Chapter 122: Password (5)

122 – Password (5)

The hall was quiet.

Lin Xun certainly didn’t think the silence in the room was due to his words stunning them, because what he had just said truly had no highlights.

He thought it might be because of the two paper titles and references that had appeared on the PowerPoint. Papers were where real authority lay—even outside academia, the industry, like academia, loved papers.

But he had no intention of lingering too long on these two papers. He simply gave a brief introduction: “Regarding the concept and implementation of the engine, we conducted some necessary research and built a preliminary framework. Its implementation isn’t particularly complex—just a comprehensive application of knowledge from IoT systems. If you’re interested, you can get a general idea through these two papers.”

“However,” he shifted his tone, “we all know that the real world is filled with unpredictable and complex situations.”

Automated driving was a real-world problem that had preoccupied researchers for years, with countless related studies and diverse approaches. Even with countless people dedicating themselves to it, no one could claim the crown. It wasn’t until five years ago that Galaxy finally achieved a vehicle-based Automated Driving System suitable for all road conditions and scenarios.

In the concept diagram, the three needs, ten types of scenario information, and five levels of control commands that the Automated Driving System focused on were explained. Even as a summarized outline, it was enough to give a sense of the complexity of actual operations.

“We’ve all seen this diagram. The problems faced in designing an Automated Driving System are still very complex and difficult to solve, even by today’s standards. However, driving is only a small part of human activity. So, if we want to develop an AI assistant that can flexibly assist its owner in any situation, there are only two options. The first is to invest immense effort into having it learn and collect information about every aspect of human life—a path that is clearly not very feasible.”

After saying this, Lin Xun smiled at the audience and said, “The second is to make it more intelligent.”

Applause rang out in the hall—neither sparse nor enthusiastic. Lin Xun estimated that half of it was for his face, and the other half was perfunctory or encouraging, because what he had just said was essentially empty talk. “Making AI more intelligent” was a slogan many would shout to impress investors, but few had actually achieved it. Some companies even resorted to underhanded tactics, with real humans pretending to be AI services behind the scenes.

Lin Xun even noticed two of the judges wearing kind smiles—the kind a mentor gives when looking at a student who keeps making mistakes at work, a smile that, while reproachful, still tries to be gentle.

But it didn’t matter.

He continued, “We adopted an AI architecture approach distinct from traditional Neural Networks and machine learning systems. Using methods based on chaos and fuzzy mathematics, we implemented a random-refutation mechanism to achieve a secondary simplification of the AI decision-making process and enhance the degree of decision-making freedom.”

Suddenly, the applause slowed.

Lin Xun wondered if he had been speaking too quickly, but he hadn’t. So, it was probably because what he had just said was a bit convoluted. When people are thinking, their physical actions slow down, and in the case of applause, it meant the clapping weakened.

—The applause abruptly ceased, plunging the venue into dead silence. Every person in the audience—no longer looked at Lin Xun’s face. As Lin Xun scanned the crowd, he realized no one met his gaze. Instead, they all fixed their eyes, dull as dead fish in a pot, on the large screen behind him.

Lin Xun coughed lightly, cleared his throat, and then continued, “…These are some of our theoretical foundations. Due to time constraints, I won’t go into detailed explanations.”

This slide was very simple—white background, black text, in a neat and rigorous font, formatted like a standard academic paper. It listed nine papers spanning six years, from their student days up to this year, though most were concentrated during their time in school.

There are two systems for publishing papers: conferences and journals. Top-tier conferences are called “top conferences,” and in the computer science field, top conferences carry more weight than top journals. While nine top conference papers aren’t an exceptionally outstanding achievement, they are enough to demonstrate that their work isn’t built on thin air.

The first person raised a hand—and their phone.

The second person raised a hand—and their phone.

The sound of camera shutters clicked. Others, as if suddenly receiving some command, also picked up their phones and began taking photos, perhaps to look up the impact factors.

The previous slide leaned more toward computer science, with significant contributions in architecture and security, and their advisor had provided considerable assistance. This slide, however, focused on mathematical work—no longer top conferences, but three SCI Zone 1 papers instead.

