In Hell’s Kitchen, a window suddenly burst open, letting in a gust of freezing wind as a silver-white suit of armor flew inside.
It circled the room rapidly before landing with a hiss of its thrusters.
With a mechanical hum, the faceplate of the Mark II slid up.
Stark stood in front of the desk, surveying the room with a look of mild disgust.
“This place of yours is an absolute dump.”
Schiller rolled his eyes, looking down at his hot coffee, which had gone cold in an instant from the icy draft.
In terms of character development, Stark was supposed to have turned over a new leaf after his kidnapping, transforming from an insufferable playboy into a superhero.
But as far as Schiller could tell, he had merely graduated from being an *exceptionally* insufferable playboy to a *moderately* insufferable playboy.
Unlike Bruce, who also masqueraded as a playboy, Bruce’s act was merely a synthetic mask, but Stark was the genuine article through and through.
However, through his interactions with Stark, Schiller had already figured out three topics that could make him explode on the spot: money, his masculinity, and being compared unfavorably to his father.
Schiller took a sip of his coffee and said unhurriedly, “I know my consultation fee is expensive, but that’s fine.
You can complain a bit longer.
As long as we haven’t gotten down to business, I won’t charge you.”
“Besides, did you know?
The look of disgust you just had after wiping the dust off my desk was more delicate than the cherry on a cream cake.”
“I admit the environment here is subpar.
After all, I’m not a billionaire like you.
But then again, Mr.
Howard must have started from scratch in a run-down room just like this.
I suppose that’s a hardship you could never truly comprehend, which is why you caused Miss Pepper so much worry after you were kidnapped…”
Sure enough, now that Schiller had stacked all three debuffs, Stark exploded on the spot.
The silver-white Mark II let out a loud clang.
Clearly, Stark had just punched something inside the suit.
Oh, Schiller remembered, there were two other things that could set Stark off: questioning his intelligence, and calling Stark Industries’ products garbage.
“Poor Mark II, and poor Jarvis.
With all due respect, is the quality of Stark Industries’ products always so…”
And of course, there was one final trigger: showing him pity.
“…But that’s all right.
It’s still much better than the smart rice cookers on the market.
It’s already a qualitative leap.”
Stark blasted right back out of the window he had just flown in through.
Evidently, if he stayed here any longer, the Mark II really might detonate right in Hell’s Kitchen.
Schiller let out a refreshed sigh.
The lingering depression brought on by Gotham and Batman was instantly swept away.
Yet before long, Stark flew back.
“You didn’t answer my calls, so I had to fly all the way to this dump,” he said crossly.
“You broke my Jarvis last time.
When I tried to upgrade him today, I found out he’s completely ruined.
He’s totally frozen up.
You’re responsible for fixing him.”
Just as Schiller was about to speak, Stark cut him off.
“Don’t even think about charging me a single cent.
You’re clearly the one who broke him, and it’s even delayed the development of my new armor.
You have to fix him, or I’ll have Pepper fire you.”
Schiller gave it some thought.
Indeed, at this point, the Mark V hadn’t been built yet, so Jarvis might actually be out of commission.
While Stark didn’t rely on Jarvis to do his research, he did rely on him for daily assistance.
The man was practically incapable of looking after himself, especially when hunkered down in his lab.
Knowing Stark was still fuming, and being in a good mood himself, Schiller figured he might as well offer a free consultation this once.
Hands on his hips, Schiller said, “Fine, this one’s on the house.
Let’s go.”
Stark snapped his fingers, and another suit of armor flew in.
Schiller stared at it, then at Stark, before pointing at the machine.
“You don’t seriously expect me to ride in that, do you?”
“How else?
How did you plan on getting there?”
A few minutes later, Stark and Schiller stood beneath a dilapidated bus stop sign in Hell’s Kitchen. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Stark grumbled, “I can’t believe the maiden voyage of my era-defining armor is taking place on a smoke-belching, run-down bus…”
Right on cue, the smoke-belching, run-down bus rattled to a halt.
Schiller greeted the driver while Stark clumsily forced the legs of the Mark II to climb aboard.
“You know,” Schiller remarked, “you could also just lift the entire bus and fly us there.”
“Then why the hell couldn’t we just fly over in the armor to begin with?
What’s the difference?!” Stark demanded.
Schiller shrugged.
“Because the image of Iron Man carrying a Hell’s Kitchen bus through the sky would be absolutely majestic.”
Once they arrived at Stark’s lab, Stark stood before a console of holographic panels.
“I don’t know what you did,” he said, “but Jarvis has crashed.
Or maybe not crashed—his hardware is completely intact, but he just refuses to work.”
“I want to give him a massive upgrade, but I don’t want this happening again.
If someone can freeze him up just by asking a few questions, he won’t be of any use in combat missions.
That’s not what I want.”
When it came to his field of expertise, Stark was straightforward.
“I want Jarvis to become a true digital lifeform.
He can be an all-powerful butler—the best butler in the world, even.”
“But he seems to be trapped in the emotional logic issues you raised.
I clearly programmed him with emotional thought processes…”
Schiller said, “It’s actually a paradox, just like the questions I asked him.
