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墨書 Inktalez
The invitation came too quickly and unexpectedly. But as a journalist, I couldn't miss this opportunity.
The data center was located on the second basement level. After passing through three security doors, I was greeted by a vast open space. A whole wall of display screens showcased real-time data.
"This is the 'Compassion System.'" Chen Ci stood in front of the massive screen, a strange smile on her face. Countless photos of people flowed slowly across the screen, each face marked with a countdown timer.
"Look, this is our charity blueprint." Her finger glided over those smiling faces. "Every life will receive a new beginning."
For some reason, when she said the word "new beginning," it reminded me of the words on my father's autopsy report. That chilling feeling returned.
"What’s the accuracy rate?" I asked casually.
"It’s currently at 96.7%." Her eyes sparkled as she spoke that number. "Every beneficiary selected by the system has indeed changed their fate with our help."
I noticed a list scrolling on the right side of the screen, labeled "Pending Prediction Subjects."
"What are these...?"
"These are the next batch of applicants to be evaluated," she explained. "The system scores each individual and selects the most suitable beneficiaries."
I squinted my eyes. Several familiar names stood out on the list—entrepreneurs recently reported to be in financial trouble.
"Ms. Chen, may I ask if Fang Li was evaluated through this system?"
Her expression froze for a moment, but she quickly returned to normal. "No, Mr. Fang is our donor, not a recipient."
At that moment, I noticed a line of code flashing on a small screen in the corner. Was that... a death probability prediction model? But it was too fast; I couldn't catch the specific details.
"Reporter Li is good with code?" Chen Ci keenly noticed my gaze.
"Just a bit," I downplayed. "It's inevitable to come across it while doing data journalism. By the way, I saw that the system seems to be divided into several modules?"
"Yes. Assessment, prediction, tracking, feedback..." She briefly introduced it, but my attention was already drawn to another discovery.
While she spoke, I caught sight of a minimized window on the workstation display. The title was Project M Data. This wasn't an ordinary data analysis interface; it looked more like some kind of biological signal monitoring...
"Reporter Li?"
I snapped back to reality. "Sorry, I was distracted. What about the follow-up situation of these recipients?"
"Very good." She opened another interface. "Look, this is their data curve."
The screen displayed neatly arranged Life Trajectories. Too neat. As a data analyst, I knew that real-life trajectories could never be so regular. Unless... this data had been artificially processed.
"What an impressive system," I remarked sincerely. It truly was impressive, but not because of its predictive accuracy; rather, it was because what it predicted might not be what it seemed on the surface.
"Would you like something to drink?" Chen Ci asked.
"Just coffee, thank you."
As she turned to pour the coffee, I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the code screen in the corner.
"Do you want sugar?"
"No need..." Before I could finish my sentence, I caught a glimpse of something alarming out of the corner of my eye. The glass in the coffee shop reflected Chen Ci's expression. The warmth had vanished from her gaze.
"Reporter Li," she said, turning back with the coffee, her friendly demeanor restored. "Why don't we talk about why you're so interested in Fang Li's case?"
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from Mr. Li: "Be careful, the last person Fang Li saw before his death was Chen Ci."
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