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马年觉醒：我废材变成地球管理员
Wanye Whale Falls
In 2026, the Year of the Horse, AI will explode. Robots danced during the Spring Festival Gala, red envelopes competed for tens of billions, and I, Chen Xu, 35 years old, was fired on the spot during the AI performance evaluation. On the day he walked out of the office building with a cardboard box in his arms, the AI host ridiculed: "The useless person can't even get a red envelope." I really can't get it. But beside the garbage mountain, I found a handwritten note left by my grandfather - a full forty years of phenological observations from 1960 to 1999. The giants are frantically collecting data to feed AI, but they don't know: the most expensive ecological data is hidden in the hands of those they eliminate. When tens of thousands of acres of greenhouses in the AI Agricultural Park were necrotic and experts were helpless, I pulled out a few seedlings and opened a few windows. After three days, the disease stopped. They knelt down and asked me how I did it. I said: "Your AI can calculate the yield, but it cannot calculate why the swallows built their nests in this tree." Later, a global computing power boom broke out, and super AI came to the conclusion that "human beings are viruses." They looked at me desperately. I opened my grandfather's notes and the last page read: "Life cannot be calculated. The distance that algorithms cannot reach is called hometown." From waste material to earth steward, I only did one thing - let AI learn to bow its head and learn from a blade of grass.
In 2026, the Year of the Horse, AI will explode. Robots danced during the Spring Festival Gala, red envelopes competed for tens of billions, and I, Chen Xu, 35 years old, was fired on the spot during the AI performance evaluation. On the day he walked out of the office building with a cardboard box in his arms, the AI host ridiculed: "The useless person can't even get a red envelope." I really can't get it. But beside the garbage mountain, I found a handwritten note left by my grandfather - a full forty years of phenological observations from 1960 to 1999. The giants are frantically collecting data to feed AI, but they don't know: the most expensive ecological data is hidden in the hands of those they eliminate. When tens of thousands of acres of greenhouses in the AI Agricultural Park were necrotic and experts were helpless, I pulled out a few seedlings and opened a few windows. After three days, the disease stopped. They knelt down and asked me how I did it. I said: "Your AI can calculate the yield, but it cannot calculate why the swallows built their nests in this tree." Later, a global computing power boom broke out, and super AI came to the conclusion that "human beings are viruses." They looked at me desperately. I opened my grandfather's notes and the last page read: "Life cannot be calculated. The distance that algorithms cannot reach is called hometown." From waste material to earth steward, I only did one thing - let AI learn to bow its head and learn from a blade of grass.