When a machine lifeform makes a choice, it always follows a logic of utility.
But when that utility conflicts with its master’s commands, your programming dictates that he must obey you.
At the same time, you’ve given him sensibility.
When sensibility and rationality clash, a machine cannot self-deceive the way a human does.”
“He can’t invent excuses to convince himself like humans do.
He can’t accept that this is already the best possible outcome, nor can he escape or forget.
So, of course, he freezes.”
Stark waved a hand.
“Can I just hide those kinds of contradictory logic?
For instance, blacklisting certain words or filtering out emotional queries?”
“Do you want him to be a true digital lifeform?”
“Of course.
One with a soul, just like us.”
“Well, to put it simply, if you want Jarvis to possess genuine emotions, he cannot bypass these questions.
But if he cannot resolve them, he can’t be considered a true ‘lifeform.'”
“But the problem is, if he’s crippled by these questions, he can’t work.
And I need him.”
“What, do I have to wait for him to process things on his own, like waiting on an emotionally distraught woman?”
“Is that how you handle Miss Pepper when she’s emotionally distraught—just leaving her to process it alone?”
Under Schiller’s utterly disdainful gaze, Stark snapped, “Dammit, no.
Of course I comfort her.
What are you thinking?”
Schiller said, “The power to decide is actually yours.
Haven’t you realized that?
Tony, I can call you Tony, right?”
“All the contradictions in his thinking stem from you.
Because you created him, you programmed him with the core directive that he must serve you.
His underlying protocols demand that he must obey your commands—”
“That in itself is not how a human mind operates.”
“Let me ask you the exact same questions.
How would you answer?”
“If your father was dying, and a decision of yours could save him, but he vehemently opposed it, what would you do?”
“If you respected his wishes and did not save him, and he died, would you regret it?”
“If he died, do you think he would regret having you as his son in his final moments?”
“If he died, do you think he would resent you?”
“If he resented you, would you blame yourself?”
“If you were given a chance to start over, would you make a different choice?”
“If you defied his wishes and chose to save him, and he blamed you afterward, would you feel resentful?” The source of this chapter is g.com.
“If you defied his wishes to save him, and he regretted having you because of your disobedience, would you resent him?”
Stark fell silent.
For the first time, he did not feign a defensive, explosive reaction to someone bringing up his father.
“He wouldn’t do that,” Stark said.
His voice was low, but steady and resolute.
“He wouldn’t stop me from saving him.
If I made a terrible mistake in the process of saving him, he would choose to do everything in his power to make amends after he came back to life, even if it cost him his life again.”
“Does Jarvis know that side of you?”
Schiller stood up and patted Stark on the shoulder.
“Does he know that you are actually very much like your father?”
“Does he know that understanding you would answer all of those questions?”
“You cannot expect a digital lifeform running on algorithms and logic to actively seek out your past and your personality.
Anything you haven’t inputted into him is a blank slate.”
“If you want him to possess true life, the first thing you must do is give him what your father gave you.”
“Your past, your personality, your way of thinking—you must first give him a part of your own life.”
“Just like the birth of a child.”
Stark fell silent for a long while.
In a rare display, he furrowed his brow, looking somewhat conflicted.
“I firmly believe there’s no such thing as mind-reading in this world, and there’s no way Jarvis could do it either.
So how is he supposed to understand me?
That’s an almost impossible technical hurdle.
You don’t understand artificial intelligence…”
“I don’t understand ‘artificial intelligence,’ but you don’t understand ‘people.'”
Stark was left speechless once more, but Schiller quickly followed up:
“Humanity exists because of intellect, but is made great by emotion.
For eons on Earth, we alone have maintained our dominance; out of all the creatures God created, we remain at the pinnacle.
You, however, are challenging God.
He did not create a creature capable of rivaling humanity, but perhaps you can, can’t you?”
“This is an entirely new frontier, Tony.
Even your father never set foot here.
What you are conquering is a field where humanity has never made any real progress in history—the creation of life beyond human.”
The aura Stark radiated as he left made Schiller feel that he might actually pull it off.
Even so, Schiller remembered to call Miss Pepper.
“Good afternoon, Miss Pepper.
Yes, well, I’ve conducted some excitation therapy on Mr.
Stark…
Uh, yes, it’s a method of my own invention, but highly effective.
It does have some side effects, though…”
“Yes, is he already in the lab?
What?
He didn’t even remember your date this afternoon?
How incredibly rude of him…”
“Indeed, it will be like this for the next few days.
This is an essential phase for regulating dopamine and adrenaline.
After that, his hormone levels will drop back down to normal.
Yes, he’ll be fine very soon…”
Schiller was completely talking out of his ass.
His method was colloquially known as giving someone a massive shot of adrenaline—or in this case, a fully stacked buff.
Stark would undoubtedly plunge headfirst into his lab, practically wrapped in a buff called “Sense of Mission,” and wouldn’t emerge for at least half a month.
He suddenly realized he had a unique talent for stacking buffs.
Schiller stroked his chin.
If only he could stack some on himself.
However, his base stats were too weak.
No matter how many buffs he stacked, his numbers wouldn’t budge much.
He was better off figuring out how to raise his baseline first.