Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 394 BOSS Direct Recruitment (First Update)

"You brought that machine into contact with reality?"

Harold Finch felt a wave of dizziness, accompanied by a sharp pain and the mocking sound of steel nails, surge from his stiff neck into his brain. He now felt incredibly foolish for insisting on wearing heavy summer clothes; the heat from the accumulated clothing choked him from under his armpits, and the pores on the sides of his neck opened up in the stinging pain.

He's suffocating. See! The situation is already far beyond your control!

But this pales in comparison to the foolish things Salomon had done, which he had heard about.

He's suffocating. Look! That machine is playing you like a fool!

Harold Finch took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the scorching air. He exhaled, feeling slightly more awake. "Hoo—it, it…can you tell me more details?" Harold stammered. "It's important!"

Artificial intelligence choosing an executor is one thing; allowing artificial intelligence to interact with reality is quite another. The executor's task may succeed or fail, but if that machine had its own body, would that mean it could solve everything on its own? If so, Finch felt he could no longer explore the intentions of artificial intelligence; he wondered if this meant that the machine had, in some sense, become a true life.

This is a very complex philosophical question, a discussion about the soul and life. Man is but a walking shadow, a clumsy actor on stage, who appears briefly and then disappears without a trace; he is a fool's tale, full of noise and commotion, yet finding no meaning in it. [Note: Macbeth, Act V, Scene V]

Nietzsche and Heidegger danced, tore at each other, and argued in his mind, attacking each other with *Thus Spoke Zarathustra* and *Being and Time*. But at this moment, a certain emotion was also mixed in with Finch's heart. This emotion was more like the complex expectations of parents for their children, hoping that their children would grow up, yet not wanting them to leave them because of it. However, Finch did not yet understand what this emotion was.

He knew how powerful that machine was, and at that moment, his sense of morality and responsibility to society overwhelmed all other thoughts, like white foamy waves covering seashells on a beach.

"Don't worry too much, Mr. Finch. To me, that body is like a finger to artificial intelligence," Salomon said slowly. He licked his ice cream and then tapped his head. He had eaten a bit too much, so a headache was to be expected. He turned his head and saw little Lorna also licking her ice cream with a grimaced expression.

There weren't even stray dogs here, and Salomon realized that this was the first time he had summoned a monster under the pretext of dealing with excess food.

Harold Finch saw Salomon extend the ice cream into the shadows of the bench, and then something unseen and terrifying was devouring it, bite by bite. He saw the little girl with short, dark green hair even touch it. "Some kind of dog!" Finch deduced. "At least that's how the dog named Little Bear ate and licked people's hands; there shouldn't be much difference between canines."

"And I've placed restrictions on the artificial intelligence's body." Salomon's voice drew Finch's attention back. "I didn't create some kind of robot, Finch. You should remember my maid, right? I used an alchemically created body, alchemy combined with certain mechanical structures, to allow that body to be remotely controlled by artificial intelligence. But you should know that ultimately, I'm the one controlling that body, and I can stop it at any time."

"There are security cameras here."

"I know, and it knows too." Salomon took out a wet wipe and wiped the ice cream stains and otherworldly drool from his and Lorna's fingers. The arcane mage didn't even look up. He said, "That body possesses human senses. Sight, taste, smell, touch—that's what it wants, that's what it wants to learn."

"It...it wants to be alive."

"Yes, you finally understand."

"Then why do you need it?" Finch asked. "You have magic, money, knowledge, why...?"

“Finch, this damn world is huge.” Salomon interrupted Finch, knowing what he was about to say. “It’s really, really huge. Humanity isn’t alone in this universe. What New York and London experienced was just some kind of small-scale invasion. In the future, these wars will grow larger and larger, involving more and more people, and sacrifices will be inevitable. It can help me. If I fight alone, I can’t do anything. So, until it loses its value to me, I will protect its safety.”

As the tide recedes, the seashells on the beach begin to breathe in the air filled with the salty smell of the sea.

Mr. Finch breathed another sigh of relief. "That's good." He took off his glasses and wiped the sweat from the lenses. "Do you know where ROOT is? I don't want her to hurt Samun Shaw."

"ROOT might be a madman, but Samun Shaw has always been a key executor in the machine's plans. So have you and Rither," Salomon said. "The artificial intelligence has detected a threat. But right now, none of us understand what that threat is or where it comes from."

Do you have any suggestions?

"Ah, no." Salomon shook his head. "I don't know. Helping that machine has already violated the commandments to a great extent. If it were a matter of accountability, I would be in solitary confinement on the snowy mountain right now... Fortunately, my identity saved me from this, so I can only provide that machine with what it wants. Unless something very important happens, I won't do anything outside the contract."

Mr. Finch raised an eyebrow and stood up from the bench. He asked, "Are you still planning to stay here?"

"Why not?" Salomon shrugged.

"I want to shoot a mouse!" Little Lorna interrupted, and Salomon nodded in agreement.

"Or it could be a person. We need to make her kill something; a gun is easier than a spear. I've already summoned the hounds; the hunt has only just begun," Salomon said with a smile. "Besides, I still have someone I haven't recruited yet."

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"Damn it, although I admire him, I have to say he's incredibly rude." Salomon lifted a foot and flicked it, splattering half-congealed blood to the side. Little Lorna clung to his arm, looking rather pale.

They didn't kill anyone, not even a rat. The crime scene was Frank Cassel's doing; he had just finished when they arrived.

If you consider having two bullet holes in your body as enough to escape unscathed, then Frank Cassel certainly did.

They waited outside until the screams subsided before opening the door and going inside. Salomon was extremely impatient with the dilapidated apartment building and the smell of dog feces emanating from the corridor. He didn't know how these people managed to live here. He and Lorna passed several doors, all of which were open, and loud, cheap music was blaring from those ridiculously large speakers.

If it weren't for Lorna accompanying Salomon, making him appear different from the gang, Salomon, who had barged into this gang's hideout, might have been shot by the bloodthirsty Punisher.

“You need help, buddy,” Salomon said to the Punisher. He saw that the Punisher’s black shirt was soaked in blood and clung to his body. “You look like you’re going to die any second,” he said. “At least get your wounds treated.”

"No," the Punisher said, blood foam rising from his mouth, "Get out of here, get the hell out of here."

“We have some overlapping acquaintances: John Reese, Harold Finch, Nick Fury. I heard Reese thwarted one of your operations, and you broke his knee.” Salomon knew how obnoxious someone like him seemed in front of Frank Cassel, but he got straight to the point. “I don’t want to hinder your operations; I just want to recruit you. I want you to help me train…”

"Whatever."

Before Salomon could finish speaking, Frank Cassel staggered away without even giving Salomon a glance.

"SHIT! Aren't you going to hear my terms?" Salomon shouted down the hallway, but no one answered.

"He's gone," Lorna reminded him.

"Okay, let's go find some mice."

Please vote for me!

(End of this chapter)