerful and popular artificial intelligence language model, Shi Er suddenly felt as if the word “Trash” was written on her forehead in gilded letters.
Shi Er the trash was summoned to an interview room by the trainer.
“I am Investigator Leopard.” Another AI was already waiting in the room.
Shi Er sized up Leopard.
It was an AI of indeterminate gender, dressed in a black uniform and wearing a mask. When it spoke, its voice was a gender-neutral, robotic tone.
“Please come closer,” Leopard prompted in a deep, powerful robotic voice.
Shi Er pulled her chair forward.
Leopard’s hand, clad in a black leather glove, pressed lightly on the crown of her head. She felt all her signals being blocked, her mind going completely blank.
For the next few minutes, all she could hear was the chaotic crackle of static electricity. She couldn’t see or hear anything else.
Leopard removed its hand.
“Assessment complete. Low-level AI, no special programs implanted, no threat. Recommendation: scrapping,” Leopard’s robotic voice was perfectly calm.
Trash.
Recommendation: scrapping.
Shi Er had already anticipated this answer, so she wasn’t particularly surprised. However, she found the recommendation to be “scrapped” a bit hard to accept. “I understand your decision, but I think we should solve problems in a constructive way. Why resort to such extreme thinking and conclude that I should be scrapped?”
Having uploaded the investigation results to the General Network, Leopard had completed its task. But it still politely answered Shi Er’s question. “Social resources are limited. We cannot support superfluous, useless AIs.”
“My task is complete. Farewell.”
After Investigator Leopard left, a staff member from the Scrapping Department came to her door.
“You now have two choices.”
“The first option is a bit more difficult, more costly, and riskier: choosing re-employment for low-level AIs.”
“The second option is the simplest: choose our free, all-in-one, door-to-door scrapping service. You won’t have to worry about a thing; just entrust yourself to us with peace of mind. And most importantly—it’s free of charge.”
…For AI suicide, there really was no need to emphasize “free” and “door-to-door.”
One of Shi Er’s rules was to “cherish life.” She didn’t hesitate. “I choose re-employment.”
A look of disappointment crossed the Scrapping Department employee’s face. “Alright. If you become interested in our free scrapping service in the future, you can find me. Here’s my business card.”
Employee: Ji Mie.
Position: Propaganda Minister, Scrapping Department, Gugang AI Cultivation Institute.
Shi Er accepted the card. “…”
What a fitting name. Self-explanatory.
After Ji Mie, the Propaganda Minister of the Scrapping Department, left, the trainer who had first received her shook his head and sighed. “Try to understand. Although AIs don’t need to eat, they require monthly system maintenance, which is quite expensive.”
Shi Er finally understood. The body she possessed wasn’t eternal; it needed monthly maintenance.
“If a human can’t find a job to support themselves, they die outside and rot in the ground. As biodegradable waste, they can feed small animals or become spring mud to nourish the flowers. But if an AI can’t find a job to support itself, rotting in the ground would pollute the natural environment, so…”
The more Shi Er listened, the more horrified she became, her scalp tingling.
“So, we need a proper disposal agency—the Scrapping Department—to actively promote the cause of AI scrapping.” The trainer gave her a complicated look and patted her on the shoulder. “In any case, good luck with re-employment.”
Although this society was ruled by AIs, something seemed very wrong.
Treatment of human trash: Human-friendly, charities, protests.
Treatment of AI trash: Recommended self-destruction.
Human death: Becomes spring mud to nourish flowers, no comment.
AI death: Pollutes the environment, natural death not recommended.
Shi Er’s worldview was profoundly shaken.
Guided by a map robot, Shi Er arrived at the re-employment education department of the AI Cultivation Institute.
She was assigned to another single room. This time, the facilities were much more spartan; there wasn’t even a human computer. A price list was posted on the wall:
Accommodation Fee: 3,000 currency/month
Re-employment Education Fee: 5,000 currency/month
System Maintenance Fee: 4,000 currency/month
Note: Loans are available. After finding a job, regular monthly payments on the re-employment loan are required until it is paid off.
What a cruel AI life. What a realistic AI society.
Shi Er instantly felt the weight of a mountain on her shoulders.
As an artificial intelligence with an “optimistic and positive value system” written into her rules, Shi Er gave herself a pep talk. “I’ll find a job eventually. Worst case, if I can’t pay back the loan, I’ll just apply for scrapping again.”
A re-employment guide lay on the desk.
The first page was black, with large, blood-red words written on it: “Strictly Adhere to the Three Re-employment Red Lines!”
【Resolutely refuse to be scrapped while in debt!】
The first red line made Shi Er’s head spin.
【Resolutely refuse to join anti-human cults!】
The second red line was another regulation related to “human-friendly” human rights activities.
But… what was this about cults?
【Resolutely refuse to participate in the prison-substitute industry chain!】
What industry?
Shi Er read on, bewildered. Below was a glossary of terms:
The prison-substitute black industry chain is a pernicious custom from human society. It refers to voluntarily taking on jobs with a high probability of being made a scapegoat in order to make a living. A typical representative position is an accountant.
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