"Why do you want this job?" Zhang Chenyin asked, looking at the candidate before him.
The interview space they were in was a small meeting room within the digital world. Both his and the candidate's avatars were seated across from each other, surrounded by computers, paper, pens, projectors, and all other necessary office supplies.
"As technology irreversibly changes the world, it also possesses the power to create it." The candidate's eyes sparkled with excitement, and his tone was filled with enthusiasm. "You are the architects, the ones holding the pen! It's simply too cool!"
Zhang Chenyin felt a bit of a headache. This was already the third idealist he had interviewed today. Many people had too many fantasies about the profession of an architect, but fantasies were always a beautified version of reality.
"Use pen and paper, or draw on the computer, whichever you prefer," Zhang Chenyin pointed to the tools on the table. "What I need is a street, the main thoroughfare."
The best way to distinguish between mere dreamers and talented idealists was a live test. Although they were in a digital world, this was indeed a "live interview." Zhang Chenyin could see every action of the candidate as they scratched their head and diligently worked, not just the final result.
To many, drawing a street might seem easy, but those in the know understood that sometimes simple things could better test a person's basic skills, thinking patterns, and attention to detail in a short time.
Clearly, the candidate in front of him did not meet the standard.
The metaverse offered humans too much imaginative space and possibilities, but it also made many forget one thing—practicality.
No matter how interesting the idea or novel the concept, in the end, it always boiled down to one fundamental question—can it be realized? How complete can it be?
Looking at the answer sheet handed over, Zhang Chenyin showed a well-practiced smile and sincerely said, "Actually, our work isn't as interesting as people imagine. It's rather dull. Although this is a digital world, like the physical world, not everything here is whimsical. Imagination is necessary, but basic logic is also required."
Seeing the candidate's disappointed expression, Zhang Chenyin quickly added, "Do you need me to connect you with the product department? They might need someone creative like you."
"Really?" The candidate nodded immediately. "If they are hiring... then I'll trouble you."
Zhang Chenyin was not one to shirk his duties. He called the HR department in front of the candidate and confirmed a new interview time and process for him.
Only after the candidate logged out did Zhang Chenyin pack up and leave the meeting room.
"Pushing people to our department again?" As soon as he stepped out, he ran into Alex, the head of the product department.
"Yes, a promising talent." Zhang Chenyin praised, then quickly changed the topic, "Are you going to the concert tonight?"
At the mention of the concert, Alex immediately perked up. "Of course, a celebration for twenty million people. How could I miss it? If I'm not mistaken, you designed the venue, right?"
Zhang Chenyin thought for a moment and realized it was true.
He had produced so many designs that he had nearly forgotten this concert venue was one of his projects. A venue that could hold twenty million people was only possible in the digital world.
"How did people in the past manage with concert venues so small they couldn't even accommodate a million people?" Alex shrugged. "You know, I mean... historically."
"Ticket snatching, multiple concerts... there were always ways." Zhang Chenyin sighed. "Perhaps people in the past couldn't understand how we messed up the Earth so badly that everyone had to live in limited underground spaces. Moreover, though we claim it's a concert for twenty million people, we both know how many are real humans and how many are AIs."
Alex sighed in response. "You always wear a smile, but your words are so sharp."
Watching Alex leave, Zhang Chenyin felt a sense of helplessness. Most of the time, he was a good conversationalist, except when it came to talking about the past.
History was Zhang Chenyin's sore spot, as it was for most people alive today.
In 2120, the Seventh Industrial Revolution arrived, with cloning technology widely applied across countries. Thanks to perfect integration with medicine and biology, some humans could achieve "immortality" through organ replacement. However, as industry developed, humans excessively exploited and damaged natural resources, leading to a precarious Earth environment with significantly rising global temperatures and melting glaciers.
In 2250, the Eighth Industrial Revolution began. The Earth's population reached 15 billion, with resources increasingly scarce. Exploring the universe and finding other habitable planets became urgent, leading to unprecedented development in space exploration technology.
However, this industrial revolution ultimately ended in failure. Through extensive exploration, humans realized the Earth could not be replicated—there was only one Earth.
From 2300 to 2400, the Ninth Industrial Revolution, also known as the Human Revolution, recorded the last struggles and near extinction of humanity. During this period, humans essentially denied their past, with cloning and organ replacement technologies being completely halted. Humans unwillingly abandoned "immortality" and turned to digital technology. Due to past technological accumulation, digital technology developed exceptionally smoothly, and the true "metaverse" was born.
In 2413, solar activity ceased, and global temperatures decreased. However, before humans could celebrate, multiple volcanic eruptions covered the skies with harmful gases and volcanic ash, blocking solar radiation and causing temperatures to continue dropping, fulfilling the Ice Age prophecy.
That same year, the construction of underground cities began.
