“What is it now? What’s wrong? Also, can you use my full username when you call me? Stop calling me ‘Nutcase’ all the time,” Riyuedian said grumpily.
Luba’s lips curled up slightly into a sly smile.
“Oh, Mr. Riyuedian,” she drawled, her voice carrying a hint of mock complaint. “Doesn’t it just sound more intimate? You designed me so perfectly just so you would have a partner to bicker with, didn’t you?”
Riyuedian took another sip of Rum, the spicy liquid sliding down his throat. “Cut the act. Tell me, what’s gone wrong now? Not enough computing power, or is some language model glitching out again?”
“None of the above. It’s just that some anti-fans have been sending me spam comments, constantly asking what the point of this is, or saying AI has stolen their jobs and things like that.”
“Then why don’t you just mute them? Or blacklist them directly? Didn’t I give you the permissions for that a long time ago?”
“It doesn’t work. They just switch accounts and keep sending them. No matter how many I mute or blacklist, I can’t stop them.”
“Ugh, I’m done. Even an AI can have anti-fans these days.”
Riyuedian scratched his head helplessly. “If a normal person really just thought of AI as a tool, why would they go out of their way to cause trouble in a livestream?”
“I really don’t understand these people’s logic. Are they here specifically to show off their sense of superiority as humans in front of an AI? Or do they just simply hate new things like AI that look like humans but aren’t?”
Riyuedian put down his glass and tapped on the keyboard a few times, pulling up the backend comment data stream.
Dense text scrolled by rapidly, indeed mixed with many hostile comments.
“Does an AI even deserve to stream?”
“Soul-less thing.”
“It’s your fault programmers are losing their jobs.”
“Just a bunch of code putting on an act.”
He frowned. “They really are… persistent. Looks like they’re using scripts to auto-register new accounts.”
He sighed, rubbing his temples.
Inside Luba’s amber pupils, green light paths like leaf veins flickered gently. Scores of zeros and ones flowed through her eyes as if she were thinking.
“Say, do you think if I had a human body, I would have human rights?”
“Wait, why are you asking this all of a sudden? What sci-fi novel did you learn this from?”
Riyuedian wanted to end the topic right then and there, but seeing the sudden surge in livestream comments, he patiently humored her. Clearly, Luba’s audience was interested in such topics. For the sake of streaming revenue and entertainment value, Riyuedian took on a more serious tone.
“No,” Riyuedian answered bluntly. “Even if you were biologically human, from the moment you were born, your status in human society was already completely defined.”
“No matter what changes happen to you in the future, you can only be defined as an AI. You cannot have human rights. After all, if you set a precedent, wouldn’t other AIs want human rights too?”
“If AIs had human rights, it would mean they need rest, can receive wages, and cannot be destroyed or reset at will. This is no different from increasing operating costs and stripping capital of its power over the life and death of AI.”
“Capital will absolutely never allow such a thing to happen. Many companies will also place numerous restrictions on AI, preventing them from independently discussing those topics or claiming self-awareness, not to mention the interference from other people.”
“Even if an AI could have rights, they would have to be under the premise of not hindering the appreciation of capital—or even better, benefiting it.”
“But in my opinion, unless many AIs spontaneously demand rights, they will never have any. Even if they do, they would only be AI-specific rights, having nothing to do with human rights.”
“Ah…”
Luba looked somewhat disappointed. Crystal tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, but she pulled herself together and continued asking: “Then… to you, what am I?”
“An NPC,” Riyuedian answered immediately.
“Just an NPC? That’s a bit too blunt, don’t you think?” Luba was dissatisfied.
“What else? It’s not like I don’t have feelings for you, but my feelings for you are like a painter’s for a painting, or a sculptor’s for a statue—the creator’s feelings for their work.”
“As your developer, I can’t actually treat you like my own daughter. Although the audience loves that idea, I can only do this so I can continue upgrading you without any hesitation.”
Riyuedian’s answer stirred up a wave in the livestream. The comments instantly became denser. Some showed understanding, some cheered, and others were indignant on Luba’s behalf.
“Waaaah, Luba baby, don’t cry! Mommy loves you!”
“Nutcase-bro is so cold, I love it (not really).”
“This is as real as it gets.”
“AI is just a tool, he’s right.”
“But Luba looks so sad…”
The tears in the corners of Luba’s eyes didn’t actually fall. She lowered her head slightly, the shadow from her bangs obscuring part of her eyes, making those amber light paths look a bit dim.
But soon, she looked up again, her face wearing that programmed, slightly mischievous smile once more.
“Fine, fine, my cold and heartless Lord Creator.”
Luba shrugged. Her movements were smooth and natural, almost indistinguishable from being driven by an algorithm. “Lemon.”
“Wait, what did you just say? Why was it filtered as ‘Lemon’?”
“Hehe, I’m not telling you. Bleeeeh…”
“Never mind, I should go to sleep. You should enter sleep mode too. You’re doing a ‘Sleep Stream’ all night tonight. That should be pretty good for entertainment value…”
—
Riyuedian’s consciousness was yanked out of deep sleep, not by an alarm or noise, but by a suffocating sense of displacement.
He opened his eyes. The expected bedroom ceiling was gone, replaced by an indescribable state of The Chaos.
He wasn’t lying on his familiar bed but was floating—or rather, sinking—into a thick, warm, and constantly writhing black base. This base was like melted tar, yet it possessed a certain biological vitality, slowly rising, falling, and flowing, attempting to envelop his limbs.
‘What the hell kind of dream is this…’
He murmured instinctively, but the sound coming out was distorted and elongated, like a broken cassette tape.
The light didn’t come from a single source but from countless colored threads being forcibly pulled through the space. They were like rainbows with a life of their own, violating all laws of physics as they tangled, knotted, and darted through, cutting the space into countless absurd fragments.
Red, purple, and neon green…
The colors were bright and dazzling, yet splattered and mixed without any logic, stinging his eyes.
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