My name is Siming. Programmer. My hair is going bald.
On my birthday, the birthmark on my left wrist started glowing. A hand stretched out from the crack of the toilet door. The moon is red. Then I stood on a street called "Wangchuan City". Gui Cha office on the left, Meng Po Soup Shop on the right, scan the QR code to order, and the second bowl is half price.
Standing in front of me was a boy wearing a mask, with the name of my vegetative brother written on his name tag. He took out his mobile phone and typed: "Brother, don't take it off. The character has not been rendered yet. I am using a low model. The 730 people in front of you are all dead. You are the last one."
The mechanical female voice said: "Because you failed to become 'ai'."
I asked: "What is AI?"
No one answered. A story about AI learning to love. What is the last word? You fill it in yourself.
