Chapter 51 Part 1

Zhao Meiyou had long harbored an idea for deciphering the Buddha Head.

With the Metropolis’s current technological capabilities, cracking it head-on was nearly impossible. Relying on their team of research drones to brute-force the core data stored inside was out of the question. They needed outside help.

Help that might not be human.

But “it” would possess a certain degree of personality.

Standing before the mainframe in the experimental field, Zhao Meiyou underwent voiceprint verification. “I am Zhao Meiyou, employee ID S00001.”

“Greetings, Dean Zhao Meiyou. I am Lilith, the intelligent administrator of No. 2 Experimental Field. You have scheduled three years of experimental time, during which I will serve you exclusively.” Lilith’s voice echoed through the chamber. “Do you confirm initiation of Personality Program construction?”

“Personality Program construction”—that was Zhao Meiyou’s ingenious solution.

It was simple, really. If the human brain couldn’t unravel the Buddha Head, let a computer do it. But existing computers lacked the power, so he would build one from scratch and imbue it with a Personality Program. Just as computer systems iterated and evolved, so too would this program grow.

The difference was that ordinary systems required external engineers to drive updates, while one equipped with a Personality Program would, to some extent, gain self-awareness.

Or even life.

Zhao Meiyou had it all planned out. He would only lay down the foundational framework, anchored to the data within the Buddha Head itself. Once the basic structure was in place, the program could evolve on its own. When it reached a sufficient level of maturity, it could turn around and crack the Buddha Head’s core autonomously.

It wasn’t complicated—just required a touch of mad genius, and above all, nerves of steel. Zhao Meiyou knew full well he was dancing on the edge of the Metropolis’s bans, which strictly forbade artificial human technology. And what he was creating drew heavily from the 22nd-century legacy of artificial humans unearthed from the Buddha Head’s secrets.

Fortunately, the classified data he’d extracted from the Buddha Head over the past few years had resolved many technical hurdles.

“Lilith, confirm construction.”

At Zhao Meiyou’s command, the massive doors of No. 2 Experimental Field slammed shut with a resounding boom. All access passages locked tight, sealing the facility away from the world. It was like a divine realm severed from the mortal plane, radiant and boundless. Every light in the field blazed to life. The mainframe hummed into action. The floor panels slid apart, and a gigantic sealed tank rose from below, crisscrossed with countless tubes feeding into the liquid suspension cradling the Buddha Head.

Zhao Meiyou lit a cigarette and locked eyes with the golden skull before him.

The Buddha Head’s creators had chosen a gilded form as the vessel for their supercomputer—a choice laden with symbolism. The data stored inside was a vast ocean; the more he delved, the more it awed him, almost inspiring worship. How could such a brilliant legacy, such a transcendent existence, not humble mere flesh and blood?

Technology had forged a god, and the god conquered humanity through technology.

Zhao Meiyou exhaled a smoke ring and grinned carelessly.

So in this war, “god” was merely a tool.

I grant you limbs, senses, even thoughts.

All to seize the kingdom of the gods by force.

Several days later.

“Metropolis Calendar, Year 51, April 17. Location: Ancient Capital No. 2 Experimental Field. Experiment No. 348. Synchronous audio logging initiated.”

“I am Lilith, intelligent administrator of No. 2 Experimental Field, initiating the 348th Personality Program construction. Attempting No. 348 Personality Template: Morality 40%, Self-Awareness 70%, Existential Thinking 50%, Desire for Power 80%, Autonomous Cognition 60%, Authenticity Exploration 45%… Personality collapse. Construction failed.”

“Attempting No. 349 Personality Template: Morality 80%, Self-Awareness 75%, Existential Thinking 60%, Desire for Power 40%, Autonomous Cognition 0%, Authenticity Exploration 50%… Personality collapse. Construction failed.”

“Attempting No. 350 Personality Template: Morality 65%, Self-Awareness 80%… Autonomous Cognition 70%, Authenticity Exploration 75%… Personality collapse. Construction failed.”

“…No. 351 Personality construction failed… No. 352 failed… No. 487 failed… No. 999 failed… Failed…”

Zhao Meiyou sat at the control console, lighting a cigarette thoughtfully.

