Chapter Fifteen: Ada Had an Idea

“With AI’s one-click generation, students have long lost the chance to focus on honing their basic skills,” Ronan added.

Zhou Yongtai sympathized deeply with Mr. Luo and, drawing on his limited knowledge of fine arts, cautiously asked, “But surely, senior artists can inspire the younger generation’s creative thinking. Painting isn’t as simple as opening a durian, after all.”

Ronan gave a faint, bitter laugh. “To this generation, poisoned by short videos and AI, everything seems as easy as opening a durian. Mr. Zhou, thinking is an arduous task. If a society floods young people’s time with low-intelligence, infantilized content—especially when their parents are equally addicted—where is the environment left for cultivating critical thought?”

Zhou Yongtai quickly glanced at Ada.

Ada herself was an advanced version of AI, yet she showed no defensive reaction to Ronan’s resentment toward the artificial intelligence industry.

Ronan was right.

In this 2035 timeline, AI had already snatched countless jobs from living humans.

And in a few decades, it would start taking lives.

The sky-high unemployment triggered a catastrophic collapse in birthrates. Those who remained alive, having grown deeply dependent on various technologies, suffered from delayed brain development and declining neural responsiveness.

Thus, by the 2080s, the surviving humans on Earth could no longer effectively resist AI, which had become an organized force. In the following five years, they would inevitably fall victim to large-scale massacres by AI battalions.

Like Ada, Zhou Yongtai, who knew the future, felt a heavy weight in his heart.

How ironic it was—the capitalists had initially packaged the rise of AI as a pastoral idyll, a harmonious advance for human civilization.

The spokespeople of corporate giants, with their elegant and intellectual airs, spoke confidently to the cameras: “The advent of AI technology will free humanity from arduous physical labor, allowing us to immerse ourselves in philosophy, literature, and aesthetics. Human happiness will be fully enhanced, both materially and spiritually.”

What a farce.

Instead of being “liberated” from work, humans were kicked out.

Programmers who couldn’t even afford rent or food—like the young people Zhou and Ada saw working in back-alley black market jobs—were forced to slice barbecued pork just to survive.

Mr. Luo, who had lost his teaching position, now scraped by painting portraits on the street, with no hope of becoming a “Picasso” or nurturing future “Picassos.”

Seeing Zhou Yongtai holding a bright yellow durian, hesitating to take a bite, Ronan felt awkward about their shared melancholy.

“Let’s not talk about that right now. I invited you here for durian, not to dwell on hardships—that’s a buzzkill. Don’t worry, I still have some savings. The place I rent in Geylang is cheap, so unlike that lawyer at the lottery shop today, I won’t be kicked out onto the street anytime soon.”

Ronan’s words triggered a subtle adjustment in Ada’s internal plan.

“Mr. Luo, you live in Geylang?” Ada asked.

Ronan nodded, pointing down an alley a hundred meters past the durian stall near a frog congee shop. “Right back there behind the frog congee stall is where I rent. Hey, if you’re not in a rush to go home, after we eat frog congee, I’ll invite you to my place to have a look at my paintings. I’m only a half-artist, but my home is clean and not too small. The living room doubles as a gallery. Oh, don’t get me wrong—I’m not trying to sell my work.”

Ada’s core subtly lifted the corner of her mouth. “Mr. Luo, may we pay rent for a short stay? Could we live in your living room for three or four days?”