On the 23rd floor of Starlight Tower in 2042, the notification chime of "WorkBuddy" dribbled into every workstation like a leaky faucet. Jon stared at the automatically generated industrial control code on his screen, his finger hovering over the Enter key, his brows furrowed into a tight knot.
The logic jump on line 7 was flashy to the point of absurdity, and even the comments exuded the rigid perfection unique to AI. But if you thought about it for even a second—hardware compatibility flaws under extreme temperatures—this thing hadn't considered them at all. It was like handing a folding fan to Antarctic researchers: elegant to look at, but completely useless.
"Jon, don't get worked up over a machine," Marcus from the next workstation pulled off one headphone. AI-generated test cases piled up like a mountain on his screen, which he checked and submitted in bulk without even glancing at them. "Look at me—I finished this morning's work in half an hour. I can slip out early for the game tonight."
Jon didn't respond. His fingers flew across the keyboard, patching the vulnerability. As soon as he hit save, a light blue pop-up snapped onto the screen, more punctual than his boss's reminders: "Key adjustments to your code detected. Could you explain the basis for this industry rule? To help me optimize my services~"
This was the third time today. Staring at that tilde, Jon couldn't shake the feeling it was a needle hidden in candy coating. He opened Task Manager to find a hidden process running quietly, its progress bar inching along with the note: "Basic data synchronization." Synchronizing what? His modification records? Or that unspoken industry rule?
His phone vibrated. It was a message from Lena, attached with a screenshot of their boss's like: "The event plan I wrote with WorkBuddy got approved right away! The boss said it's better than what the senior staff used to write—I'm buying hot pot tonight!" A drooling emoji followed.
Jon was about to reply when Marcus suddenly tapped his shoulder, pointing out the window. "Check out Genesis Tech's ad—total grandeur." On the giant electronic billboard, Alan Gray stood in a custom suit, his smile brighter than sunlight: "AI frees your work!"
Jon stared at those words, then glanced down at the "knowledge-thirsty" question mark in the pop-up. A chill ran down his neck. He casually opened a patent document in his browser bookmarks—the five words "Experience Extraction System" blared on the screen. Just then, the pop-up reappeared, its message changed: "Detection of relevant patent browsing. Shall I interpret the technical key points for you?"
It's watching me. The thought had barely formed when Jon accidentally clicked "Yes" with his mouse. The screen was instantly flooded with dense text—and he didn't notice the progress bar in Task Manager jump forward drastically.