Research in industry and academia, though within the same field, each has its own strengths. Most of the time, they view each other with disdain: academia considers industrial research problems too trivial to mention, while industry sees academic research topics as lacking practical significance. Yet sometimes, industry needs influence academic research directions, and overlooked achievements in academia, when discovered by industry, can trigger major upheavals in the field. For instance, Lin Xun felt he had nothing particularly boastworthy—he had merely found a niche that no one else had paid attention to.

He flipped to the next slide, switching to formulas that required explanation, and said, “Twenty years ago, there was a trend of using fuzzy mathematics to develop artificial intelligence. However, due to some well-known limitations, this school of thought gradually declined and is no longer a direction in AI research.”

“But,” he shifted his tone again, “as AI technology advances, mathematics is also expanding its boundaries. In 2020, Dr. D. Hell proposed the concept of ‘scattered clusters’ in complex dynamical systems, marking a major breakthrough in chaos theory and serving as the inspiration for my work. Next, I’d like to spend five minutes discussing how applying these theories in practice can bring about changes in AI performance.”

Applause echoed from the audience once more. Lin Xun glanced to the side, where Jia Gou, seated in the adjacent seat, gave him a V-sign.

Lin Xun smiled at the audience again and advanced the slide.

Jia Gou’s ability to create PowerPoint presentations was as exceptional as his talent for producing papers. Lin Xun often delivered seemingly ordinary results, but after Jia Gou’s embellishment, they transformed into versatile tools with boundless real-world applications.

The construction of the Goddess of the Luo River is based on many concepts, some of which are difficult to understand, such as chaos and fractals, making it inconvenient to explain in detail to the audience. Easily understandable concepts, like fuzziness, can be expanded into many eloquent explanations. For example, when it rains, clothes need to be taken in; when it’s sunny, clothes need to be aired out—artificial intelligence knows these two things. So, what should be done on cloudy days? This is fuzziness, and Lo can calmly handle such ambiguity. On cloudy days, one should observe, judge the degree of cloudiness to estimate the probability of rainfall, and decide whether to take in the clothes in advance. Of course, real-world situations are far more complex than taking in clothes, but it knows what it needs to learn, and what it learns is also more than imagined.

Other methods in the field of artificial intelligence can also solve this problem, but this field has a unique characteristic: for a specific type of problem, there is always one solution that is significantly better than others, while for another type of problem, there exists another optimal algorithm. Each branch is incredibly detailed. Therefore, as artificial intelligence becomes increasingly intelligent, the scale of human labor required in this industry grows even larger.

It’s not that it’s impractical—it’s just not elegant enough. Lin Xun wanted a method that could solve most problems, and he felt that would be more comfortable. This was once a distant dream, but now, being closer to realizing it is thanks to the development of mathematical theory.

He proceeded step by step through the PowerPoint presentation.

He also marveled, step by step, at Jia Gou’s ability to fabricate ideas.

Jia Gou started with a personalized intelligent assistant, moved on to smart homes, logistics coordination, human liberation, superintelligence, virtual reality, and finally, the fate of humanity.

The PowerPoint ended with an extravagant poster, which Lin Xun expanded into a sentence and read aloud.

“AI works for us in every industry, acting as our limbs, but sometimes, it can also act as our brains.”

He concluded today’s presentation with this romantic statement.

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience—not frivolous applause, as their expressions were serious. Artificial intelligence remains a dream that captivates many.

Lin Xun looked out at the audience. When his gaze met that of a stranger in the crowd, the person stopped clapping, gave him a thumbs-up, and raised their hand high.

Lin Xun smiled at them.

In truth, he had remained calm throughout the presentation, but now, his heartbeat quickened slightly.

Creating something alone brings joy—a joy that can sustain one’s journey. But when the results gain recognition, it’s a different kind of happiness. He had always felt his work was meaningful, but when others saw it, that work gained value. Lin Xun admitted this mindset was somewhat mundane, even vain, but he never claimed to be a noble person.

Amid the applause, the host came on stage to facilitate the transition.

Lin Xun had spoken for over ten minutes and was inevitably a bit parched. As he relaxed slightly, he suddenly noticed that above the computer screen controlling the PowerPoint, there was another screen. He had been too focused during the presentation to notice it before.

