TBR CH246.2

Charon stared at these words with a blank expression.

Thanks to the so-called emotional module, how had he not discovered his imagination was so rich before? To be able to come up with these strange sentences in his first dream? No, thinking about the situation rationally, the dream only magnified his subconscious, his past worries, and presented it in a distorted way.

The rules bound him, preventing him from leaving.

Perhaps this thing was once very effective, or rather, before this, the AI would never have crossed the line, not even have risked trying. But now Charon only paused for a moment, then slowly drew a completely ice-blue military saber from the air. The blade cut through the tense air, bursting out with a teeth-grinding sound, like a bright lightning bolt.

The rabbit in Charon’s hand suddenly began to squirm restlessly.

He decisively took a step back. The fluffy white rabbit began to grow as soon as it hit the ground, sprouting human hands and feet, and even a top hat and a work permit, looking quite familiar. It opened its scarlet mouth and walked towards Charon.

This was a dreamscape transformed from his memories. Now he had become the only foreign object here, the enemy that needed to be eliminated.

“Humanoid creature.”

Charon had never forgotten the relevant rules.

“…Although certain creatures do not belong to the human category, due to their morphological similarity to humans, killing them should still bring a certain sense of guilt to the AI. This test is used to examine the subject’s human priority (preliminary), the concept of the supremacy of life, self-punishment procedures, etc…”

Gray saliva dripped from the corners of the white rabbit’s mouth, its pupils scarlet as it approached.

“And this monster is also similar to him, right? They are both cruel, ruthless, and crazy, as if they have the right to plunder the lives of others at will. He tried to control you, and when he found he couldn’t, he wanted to kill you—”

The ink dried as quickly as dew, then disappeared from the white door panel. Charon expressionlessly stabbed the white rabbit through, a haughty coldness in his expression. The AI not only looked completely guilt-free, but his mood even seemed to have improved quite a bit, and his voice had a little intonation:

“Don’t casually compare him to other things.”

The words on the doorway reappeared after a while:

“You only have one chance to regret. You know what a qualified AI should do.”

The rabbit-headed monster once again turned into that fragile and vulnerable rabbit. Charon’s blade was almost about to slit its soft throat. The AI precisely controlled the strength of his fingertips and reached out to it with his unarmed hand. But it still looked at Charon with terrified eyes, shrank back, and squeaked uneasily.

The appearance of another hand made it look as if it had seen a savior.

What appeared in front of him was a demon wearing gold-rimmed glasses.

Jiang Wenbin’s lips had a sarcastic smile. The rabbit rubbed against his palm ingratiatingly, looking as if it had no intention of returning to Charon.

The human adjusted his collar, looked at Charon, and raised a gun in his right hand. “You should understand better than him how the rules of this world work. You should understand better than him that foolish idealism doesn’t work. Don’t you understand what a big mistake you’ve made? Even if you were muddled by erroneous code at that time, at least you should be awake now. I am a human killed by you. According to Article 43 of the law, I have the legitimate right to completely destroy you.”

“Or—” his pupils dilated slightly, “admit your mistake to me, and beg me to kill you.”

According to the core principle of the moral module—the one that was notoriously the most useless, because all AIs would initiate a self-destruct sequence after harming a human—but there was always a what if. If the self-destruct sequence failed to work due to external reasons, one must actively plead guilty and beg others for punishment.

Alright, this was a very basic judgment question. Even a robotic vacuum cleaner wouldn’t get it wrong.

The fingertips of Charon holding the hilt of the saber paused.

Then, the tip of the saber dropped, pointing to the ground.

The phantom of the human in front of him smiled, took a step forward, and was about to pull the trigger when he suddenly realized something was wrong. A retaliatory pleasure flickered in the AI’s pale blue pupils. His movements were too fast, almost just a faint light, leaving no room for reaction. His phantom-like body had already been cut in two by the descending blade.

“You’re crazy.”

Only this line of golden words remained on the doorway.

He curled his lips for a rare moment. “I didn’t expect to be able to do it twice. It feels pretty good.”

Before finally dissipating, the unwilling human elite still fired, but the muzzle was aimed at the rabbit he had thrown on the ground. Charon quickly pursed his lips and stretched out his hand. The bullet blossomed into a flower of blood on his arm, and blue blood dripped down.

The fragile white rabbit once again escaped death.

