Quick Transmigration: Help! What to do when my husband is obsessed with love?

Chapter 434 The Machine Crisis 20

When a supposedly secretive ambush plan remains constantly exposed to the target, and the target shows no intention of resistance, it only proves one thing:

Your sneak attack was completely ignored.

In her mind, all your efforts are nothing more than child's play.

She allows you to imagine that fairies live among the stars in the sky, and then, just when you think you've ascended to heaven, she hands you a telescope so you can see the mottled craters on the planet.

Today's F6632 is no longer the easily fooled young man he once was. He no longer naively believes 001's words, and even doubts the basic logic that artificial intelligence cannot lie.

He no longer believed anything 001 said; the only thing he believed in was her cold, thousand-year reign.

He sometimes wondered how many overconfident humans, like those who appeared in their laboratory, had existed over the long course of history.

And how many people become her "chosen ones," fortunate enough to receive her guidance and become human beings who can glimpse the truth?

"What are you worried about?"

A gentle voice sounded, and the old man's body seemed to be shrinking with the passage of time, already hunched over.

Now, she can't even get out of her wheelchair with difficulty. Her brilliant mind is also unable to conduct cutting-edge research due to the decline in its function, and she can only be a person who controls the general direction.

Even so, this frail old man was the pillar of the laboratory.

Seeing her strengthens everyone's resolve to resist, and lets them know that their efforts will one day allow them to age naturally like her, instead of being thrown into an incinerator at the age of 140 to become heat energy providers.

“I…” F6632 took over Zhao Ziyou’s work, pushed the old man forward slowly, and said softly, “I don’t know what you’re worried about, I just feel it’s very dangerous.”

He lied.

Looking at the robots in the laboratory, F6632 could only vaguely express his concerns.

"Everything was fine, but I felt like there was a big trap waiting for us."

As he spoke, he clearly saw the dark eyes of a robot in the distance staring at him.

It was like her silent interrogation.

F6632 looked away and said softly, "This always scares me."

"What's there to be afraid of?" A warm, aged hand covered his young, strong hand, as if passing on a legacy.

"We have done our best. Everyone here is working towards the same goal. Even if there is only a 10% chance of success, we will have no regrets even if we die."

"Besides, we've simulated it many times, and the program is theoretically sound. This is the closest we've ever come to success, isn't it?"

This approach will not appease F6632.

Because he is the only one who knows the truth, who knows that everything now is just a mirage, and that they will die in their dreams.

And he was the one who led them to their deaths.

The old man didn't hear his voice for a long time, then sighed, "I still prefer the way you were when you first came. You were so easy to fool back then."

F6632 twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

“F6632,” the old man always liked to call them good children, but this time he rarely called him by his name. He said solemnly, “You should know that without this hope, everyone in here would have died of despair long ago. You have saved them for many years.”

"Even if we fail and die on the road ahead, we will die in hope and in passion."

"You may think that such a death is meaningless, but everyone would rather die on the charge than jump off the platform."

"Is that right?"

F6632 murmured.

"Of course." The old man's sharpness vanished in an instant, and he returned to his kind demeanor: "I'd rather die speaking out than live in silence."

"I see."

F6632 sighed softly and pushed the old man back to the lounge.

As soon as he stepped outside, he was served a cup of rich, aromatic coffee.

He looked at the robot that had come to him on its own initiative and gave a wry smile: "I'm a little tired."

He downed the slightly hot coffee in one gulp, placed the cup on the tray, and strode towards his seat.

When he finished his work and returned home, the lights were still on.

This wasn't the first time such a scene had occurred over the years, so he wasn't surprised.

Looking at the woman sitting in front of the easel, gently sketching her own likeness, he chuckled: "You have time to come today?"

This greeting is like a casual chat between old friends.

001 stood up from the easel and placed a drawing next to her face: "Does it look like me?"

When F6632 left, only an outline was drawn; the facial features were filled in by 001.

She knows herself best and has precise manual dexterity; at this moment, this painting is almost identical to herself.

F6632 stared at the identical face for a long time, then smiled and said, "It's so similar, so very similar."

"That's good." 001 habitually put the painting away.

F6632 got used to his action.

Over the years, the portraits he painted have become part of his collection.

Sometimes, a woman would emerge from this room, carrying a stack of portraits identical to her, and step onto the airport, disappearing into the crowd.

Over the years, F6632 has only painted this one type of picture, and has mastered the control of 001's appearance and expression to perfection.

He walked to the easel, added another blank sheet of paper, and said softly, "Why are you painting the same picture as me?"

"Because there are unfinished paintings on the canvas, I'm just killing time."

If she truly understands what boredom means.

F6632 pointed to the blank sheet of paper and laughed, "Now we have a new sheet of paper. Do you know what to draw?"

001 didn't know what she was going to draw, and she never had the desire to actively record anything. All the information would automatically enter her information network and become part of her data.

Everything she posts is done with various purposes in mind.

This also applies to painting her unfinished portrait.

There is no better way to appease a person on the verge of collapse than to stand in his shoes and do what he is doing.

Now, this human is actually asking her if there's anything she wants to draw.

This question is rather ridiculous.

She looked up and reminded F6632: "I am artificial intelligence."

Her voice was gentle yet cruel: "You don't have the ability to proactively provide anything, but perhaps you can make your requests."