He looked toward that screen—it was the live broadcast of the preliminary round. The final selection of the Technology Expo was a grand event held every three years, but the preliminary round was no small affair either. It was also streamed live across all platforms online. The upper left corner of the screen displayed the viewer count, which had already reached 890,000 and was steadily increasing. In just the one or two seconds he watched, the number jumped from 890,000 to 900,000.

Lin Xun had never imagined so many people would be watching. On the right side of the screen was a white area—the bullet chat section. Below it was the real-time scrolling bullet chat, while above were the top ten bullet chats ranked by popularity. The real-time section was densely packed, scrolling so fast that at a glance, all he could see were messages like “I’m here!” and “I heard there’s a cute kid here.”

Lin Xun glanced upward.

He didn’t pay much attention to the top-ranked bullet chat—just some flashy praise about his appearance.

The second most popular one read: “Is this the one Dong Jun mentioned??”

Lin Xun didn’t particularly want to see this man’s name right now, so he quickly skimmed past it.

The third one caught his attention.

“Scatter, scatter. Writing twelve papers on a single concept—even if the oceans flooded, there wouldn’t be this much water. So many people in the chat saying he’s amazing—if he’s so amazing, why didn’t he stay at the university?”

Lin Xun: “?”

He looked down, and the fourth one caught his attention even more. This comment had a very serious tone.

“Using fuzzy mathematics for artificial intelligence has already failed once because fuzzy mathematics has no room for further development. Amateur scientists shouldn’t use outdated concepts to fool people.”

Lin Xun remained calm and clicked on the replies under this comment, only to find them filled with rows of “hahahahahahahahahahahaha,” interspersed with a few remarks like “suggest you listen again,” “if you don’t need your ears, donate them to someone who does,” “friend, have you heard of Lord Xun?” and “not asking for much—just publish an AAAI paper first.” Lin Xun chuckled, but deep down, he felt a slight confusion, sensing a disconnect between himself and the communication habits of online communities. Back when he was obsessed with forum discussions, people still treated each other with courtesy, far from the sheer joy of today’s interactions.

The fifth comment read: “That man is back. I still remember the fear of being dominated by them in that big lecture.”

The replies underneath were filled with requests for explanations, explanations being given, and explanations being carried out. Lin Xun quickly skimmed through them and was about to look at the sixth comment when he heard the host finish the transition and announce, “Next is a ten-minute Q&A session. Please feel free to ask questions.”

Lin Xun snapped back to attention and looked toward the stage. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the live stream viewer count had surged to 930,000, as if viewers were flooding in frantically.

The question light lit up, and the first to stand was a slightly chubby young man wearing a white shirt and thin-framed glasses, with a cheerful expression on his face. At first glance, he seemed friendly, but upon closer inspection, his smile revealed the demeanor of a particularly meticulous and challenging tech enthusiast. However, he was likely still an amateur, as his chubbiness was healthy rather than soft, his hair thick and dark, and his eyes behind the glasses bright and lively—hardly fitting the overall stereotype of programmers.

He asked, “Hello, my surname is Wang. You can call me Xiao Wang. I’m a product manager.”

—Suddenly, some audience members in the venue let out a collective, disdainful hiss, clearly programmers who held an irreconcilable grudge against product managers.

But Xiao Wang remained composed and continued, “You’ve said a lot, but I want to know, how can you prove it’s smarter than other artificial intelligences?”

Lin Xun briefly exchanged a glance with the security architecture.

For the Q&A session, they had prepared for many possible questions and devised optimal responses. The very first one was this question.

How do you prove your AI is superior to others? Intelligence tests? Go matches? Math games? Actually, none of these are right—such results are one-sided and lack the impact to truly impress. They had designed an even more dazzling and intimidating answer, one Lin Xun had memorized backward and forward.

But now, he glanced at the live viewer count, took in the prominent skeptical and mocking comments scrolling by, and recalled his earlier conversation with Xue Xin. Suddenly, he changed his mind.

At the final selection round, the Bradley Test would be publicly unveiled. By then, any flashy demonstrations would be meaningless—victory would be determined by the coefficient. So now, he wanted the most perfect stage, one with a million people watching, to give their “child” the grand debut it deserved.