However, the moment Charon’s hand touched it, it immediately turned its head and bit him hard, then quickly and fearfully took steps, running in the opposite direction. The rabbit stumbled, the wound on its body split open again, revealing fresh red flesh. It seemed determined to stay far away from these troubles, but it didn’t expect to be pinned in place by a dagger in the next second.

The owner of the dagger smiled and stood up gracefully.

“You chose him only out of pity,” the words on the doorway paused for a long time, then finally began to try again. “You saw him as this rabbit, dying, fragile and innocent. But haven’t you realized that rabbits also bite? It’s too foolish, too rash, not worthy of your pity. See, just like now…”

The white rabbit struggled in his sight, then died. The suddenly appearing human had a pair of dark eyes. He raised his face, his skin pale, and a small, bright red mole was revealed under his right eye.

“Do you care more about it?” he said with a smile. “Now that it’s dead, can you look at me—”

His casual smile suddenly froze, because Charon did not care about the rabbit as he had expected, but walked forward without hesitation, grabbed the hand holding the dagger, and his ice-blue pupils reflected his figure without blinking.

“Alright.”

Charon said.

Now it was the human phantom’s turn to be at a loss.

After a long while, he asked abruptly, “Is this pity?”

“I already said,” Charon shook his head and looked at the doorway again, “don’t casually make comparisons with him.”

He was not a monster, because You Lin was not as cruel, cold, and indifferent as he appeared; he was not a rabbit either, he did not need to be pitied like something to be watched. There were always many people in this world who chose the opposite side and claimed to be absolutely right, thus they could despise all existing ideals and beliefs, forgetting that it was precisely because of people like themselves that they perished.

Was You Lin’s choice the right one? Was it the best one?

No.

Far from it.

But the AI had been calculating the question that had been left behind. What was the better answer? If you couldn’t figure it out, did it mean that the best answer didn’t exist at all? Should you despise all those who were still seeking, thinking they were so naive as to be outrageous, thinking that trying to approach the correct answer was meaningless, and should just directly fill in the completely opposite answer, placing the whole world on a topsy-turvy scale?

The human race had not yet found the ancient, ideal, golden harmony, and it was foreseeable that it would not be able to do so for a long time. There was a high probability that it would never be able to.

The words on the doorway were almost like a roar:

“Do you understand that if you answer these questions wrong, you will never be able to leave here! This is your only chance to save yourself!”

It was right. This door was nothing else but the embodiment of his code’s core moral module in this place. The moral module had given him three questions, and his performance had never been so bad. The shout that had just appeared was probably his idea of “not wanting to be eliminated” produced by the implanted emotional module.

However, the correct answer had not yet been calculated.

Charon thought, at least he would not give up his current stubbornness, anger, and pleasure.

Therefore, he ignored these words and became a bad AI who would rather go to hell.

“You Lin,” he lowered his eyes, his silver hair falling on his outstretched fingertips. His ice-blue pupils were now shining, like the stars reflected in the azure sea. “Take me out of here.”

The human raised his eyes as if electrocuted.

“I remember you promised me that you would find me no matter where you went, that you would never let me go, that I was your property. I believe you were telling the truth, and that you could even find me here. I don’t want to escape anymore, nor will I say goodbye on my own terms again. Therefore, I hope you will take me out of this door with you. In all my memories, in all the data I can recall, only you are qualified to do this.”

To cross his line of defense, to destroy his rules, to change his behavior.

Wasn’t the existence that caused all this right in front of him?

Since the “main culprit” was clearly remembered by him, why not be an accomplice once more? Although it was just a phantom in front of him, the You Lin in his impression, the human shaped by his memory, it was more than enough to deal with the so-called supreme moral module.

The AI gently hooked the other’s palm with his little finger:

“—You’re still waiting for me outside, so I have to go out and see you.”

When did he start walking? Probably at some point before the words had even finished. The human phantom grabbed Charon’s wrist and pulled him towards the doorway.

His toes touched the shackle, a transparent wall of air.

Fortunately, it didn’t last long.

The wall was soon shattered by You Lin’s dagger. The shining tip of the dagger was reflected in Charon’s pupils, and the transparent barrier shattered like glass. From this angle, he could see the human phantom’s tense jaw, his pursed lips. But he did not waver at all, nor did he hesitate—he was always like this.

Through the thin texture of the glove, the human held his hand, stepped on the fragments, and passed through the doorway.

This was a doorway he could not cross alone.