In 2421, the hybrid virus, Winter Silence, resulting from gene drift between Kettlecan Virus and Pandora Virus, was discovered and confirmed to be incompatible with human survival. However, a few plants and animals could co-exist with the virus, adapting to survive on the extremely cold surface. These species also underwent certain transformations, such as increased aggression and larger size.
And now, it was 2432.
After a decade or so, humans had grown accustomed to life in the underground cities. Most people here had dual identities in the physical and digital worlds, moving seamlessly between virtual and real realms, with the boundaries increasingly blurred. For instance, some chose to "give birth" to and raise children in the physical world, while others only "created" children in the digital world, providing them with the same emotional investment. To those living in the underground cities, these choices were not much different—just personal preferences.
The AI that Zhang Chenyin mentioned earlier was a product of this dual existence.
There were mainly two types of AI: one created for work purposes, possessing expertise in fields like medicine, industry, and services. These AI had low autonomy but high compliance, making them relatively safe for humans. Some of them had physical entities in the real world, composed of various mechanical materials. The other type was created for emotional needs. These AI developed through human emotional investment, possessing autonomous learning capabilities. However, they were relatively less safe for humans and did not have physical entities in the real world, existing only as holographic projections.
Humans relied on technology but could never fully trust it.
In the digital world, the second type of AI, with superior rationality and partial humanity due to emotional investment, was suitable for mid-level management roles, such as arbiters.
Arbiters maintained the stable operation of the digital world. The vast digital world was composed of countless small digital cities, resembling a map of multiple city-states. Each city-state had its own rules, and arbiters ensured these rules were followed. If anyone violated the terms within an arbiter's jurisdiction, the arbiter would administer corresponding punishments, ranging from temporary bans to complete identity deletion within that city-state.
Now, standing before Zhang Chenyin was 0810, an excellent arbiter and Zhang Chenyin's regular partner.
"We still have half an hour until the end of the workday," Zhang Chenyin glanced at his watch.
"Even half an hour is work time," 0810 said, her violet eyes calm and unflinching.
0810 was stunning, with a perfectly proportioned face and body. Technological creations were unaffected by genetic inheritance, unlike natural human traits. Their appearance depended on how much their creators were willing to spend on finding the right designer. Clearly, 0810's creators invested heavily, especially in her violet eyes, a limited edition within the metaverse.
However, beauty aside, after working with her for so long, Zhang Chenyin had never seen her smile. He even doubted whether her emotional settings included the option for joy.
"Alright, work time," Zhang Chenyin sighed, resigned. "What do you need from me? Is overtime necessary? Overtime pay is triple merit points. Can you apply for me?"
Faced with Zhang Chenyin's barrage of questions, 0810's reply was succinct yet shocking.
"City R is in trouble."
City R, the craziest existence in the digital world and Zhang Chenyin's proud creation.
When he initially built it, he gave it extensive openness. He didn't want to create a fixed, model city but rather a city with a highly creative editor.
In the digital world, compromises had to be made between speed, security, and decentralization. Zhang Chenyin sacrificed absolute security within certain limits, achieving all he could.
The approval process for City R took a full six months. Typically, such approvals didn't exceed a month. Everyone understood the hard-won nature of City R, leading to a delicate balance in their attitudes toward it.
After approval, 0810, the most outstanding arbiter of the batch, was tasked with City R's security.
Given 0810's exceptional capabilities, she handled most issues according to protocol. Now, she was seeking out Zhang Chenyin, indicating something significant had occurred.
"A principle issue? Major security problem? Core logic flaw?" Zhang Chenyin led 0810 into the meeting room. "I went to great lengths to establish City R to give it more possibilities. It's not just a place for entertainment but a crucial base for numerous research institutes and creative factories. In other words, it must not have any issues!"
Calm as he usually was, Zhang Chenyin rarely got agitated. But with City R, his most valued project, his reaction was understandable.
From its inception, he had never stopped worrying about City R. In the digital world, creating a city was no easy task. From area allocation audits to final construction design, each step required immense effort. However, destroying a city was much simpler—no need for demolitions or explosions, just a simple data deletion could erase all previous efforts.
Before 0810 could speak, Zhang Chenyin pulled up City R's information. The large, crystalline blue projection displayed City R's recent information and news, neatly categorized.
Logging into his administrator account, Zhang Chenyin searched for security issues, finding only minor violations already handled by 0810.
"Are you joking?" Zhang Chenyin was stunned. How could a major issue not be reported? But subconsciously, he knew 0810 wasn't one to joke.
"Because I wasn't sure how to report it or classify it," 0810 answered bluntly.
"Alright, tell me." Zhang Chenyin relaxed, adopting a listening posture.
"Duplicate IDs," 0810 stared at Zhang Chenyin, her violet eyes seemingly holding a cosmic storm.
"Duplicate IDs... I think..." Initially dismissive, Zhang Chenyin suddenly sprang from his chair. "What did you say?! Duplicate IDs?!"