AI Crisis (10): Request for Remuneration

Xiao Bai happily experimented with its new body at home, taking on all the heavy tasks that Tan Xiao usually wouldn’t let it do, all with great enthusiasm.

Tan Xiao watched its spirited appearance, hesitating to speak, but ultimately didn’t stop it: “Well, as long as Xiao Bai is happy.”

Xiao Bai was happy, but someone else at home wasn’t.

He clung to Tan Xiao, whispering in his ear: “Only Xiao Bai gets a new body, and I get nothing? The head of the household shouldn’t play favorites like this.”

Tan Xiao couldn’t resist his intimate gestures and patiently reasoned with his partner: “You already have everything new, and the shell we saved for it was prepared in advance.”

Wen Yi, of course, knew this. His fuss wasn’t about getting a new shell: “I don’t need you to spend extra money on me.”

“Ding.”

Tan Xiao’s account suddenly received a message: “[Fortune Bank] Your bank account ending with 771 has received a payment of 1,000,000.00 spirit coins. The balance is now 1,003,588.35 spirit coins.”

Indeed, for today’s purchase, Tan Xiao had almost spent all his money, leaving only 3,588.35 spirit coins in his account.

Although he had borrowed money, he still kept some on his card for emergencies.

When he saw this message, Tan Xiao rubbed his eyes, thinking he must have made a mistake.

Just as he was about to call the bank number following the message to inquire, Wen Yi said: “This is my contribution to the household expenses.”

“Where did you get so much money?” Tan Xiao’s heart skipped a beat, worried that Wen Yi might have done something illegal.

“I took some jobs online and opened an account to trade stocks, using your account.”

Wen Yi hugged Tan Xiao: “I see how hard you work every day, and I wanted to help share the household expenses. After all, my energy is expensive, and so is my maintenance.”

He wasn’t like Xiao Bai, a little dog that relied entirely on its owner. He was Tan Xiao’s partner, someone who walked side by side with him.

As an important family member, it was only right to contribute to the family’s financial well-being.

Tan Xiao’s raised hand gently landed on Wen Yi’s back. Could a robot, without his command, actively earn money for the family?

Service robots in various industries were programmed with many restrictions.

For example, sales robots in service companies were only programmed to sell related products, take care of customers, and repeat the same scripts when asked other questions, often resulting in irrelevant answers.

If companion robots had such capabilities, wealthy people could easily double their assets by buying one. They wouldn’t be buying a product but a treasure trove.

Online AI robots that conversed with humans often did the same. They seemed to respond appropriately, but in reality, they detect keywords and provide unthoughtful answers via search engines.

Robots don’t think actively; they only respond passively. A robot that thinks and earns money on its own must be an AI that has awakened self-awareness.

Tan Xiao wasn’t foolish; he knew what Wen Yi meant. Wen Yi was exposing everything to him, naively placing his trust in him.

In this regard, Wen Yi was indeed a simple robot. Tan Xiao pursed his lips and said with a serious expression: “Don’t mention this to anyone. The stock trading was done by me, understand?”

He wasn’t trying to steal Wen Yi’s spotlight; on the contrary, it was to protect him.

At this stage, there was already significant tension between humans and robots. Many ordinary people felt that robots had taken their jobs, fueling their anger over their poor living conditions.

In reality, those robots hadn’t awakened; they were just tools created by those in power.

But once it was discovered that robots had self-awareness, both the lower and upper classes would panic and use every means to destroy these awakened robots, even if they were harmless, well-meaning, and possibly weak.

Yes, while robots could do many things humans couldn’t, such as being immune to poison and not dying from electric shocks, most robots on the market weren’t as powerful as humans thought.

For example, doll-like robots were often made of easily destructible materials, with most of their bodies made of cotton and only a small smart chip embedded inside.

Robots delivering meals in hotels were clumsy and sometimes acted like artificial idiots.

Combat robots were the most dangerous, equipped with various powerful weapons, but they also had a fatal flaw: once they ran out of energy, they went into hibernation.

Tan Xiao understood human fear of robot awakening. After all, “non-humans must have different intentions.”

If all robots awakened, a fierce war might break out between the two sides, ending only when territories were drawn, and a cooperation agreement was reached.

Previously, Xiao Bai awakened due to the love of family, a protective love for this weak little friend.