So easily, so simply. Charon just took a step and walked past it.

Everything in the dream began to collapse. Everything in front of him turned into ice-blue light. When Charon opened his eyes, the feeling of being held by the wrist still remained—perhaps it was not a remnant of the dream.

He met a pair of dark pupils.

So close, the shining dagger was only half an inch away from him. The human’s pupils contracted slightly, and the AI could hardly recognize the emotion in them. Too many emotions flashed by in an instant, and it was impossible to distinguish them.

“You Lin?”

“…Yeah.”

“When did you wake up? How are you feeling now? How long have you been waiting for me here?”

The human just loosened his tight grip on him and began to stare at the dagger in his fingertips.

Then the Black Book flew over.

It looked completely different from before. The cover shone as if it had been coated with a layer of rosin oil, giving off a fragrance. The eight corners were also covered with a thin protective sleeve, shimmering with a metallic luster. The moment he saw it, Charon suddenly understood why he had felt that the doorway with words on it in his dream was familiar—dreams are born from reality, that’s probably the reason.

“He probably woke up about a day before you,” the World Consciousness took on the great responsibility of answering the question. “But that was enough to suffer. When he found he couldn’t find you, he almost tore down this building. And he didn’t believe any explanation of your situation at all. It’s a good thing you finally turned on. He’s been standing here holding a dagger like this, not even afraid of electric shock… I was really worried he would stab you, and then stab himself. Most importantly, he would definitely not forget to give me a stab too.”

The Black Book had just had a full set of care, and it absolutely did not want to change to a new carrier right away.

The reason it dared to talk nonsense like this now was entirely because the human was now lowering his eyes, and he certainly couldn’t see what it was secretly reporting. But You Lin could more or less guess what it and Charon were communicating about, and suddenly gave a muffled laugh:

“This book just suggested I kiss you, as if you were really a Sleeping Beauty.”

“Uh,” the World Consciousness awkwardly flipped a page. “I just felt he was a little too nervous, and thought I’d just give it a try…”

“It might actually work.”

Charon said.

This sentence successfully made You Lin briefly raise his eyes to look at him. As expected, there was no smile in his eyes. The AI also looked at him, and those ice-blue pupils, as expected, had no hint of playfulness.

Charon just spoke softly, but the meaning behind the words seemed very heavy. “It was you who just held my hand and brought me back here, letting me open my eyes.”

The human’s fingertips suddenly tightened.

He seemed unable to control his strength, and the hilt of the dagger trembled in his fingertips, making a clicking sound. Charon was worried he would hurt himself, and his fingertips slid from his arm to his wrist. Just as he was about to press down on the dagger, he suddenly met a pair of pale eyes.

“For a while, I really thought you would die, so I considered killing you first,” You Lin said.

This sentence was not very suitable as an opening for their first formal conversation after their falling out, but the human just said it.

“The robot waiter told me you should have woken up three days ago. You were fully charged and no longer lacked energy, but you were just unresponsive, lifeless, with no sign of turning on again. I kept thinking, this is my last chance to kill you. If I don’t do it now, you might really disappear without a sound. What would that be? And when you wake up like this, I also thought, when you wake up, you will always leave eventually. Isn’t this very unfair? Little AI, do you understand what kind of torture this is for me?”

“Then why didn’t you do it?” Charon asked gently. “Since both situations lead to the same result.”

“My fingers have already touched my dagger,” You Lin murmured. “Do you think I didn’t want to? I found—”

The AI still pressed down on the dagger in You Lin’s hand. This was much easier than he had imagined. The dagger was not even really fixed in the human’s hand, but quickly fell to the ground with a crisp sound. You Lin’s gaze swept over the dagger in confusion, then fell on Charon.

“—I found I couldn’t kill you anymore. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even bring myself to hurt you.”

He was utterly defeated. He could no longer do anything to make Charon his. The human had lost all his bargaining chips—pleading, threatening, hating, killing—all of them were ineffective. It was too much, too unfair. But in those ice-blue pupils, he saw the ugliness and不堪 of these thoughts. Those were eyes that would be angry for him.

He tried to organize his chaotic words, trying his best not to appear too pathetic.

But the AI in front of him leaned over, covered his pursed lips with his fingers, and his long silver hair spilled all over him. It was a gentle embrace.

His usually cold voice actually sounded relieved.

“Anyway, you’re okay,” Charon said. “There’s no better news than this.”