Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 384 ROOT's Psychological Counseling (First Update)

"You need me!" Root smiled broadly. "She told me everything."

Mr. Finch's artificial intelligence treated her as an executor, while Root dedicated herself to the God lurking in the network world. Root referred to the machine as "she," while Salomon used "it," their views on artificial intelligence diametrically opposed. Root's ideas were undoubtedly extremely crazy to normal people, and at the same time, they rekindled Salomon's curiosity about the code Mr. Finch had originally written.

What kind of technology could create such an artificial intelligence that is almost equivalent to life? Even Jarvis of Stark Industries is far from this level of intelligence, and Jarvis was created by the genius Tony Stark—which is a bit unfair, as Stark devoted much of his energy to mechanical creation—but regardless, when Google's AI was still working as NSDAP on the internet, Jarvis already possessed its own judgment. This level of intelligence surpasses that of AI being developed by many countries around the world.

"My knowledge of computer science is rather superficial; my abilities are limited to creating websites for small-town public institutions," Salomon candidly admitted. "I get stress-induced hair loss whenever I see code; the doctor says it's a psychological issue. I prefer seeing magical runes to code. Let's get moving; your God needs a few servers, and I need to add an alchemical body to it."

“I will grant her request.” Root followed Salomon, stumbling along the still-uncleared path. Even underground, she could feel the cold, and the fine dust from the construction debris stung her feet. They had been in too much of a hurry to retrieve the items stored at the mental hospital—“The mental impairment spell is effective, but not everyone will fall for it,” Salomon explained in detail. “There are always a few determined individuals who can control the situation.”

“Magic.” Root brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “It’s something she can’t understand. Magic isn’t in her logical reasoning, nor is it aliens. She categorizes these kinds of events as ‘unknown threats,’ like monsters under the bed that occasionally crawl up and touch your ankles with their cold hands. You’re the same, Salomon.”

"At least I won't hide under the bed and touch someone's ankle; that would be awful."

"That's just a metaphor. You should have some literary knowledge; Eton College's curriculum includes that." Root changed the subject quickly, and before Salomon could refute her accusation about his literary skills, she jumped to the next topic, as swift and decisive as descending a staircase. "I'm curious, why can I receive her signal even underground?" she asked. "As far as I know, your communication network isn't established yet. Are we underground in New York?"

"Location via the internet is unreliable, but the network cable did come from New York." Salomon helped her jump over the collapsed reinforced concrete wall to prevent her from scraping her ankles. The wall, once adorned with exquisite colorful mosaic tiles, was now shattered beyond recognition; only tiny, colorful lights reflected the faint light from afar, flickering with the viewer's movement. In a daze, Root felt as if gravity had vanished. The tiny, colorful lights before her seemed like stars reflected in the earth, and a single jump would send her soaring into the deep, dark sky.

Curious, she stepped on the scattered stardust, feeling it would be worth it even if she cut her toes.

"This is underground in Rome," Salomon said. "The Vatican is just above us."

"Oh, you're such a gentleman. Judging from your education, you must be one of the best." Root seemed to wake from a dream. She skipped over the stars and set off with Salomon onto the road shrouded in darkness.

"Some records at Eton are on paper, so that machine can't see them. But I can tell you I'm the teacher's caning assistant," Salomon briefly mentioned his educational background, though it sounded like a boast in a bar. "But I haven't actually caned many students; the headmaster is hesitant to punish students with power or influence. What I hate most is Saturday choir practice—it's so stupid."

Silence enveloped the rest of the journey, and Salomon couldn't help but repeatedly ponder his words. He felt his social skills needed improvement; the awkward silences in this one-on-one conversation were quite embarrassing—however, Root was actually listening to the AI's messages and had no time to pay attention to Salomon.

As they approached the electrified building, Root spoke again.

Clearly, she had gleaned some crucial information from the AI. The machine believed that Root needed to know something about Salomon before cooperating with him. Don't get me wrong, the AI ​​simply found Root a useful tool. Several captive turkeys swaggered past them, one of them even rudely pecking at Salomon's boot.

The arcane mage explained that these were animals kept by the druids who lived here, and this was part of their druidic training. "I didn't pay much attention when I first saw the portal, but now I roughly understand your abilities. Now I have a general idea of ​​your power," she said. "Is it the whole world? If I could, I'd like to buy some clothes."

She pulled up her loose blue and white striped hospital gown. "My clothes were all left at the mental hospital."

"No problem. Miss Maya Hansen will take care of you; she's your new colleague, and I'm sure you know who she is. After you've installed those servers, I'll need your help with the androids' network setup, running a fiber optic cable from above." The sorcerer seemed a little embarrassed. "This is a private commission, and I'll pay you a fee."

"I'm very grateful," Root said. "Also, I have some news for you. The Department of Homeland Security is also watching you. They've seen your face."

"It's alright. With the existence of magical contracts, they'll be punished if they break them, without any delay. In fact, I know some have already broken the contract." Salomon smiled sinisterly. "They'll find my name, but they can't say it. And those people near my apartment… S.H.I.E.L.D. are very efficient, as are Hydra. What they can't have, others certainly can't have either. I think S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are more capable."

Root also smiled.

Although the food at the mental hospital had made her look somewhat haggard, a beautiful, warm smile still graced her face; she seemed to be trying to bribe Salomon with that smile. Someone unaware of her true nature might very well have accepted it readily, but Salomon knew that Root was a genuine madman, even mader than himself.

"Looks like you've outmaneuvered those intelligence organizations, Salomon. Doesn't that make you sad that people are dying at gunpoint near your place every day?"

"You have overestimated my kindness once again, Ms. Gen."

"How old were you when you first killed someone?" Root seemed to have sensed something. She gave a sly smile and suddenly threw out a question that caught Salomon off guard.

Why are you saying this?

"Don't want to talk about it?" Root raised her eyebrows defiantly, as if she thought Salomon was a red-headed match that could be set on fire with just a rub.

"Why would you think I have the personality of a typical teenager, madam?" Salomon frowned. "Testosterone does make people impulsive, but if I can't control that impulse, I can't learn magic."

"Really? If you don't mind, I can offer you psychotherapy. I'm a psychologist, and I have proof."

"No need, I'm sick, and I have proof."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)