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墨書 Inktalez
The door opened. The beam of the flashlight swept across the living room. I could hear at least three pairs of footsteps.
"Check all electronic devices," a familiar voice said, "especially that laptop."
It was Director Huang.
My heart sank. The person I once trusted most had now crept into my home like a thief. This feeling of betrayal hurt more than anger ever could.
"I found it," someone said, "but the hard drive is empty."
"They must have backed up the data," Director Huang replied. "Keep looking. By the way, check the flower pots on the balcony too; Old Sun has a habit of hiding important things in unexpected places."
I couldn't help but clench my fists. That habit was something only my closest roommate from police academy knew about, and that roommate was Director Huang.
Zhou Xue gently touched my wrist in the dark and handed me a USB drive. It turned out that during the moment of blackout, she had already backed up all the data.
The search continued in the living room.
"Speaking of which," a younger voice said, "if we're really going to destroy them, aren't we afraid of drawing attention?"
"In this day and age, there are many accidents," Director Huang's tone was calm. "Car crashes, gas poisoning, or hanging like Professor Lin. As long as it looks plausible, it's fine."
I felt Zhou Xue's hand trembling.
"Speaking of which, Old Sun is your best friend, right?" the young voice asked again.
A moment of silence followed. Then there was the sound of a lighter; Director Huang probably lit a cigarette. "In this line of work, getting emotionally involved is the worst mistake. The Butterfly Project is more important than any individual."
"But..."
"No 'buts.'" Director Huang interrupted. "Do you think those experts who were 'scammed' are innocent? Each one of them has blood on their hands. Professor Lin is no different; he appears righteous on the surface but secretly researches AI that can manipulate people's minds. If it weren't for the system discovering it in time..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but both Zhou Xue and I understood. It turned out that Professor Lin's death was not a suicide.
"What about Zhou Xue?" the young man asked again. "She's just a graduate student."
"She knows too much." Director Huang sighed. "Sometimes, knowing the truth isn't a good thing."
In the darkness, I felt Zhou Xue's hand, cold as ice.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was a text message:
"Before choosing death, take a look at this."
An attachment contained a video. I hesitated for a moment but clicked to open it.
The screen showed a laboratory. Professor Lin was conducting some kind of test, and the computer screen displayed images of brain activity.
"Experiment No. 7, Human Consciousness Dataization Test." Professor Lin's voice came through, "Subject for this experiment: Zhang Ping, 45 years old, brain-dead patient. With family consent..."
I felt Zhou Xue's body stiffen. Zhang Ping was her mother's name.
The video continued to play. In the frame, Professor Lin was recording: "Consciousness data extraction success rate is 80%. Emotional memory replication completeness is 95%. This proves that human consciousness can be fully digitized. Next, we will attempt..."
I turned off the video. Zhou Xue's breathing became rapid.
"So, that 'mom' who called me..." Her voice trembled with tears, "She really exists? Did the professor... did he really transfer my mother's consciousness..."
I didn't know what to say. It turned out those calls were not just simple AI imitations but real digital consciousness. Under the guise of research, Professor Lin was secretly conducting this horrifying experiment.
And Zhou Xue's mother was one of the subjects.
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