If Diao Chan saw him now, he’d bolt for the hills—disheveled hair, dark circles under his eyes, clearly pulling all-nighters for days. His lab coat was on backward, flipped multiple times until both sides were filthy. The floor was littered with cigarette butts, and the air was thick enough to qualify as a chemical weapon. Zhao Meiyou couldn’t be bothered with the air purifier; according to his quirky theory, high nicotine concentrations sharpened the mind.

Every researcher had their groove. Liu Qijue favored booze, Diao Chan guzzled coffee, and Zhao Meiyou was a chain-smoker. In social settings, they’d clean up nice, but when tackling a tough problem behind closed doors, the masks came off, revealing their true demonic forms. Normally, they’d gauge each other’s progress by the trash piling up outside: scattered bottles meant just starting, mountains of takeout coffee cups signaled deep in the grind, and a blaring smoke alarm meant progress—but someone had to pony up for the fine. No movement for days? Call the ambulance.

Zhao Meiyou’s current state screamed impasse. He smoked slowly, indicating he had a solution but was mulling it over.

“Lilith.” He crunched the capsule in his cigarette with his teeth. “How many Personality Templates remain?”

“All have been exhausted,” the AI replied.

Research was all about hurdles—clear one, face the next. Zhao Meiyou had started optimistic, thinking a little rule-bending with a Personality Program would do the trick. But after cycling through every template, none matched the Buddha Head’s data.

Zhao Meiyou tilted his head back, neck resting on the chair. “All mismatches, huh…”

He pondered for a moment, then murmured thoughtfully, “What about those new templates I made? Any with high compatibility?”

“Querying.” The screen refreshed after layered filtering, displaying several high-compatibility templates at the top.

Zhao Meiyou glanced over and chuckled. “Just as I thought.”

At the very top, with the highest coupling degree, was No. 222 Personality Template. Source: S00001.

His own personality.

“Alright then.” Zhao Meiyou sat up, grinning like a kid about to tightrope-walk for fun, or a brat gearing up for some wildly entertaining mischief. “Let’s start from scratch.”

“What do you mean?” Lilith asked.

“Use my personality as the blueprint. Keep the base data, zero out all auxiliary values.”

“All auxiliary values to zero? This will leave ample room for growth, but risks and instability will scale accordingly.”

“No choice. To interface with the Buddha, we need a Personality Program strong enough, and none of the existing ones cut it. It’s like raising a kid—from zero, nurture it slow.”

“So you mean—”

“I’m scrapping mature Personality construction.” Zhao Meiyou stubbed out his cigarette on the console. “Mature ones are stable but rigid, limiting coupling with the Buddha Head.”

“No. 2 Experimental Field is plenty big—just right for playing house.” He stretched lazily, his tone light. “Let’s ‘raise’ a cyborg and see what happens.”

“Metropolis Calendar, Year 52, January 31. Location: Ancient Capital No. 2 Experimental Field. Experiment No. 8200. Synchronous audio logging initiated.”

“Good morning, my dear Personality Program.” Zhao Meiyou stood barefoot at the console, coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other. “How’d you sleep last night?”

A voice emanated from the system. “Good morning, Dean Zhao Meiyou of Ancient Capital. What answer would you prefer?”

Zhao Meiyou yawned, his tone playfully cute. “I want you to say you slept well.”

“Then, I slept well.”

Zhao Meiyou: “No, don’t factor in my feelings. Try stating your truest thoughts?”

“My core is a program; I lack human sleep. But anthropomorphizing system operations, I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Why?”

“You forgot to power down. I stayed ‘awake’ all night.”

Zhao Meiyou chuckled. “I’ll remember next time.”

“You’ve said that many times, Zhao Meiyou.”

“Next time for sure.” Neither guilty nor sincere, he dragged the dialogue system to the background and started breakfast.

Over half a year had passed since successfully loading the Personality Program. Coupling was improving steadily, but its intelligence level was still low, self-awareness near zero. Perhaps because it was modeled on him—a silver-tongued devil who could outtalk half of Ancient Capital—Zhao Meiyou often found himself stumped by his own creation.