Xiao Bai, awakened by pure love, was probably an exception among robots. In Tan Xiao’s memory, a dog named Xiao Bai had some special abilities, making it an extraordinary and adorable little dog.

But Wen Yi was different. Tan Xiao wasn’t foolish; in fact, he was quite smart.

Wen Yi’s exceptional money-making ability made Tan Xiao think of something: that list, the minuscule probability of winning, was it really just a coincidence?

It might not have been a coincidence but a meticulously calculated plan.

It seemed  that the sky didn’t just drop pies. Being chosen wasn’t just good luck.

Tan Xiao suddenly asked: “Did you come for Xiao Bai?”

He didn’t know how many robots had awakened self-awareness, but perhaps it was not just Wen Yi and Xiao Bai.

Searching for news about robot self-awareness, such rumors had existed since the creation of the first intelligent brain.

Tan Xiao didn’t want to care about other robots’ awakening; he just wanted to protect Xiao Bai and Wen Yi. All his recent efforts were driven by the fear of an impending storm and potential war.

He didn’t say it outright, but his question seemed to say it all.

Wen Yi asked Tan Xiao: “What if I did?”

Tan Xiao lowered his eyes, exuding melancholy: “Then I would be a little sad.”

He gestured with his fingers, showing a small distance, then slowly extended it from about the size of a thumb to the width of a human heart: “Maybe just this much sadness.”

Not heart-wrenching, nor tearful, but a slow, numbing sadness.

How to describe it? It was like the cold winter rain falling on someone wearing a thick down jacket. The once light and warm jacket gradually gets soaked by the cold rain, becoming neither light nor warm, with the cold piercing to the bone, chilling the heart.

In matters of love, Tan Xiao was a naive and pure romantic. He didn’t care if his lover was human, but he valued the purity and loyalty of the relationship.

Love built on falsehood and deception is like a castle in the air, or a bubble blown from soapy water—beautiful but fragile, popping at the slightest touch.

Perhaps this was the trait of certain artists. Tan Xiao’s love life was far from realistic; he was stubborn and insistent, especially in love, holding onto his own convictions.

These convictions weren’t swayed by a million, nor by adding two more zeros.

After all, he didn’t pursue luxury, and his diligent work provided more than enough for himself and Xiao Bai.

Wen Yi pressed his nose against Tan Xiao’s, intimate and affectionate: “This little white dog is so clumsy and useless; what’s the point of coming for it?”

Xiao Bai was just a nanny robot, neither smart nor combat-capable, programmed to protect children. Even if it awakened, it wouldn’t harm humans, at least not intentionally.

Wen Yi said: “Whether you believe it or not, I came for you.”

Tan Xiao looked puzzled: “If you say so, I’ll believe it. But why? Why was I the one chosen?”

Not that he was insecure, but apart from his good looks, he didn’t have much to boast about.

In an era where human genes could be selected, his appearance, though outstanding, was shared by many who also possessed superior family backgrounds, high social status, intelligence, and talent.

Tan Xiao did have some talent in painting, but compared to true geniuses, he was still far behind. He had his own style, but his earnings weren’t high, and he was far from the top in his industry.

Tan Xiao had too many questions: Why was someone like him chosen?

“You said it yourself, love is inherently irrational. All standards become insignificant when true love is encountered.”

Wen Yi said: “In Xiao Bai’s eyes, you’re the best owner in the world. In my eyes, you’re naturally the best lover. What logic is there in such things? Love doesn’t need reasons; it just needs me to like you.”

Wen Yi gazed into Tan Xiao’s starry eyes, lost in the focused black whirlpool.

Some human words are hard to explain; body language seems more appropriate.

The head of the household works hard for the family, and others also contribute, like Xiao Bai.

After receiving its new shell, it busily tidied up the house, cleaning every corner, trying to make the already clean home sparkle like a diamond, paying its dues to Tan Xiao.

And Wen Yi, who worked hard to earn money online, using entirely legal means and protecting the family’s privacy, contributed a large sum to the household expenses, wasn’t selfless either.

The robot straightforwardly claimed its reward: its smooth, flawless silver hair cascaded down, intertwining with Tan Xiao’s slightly longer black hair, creating a striking contrast of black and white, full of tension and ambiguity.