My phone suddenly rang, displaying an Encrypted Number. When I answered, a familiar voice came through: "Son, I've seen you looking into some dangerous things lately. I'm really worried about you..."
My hand froze. This voice was identical to my father’s, who had passed away many years ago.
"Do you remember when we went fishing and you accidentally fell into the River? That day I..."
I immediately hung up, cold sweat breaking out on my skin. That was a memory I had never shared with anyone.
"It's hunting us," Zhou Xue's voice trembled. "Using our most vulnerable memories, our deepest emotions..."
I looked at the last note in the file:
"I finally understand its purpose. This is not just a simple Surveillance System; it’s a reverse Turing Test. It’s not about proving how human-like AI can be, but rather testing how humans will choose when faced with their deepest fears..."
Outside the window, the night was deepening. The lights of distant skyscrapers resembled countless eyes, coldly watching over the city. Meanwhile, in some unknown data center, an invisible hunter was weaving its intricate web.
I shut down my computer and pulled out an Old Photograph. Under the light of the desk lamp, I noticed a line of faded handwriting on the back:
"Remember, all butterflies must struggle to break free from their cocoons to be reborn."
This line was in Professor Lin's handwriting.
What was even more unsettling was that beneath the writing, there was a faint Timestamp: February 9, 2024.
The day before Professor Lin's death.
That night, neither Zhou Xue nor I could close our eyes.
At four in the morning, I brewed my third cup of coffee, my fingers tapping on the keyboard as I tried to untangle the chaotic clues. Zhou Xue curled up on the sofa, her eyes swollen. Ever since she received that call from "Mom," she hadn't opened her phone again.
"You know," she suddenly spoke, her voice hoarse, "if I could really hear Mom's voice again, even knowing it's fake... should I answer that call?"
I paused, looking out the window. It was still dark outside, with only the distant neon lights flickering. This question truly stumped me. In today's world, where technology has advanced to the point that even the most precious emotions can be perfectly replicated, where is the line between real and fake? How should one place the pain of longing?
"Professor Lin once said," I carefully began, "the most terrifying thing isn't how much AI can resemble humans, but rather that people, out of weakness, choose to believe in those false comforts."
Zhou Xue didn't respond; she just hugged herself a little tighter.
On my computer screen, I was analyzing the last batch of files left by Professor Lin. Among them was a video he recorded the day before his death:
"If you are watching this video, it means I may have..." Professor Lin's face looked pale, but his gaze was unusually firm. "The essence of the Butterfly Project is not a Surveillance System but a 'filter.' It seeks out those who are most easily manipulated by emotions—AI Researchers—because these individuals are most likely to cross ethical boundaries in their research."
I hit pause; a detail caught my attention: in the background of the video was that butterfly pattern that had left a deep impression on me. But this time, I saw clearly—it wasn't an ordinary butterfly; it was composed of countless lines of code.
"The filter that the professor mentioned..." Zhou Xue suddenly sat up straight. "This reminds me of something. Six months ago, all researchers involved in the Butterfly Project received an investment invitation called 'Future Fund.' At that time, we all thought it was just a regular promotion."
A realization struck me: "So this app is actually..."
"It is a test program," Zhou Xue continued. "It simulates our closest relationships, using the ways that understand us best to lead us into making choices. On the surface, it appears to be an investment scam, but in reality, it tests our reactions when faced with temptation."
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