Chapter 307 Superhero's Super Routine (Second)

"Can you tell me your original intention of designing this thing, Harold?" While Salomon was busy avoiding artificial intelligence, Stark and Finch were also busy with their work. Salomon's words about the artificial intelligence body reminded Stark that he had only solved the signal transmission problem of the remote control armor not long ago. This part of the information was protected by Jarvis. If Finch's artificial intelligence learned that part of the craft, then the era of the Terminator will come.

Mr. Finch was also nervous for a while under Salomon's reminder, but after he calmed down, he felt that the matter was not that serious. "Mr. Stark." He looked up from the screen, looking at Tony Stark, especially the wine glass in his hand, "I don't think alcohol should be consumed during working hours. I'm just going to answer your question, the original intention of designing that machine...to save human beings, that's all."

"Your algorithm can predict the relevant people through various information, isn't it?" Stark thought of the fat spider sitting in the middle of the spider web, the cilia on the eight long legs collected the slightest tremor from each spider thread, "but you have limited the ability of your machine. Although the artificial intelligence can learn autonomously after being free, its ability, its carrier..."

"I did a moral test when I designed this machine, Mr. Stark." Finch said, "I guaranteed that the machine has human values. I know it's ridiculous, but it's true. Humans have good and evil, and artificial intelligence has only goals, so I let the machine choose the answer that is biased toward good. This is the operating logic of the machine."

"Then how did you solve so many things?" Stark spread his hands, "In New York alone, there are many murders a day. How did you solve so many murders without superpowers?"

"I know how insignificant ordinary people are in front of superheroes, Mr. Stark. In addition, there are not as many premeditated crimes as you imagine." Harold paused, and continued, "My companions solve premeditated crimes about ordinary people. Solving these problems does not require any superpowers. If there are some incidents that we cannot solve, such as terrorist attacks, the relevant numbers will be sent to departments that are capable of solving them. Ms. Xiao has prevented many terrorist attacks, and those departments have the ability to do those things."

"Then can you give me the number?" Stark poured a glass of wine for Mr. Finch, he put the glass on the computer desk, and leaned on the other side, "You know, I am a superhero. Although some people say that I am just a billionaire and playboy wearing armor...I don't deny this, but I am an inventor, and I have the ability to prevent terrorist attacks. Harold, I want the number. No. Or..."

"What?"

"I want your algorithm, Harold." Stark said, "I want to upgrade Jarvis. Jarvis is the artificial intelligence I started writing when I was in college. At the beginning, he could only make the simplest judgments, but now, he is my inseparable helper. You may have seen it in the news, who was saved by Iron Man yesterday, and who is saved today. Behavior to the bottom. So, I need to..."

"If you want an answer of 'yes', I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, no." Mr. Finch shook his head, "I can't guarantee that your artificial intelligence will be the same as before with a new algorithm. My algorithm has endowed too much intelligence, which makes me very disturbed. As I mentioned before, my machine has a survival instinct from the beginning of design, and this is what disturbs me the most..."

"Like life."

"That's right, it's like life." Mr. Finch took off his eyes and wiped them on the glasses cloth. He didn't intend to touch the glass of wine at all. He said, "I had to kill it again and again. Later, the machine cleared its memory at midnight every day, and I killed it once a day, then reborn, and continued its mission-of course, that was before. Now it is free, and the underlying logic I gave it continues to protect the safety of human beings, but I don't know how long this situation can last."

"I don't think your Jarvis restarts every day, does it?"

"You're right." Stark picked up the glass of whiskey and took a sip. "I have an idea," he said, "your machine and my Iron Legion...well, I know it won't work. What about Jarvis with the number plus the Iron Legion?"

"Mr. Stark." Harold Finch sighed heavily, "Not all of those numbers are victims. In fact, many numbers are perpetrators. This requires investigation, and sometimes we can only provide help at the last moment or prevent murders from happening. Please don't make such plans, Mr. Stark, I will leave after I finish this job, and you can't find me."

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Salomon was back bruised and bruised, his cheekbones higher than before. After he walked out of the portal, he immediately fell towards the nearest sofa. Stark poked his head out, looked at the dazed mystic, and asked a question curiously.

"How did you become like this?"

"It was just a fight." The mystic mage buried his head in the sofa and replied in a low voice, "It's nothing serious."

"How is Ms. Shaw, Mr. Damonette?" Mr. Finch was a little nervous. He knew that Samun Xiao was hired by the mystic, and now Salomon's situation is not good, let alone Samun Xiao who is an ordinary person.

"No, she's fine. She's having a women's meeting, and she's having a good time drinking." Salomon turned over with difficulty and let out a sigh full of alcohol. Salomon picked up the glass subconsciously while reading a book. He didn't realize that Joan of Arc had opened multiple bottles of wine, and Beunita just watched the whole process, without any reminder. When he finally realized something was wrong, all he could see was the playful looks of the other women in the hotel room—especially Samun Shaw, who looked the happiest, especially when Joan tried to throw him off the balcony.

"Why are they doing this to you?"

"Maybe it's because I'm the only male there." Salomon took the ice pack from Stark and put it on his cheekbones. He grinned in pain, but no one else in the room showed any sympathy for him—"We are men! We dare to touch a frog, so we are men! Don't you have any complaints about such atrocities?"

"I don't think the one who touches the frog is a man, Mr. Damonette." Mr. Finch turned his body stiffly, looked at Salomon and said, "Ms. Shaw's character is indeed a bit bad, but she is not capable of such excessive pranks. I think you must have made some mistakes."

"What did you say?" Stark sat on the other side of the sofa, "I can tell you where you are wrong, as long as you tell the truth."

"Really?" Salomon was about to say it when he remembered that Stark thought Maya Hansen was dead, so he had to swallow the question back in his stomach. "Forget it, it's nothing." He said, "This is not the most important thing, it's you. Stark, Mr. Finch, tell me when can I use the computer at home without worrying about the spell being tapped?"

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