Work Text:
It’s a dreary night, perhaps a little too cold or too dim for Jungmo, but it’s the only right time for him to do what he needs to do.
Despite the cold, Jungmo’s forehead is dripping with sweat, his fringe sticking onto it like glue; his thin-framed glasses rest uncomfortably on his nose bridge; his eyelids are getting heavier to hold open by each passing second.
It’s probably one in the morning; raindrops patters on his workshop’s window, the curtains drawn fully to hide any lingering eyes from sneaking in Jungmo's work. The small lightbulb in the middle of the room tries its utmost best to illuminate every corner of the room, despite its periodical flicker.
The workshop is cramped, with cardboard boxes full of wires and metal scraps littered around the main area. Jungmo reminds himself to tidy them up, if his plans for tonight don’t go awry.
He eyes the anthropomorphic figure in front of him. The figure is supposed to resemble a human being — it has a head, eyes, a functional mouth, a body, two hands and legs; all it’s missing is a soul. Otherwise, it’s no different from a lifeless corpse or naked mannequin. Its metallic skin reflects what little light the bulb emits. Wires line its back, establishing connections to Jungmo’s computer and a power source.
Jungmo is about to make the biggest breakthrough in his career.
The humanoid figure — an android, he calls it — is an accumulation of years worth of research, pages upon pages of essays and theses. Artificial Intelligence is nothing new to mankind; it’s in almost every electronic device, carrying out tasks to ease the lives of people. But… Why stop there? AI could be used for so much more, and Jungmo is willing to push those limits.
He spent the better part of his time studying for his college degree working hard for the sole purpose of infusing ‘life’ into an inanimate object. Though, Jungmo thinks it’ll all be worth every sweat and tear he had shed.
Fully aware of the morality — or lack thereof — of his project, he’s forced to work alone in total solitude, under the cloak of night. Besides, he wouldn’t want others taking credit for his work.
Jungmo put together the makings of a man with metal parts. Wires connecting each body part imitate human nerves and blood vessels. The code needed to make them work is second nature to him. All that is left for the android is a conscience — and Jungmo knows exactly what, or rather who, will get the job done.
With both hands in his pockets, he moves over to his computer right beside the android, an opened folder displayed on his screen. The folder contains a source code file from a program he used ages ago, and an unopened transcript. He makes another mental note to read the document soon.
At the back of his mind, the same, aggressive voice hisses in his head on repeat. "Do you know how dangerous it is to bring AI to life? Did you not think about the consequences?"
He can’t forget the absolute horror on Minhee’s face when he told him about his plans. Jungmo would be lying if he said that Minhee’s reaction didn't make him second-guess his entire fixation on this project even a little bit. He knows that Minhee’s words aren’t supposed to be hurtful, but he admits there could be truth to them. It might be a bad idea; he’d never know until he finds out for himself.
Returning his focus to his computer screen, Jungmo relaxes. He cautiously rests his hand on the table, the other on his mouse. With a swift click, an upload of the code file into the android’s internal program begins.
Jungmo had made sure he connected every wire and vital circuit in the right place. If all — scratch that. When all goes well, the uploaded code will be in the android’s equivalent of a brain, forming the artificial consciousness he badly wants — the final piece in Jungmo’s intricate puzzle.
“ [SYSTEM MESSAGE] Commencing program activation… ”
The words displayed on the screen bring a grin to his face; he’s one step closer. He steps back from the table to face the android, still lifeless as before. With a longing that almost amounts to agony, he holds his heart in his hands, as he watches the android slowly come to life.
Countless seasons passed during Jungmo’s time working on this android, how deeply engrossed he was on his project. Jungmo’s initial enthusiasm about AI transformed into obsession and a desire to do more. And with every wilting leaf in fall and blooming flower in spring, Jungmo had made more progress to achieve a seemingly-impossible goal.
His eyes follow the loading bar as it slides across the screen. His breathing hitches at every quarter and halfway point. A mix of excitement and anxiety begins bubbling inside him.
Jungmo takes another step back, his heart practically banging against his chest. The lightbulb continues to flicker, the rain continues to pour over the workshop. It’s as if nothing has changed in the past few minutes, but Jungmo’s life certainly will in a couple more.
As the loading bar fills up completely, it seems like Jungmo’s world had stopped spinning.
“ [SYSTEM MESSAGE] Program activation complete. Data has been restored. ”
Upon reading the words on display, Jungmo waits again, for a sign of life; for a sign of success. The irregular beating of his heart did not stop, his breathing remains erratic. Jungmo feels hopeful, though; it’s all or nothing.
In the heat of the moment, the android’s eyes open with a red glow radiating from both pupils, and a convulsive motion that agitated the android’s limbs.
“Hello, Jungmo. I am Wonjin, your loyal AI bot…” A monotone voice emits from the android.
One blink. Two blinks.
Jungmo’s gaze softens. The tips of lips rise ever so slightly, forming a smile that could speak a thousand words.
They have finally been reunited.