Truth & Code: The Future is Black and White
Driving Home

Driving Home

Block 7,889,400

Han moved silently along the street, watching the random activity outside. He was absorbed in silent thought. His input device received eleven million pieces of information per second, but his processor focused only on one. Finally, he was heading home on a cold, misty Saturday morning. Driving through Wuhan this time of the week always seemed hectic. Frenetic shoppers walk up and down the street and into the side alleys. However, Han’s presence was more deliberate as he drove into the office to check on the network. After conferring with his engineers, he reflected that making the drive was probably not worth his time. Still, since he built this company from scratch, he always felt the need to assess any issue, no matter how trivial, personally. It seemed he had the same conversation with himself every time he returned from checking on the network. If better was the enemy of good, Han knew the enemy well.

The drive was benign enough. The autonomous vehicle moved effortlessly along the pre-programmed route. He could choose between lounging around and relaxing or sitting at a workstation to get some work done. Today he just wanted to relax and watch the world pass by.

His conversation with the engineers replayed in his head; he couldn’t help it. He analyzed his thoughts as much as he examined code - was there an error or something new to learn? The conversations have become so routine that relatively little further information is processed. He can’t understand why particular lines of code that secure the network are always part of other issues. It’s always the same. It’s not that they create an issue for network security or performance, but they are always at the root of every other problem. It’s neither good nor bad. It just really annoys him like random thoughts that aren’t connected. Why do they exist, and why can’t he control them?

He knows the code so well that he dreams about it. When he started Han Tech, the code was part of the original Beta launch of Han Tech’s Spider Works - his genius invention that lightly touches every other network in SO-Lands. Before Spider Works, the vast computer infrastructure that comprises SO-Lands was always vulnerable to attack. Even though this was a rare event, security and control of the SO-Lands network were paramount. Any effort that made it more secure was always a top priority and always fetched a high price.

The code was something that Han had to include in the original design. While software engineers were still valuable, artificial intelligence was the ultimate arbiter of any new code deployment. So this particular code was a must-have in Spider Works. And so it became. Spider Works had been working continuously for nearly thirty years with few interruptions.

The problem Han drove in to see was not an interruption but more of a hiccup. Spider Works was essential to SO-Lands; he always wanted to verify that it was doing its job. Han was a slave to his perfection. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

It didn’t matter that Han Tech and Spider Works made Han a very wealthy man. His life was not that different from the hectic shoppers he saw on Wuhan’s streets. Of course, he had more wealth and access to stuff, but very few could discern his status within SO-Land. But for Han, the thought of an elevated status never crossed his mind. It just didn’t compute.

As he passed through the outskirts of town, there were fewer people. Light posts would be the next thing to draw his attention. He’d done this exercise enough times before to know that each post was exactly thirty-three meters from the next. As the city of Wuhan expanded beyond its center in the age of AVs, the streets became illuminated, and, if needed, the vehicle would become its light source. He could count for now until the vast countryside opened up.

Once the posts were gone, he would have few distractions. He’d worked it in his head so many times before but could never make sense of it.

“Why was this code needed?” He’s asked that a million times before. “Now, after thirty years, I’m pretty sure I can eliminate these non-functioning lines of code, but the coding AI always includes it in the stack. So damn frustrating.”

With extreme care, he uses a pencil to write each new solution to the problem in his notebook. It’s getting to the point that he doesn’t want to record another workaround solution. His pencil is nearly fifteen years old, and he’s almost filled the only notebook he, or anyone else, owns. Both were items he found in an old novelty shop on one of Wuhan’s bustling markets’ side streets.

The code’s logic defined that a transaction would be added to a block every ten minutes. It’s written on the first page of his notebook:

“if (pindexPrev != pindexBest || (nTransactionsUpdated != nTransactionsUpdatedLast && GetTime() - nStart > 600)) {[...] nTransactionsUpdatedLast = nTransactionsUpdated; pindexPrev = pindexBest; nStart = GetTime(); // Create new block pblock = CreateNewBlock(reservekey);”

As a young man, Han found a way to incorporate the code, but he always thought it illogical. Thirty years later, he feels the same about it. But it’s what gets him up in the middle of the night or to drive in early on Saturday mornings.

The vehicle finally comes to rest at his residence. Han gets up and slides over to exit the drone. At last, he feels a modicum of freedom at his private citadel. A place he calls home away from the chaos of Wuhan. He wouldn’t make the daily drive to Wuhan had he not been so compulsive. It’s mid-morning, so he has plenty of time to spend with his children and wife.

As he enters the home, he can smell the rou jia mo his wife has made. The kids come running to greet Han when he opens the front door.

The code fades from his consciousness again as his sensory input devices flood his processor with data he wants to process; He enjoys the basic comforts of his home.

“Good morning, Lao Gong,” his wife Huifen says as he walks in through the front door. She’s dressed in a short white silk bathrobe.

“Good morning, my love. I had to run in early this morning to check a problem. Better early than going in later today and disrupting family time.”

“It’s no problem, my love. I know how you are. Let’s eat!”

Han sits down with Huefin and the children at the table. They enjoy breakfast and time together. Han reflects on the joy and memories he had as a boy sitting with his family for meals and wants to ensure he does the same for his children. With rare exceptions, he always makes it a priority.

After breakfast, the children run off to the playroom. Huefin and Han head to the bedroom. They can hear their children in the distance and know that AI is watching them, so they have little concern.

Huefin drops her bathrobe around her feet, and Han sits on the bed, wraps his arms around her naked waist, and kisses her belly. He moves his hands down to her bottom and gently squeezes as he kisses her. She caresses his short black hair and massages his shoulders.

“I love you, Han.”

“I love you too, my dear.”

She bends down to her knees and looks him in the face, and they kiss. She unbuttons Han’s shirt, unbuckles his belt, and unzips his pants. He lays flat down on the bed, and she pulls his pants off. He pulls himself fully onto the bed, and she crawls on her knees, following him.

“Come here you.” He says.

“With pleasure.”

She lays down on top of him, holding and caressing each other.

“I know you are tired, so take a little rest, and then we can spend time as a family in the garden. Is that ok?”

“Yes, of course,” Han says with a yawn.

Huefin gets up on all fours, her breasts hanging over Han; he grabs them and kisses them. She slips away and walks toward the bathroom. He watches her as she walks away and smiles. Finally, he rolls the bedspread over himself and falls asleep.

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