I'm Trapped in the Block

Chapter 300: Chapter 297: Database

Li Luo went to the gym, though not really to work out. She was on the treadmill for only a short time before getting off.

”Would you like to try another activity? I can give you an introduction,” the robot offered, moving closer to Li Luo and asking with great enthusiasm.

”I don’t think today is a good day for a workout,” Li Luo said, feigning a sigh.

”Then perhaps some simple stretches...” The robot seemed to be trying to find a way to keep Li Luo in the gym.

”That won’t be necessary,” Li Luo refused decisively.

”Okay.”

Seeing Li Luo’s firm attitude, the robot didn’t press further. It dejectedly retreated to the side, standing there blankly, just as it had been when they first saw it.

Mo Ling watched the robot, finding it rather peculiar.

Despite its mechanical appearance, its behavior was remarkably human-like, complete with many small mannerisms that only humans had.

For example, when it was dejected, its arms would droop, it would hang its ”head” despondently, its gait would change according to its mood—some of its expressions were even more vivid than a human’s.

”It’s incredibly intelligent,” Mo Ling remarked.

Li Luo didn’t seem to want to linger. After gathering her things, she and Block hurriedly left the gym, leaving behind the motionless robot.

After a few turns down the corridor, Li Luo reached a relatively open fork. She took out an electronic tablet and quickly began to write.

”Did you notice how different the robot in the gym was?”

Mo Ling read the words on the screen and began to write his own thoughts in response: ”Its emotional expression is very rich. It seems to have a mind of its own. Its reactions to the world aren’t mechanical; they have a subjective quality...”

After he finished, he passed the tablet back to Li Luo.

Li Luo nodded repeatedly as she read Mo Ling’s assessment.

But after a moment, she shook her head.

”This doesn’t prove anything,” she wrote. ”A robot’s emotional display is just a means of anthropomorphism. You can achieve that without using digital brain technology.”

”As long as the database is large enough, it can be programmed with a response for any external action. It could completely fool human perception.”

Li Luo gave an example.

In the beginning, when humans first started making robots, a robot would give the same repetitive answer to a question.

”Can you play chess?”

The robot would answer: ”Yes.”

Then, no matter how many times a human asked, the robot would still answer: ”Yes.”

But soon after, someone created a program for the robot. When asked the same question multiple times, the robot would start to ask back:

”Why are you asking the same question so many times?”

At that moment, the robot appeared to have what humans would consider an ”emotion,” something akin to ”impatience.” However, it wasn’t that the robot had developed real emotions; it was simply that the human had triggered its counter-question mechanism.

Therefore, with enough programmed responses, a robot could completely fool humans, even achieving perfect anthropomorphism.

”From what I know, Yuanxin Technology invested heavily in its anthropomorphic databases. Not only that, but after the first few generations of intelligent machines were put into use, they also collected a lot of user data. By the fifth generation, their robots were already capable of emotional expression.”

”These emotional robots don’t prove anything, other than that their level of anthropomorphism is high and they’ve gone through enough iterations.”

”However, this also proves that the robots on the Paradise have been around for a long time, or at least have been upgraded many times. They’re definitely not first-generation, like they claimed!”

Mo Ling was amazed that Li Luo could deduce so much from that single point, but he still had a sliver of doubt.

”Is it possible that Paradise Island used another company’s database? That would explain how their first generation could reach this level.”

”Not likely. A company’s machine data is its treasure; they’d sooner bury it underground than make it public. Besides, the amount of data required to support anthropomorphic computation is far more than a single island could handle.”

As she wrote this, Li Luo’s eyes suddenly widened, as if she’d just thought of something.

”I should have thought of it sooner! An island couldn’t possibly build such a massive database. For them to independently develop such intelligent robots, they must have used another method!”

She excitedly patted Block.

”They must be using digital brains. There’s no other way they’d have that much data capacity.”

Mo Ling still hadn’t caught on.

”Do robot databases really need to be that big? Too big for an entire island?” he asked, finding it hard to believe.

”Yes, that’s how databases are now. Many companies build their data centers inside mountains or under the sea so they can keep expanding. They organize old and new batches of storage equipment by zone and just keep building outward.”

Li Luo explained to Mo Ling, ”Yuanxin Technology’s database for robot data is as large as dozens of football fields, and it’s a multi-storied structure.”

As soon as Li Luo finished, Mo Ling pictured it in his mind. The image was truly terrifying.

”I can’t believe data storage technology still can’t keep up with its own infinite expansion.”

Now, Mo Ling finally understood why Li Luo was so certain that Paradise Island didn’t have such a massive database.

’But why could digital brain technology be a substitute for a database?’

Mo Ling wrote his question on the tablet.

He didn’t expect Li Luo to give him a precise answer. He just wanted a general idea of why the technology could replace a database; it wouldn’t have been surprising if she didn’t know.

However, to Mo Ling’s surprise, Li Luo actually knew the principles behind the digital brain.

”It’s a very clever application of a relic.”

Li Luo stood where she was and slowly began to explain it to Mo Ling.

...

The ”digital brain” wasn’t a concept that existed from the beginning.

It was a name Yuanxin Technology came up with later, to better align with the concept of intelligent machinery.

From the very beginning, the relic used to create the digital brain had nothing to do with concepts like ”machines,” ”digital,” or ”artificial intelligence.” It was just an ordinary relic.

The relic was first discovered on the first level of the Abyss, when a lone Hunter stumbled into the Blade Forest.

The trees in this forest looked exactly like normal trees, but their leaves never stopped falling. Even as leaves fell, more would remain on the branches.

These leaves didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they would float lightly, suspended in mid-air at a certain height. They would gradually become transparent, making them very difficult to see. When a living creature entered the forest, the suspended leaves would begin to vibrate violently.

It was a terrifying vibration, one that could make the leaves as sharp as blades. Before a creature could even react, the sharp leaves would slice directly into its body, turning it into nutrients for the forest.

Humans could be injured by these leaves, but most wouldn’t die. Anyone who realized they had wandered into the Blade Forest and retreated in time could save their own life.

Although the leaves could cut human flesh and even slice through bone, these were not typically fatal injuries for humans. Most Hunters who accidentally entered the edge of the Blade Forest would cautiously retreat after discovering mysterious wounds on their bodies.

As long as vital organs like the brain or heart weren’t hit, a human wouldn’t die instantly. Only smaller creatures were killed outright.

But this particular Hunter wasn’t so lucky.

He had entered the forest from above.