HPDBC Chapter 75 The development of AI requires the wisdom of all humankind.
Chapter 75 The development of AI requires the wisdom of all humankind.
He removed the technical documentation for the latest version of the Tianyan instruction set from the archive center and replaced it with a different one.
The new document looks exactly the same as the old one. The format is identical, the numbering is consecutive, and even the batches of the printing paper match.
However, three key data points have been altered.
The changes were very minor. So minor that no non-core researcher could detect them.
But if someone sends this data to Kevin, Kevin's team will conduct experiments based on it.
They will walk into a dead end.
Moreover, it was the kind of dead end that you only realized was a dead end after walking for three months.
This idea came from Lin Yu.
But the person who carried it out was Zhou Weiguo.
Because only he has the authority to replace the file, and it won't arouse any suspicion from the archives center.
"One move."
Lin Yu munched on spicy snacks at the control panel, watching Zhou Weiguo lock the replacement record into the safe.
"It will only last for three months at most."
Zhou Weiguo closed the cabinet door. "We must close the net in three months."
That's enough.
Lin Yu crumpled the bag of spicy snacks into a ball and threw it into the trash can.
Three months.
That's enough for him to extend the Sky Eye to a place Kevin can't catch up with.
Evening, at the base's canteen.
Xia Zijing sat opposite Lin Yu, poking at the scrambled eggs with tomatoes on her plate with her chopsticks, but didn't eat.
"What are you thinking about?" Lin Yu asked.
"Qian Huifang's son."
Lin Yu put down his chopsticks.
He probably doesn't know.
Xia Zijing's voice was very soft, "He probably didn't know anything about what his mother did from beginning to end."
Lin Yu didn't say anything.
"He just got a scholarship and went to a good lab. He thought it was the result of his own hard work."
"and then?"
"Then one day, he will discover that his mother was a spy, his scholarship was a deal, and everything he had at MIT was built on someone else's scheme."
Xia Zijin put down her chopsticks.
"The most tragic person in this whole affair is not you, not Qian Huifang, but her son."
The fluorescent lights in the cafeteria were humming.
Lin Yu picked up the bowl and finished the last mouthful of noodle soup.
"That's why I said Kevin is smarter than simply buying people off with money."
He put the bowl down. "He used humanity."
Xia Zijin looked at him.
"What would you do with her?"
"Let Zhou Weiguo handle it."
"I'm asking you."
Lin Yu remained silent for two seconds.
"Once this is over, I'll have Shen Yue find another lab for her son. One that has nothing to do with Kevin."
Xia Zijin looked at him for three seconds.
Then she picked up her chopsticks again and stuffed the piece of tomato she hadn't eaten into her mouth.
I didn't say thank you.
They didn't say anything else.
But she ate much faster now.
Lin Yu's phone vibrated.
News about Shen Yue.
[Kai Wen's closing speech at the forum this afternoon had its title changed at the last minute.]
The new title is: "On the Necessity of Open Source Collaboration for the Development of Artificial Intelligence—and the Cost of Technological Closure."
Lin Yu read it twice.
This topic, while ostensibly advocating open source, subtly criticizes its closed nature.
Kevin wants to pressure him to open up the technology at the forum, in front of the global media.
He put his phone back in his pocket.
"I'm going to the forum tomorrow afternoon."
Xia Zijin looked up.
"Didn't you say you took the day off because of diarrhea?"
"alright."
The forum closing ceremony will be held at 2 PM.
All 1,200 seats were occupied.
The first three rows were filled with academic authorities and media representatives from both China and the United States. The next few rows were packed with representatives from major technology companies, and further back were students and observers.
Kevin Sterling sat on the left side of the stage, a silver laptop in front of him, talking quietly with a Harvard professor next to him.
He was wearing a dark blue suit, no tie, and the top button of his shirt was undone.
He appears relaxed, confident, and friendly.
Like someone who comes to make friends.
When Lin Yu entered through the side door, everyone's eyes were drawn to him as if by a magnet.
Black T-shirt, school uniform jacket, hands in pockets.
Exactly the same as three days ago.
The organizing committee temporarily added a chair for him in the guest seating area. Lin Yu walked over and sat down, without looking at Kevin.
Kevin glanced at him, smiled, and continued chatting with the Harvard professor.
The closing speech began at 2:15 PM.
Kevin walked onto the stage, and the entire audience applauded.
His speech was well-prepared. The PowerPoint presentation was neat and concise, and the data charts were easy to understand.
For the first ten minutes, he talked about the history of artificial intelligence, from Turing to deep learning, from AlphaGo to large language models. There wasn't anything new, but he delivered it well, at a comfortable pace, and the audience listened attentively.
In the eleventh minute, he changed direction.
"But I want to talk about a topic that I'm not comfortable with today."
Kevin's Chinese is still not very standard, but it's clear enough: "About the closure."
The large screen will switch to the next slide of the PPT.
Title: The Cost of Technological Closure.
Below is a world map showing the locations of major AI research institutions globally. Each institution has a label indicating the number of papers they have published and the number of open-source projects they have.
For the vast majority of organizations, both figures are increasing.
There is only one location in China, and the open-source number next to the capital is zero.
Kevin did not name names.
But everyone knows who he's talking about.
"Over the past year, more than 40,000 papers were published globally in the field of AI. China ranked second in the number of papers published. However, in terms of open-source contributions—"
He paused for a moment, then said, "The seventeenth."
This is not criticism.
He smiled. "It's a concern."
People in the audience started whispering among themselves.
The professors in the Chinese delegation did not look too pleased.
Kevin continued.
"The development of AI requires the wisdom of all humankind. Any genius, no matter how intelligent, will ultimately harm the progress of civilization if they choose to lock their technology away in a safe."
His gaze swept across the guest seats, lingering on Lin Yu for half a second.
"I've met many intelligent people. But the difference between intelligence and greatness isn't IQ, it's breadth of mind."
Applause erupted, primarily from the Western representatives.
The applause from the Chinese side was sparse.
Lin Yu remained seated in the chair, his posture unchanged.
His gaze fell on the world map on Kevin's PowerPoint presentation, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
After the speech, a Q&A session followed.
As soon as the host began to speak, a reporter stood up from the third row in the audience. He had an American accent.
"Mr. Kevin, you mentioned the cost of technological isolation. I would like to ask, do you believe that certain recent actions by China in the fields of chips and AI pose a threat to global technological cooperation?"
This question was like a knife, stabbing the Chinese delegation directly in the heart.
Kevin's expression showed a hint of difficulty, as if he was carefully considering his words.
"I don't mean to target any particular country. I just feel—"
"Let me answer that."
The sound wasn't loud, but the entire lecture hall fell silent instantly.
Lin Yu stood up and walked from the guest seats to the stage.
No one gave him a microphone. He took one from the table himself.