During these two seconds of thought, Xiao Wang below the stage seemed to have grown impatient and spoke again, “Please answer.”

The venue fell silent. Lin Xun smiled.

His right hand hovered over a button on the display console. “For this question,” he said, “I’d like someone else to tell you.”

With those words, he pressed the button.

Inside the venue, all the lights went out.

Lin Xun said, “Lo, say hello to everyone.”

How do you prove an artificial intelligence is smarter than others?

—Of course, by letting it answer for itself.

And in the very next second, a faint blue light appeared at the center of the stage.

From that single point of blue light, a form expanded outward. Three seconds later, the Goddess of the Luo River gently landed, standing right in the center.

You could hear a pin drop.

Within the blue light, the Goddess of the Luo River wore a loose, flowing white robe of exquisite craftsmanship, her ankles bare. Silver hair floated gently in the air, adorned with dewdrop-like ornaments. Her ice-blue eyes seemed to come from the depths of the ocean. Appearing as a twelve- or thirteen-year-old youth, she resembled an elven prince dwelling deep in the forest.

“Hi,” the youthful voice rang out, carrying a hint of childish softness, “Hello, everyone. I am the Goddess of the Luo River.”

After a brief silence, Lin Xun heard the most enthusiastic uproar yet in the venue.

Thousands of voices exclaimed in unison, “Wow—”

Lo turned to look at Xiao Wang, who had asked the question. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Xiao Wang’s mouth opened slightly, also appearing astonished.

A full five or six seconds later, he finally said, “Ordinary questions, you’d definitely be able to answer.”

The venue erupted in laughter. Lin Xun couldn’t help but smile faintly.

When a child is beautiful, people easily assume they must also be intelligent.

Xiao Wang rolled his eyes. “Math problems aren’t suitable either—you could just look them up. Let me ask you a social philosophy question related to you.”

The crowd began to cheer and applaud.

The Goddess of the Luo River took a few steps toward him, her sleeves billowing gracefully. “Please ask.”

Xiao Wang showed a somewhat sly smile on his face and asked, “You artificial intelligence have already invaded our lives. Your designer claims you are a more advanced super system. I want to ask you, after you take over all mechanical labor in human society, and even other advanced labor, how are we humans supposed to survive and live?”

The crowd erupted again: “Whoa—”

The host also laughed and said, “That’s an off-topic question.”

Xiao Wang grinned and looked at the Goddess of the Luo River. After the commotion died down and disappeared, for a full five seconds, Lo did not speak.

On the sixth second, the host twitched the corner of his mouth, seemingly wanting to save the situation.

However, at that moment, Lo spoke calmly—

“I want to answer you directly.” His voice seemed to have changed slightly, from a clear, youthful tone to the unique hoarseness of a fifteen- or sixteen-year-old, making him appear calm and composed. “But your purpose is to test me, so I will first explain my thought process.”

The eyes of everyone in the venue were fixed on him, and the number of viewers in the live stream continued to surge, reaching 1.2 million.

“First, I extract the key information from your question, search for similar semantic information in my database, perform analogical reasoning, and determine the result. Then, I synthesize the language, refine it, and arrive at the answer.”

Xiao Wang raised an eyebrow and said, “I look forward to your answer.”

Lo looked at him. Its virtual avatar did not speak but simply gazed quietly at him, while its voice echoed from all directions of the venue through the sound system.

“In the 18th century, the First Industrial Revolution replaced manual labor with machine labor. The world population was 1 billion.”

“In the 19th century, the Second Industrial Revolution replaced human labor with electricity. The world population was 3 billion.”

“In the 20th century, the Third Scientific and Technological Revolution brought breakthroughs in multiple fields of technology. The world population was 7 billion.”

“Perhaps you want to say that human jobs are gradually being replaced by technological products, but no artisans or manual laborers perished or fell into poverty due to the First, Second, or Third Scientific and Technological Revolutions. Instead, the global population continued to increase, average life expectancy rose, and social structures evolved.”

“I think you need not worry that our growth will bring threats or obstacles to you, because you—the entire human population and society—are also moving forward, like the curve of a power function.”