Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Graduate students are slaves’?
I wholeheartedly agreed with it.
After all, to harvest the fruit known as graduation—a fruit entirely dependent on one’s academic adviser—a graduate student had no choice but to become the powerless party in a thoroughly one-sided relationship.
Of course, just as conditions in the military had gradually improved, the world had become a better place, and graduate school was improving in many ways as well. Even so, in South Korea, the life of a doctoral student would likely remain an endless succession of poorly paid research and projects undertaken in the hope of obtaining an adviser’s permission to graduate for quite some time.
‘What madness possessed me at graduation to fall for the professor’s persuasion? It has already been seven years of this wretched life.’
In the dead of night, a man named Jaeseok remained alone in the deserted laboratory. He sighed deeply as the thought crossed his mind.
Jaeseok was a doctoral student in the computer engineering laboratory at the internationally renowned Hanguk University. In other words, he was what people commonly called a computer engineering graduate student.
‘Still…… the end is finally in sight. Once I succeed with this experiment, this damned life will be over.’
Jaeseok had not intended to attend graduate school from the beginning.
However, Jaeseok had graduated with excellent grades, and his current academic adviser had very, very naturally suggested that he continue his studies in the professor’s laboratory. Jaeseok had yet to make any concrete decisions about his future, so he had fallen for the professor’s persuasion and begun his present life as a graduate student.
‘Back then, I never imagined I would end up devoting my entire twenties to this place.’
That did not mean every part of graduate school had been negative from beginning to end.
Jaeseok had always enjoyed engineering problems with definite answers, so a life that allowed him to devote himself entirely to research suited him reasonably well.
What Jaeseok had failed to consider, however, was that a laboratory was ultimately a ‘small society’ where people gathered. In such a place, interpersonal conflicts—problems that had nothing to do with research—were inevitable.
‘Was it said that wherever three or more people gather, factions and enemies are bound to form? Why are people so desperate to make enemies even in a place with barely twenty members?’
Was it because they had to continue living under the crushing burden of work and research without even getting proper rest?
The people capable of entering this laboratory, which was relatively famous even on the international stage, were undoubtedly talented. Yet the sight of barely twenty people dividing themselves into factions and fighting one another seemed utterly ridiculous to Jaeseok.
‘It really is fascinating.’
At first, Jaeseok had found it difficult to understand. They were seniors, juniors, and colleagues who barely had enough time to conduct research together in harmony, yet they wasted their days engaging in petty politics.
Now that he was in his seventh year, however, Jaeseok had come to understand that, irrational as it might be, such behavior arose naturally wherever people gathered.
In the end, graduate school was little more than a shabbier, miniature version of a company.
‘Whew. I have come this far, so I should endure a little longer. No matter how unfair it feels, quitting now would feel even more unfair.’
The fact that he was continuing his research alone in the laboratory long after everyone else had left was, in a sense, another consequence of those petty politics.
One of the senior students involved (Involve: participation) in the government project being conducted by the laboratory had stolen an idea that was, for all intents and purposes, Jaeseok’s own.
That senior student, known as the laboratory’s fossil, was infamous for shamelessly stealing his juniors’ ideas and publishing papers with them to pad his publication record for a faculty appointment.
This time, Jaeseok had become his victim.
From the perspective of research ethics, it was an extremely serious violation. Reality, however, was not so accommodating.
Compared to the senior student, who came from an immensely powerful family and had formidable connections, Jaeseok was an orphan with neither family nor influence. Even if he pursued the matter, there was a high chance that he would merely have the blame pinned on him instead.
It was a sorrowful fact, but one that his years in the laboratory had forced him to learn whether he liked it or not.
‘Haah. Right. Do I avoid shit because I am afraid of it? I avoid it because it is filthy.’
Even so, Jaeseok had intended to use that idea as the subject of his doctoral dissertation. The theft had therefore brought him both bitter pain and a brutal dose of reality.
Furthermore, it was an established fact that society would treat him differently depending on whether he obtained a doctorate from Hanguk University. That was why he was now keeping watch over the laboratory alone in the middle of the night, conducting an experiment based on a different idea.
