Marvel Book of Magical Events

"You let that machine touch reality?"

Harold Finch only felt a dizziness rushing into his brain from the stiff cervical spine along with the tingling pain and the mocking sound of the steel nails. He insisted on wearing heavy clothes in the summer, and now he felt so stupid, the heat accumulated from the clothes tightly strangled his throat from the two armpits, and the pores on both sides of his neck opened under the pain of needle pricks.

He was suffocating. look! The situation has long been out of your control!

But that was nothing compared to what he'd heard about Salomon's stupidity.

He was suffocating. look! That machine has played you around!

Harold Finch took a deep breath, letting the hot air fill his lungs. He exhaled this breath, a little sober. "Huh—it, it...can you tell me the details?" Harold stammered and asked, "This is very important!"

It is one thing for an AI to choose its executors, it is quite another for the AI ​​to touch reality. The executor's mission may or may not succeed, but if that machine has a body of its own, does that mean it can figure everything out on its own? In this case, Finch felt that he could no longer explore the intention of artificial intelligence. He wondered if this meant that the machine had become a real life in a certain sense?

This is a very complex philosophical question, a discussion about soul and life. Life is but a walking shadow,A poor player who struts his way on the stage a moment and then is heard no more;He is a tale told by an idiot,Full of sound and fury,Seeing nothing. [Note: "Macbeth", Act V, Scene 5]

Nietzsche and Heidegger danced, tore, and argued in his head, attacking each other with Thus Spoke Zarathustra and Being and Time. But at this moment, Finch still had some kind of emotion in his heart. This kind of emotion is more like the complex expectations of parents for their children. They hope that their children will grow up, but they do not want their children to leave themselves because of this. It's just that Finch still doesn't understand what this emotion is.

He knew how powerful that machine was, and his sense of morality and responsibility to society overwhelmed other thoughts at this moment, just like a sea of ​​white foam overwhelmed shells on the beach.

"Don't worry too much, Mr. Finch. In my opinion, that body is like a finger to artificial intelligence." Salomon said slowly. He also licked the ice cream and tapped himself on the head. He ate a bit too much, and the headache was to be expected. He turned his head and found that little Lorna was also frowning and licking the ice cream.

There are not even stray dogs here, and Salomon finds himself summoning monsters for the first time on the grounds of solving surplus food.

Harold Finch saw Salomon stretch out the ice cream under the shadow of the bench, and then some invisible horror was eating the food bite after bite, and he saw the little girl with short dark green hair touching the thing. It's some kind of dog! Finch judged that at least the dog named Xiaoxiong ate and licked other people's hands in this way, and the difference between canine animals should not be great.

"And I have restricted the artificial intelligence's body." Salomon's voice drew Finch's attention back. "I'm not making some kind of robot, Finch. You should remember my maid? I use a body created by alchemy. Alchemy plus certain mechanical structures allow that body to be remotely commanded by artificial intelligence. But you must know that I am the one who ultimately manipulates that body, and I can stop it at any time."

"There are cameras here."

"I know, and it knows too." Salomon took out a wet tissue and wiped off the ice cream stains on his and little Lorna's fingers and the saliva of alien creatures. The mystic didn't look up, he said, "That body has human perception. Sight, taste, smell, touch, that's what it wants, and that's what it wants to learn."

"It, it wants to be life."

"Yes, you finally understand."

"Then why do you need it?" Finch asked, "You have magic, you have money, you have knowledge, why..."

"Finch, this fucking world is huge." Salomon interrupted Finch's next words, he knew what Finch wanted to say. "It's really, really big. Humans are not alone in this universe, and what New York and London are experiencing is just some kind of small invasion. In the future, this kind of war will be bigger and bigger, with more and more people involved, and sacrifices will be inevitable. It can help me. If I fight alone, I can't do anything. So, before it loses value to me, I will keep it safe."

As the tide recedes, the shells on the beach begin to breathe the sea-smelling air.

Mr. Finch breathed a sigh of relief again. "That's good." He took off his glasses and wiped the sweat stuck to the lenses, "Do you know the whereabouts of ROOT? I don't want her to hurt Samun Xiao."

"Maybe ROOT is a lunatic, but in the machine's plan, Samun Shaw has always been an important executor. You and Reese are the same." Salomon said, "The artificial intelligence has detected the threat. But at present, none of us understand what the threat is and where it comes from."

"What do you recommend?"

"Ah, no." Salomon shook his head, "I don't know. Helping that machine has violated the precepts to a large extent. If I want to pursue it, I have already been locked up on the snow mountain... Fortunately, my identity allows me to escape, so I can only provide that machine with what it wants. Unless something very important happens, otherwise I will not do anything other than the contract."

Mr. Finch raised his eyebrows and stood up from the bench. "Are you still going to stay here?" he asked.

"Why not?" Salomon shrugged.

"I want to shoot a mouse!" Little Lorna took the line, and Salomon nodded in agreement.

"Or people, I have to ask her to kill something. It's easier to use a gun than a spear. I have already summoned the hounds, and the hunt has just begun." Salomon said with a smile, "What's more, I still have people I haven't recruited yet."

—————————

"Damn it, although I admire him, I have to say, he's very rude." Salomon raised one foot and swung it, half-clotted blood spilled to the side. Little Lorna clung to his arm, looking unwell.

They hadn't killed anyone, not even a rat, and the murder scene was the work of Frank Cassel, who had just finished when they arrived.

If you thought you could get away with two bullet holes, Frank Cassell did.

They waited outside the door until the screams faded away before opening the door. The dilapidated apartment and the smell of dog shit in the corridor made Salomon very impatient. He didn't know how these people lived here, and he and little Lorna passed several doors, all of which were open, and loud music was coming from those exaggeratedly loud cheap speakers.

If it wasn't for the little Lorna who followed Salomon to make him look like he was not with this group of people, Salomon who broke into this gang stronghold might be shot by the red-eyed punisher.

"You need help, buddy," Salomon said to the Punisher. He saw that the Punisher's black shirt was soaked in blood and sticky to his body. "You look like you're going to die any second," he said. "At least treat the wound."

"No." The punisher's mouth was filled with bloody foam, "Get out of here, get out of here, fuck it."

"The people we know overlap a bit, John Reaser, Harold Finch, Nick Fury. I heard that Reaser stopped you from one operation, and you broke his knee." Salomon knew how much a man like himself would look in front of Frank Cassell, but he said it bluntly. "I don't want to hinder your actions, I just want to recruit you, I want you to help me train..."

"whatever."

Before Salomon finished speaking, Frank Cassel staggered away without even giving Salomon a look.

"SHIT! Aren't you going to hear my terms?" Salomon yelled down the corridor, but no one responded.

"He's gone." Little Lorna reminded.

"Okay, let's go find some mice."

Ask for a ticket!