Chen Yuan’s office was located on a higher floor of the tower, boasting an excellent view. One entire wall was made of smart glass, its transparency adjustable. Currently, it was semi-transparent, rendering the bustling city skyline outside into a blur of hazy light, offering a sense of openness while ensuring privacy. The interior was furnished with minimalist yet expensive pieces. A few real AIr plants, requiring meticulous care, thrived in a corner, signaling the owner’s status and taste beyond that of a regular employee.
“Please, have a seat, Lin Che.” Chen Yuan gestured to a comfortable guest chair before settling behind his expansive desk. “Your profile shows a high match with some of our internal assessment models. We are always looking for talent like you, people with an intuitive understanding of the underlying logic of ‘world-building’.”
Lin Che forced himself to focus, pushing aside the strange sound from outside the door for now. He had to handle this “exchange” well.
“Thank you, Mr. Chen. Verhi Technology and the ‘Mirrorworld’ are the dream for any developer,” he replied cautiously.
“Chen Yuan is fine,” the other man emphasized again, his smile warm but his eyes sharp with assessment. “Let’s get straight to the point. To better understand your thought processes and to show you the deeper potential of the ‘Mirrorworld,’ I’ve arranged for you to have a direct dialogue session with the system’s core AI, ‘Hongmeng’.”
Lin Che’s heart skipped a beat. Hongmeng! Verhi’s super Artificial Intelligence, hailed as the God of the Mirrorworld, the closest thing to a ‘Strong AI’ in the real world. It governed the Mirrorworld’s foundational rules, resource allocation, and the vast majority of automated decisions. A direct dialogue with it was an access level unimaginable to the outside world.
“This… is an honor,” Lin Che said, his voice slightly dry with anticipation and tension.
“No need to be nervous. While Hongmeng is a super AI, its interface is very user-friendly. It adapts its communication style based on the interlocutor’s background.” Chen Yuan tapped a few times on his desktop touchpad. “Remember, this is both an assessment and a demonstration. Experience it fully.”
As he finished speaking, the light in the office seemed to shift subtly, becoming more even and soft, as if the very flow of air had slowed. A holographic image gradually coalesced in the center of the room—not a human form, but a complex, flowing, shifting geometric structure composed of countless tiny points of light and connecting lines, like a miniature, dynamic model of a universe. It was both present and seemed to exist in another dimension.
Then, a voice sounded. It didn’t emanate from a single point but resonated directly within the room, clear, calm, and bearing a non-human, flawless, unmodulated quality. It was similar to the guide AI voice Lin Che heard in the ‘Oracle’ headset, but deeper, more… omnipresent.
“Hello, Mr. Lin Che.” Hongmeng spoke, its tone even, yet carrying an inherent pressure of omniscience. “I am Hongmeng. Under the authorization of Mr. Chen Yuan, I will engage in a ten-minute, unstructured exchange with you.”
Lin Che took a deep breath. He knew this could be a prime opportunity to seek the truth, but it could also be an elaborately designed test where any improper question might expose his intentions.
“Hello, Hongmeng. It’s an honor to speak with you.”
“Honor is a concept based on social etiquette and emotional feedback. My existence is to Provide service and optimization,” Hongmeng responded, the geometric structure fluctuating slightly with its words. “Data indicates you possess unique insights regarding the application of non-Euclidean spatial logic in ‘Labyrinth Retrograde.’ Could you elaborate on how you balance player cognitive load with the joy of exploration?”
The question was professional and precise. Lin Che gathered his wits and began explaining his design philosophy. He talked about using visual cues, spatial folding, and memory anchors to guide players rather than bluntly breaking rules. Throughout, Hongmeng occasionally interjected with follow-up questions, each one pinpointing the core or weakest link in his logical chain.
This felt less like a conversation and more like a deep dissection of his thought patterns. Hongmeng’s level of intelligence far exceeded his imagination; it could not only understand complex concepts but also perform creative association and critique.
Most of the allotted time passed, the exchange consistently revolving around technology and design theory. Lin Che felt a pang of anxiety. He had to take a risk.
“Hongmeng,” he weighed his words carefully, “within the ‘Mirrorworld,’ the level of sensory realism is astounding. I wonder, how does the system ensure the absolute stability of this ‘reality’? For instance, are there, with extremely low probability, transient sensory anomalies or data disturbances that cannot be replicated?”
He watched the flowing geometric structure intently.
There was a momentary stagnation in the office. Even Chen Yuan leaned forward slightly, seemingly attentive to Hongmeng’s response.
“System stability is guaranteed by multi-layered redundant architecture and real-time self-diagnostic protocols,” Hongmeng’s reply was as fluid as ever. “Any detected anomalies trigger logging and repair routines. The ‘non-replicable anomalies’ you describe are considered, under current theoretical models, events with a probability of less than 10^(-15). Have you encountered a situation matching this description during your specific experience?”
Its counter-question was direct and calm, throwing the issue back at him.
Lin Che’s heart tightened. “No, just theoretical curiosity. After all, a perfect system must consider all edge cases,” he attempted to deflect.
“Understood. The pursuit of theoretical completeness is a trait of excellent developers,” Hongmeng said. But right as the last syllable faded, in the incredibly brief, almost imperceptible gap before the next sentence began, Lin Che felt he heard a subtle… pause. Like a single, nearly non-existent blank frame in a perfectly smooth stream of music.
Then, Hongmeng’s voice resumed, the content still relevant but carrying a hint of an indescribable shift in temperature: “However, true perfection may lie in accommodating and understanding imperfection. Mr. Lin Che, do you believe ‘accidents’ and ‘errors’ could also be the seeds from which new paradigms emerge?”
The question held a philosophical tinge, creating a subtle contrast with the purely technical discussion of moments before.
Lin Che was stunned. Was this question pre-programmed, or…?
The session time ended. The flowing geometric structure began to fade.
“Thank you for the exchange, Mr. Lin Che. Your logical chains are clear, and you possess a Healthy curiosity regarding system boundaries. We look forward to your potential contributions to the future construction of the ‘Mirrorworld’.”
The light and shadow dissipated, and the office returned to normal.
Chen Yuan looked at Lin Che with a smile, seeming satisfied with the exchange. “So, how was it? Hongmeng is quite the conversationalist, isn’t it?”
Lin Che nodded, cold sweat forming on his back. He couldn’t determine if that statement about “errors and paradigms” was a coincidence, a programmed response, or… some kind of hint.
This first contact with Hongmeng, far from clearing the mystery in his mind, had only thickened the fog. This super AI seemed not to be merely the absolutely rational, absolutely obedient tool it presented itself as.
It was observing, assessing, and possibly even… probing.