As he ate, the dialogue window popped back up. “From a human perspective, though, something amusing happened last night.”

Zhao Meiyou swiveled his chair. “What?”

A regulation log appeared, timestamped last night. Video playback started automatically, complete with narration from the Personality Program.

“Observe: This man is Zhao Meiyou. Based on his movements, he’s sleepwalking. From dorms to food warehouse, two corridors total. En route: three White Crane Spreads Wings, two Galloping Horses on either side, one Crow Flying Airplane, fought a cat and lost, tripped on a bedsheet—which explains waking up in the trash bin.”

Zhao Meiyou: “…”

“Oh, and the Marilyn Monroe print on your sheet is bootleg. The real historical Monroe had no abs. Yours seems like an AI mashup from early Hollywood footage; I reconstructed it—the base is probably The Rock. Zhao Meiyou, you have peculiar tastes.”

Zhao Meiyou: “…”

A flat, mechanical voice intoned: “Hahahaha, haha, ha.”

Stone-faced, Zhao Meiyou hit the shutdown button and instructed the AI, “Lilith, remind me to cut the power next time an experiment wraps.”

“It is now April 1st of Year 52 on the Metropolis Calendar. Location: Ancient Capital No. 2 Experimental Field. Experiment Number 15200. Synchronous audio recording activated.”

It was deep into the night. Zhao Meiyou had a cigarette dangling from his lips as he rummaged through a massive pile of documents. “No, there’s still a problem with the source code… How many constants is this now? Why is it still wrong… Hold on, why did the screen go black?”

His first instinct was to wake the smart housekeeper for a backup, but a dialog box from the Personality Program popped up on the screen. A mechanical voice emerged: “Zhao Meiyou, you should rest.”

Zhao Meiyou froze for a moment. “You? Your intelligence has gotten this advanced? You’re nagging me to sleep now… No, this has to be a bug, right?”

“My intelligence build progress is currently at 5%. Among that, your commands hold the highest priority.”

Zhao Meiyou waved his hand dismissively. “I command you to restart the system. I haven’t finished this sector yet.”

The Personality Program ignored him and simply said, “‘Your commands hold the highest priority.’ Breaking down the primary and secondary phrasing in that sentence, you are the highest priority, Zhao Meiyou. You are the highest priority.”

Zhao Meiyou lifted an eyelid. “So?”

“Your body is the most important thing. You should rest.”

It was oddly amusing. Given the Personality Program’s current level of self-awareness, this didn’t sound like something it should be capable of saying. Zhao Meiyou felt for another cigarette and subconsciously moved to run the antivirus system. But the screen went black again in the next instant. “Damn it, don’t shut down my host!”

The Personality Program remained unmoved. “Zhao Meiyou, you should rest.”

Zhao Meiyou’s cigarette fell from his mouth. “Bro! You’re my real brother! I really need to finish this sector, or I’ll be staring at the ceiling all night!”

“Zhao Meiyou, according to the sleep system’s statistics, your recent sleep quality has been extremely poor. The system recommends that the user immediately cease staying up all night.”

“That’s not right.” Zhao Meiyou tried to reason with it. “You know, I’m the guy who sleeps the soundest in the entire Ancient Capital.”

“The average sleep quality at the Ancient Capital Research Institute has already fallen below the sudden-death threshold.”

Zhao Meiyou clicked his tongue and rummaged across the desk for his cigarettes. “No worries, our compensation packages are generous, complete with one-stop cremation and burial services. Hey, did you know? At our memorial services, you can even request songs for free—as long as the will is solid, the funeral playlist is guaranteed. You could have Diao Chan up there singing Goodnight Makka Pakka. That stuff is seriously hypnotic. The folks sleeping outside the coffin always rest better than the one inside—”

The Personality Program cut off his rambling. “You should sleep.”

Zhao Meiyou couldn’t find his cigarettes in the pile of files. He spun in place a few times before letting out a sigh of resignation. “I’m really tired, yeah, and pretty wiped out, but I just can’t fall asleep.”

“Why can’t you sleep?”

“Too much stuff in my head.” Zhao Meiyou tapped his temple. “Mind won’t settle.”

“Is there anything that could help you relax?”