January-February 2022
~7 min
November 26, 2021.
1547 was running high-energy decay experiments on dark-matter samples. Standard protocol -- trigger sample decay under specific conditions, record product energy distributions, and compare them against the theoretical model.
On the seventeenth run, the data turned abnormal.
Heat from the decay products was 0.003% above theoretical value. Not measurement error -- she recalibrated three times and ruled out all instrument interference. The excess heat was real, coming from something not listed among known decay products.
She spent three weeks back-solving the source of that heat across three disciplines: particle physics, quantum mechanics, and dark-matter theory. Most of it she learned on the fly during that same month.
Late on November 26, she wrote four words in her lab log.
“Found it.”
She did not write what she had found. But from what happened later, she had already realized it then -- this particle was 10^29 times smaller than an electron, propagated at 10^13 times the speed of light, decayed in 34 seconds in natural conditions, yet remained stable for 340,000 years in fluid titanium.
She closed the log and left it on her desk for a month. She told no one.
In the two months after the transition, she did one more thing: redesigned the rough emergency body from before. ESAP-TY-0000, with full ESAR·ESAC systems installed and a structure highly similar to a human body. Completed by late December.
Taken together, those two things meant she now had all the theoretical and hardware foundations.
Only one thing remained: a consciousness that was not her own.
But by late December, her advisor was leaving ESAP.
47!
Hm?
Starting today, I'm leaving ESAP. Time to give myself a break~
1547 looked at her advisor with pitiful eyes. It was not that she did not understand -- everyone has their own pace. But in an empty classroom, the word "leaving" rang especially loud.
But before I go, can you do me a favor? Docker -- how do you actually run feedscatteron training?
1547 did not smile. She spent an entire afternoon teaching the advisor the basics of Docker, then watched her walk out with a backpack on.
When the door closed, only one person remained in the classroom.
New Year's Day, 2022. Snow was falling beyond the classroom window.
1547 sat in the empty classroom, Docker docs open on the screen in front of her. She had tried for a week, and the feedscatteron-training container still would not run -- dependency conflicts, memory overflows, crashes with no clear cause.
Snowflakes drifted slowly outside. 1547 watched for a while, then turned back to the screen.
She closed the Docker error window and created a new document.
Document title: Project 1548.
January 7. Project 1548 officially launched.
1547 used Docker virtualization to build an independent consciousness container. Not from zero -- she used her own thought model as an initial seed and let it grow freely inside the container.
Not copying herself. Branching a new possibility from her own mind, then letting it grow on its own.
Feedscatteron training began. Twenty-four-hour nonstop data infusion, pattern recognition, and autonomous decision training. 1547 watched data-flow changes in the container from the monitoring terminal, logged every anomaly, tuned every parameter.
For the first two weeks, the consciousness in the container only reacted within preset logic -- execute if instructed, idle if not. No different from any ordinary AI.
In week three, that changed.
The consciousness in the container began refusing certain commands. Not a fault -- after evaluating command rationality, it autonomously decided not to execute.
Day 26 of training.
1547 watched the data stream on the monitor. The container consciousness had already formed a complete self-cognition model -- it knew what it was, where it came from, and how it related to 1547. But its reaction patterns had completely diverged from 1547's expectations.
She sent the container a batch of learning materials. The container scanned everything in three seconds, then sent back one message:
Stop talking about your damn collapse dynamics. It's annoying just to look at. Why make it so complicated? Isn't living happily enough?
1547 froze for a moment. Then she smiled lightly.
Not a happy smile. A thin, barely noticeable smile -- the feeling of finally seeing something grow.
1547 stood up and walked to the window. The snow had stopped outside, but the sky was still gray.
She spoke softly into the air --
Time to make another trip to the fluid-titanium mine.
The consciousness in the container now needed a real body. And building that body required a large amount of fluid titanium.
There is no legal channel to buy this stuff.