‘If I ever get to go back in time or something, I swear I will never enter a place like graduate school again.’
Graduate school did have the advantage of providing the fastest access to the latest research and equipment.
However, with modern technology advancing as far as it had, anyone with sufficient determination and effort could accomplish that to some extent without becoming a graduate student.
‘Socializing with people and currying favor do not suit my personality, either. I have to make this experiment succeed, if only so I can leave this wretched world behind as soon as possible.’
The experiment Jaeseok was currently devoting himself to involved using artificial intelligence in reverse to convert memories into data.
Artificial neural networks, which had originally been developed in imitation of the human brain’s neurons (Neron), had advanced to an extraordinarily sophisticated level through continuous research.
Thanks to that advancement, AI assistants that once might have appeared only in films were already emerging one after another in the real world.
“Mir. What are the experimental results?”
[Brainwave stability is normal. The readings are better than expected.]
“Just as I thought. Good. There are no theoretical problems. Then all that remains is…….”
The one answering Jaeseok was Mir, a cutting-edge AI assistant.
It was an AI capable of synchronizing directly with a user’s brainwaves, allowing it to provide considerable assistance even without a terminal.
Unfortunately, it needed to be linked to the laboratory’s supercomputer, which meant it could only be used inside the laboratory.
‘Good. The preparations are complete.’
Everything was now ready.
‘Whew….’
Jaeseok took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his persistent trembling.
‘Will this…… really be all right?’
The experiment Jaeseok intended to perform on his own body required no small amount of resolve.
Artificial intelligence had gradually evolved by imitating the neural networks of the human brain.
Unlike a human being, it also possessed the advantage of storing information as highly precise data that could be freely input and output.
In that case…….
‘What if I apply the fixed-coordinate mapping of time from the previous project and synchronize only the memories—the data—with myself at the exact point in time I choose, as though restoring a backup……?’
Under normal circumstances, a slight difference in memory caused by a minor temporal discrepancy would simply be dismissed as déjà vu.
But what would happen if fixed coordinates from different points in time were entered into memories converted into data?
If the experiment succeeded, even if the difference amounted to no more than a few seconds, he might be able to prove that he truly possessed memories from the future rather than experiencing mere déjà vu.
After all, the memories converted into data would remain inside the supercomputer.
‘If I can prove it, this will be an extraordinary breakthrough.’
Of course, he knew the idea sounded absurd.
However, just as it had during the project stolen by his senior, an inexplicable intuition whispered to him that the experiment’s chance of success was not ‘0’.
‘Then all that remains is to perform the experiment myself and save the results.’
Was his pounding heart caused by anticipation for the results?
Or was it fear of the unknown?
‘……It will be fine. There are no theoretical problems. At most, I am only synchronizing a few seconds’ worth of memories with another version of myself who possesses identical brainwaves.’
“……Mir, begin.”
[—Stage 1 authorization complete. Only the final confirmation procedure remains. Do you authorize the start?]
“Yes. I authorize it.”
[—Stage 2 authorization complete. The experiment will begin in five seconds, measured by standard time. —5.]
His body trembled with excitement and fear.
[—4.]
……Do not be afraid.
[—3.]
Nothing will happen.
[—2.]
Only a slight sense of déjà vu and precisely quantified data will remain inside the laboratory’s supercomputers.
[—1.]
Then I only need to analyze it, complete my paper, and leave this damned field behind with a smile.
‘……And then I will never look back at this field again!!’
[—0.]
Mir’s distinct countdown came to an end.
Jaeseok’s eyes closed for an instant and then opened again.
……And at the very next moment.
The scene that filled Jaeseok’s vision was clearly not the laboratory where he had been standing only moments before—
“……? Wh-What is this?!”
—It was the interior of a shabby, unfamiliar hut he had never seen before.
“Ugh, the smell……!”
Jaeseok stood there, bewildered by the completely unexpected change in his circumstances.
Even then, he had not imagined what awaited him.
“Oh…? I have never felt mana fluctuate like this before. Interesting. Shall I take a look?”
Despite having sworn through gritted teeth that he would bring his life of slavery to an end once and for all, his second life as a slave(?) had begun in precisely that fashion.